Villa Blue (4 page)

“Then I’ll make it up to you.” He slowed the cart, allowing a guy with a yellow and green boogie board to cross, then sped off again.

“You held my hand and jumped off of a cliff with me. You’ve given me enough,” she said playfully, but knew her words were potent with earnestness. That hollow tunnel had a trickle moving through it now, she thought. A slim but steady flow of something that tickled along her insides, awakening more with each new momentous drop. “More than you know,” she muttered to the sea breeze that skimmed along her lips, playing with her breath.

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“You said something.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” he confirmed as he entered a series of switchbacks, his face grinning and his hands gripping the wheel like a kid ready for a ride at an amusement park.

“I was likely saying that you should slow down.”

“You slow down, you die.”

His declaration reminded her how much she craved the quiet calm of her perch on the hill. Adventure really wasn’t her thing.

Ivy gripped the metal bar beside the seat, her body cringing around the corners. “Breathe,” she whispered to herself, and as she exhaled, her shoulders relaxed. She craved her happy place, her peaceful perch, her pallet of paints, all without the presence of people.

But she could tolerate one ride on one afternoon with one strange man, right?

Only he wasn’t strange. Dangerous maybe, she thought again as the path dipped and they caught speed, zooming through the gully that was scented by the sweetness of homemade ice cream from the nearest shop.

Mmm, ice cream, she thought. Had she forgotten to eat again?

“We should grab some ice cream after we get our stuff,” Aiden announced as they passed a boy on the sidewalk with lips as blue as the ice cream he ate.

Cursing that her thoughts had been heard, and that she was so easily waylaid by the idea of dessert, she replied with a simple, “I can’t.”

“Come on. One ice cream. My treat.”

Her vision blurred with the enticing image of an ice cream cone. “Fine. I’ll agree to stop for ice cream on two conditions.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“One, if we eat it on the way to the villa because I really do need to get back to work. And two, if you get the bubble gum flavor like that kid.” The stoic man made nerves hum to life within her and imagining him with lips stained blue had her relaxing a few notches.

“The blue flavor. All right, I accept your conditions.”

“It’s bubblegum. Blue isn’t a flavor,” she told him. Then, as her mind bent with the idea, she considered the way flavors and colors combined in interesting ways. “Blue really is a flavor, isn’t it? It just tastes...blue. No other way to describe it.”

She felt his study of her as she kept watch of the sun-drenched pavement, the cracked white lines of crosswalks they came upon.

“You’re a curious creature, Ivy.”

She glanced at him. “If that’s a compliment, I’ll take it.”

“It was a compliment.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

Everything about him was fast, she noted. He moved through moments, traffic, and conversations at a speed that had her wishing for her quiet, serene sanctuary on steady ground in front of her easel. The unease set by his pace, his presence, was confusing and she needed to focus, to channel her energy and paint.

After ice cream, of course.

As he paused for a group of teenagers who shoved and tugged each other across the road, she distracted herself by mapping colors to flavors in her head. Red would be velvety, bold, rich. Pastel green would be refreshing, lively but in a subtle way. And what happened when you combined flavors and their corresponding colors? Like a recipe created on a canvas…

“Okay?”

“Hmm, what?” she asked, taking her eyes off the slit in the distance where sea met sky, where thoughts met imagination.

“I asked how long you’ve worked at Villa Blue.”

“Oh, sorry, I was in a zone. No, I don’t work there, I live there. I turned the greenhouse-slash-gardener’s cottage into an artist’s studio. It has a little kitchenette, a bathroom, and a bed that’s basically in the middle of this fantastic vintage glass greenhouse. It has great light for painting when it’s too cold or raining outside.” Ivy paused, noting that she’d shed herself of the ability to make small talk. “I’m not sure why I’m sharing all of this. You’ll like staying in the villa,” she told him, fumbling over her thoughts and words as she emerged from her zone. “It’s really beautiful in that old, California Spanish kind of way. It’s sprawling enough to be grand but it’s old enough to be comfortable. I’m not sure if that makes sense.”

“Perfect sense.” He started driving just in time to stop at another crosswalk so that a mother and son—dressed in matching red and white striped shirts—could cross, and he took the opportunity to glance at Ivy with a crease drawn between his dark brows. “I didn’t realize people lived at Villa Blue.”

“Why would you? You can go now,” she pointed out.

He released the break and putted off, climbing up the hill toward the secluded spot they’d jumped from.

What Ivy didn’t see was the confusion that carried on his face, the marked frown that deepened.

“How many other people live there?”

“There’s Donatella—she owns Villa Blue. She was the one who asked me to come greet you and get you up the hill. I’m not doing a very good job of that, it seems.”

“We’ll get there eventually.” He ignored the “No Off-Road” sign displayed in the cart and rambled off into the dirt. “So you and Donatella,” he prompted.

“Yeah, she and I live there, as do L.B. and Nicholas, who are both managers. I rarely see them though. They’re writing a novel together when they’re not working so they’re usually either tucked into the guesthouse or dashing around tending to things. They’re leaving soon for their honeymoon so you won’t see much of them.

“The rest of the people are guests. There’s a couple from Italy staying right now, an anniversary, I think. The man is very animated and fun to watch, especially his eyebrows as they seem to have a life of their own. There’s a bachelorette group arriving sometime soon. Then there’s a younger couple on their honeymoon that just arrived yesterday. They look so perfect for each other that they look related.” She chuckled, amused, then realized she wasn’t talking to herself. “Sorry. I’m not used to conversations with other people anymore.”

“Why’s that?” he asked as he stopped the cart near the edge where his bag, wallet, sunglasses, and shoes were.

She stepped out of the cart and slid her feet into her paint-splattered flats, swiveling her shoe against the dirt to ensure the sticky gum was gone. “I guess I prefer painting over people.”

He slipped on his sunglasses, grabbed his bag. “You’re quite the enigma.”

“How so?” she asked as she quickly peeked down to the ocean directly below. She’d soared over the edge of that cliff, she thought with a pang of thrill as she returned to the cart, this time settling in behind the steering wheel.

She expected him to say something, to try to get her to scoot over, but he didn’t. Instead he simply slid onto the passenger side of the bench seat, tossed his bag at his feet.

“You’re basically a hermetic artist living on a secluded island. You should be hunched over and have wild, erratic teeth, yet you look like a fairy. All that’s missing are some wings.”

Easing down on the pedal, she maneuvered the cart back onto the path toward town. “A fairy…” Her voice trailed off as her imagination pondered a painting of a hermetic fairy. She’d be slight with a lot of sassy hair—maybe a wavy red mass with bright green eyes. Like Aiden’s eyes, she decided, amused. Not that he had the eyes of a fairy. More like the eyes of a rebel.

With a smile she kept to herself, she added, “I’ve earned the right to be whatever I want to be—a fairy, a hunchbacked hermit, or otherwise. And being an artist, living at Villa Blue, it’s exactly what I want.”

“You don’t hear many people declare that something in their life is exactly what they want.”

“I mean it with all my heart.”

“I bet you do.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, unable to help but seek to understand, no matter how much her mind declared otherwise.

He examined the landscape that blended the lush and the barren, the palm trees and the shrubs, as he considered. “Because I doubt you say much that you don’t mean.”

She slowed for the tail end of a group to finish crossing the road toward the beach then continued on. “I suppose that’s true. Would you say the same about yourself?”

“Do I mean what I say? Yeah, I guess I do.”

“You guess?”

“I’ll be more introspective after ice cream.”

“Ice cream is good for anything, isn’t it?”

“A cure-all.” He motioned toward a parking space near the ice cream parlor. “So you like living here full time? Really?”

“Of course.” She pulled the cart into the snug spot.

“You don’t get bored here?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“You must travel a lot then.”

She shook her head, slid her hands into the center pocket of the hoodie as they made their way toward the source of sugary scents that swirled through the air. “Not since I moved here almost a year ago.”

“Why not?” he asked as he tugged off his sunglasses then held open the door for Ivy.

“No desire to. Know what you want?”

“I always do,” he replied.

Her eyes stayed on him for a moment as she barely registered the teenage boy behind the counter asking for her order. It wasn’t hard to believe for a moment that Aiden was a man who always knew what he wanted. But the idea that he spoke so subtly without revealing much, that he asked questions that seemed to, in some unspoken way, inspire honest, thoughtful answers, intrigued her.

“Did you want something?” the boy asked again.

“Yes, yes. I’ll take a scoop of vanilla and…oh yeah, I forgot.” She gave Aiden a quick, spirited smile then continued with her order. “He’ll have a scoop of bubble gum.”

“We’re both having bubble gum,” Aiden interjected. “That’s the deal.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“Have bubble gum with me,” he said, his voice low and coaxing, gliding over her like a wave that wanted to pull her out to sea. “It’ll be an adventure.”

“It’s always an adventure with you, isn’t it?”

“If it’s not, then it’s not worth it.”

She sighed even as she peered at him. Men who could convince with nothing but a simple request were dangerous men. But how dangerous could a man with an ice cream cone be? “Fine. We’ll both have bubble gum. Plain cone for me. You?”

A fast flash sparked in his eyes as if he knew something she didn’t. She wasn’t sure she wanted to question what that was but she couldn’t help but be curious.

“If a plain cone is your idea of adventure, then I’ll take that adventure with you. Plain for me too.”

“You make me sound boring.”

He stepped closer to her, wet heat radiating from his chest.

“You’re not boring. You’re fascinating. A fascinating fairy.” He tugged on a stray sprig of sunny blond hair that spurted from her topknot.

Before she could react to the casual gesture, they were each handed their scoops of blue ice cream packed with multicolored pieces of bubble gum into plain cones.

By the time they finally reached Villa Blue, their lips were appropriately blue and their tongues were sufficiently frozen.

“Where on earth have you two been?” Donatella waved her dishtowel at them as she approached the golf cart. “I’ve been worried so much. My
cuore
, my heart can’t take it.” She fluttered the dishtowel against her chest. “You haven’t answered any of my calls and I even tried to use the text you taught me how to do. Where have you been?”

“Sorry, Donatella. My phone’s at the bottom of the ocean.”

“What?!”

The hearty gasp satisfied Ivy—she really had done something brave and daring, and it was nice to be recognized for it. “We had an adventure along the way,” she told her, pride sneaking through the glib remark.

“You don’t like
avventura
!” Donatella’s voice was full of vigor and volume. Whenever she got upset, the curviness of her Italian accent plunged deeper than it did on most days.

“It was my idea,” Aiden announced. “Aiden James.” He took Donatella’s hand, shook it.

Ivy watched as Donatella’s lashes lowered and her lips pursed, almost imperceptibly. It was decidedly female. She thought of the older man whom she’d mistaken for Aiden, and his hands making the motion of a female body—Donatella’s body. The lusciousness of Donatella was full and curvy and beautiful, especially as she flirted with Aiden in a matronly sort of way. Like she wanted to make him a plate of pasta followed by a batch of cinnamon rolls.

Watching with a keen eye to see how two of the most confident people she’d ever met interacted with one another, Ivy took a mental snapshot of the moment. The luminescent light of the sun making its way toward the sea, the greens and golds of the surrounding earth, the blue—always the blue—that beckoned from beyond the fringes of the island. Two people, each at home in the world, each in their own way.