“What's Broderick's house like?”
“It's a beauty of a place. It needs a lot of work. Much of the original woodwork can't be restored, so it'll have to be custom-made, but the walnut floors, after a sanding and polyurethane, are going to be incredible.”
He was so animated; it warmed my heart to see him doing what he loved to do. “What are you working on?” I asked.
“I'm designing the specs for the custom work, the mantel, newel post, banister, balustrades and the crown moldings.”
Wonderment, I was sure, filled my expression, because though I knew what it was Bastian wanted to do with his life, I hadn't really appreciated what “restoring” entailed until I looked it up. It wasn't just building, but designing using engineering. It boggled my mind that even though he hadn't started his undergraduate work, Bastian knew what he was doing. I knew he was smart but I suspected he was more than smart, brilliant was a good word.
“What are you thinking Lark?”
“It sounds like you are doing exactly what you were hoping to do this summer.”
“It really is and if I had known about this job first, I would have fought to get on the crew. Broderick isn't just restoring, he's trying to do so in the most eco-friendly way. It'll cost more in the end, but it's going to be one hell of a place.”
“I guess you're locked into the job in Concord though, huh?”
“Yeah, I could stay. Broderick has already said as much, but I don't want to burn bridges.”
“So you're still leaving in a few days.” I felt him watching me but I couldn't look up at him without tears running down my cheeks. I wanted him to stay, especially now that he was doing exactly what he had hoped to be doing, but I knew I wasn't being fair. Three months wasn't all that long.
“Lark?”
“I'm just going to miss you so much.” I wiped at my eyes and he responded by pulling me close.
“Lark?”
“I know.” My hands moved under his shirt so I could touch his warm, hard skin as I pressed my face into his chest.
“Please don't cry.”
“I'm not crying. My eyes are leaking.”
His chuckle rumbled in his chest. I kissed him right on the spot where my name rested over his heart.
“Lark?”
“I'm okay. I'll be busy learning from a master and if I work fifteen-hour days and sleep for nine, I won't have time to miss you. And if I keep telling myself that maybe I'll begin to believe it.”
He reached for my face. “It's less than a four-hour drive from here to Concord. I've worked it out so that I can work Monday through Thursday, freeing up Fridays to give us three-day weekends.”
“Really?”
“Yes, there's no way I'm staying gone for three months.”
I threw my arms around him and squeezed him hard. “You are brilliant. Have I ever told you that you are brilliant?”
He chuckled as he hugged me back.
“Take Baby. The thought of you on your motorcycle doing all of that traveling scares me.”
“Okay.”
“I am so happy.”
“I will always endeavor to do whatever I can to make you happy.” He replied, with amused sincerity.
We started back to the house and I couldn't stop myself from smiling because I was happy. Being in this crazy town with Bastian was close to perfection.
“Bastian, can I ask you for a favor?”
“Anything.”
How easily his response was given only reinforced what I wanted to ask of him.
“I've never really signed my art before and I don't want to sign it O’Bannion, because I really didn't know her and what I did know of her, well…you know.” I stopped walking and turned to him as I worked my lower lip before I just asked. “Would you mind if I signed my paintings Lark Bastian? I thought of using Ross, but I don't really want my art linked to your parents either; I want it linked to you because you inspire me. You are like my muse.”
He didn't say anything at first and I wondered if I had offended him by not wanting to use his last name. He reached out to brush his knuckles across my cheek. “Jesus, Lark, you undo me. I'd be fucking honored to have you use my name.”
“Then that's settled.”
In a blur of movement, he lifted me into his arms and started back to the house. His voice was gruff and sexy as hell. “I was going to suggest that we lie on the beach and look up at the stars, but I'd rather look at you, naked, in bed, and under me.”
“Oh, yeah, let's definitely do your idea.”
Chapter Eighteen
The following morning I walked to the lighthouse and worried over seeing Logan again. The last time we spoke I told him, inadvertently, that I mourned for him like he was my father. Whether he was or wasn't my dad, there certainly was the potential for things to be awkward after that statement.
He was outside playing with Hunter when I arrived and, it was startling how much they looked alike.
Logan spotted me and waved with one hand as he lifted his son over his shoulder like a sack of sugar. Watching them caused a pang of envy—there was no denying the love between father and son. What would it have been like growing up with Logan as my dad?
If Logan really was my dad, Hunter was my brother. Warmth filled me with that thought. A family of my own—it was almost too good to be true. Hunter peeked out through his long bangs—two little jewels looked right at me. Logan came over to greet me, his son—my brother?—still on his shoulder. “Good morning, Lark.”
Longing tightened my throat, making speech difficult, but somehow I managed to come across lighthearted. “Morning, Logan. What's that you've got on your shoulder? Looks like maybe a sea monster or an alien.”
A grin tugged at Logan's mouth. “I thought I caught me a really big lobster.”
“Lobster you say. I do so like lobster.” I reached over and tickled Hunter's belly, causing him to break out into a fit of laughter. At that moment Saffron appeared in the doorway.
“Hunter, come love. Let's see which of us can eat more chocolate chip cookies in one sitting.”
Hunter's head immediately turned to his mommy. “With milk?”
“Of course, as if you can eat chocolate chip cookies without it.” Saffron waved at me. “Good morning, Lark.”
“Morning.”
Hunter started to wiggle, so Logan placed a kiss on his head before he dropped him on his feet. He wasted no time as his chubby little two-year-old legs carried him toward his mommy.
We watched as they disappeared inside before Logan turned to me. “I should have told you who I was. I made you come all the way up here, so the least I could do is be forthcoming. I'm sorry.”
Forthcoming in more ways than one. “Honestly, it was your secret to keep, and if you had told me you were David Cambre prior to me coming here, I probably wouldn't have come. I'd have thought you were crazy.”
A chuckle rumbled through him but faded into seriousness again, “I am really glad you're here.”
“I'm glad to be here.”
“I thought we'd paint the lighthouse. I'm curious to see a side by side comparison.”
“You want to compare my painting with yours?”
The dare was in his expression before he even spoke the words. “Not up to the challenge?”
He may be the finest artist of our time, but it looked like competition ran in our potential family. An evil little smile spread across my face. “Bring it on, Logan.”
He laughed out loud and added. “But here's the trick, we're going to paint from memory.”
“Oh.”
“Exactly. Saffron has some festival responsibilities today, so I'll set up in town to work so I'm near her if she needs help.”
“Okay, then I'll probably go set up at Broderick's since I want to see what they're doing there anyway.”
“You have everything you need, yes?”
“Yeah.” I started to go but then stopped and asked, “It's the swordfish festival, right?”