Nolan gave Bea a lopsided grin. ‘The thought of you in that red bikini will be imprinted on my brain for ever!’
Bea swiped his arm playfully.
‘And I have painted you also.’
They both looked towards the painting balanced on the easel.
‘I’m not sure where I’m going to hang that.’ She smiled.
‘I’m sure you’ll find somewhere to put it,’ he replied, leaning in and kissing her softly on the lips.
‘I actually need to find a house first. The thought of going back to my home town is not enthralling.’
‘Don’t think about that now. Keep your thoughts on the here and now.’ That was exactly what Nolan was trying to do because, thinking about the past few years, he knew he would be sailing The Hemingway out of Heartcross sooner rather than later.
‘I’m trying,’ Bea replied. ‘Life forty-eight hours ago seemed all dark and hard work and yet now it seems colourful and fun.’
Nolan knew exactly what Bea meant. He’d woken up this morning after a good night’s sleep and couldn’t wait to begin the day, knowing he would be seeing her. Someone like her hadn’t crossed his path in a long time.
‘Why couldn’t I meet someone like you in the real world?’ she murmured, taking his hand. ‘I could stay here for ever.’
‘Mmm, have you seen those clouds?’ Nolan pointed to the sky. Even though the air was still warm, there were dark clouds looming above. ‘I think there’s going to be showers tonight so we should probably head back. I’ll leave the cool box in the hut. I can come back for it at another time.’
‘Maybe we could come back for it together?’ Bea hoped he’d say yes. In the next two weeks she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.
‘I’m sure we can make that happen,’ he replied, glancing up at the sky again.
Just at that moment, the sky opened up. Feeling the large droplets of rain against their bare skin, they were up on their feet and running briskly towards the hut. Grabbing her clothes from her rucksack, Bea quickly pulled them on then placed a towel around her shoulders like a cape. Nolan began to pack everything up and moved the painting and easel inside the hut along with the picnic blanket.
‘Are you sure we should leave the painting here?’ asked Bea.
‘Yes, it’ll stay dry in the hut.’
‘But, what if someone turns up here and they’re greeted by a portrait of a semi-naked woman wearing a red bikini?’
‘There’s not a soul in sight and if they do, they will be disappointed. You’re taken for the summer and I’ll be the only one admiring your beauty.’
Bea smiled. ‘Taken for the summer? I’m only here for the next couple of weeks.’
Nolan leaned forward and kissed her on the tip of her freckled nose. ‘My guess is two weeks will fly by and you’ll want to stay. What have you got to rush back for anyway?’
‘My job,’ Bea answered straightaway.
Nolan cocked an eyebrow. ‘Really? I thought you were here to make a plan and sort the rest of your life. That, to me, sounds like you’re going to fall straight back into the same routine as before. It might be all you’ve ever known, but even I can see your worth. Be braver.’
Bea was pensive for a second. ‘I need a steady income.’
‘And? There are loads of jobs out there. Ones that have sociable hours and that would put a smile on your face. The smile on your face disappears as soon as you mention that job.’
‘It’s not that easy to get a job.’
‘Is that the best argument you can come up with? You already have a trial shift lined up at The Little Blue Boathouse tomorrow!’
‘You do have a point there.’ She mulled over Nolan’s words as they stood in the doorway of the hut and looked out over Castaway Bay. It was beautiful and calming and that wasn’t the feeling she got back at home.
‘I think it won’t be quite the same when you’ve gone.’ She nudged his elbow lightly. ‘Are we going to make a run for it?’ She nodded in the direction of the boat.
After stuffing the bottle and letter inside the rucksack, they took off from the hut. Thankfully, the rain wasn’t too heavy at the moment and the breeze was slight. Sitting in the boat, Bea held on to the sides as Nolan pushed it into the water and grabbed the oar before jumping aboard.
