The Butterfly Cove Collection. Sarah Bennett
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light touch on his arm.
‘Save that for later. You were talking about the difference here away from the city and how it makes you feel. What does that have to do with your plans for the barn?’ She rolled onto her side, tucking her hands beneath her cheek.
He settled back down and turned to face her, heart racing a mile a minute. He’d thought for sure any hopes of a relationship with her had been dashed because she still grieved for Jamie, but she’d offered him a lifeline with her shy admission. Now was not the time to push it though. They would have plenty of time to explore things between them if she liked what he said next.
‘I want to convert the barn into a studio, well a collection of studios really. Something to cater for different artistic disciplines. A pottery studio with all the equipment: a wheel, a kiln, drying racks and display cases. A photography studio with a dark room for the old-fashioned types and a top-of-the-range computer and printing set-up for us digital addicts; one for a painter to use, one for a sculptor.
‘The light in the barn is fantastic and the view across the beach to the sea would be inspirational to the most jaded of eyes. The gardens here are fascinating too. I love them as they are—so much to explore, so many hidden secrets to capture on film, on canvas, in clay. I just think it would be fabulous to be able to offer an exclusive retreat to people. Somewhere they can tuck themselves away and recuperate, recharge their batteries and maybe rekindle their muse if they are struggling like I was.’ He cut himself off with a laugh at the saucer-eyed expression on her face. ‘Yeah, I’ve been giving this a lot of thought.’
‘It never occurred to me the barn could be anything other than an eyesore and a dumping ground. I’ve always known I’d have to tackle it at some point, but trying to deal with the house has been overwhelming enough.’ She nibbled her lower lip, a single line etched between her brows—her thinking face, as he thought of it. And when had he started giving names to her different expressions? She spoke again, distracting him from the thought. ‘I can see the appeal of the idea, but I never planned on turning the place into an artist’s retreat.’
A note of uncertainty crept into her tone and Daniel plunged on, hoping to sell her his vision. ‘It’s such a beautiful place; it would be perfect. I want to invite my friend Aaron down to visit and check it out further. He’s the one with a head for figures and his brother’s an architect. I want to get their input and ideas, see if Luke can take some measurements, maybe put together some sketches. I’d make sure it wouldn’t interfere with the guest house. They would be pretty self-contained with the little apartments on the mezzanine floor, although you might get a few begging at the back door once they smell your cooking.’
‘You plan to have them sleep there too? You wouldn’t be expecting them to stay in the house?’ Mia sounded surprised and he wanted to slap himself for being a fool. She’d obviously thought he wanted to take over everything.
‘God no, the guest house is yours. I wouldn’t presume to interfere with your plans. The barn is huge, plenty of room to put in a first floor. That was the idea, studios down below with maybe a staircase connecting to a loft type apartment above. The artists can totally retreat if they wanted to, although I would hope that people would mingle a bit in the summer if we had a barbeque or a bit of a beach party. Get everyone together and all mixing. Maybe put a few bits of art around the house to decorate and we could offer them for sale if anyone was interested. We could even set up a small gallery in time if there was enough interest. A gallery and a tea shop to draw the holidaymakers in the season and something to offer the locals off-peak.’
Mia started laughing as Daniel raced on a mile a minute. So yeah he was miles beyond just a few artist studios, but he could see it in his mind’s eye and excitement fizzed in his gut like champagne bubbles.
‘You’re mad, you know?’ She was laughing, though, much to his relief. ‘The dream I had for opening a guest house seemed unachievable only a couple of months ago and now here we are thinking about adding an artist’s retreat, an art gallery and a bloody tea shop! It all sounds marvellous, but I barely have enough in the budget to finish this place.’
Oh, hell, he was really mucking this up. ‘The cost of anything you agree for the barn would come out of my pocket, not yours. I’ll buy or lease the space from you, with a proper contract and everything. Once I became flavour of the month, people paid quite ludicrous sums for my work and even more for a personal sitting.’
A flicker of guilt over that last disastrous sitting jabbed him in the belly. ‘I have more bloody money than I know what to do with and no-one and nothing in my life that was worth a damn penny of it until now, until this.’ He sounded desperate to his own ears and knew he should back off, but he needed this, needed something physical to show for his almost thirty years of existence other than a few pictures and a failing reputation.
The frown on her forehead smoothed out and excitement gleamed in her eyes. ‘It’s a great idea. I love it and if you can afford to make a go of it then you have my blessing. We’ll have to finish the beach room if you are going to invite your friends to stay. You can put one in there and one in here, if you don’t mind giving up your room for a couple of nights?’
A weight he hadn’t been aware of lifted from his shoulders and he wanted to drag her into his arms and hold her tight, but it seemed too intimate given their location. ‘That would work. The sofa did me fine for the first week. I can camp out on it for a couple of days while the guys are here. Are you sure you don’t mind me inviting them down?’
‘I don’t mind.’ She laughed. ‘I actually don’t. I’ve been cocooned in this place for so long, I forgot what it was like to enjoy the thought of company. Once we’ve finished the beach room, we could look at converting one of the other rooms on the top floor for you to use. Once we have paying guests, you won’t want to be on the same floor as them; you’ll never get any peace. And I like the idea of having you close.’ She said it so calmly, it took him a moment to register the significance. In opening her private space to him, she was offering him a permanent home. A place to belong and set down roots.
He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. ‘If you’re sure?’
‘We’d have to share the bathroom, and only the bathroom for now, but if you don’t leave the seat up it should be fine.’ Her jaw cracked around a huge yawn. ‘Sorry.’
He smiled and tucked the quilt around her. She hadn’t made any move to return to her own room and he liked the idea of keeping her close, even if it was just for one night. ‘Don’t be. Let’s get some sleep and tomorrow will be a better day.’
She wriggled around, turning from one side to the other, taking more and more of the quilt with her each time she shifted. Maybe sharing a bed wasn’t such a great idea. Waiting until she finally settled, he risked a surreptitious tug on one corner to claim just enough of the duvet to cover himself and turned on his side to face her. He bit his lip against the urge to laugh. There was little more of her visible than the top of her head. ‘’Night, pet,’ he murmured.
‘’Night Daniel,’ she replied from the muffled depths of the bed.
A sharp pain digging in her ribs woke Mia and she tugged at the tight band of her bra. Her knickers had formed an uncomfortable wedge in places unmentionable, and it took a moment of confusion before she remembered why she’d fallen asleep in her underwear. She froze, one finger hooked in the elastic of her pants, and held her breath. Slow, even sounds came from her left and she peeked over the top of the quilt. Daniel sprawled on his back beside her, one arm flung above his head and a hairy leg hooked over his side of the covers.
His chest rose and fell in an easy motion, the T-shirt he’d kept on moulded to his frame. Broader than Jamie through the shoulders, she noted, followed by a quick wash of guilt. She shouldn’t be comparing the two of them. There should be no comparison between the man she’d loved for ten years and this relative stranger.
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