Love Makes the Difference (Sully Point Book 1) Read online

  * * * *

  Dinner that night at the Grainger house was up to Cody to provide, so naturally they were having pizza with garlic bread and fried mozzarella. That was always Cody's fallback meal. Anna shook her head as she set the large, rectangular table in the dining room. The family always ate dinner in the dining room. It was a legacy from Anna's mom, who had died when Anna was nine. Her father had continued the tradition of evening meals in that room as a kind of tribute.

  Anna, her father, and Cody traded off food prep duties, even though Cody had his own place. Holly, the oldest, participated when she was home, which wasn't as often as it used to be. She lived in the city and her business there was growing rapidly. Holly's charisma gave her a golden touch when it came to making money. Anna missed her sister lately as the absences grew. Holly was a joy to be around, and she was one person that Anna never felt she had to pretend around. She could be herself and not worry that someone would be thinking, 'Wonder if she'll ever get married,' or, 'Is she going to work in the bakery forever?' or other questions. Not that she blamed her father, but he was pretty obvious sometimes with his little nudges, encouraging her to go out and have some fun, or maybe to return to college. He couldn't seem to understand that Anna knew exactly what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Her art.

  Tonight after dinner she would escape to her studio to paint. She couldn't wait. The world fell away there as she tapped into a flow of creativity and passion that felt sometimes as if it came directly from the universe, putting her in tune with everything around her and more.

  Even though Anna still lived at home in the large Grainger house, her studio was in a building off Main Street. It was a loft with fantastic light, furnished with a few hand-me-down pieces and had tons of space. She didn't go there every day, but lately she'd been there more and more. Images, feelings, thoughts, creations all seemed to jump from her brush to the canvas in moments of absolute truth.

  She heard her father come in the back door through the kitchen. "I'm in here, Dad," Anna called out.

  "Ah, hey there, kiddo," Frank said. "Pizza again?" When Anna nodded to him, he said, "Okay, that's it. I'm banning Cody from buying pizza for a while. He's right there at the docks every day. The least he could do is fix up some fried fish or something to do with seafood."

  "You're the best cook with fish, Dad. If he brings it you know you'll end up fixing it."

  "Maybe it's time I gave up my cooking secrets and taught Cody."

  "If you are doing that, you'd better teach me, too! I want your secret recipes."

  "Right, kiddo."

  Anna turned away so her father wouldn't see the wince when he called her 'kiddo.' She didn't know how to get him to stop calling her that at her age. Probably he would never see any of his kids as completely grown up. Still, it was time for her to let him know it bothered her. She knew he had no idea.

  Cody came in with arms full of food. As they opened everything up and got it onto plates, Cody chattered about some customer who'd bought a bunch of fishing tackle.

  Frank waited for a pause and then said, "Well, I had another visit from Sam Carter today. Bought a ladder. And he stopped in to see Anna."

  Cody choked for a minute and then swallowed. "Anna? The new guy is interested in Anna?" He stared at his sister.

  "No! Good grief, Dad, it wasn't like that. He came in to buy some rolls for lunch, then he came back later for cookies because you told him to. So it wasn't anything like, you know, like he was interested in me or anything."

  "Of course not, didn't mean that at all. Just saying, he seems to be getting around to all the businesses in town and still nobody knows just what the heck he's doing here. Have you heard anything more, Cody?"

  Cody had a mouthful of garlic bread and waved a hand in the air.

  Anna said, "I don't think we should gossip about the man. It's not like he has to tell people what he's doing here. He might just be on a vacation."

  "I don't think so," Frank offered. "He told me he bought old Wally's place on the beach and he's fixing it up. Sounds to me like he's planning on putting down roots and staying for a while. And Cody, that reminds me--he's looking to buy a pickup if you know of anybody selling one right now."

  "Oh," Anna said blankly. "He's staying?"

  "You ask me," Cody said, "Carter's got something to hide. Maybe he's one of those mafia guys, or an assassin laying low. I heard that Maelynne has been telling people he's definitely a movie producer who's going to rent out her whole motel to make a movie here."

  Frank laughed. "Maelynne would say that. She's barely hanging on until the tourists get here. I guess they should be showing up starting next week with the weather like this."

  Tourism kept Sully Point going with the peak season starting in May and running through August. Every business in town relied on that annual influx of money to get through the year. Cody's Bait and Tackle Shop would be the biggest recipient of tourist dollars in their family, although the bakery did heavy business as well.

  Anna continued to think about Sam staying in Sully Point, her mind rife with speculation. He never did say what he was doing here, or tell me his job, she thought. But surely he couldn't be an assassin. She shook her head.

  "Anna? Did you hear me?" Frank asked. "I was asking if he said anything to you when he came back in for cookies, anything to give a clue about himself."

  "No, not really. We just talked about...stuff." For some reason she felt herself blush and saw her father's knowing eyes on her. Great, now he'll think I have a crush on Sam. Damn. Finishing her food, she stood up and began clearing dishes--or at least, she tried to.

  "Whoa, what's the rush, Sis? I'm not done yet."

  "Sorry, Cody, I just want to get to the studio."

  Frank gave her a quick, sharp look. "Tell you what, kiddo, I'll take clean-up duty tonight. You go on, get outta here."

  "Thanks, Dad." Anna bent to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I may stay late, so don't wait up. And yes, I know," she said, nodding her head. "Don't come home if it's too late, just stay there. You've told me enough times."

  "All right, go. Enjoy yourself," Frank said and gave her a pat on the back. She knew he saw how much more relaxed and happy she appeared at just the idea of going to her studio. The artistic talent came from her mother, and Frank had always encouraged Anna in exploring it. He did worry sometimes that she spent too much time up in her studio, but he saw how fulfilled she was when she returned from a long painting session. His quirky artist daughter sometimes left him confused, but he would never stand in the way of her pursuit of happiness.

  "Pass the red pepper flakes and parmesan, Cody. And next week we're cooking fish until you learn how to do it."

  "What? What I'd do?"

  * * * *

  Anna scuffed her old, worn loafers on the sidewalk as she kicked a pebble in front of her. She'd have to talk to her father, she decided. It was time to tell him of her idea to move out. It had felt wrong to leave him all alone in the big house up till now, but these days she felt more comfortable at the loft. It even had a small kitchen, and with some work, and the judicious use of divider screens, she could set up a bedroom of sorts. Now if only she could figure out when to--

  A horn honked on the street next to her and she jumped. Turning quickly, she saw the sports car with Sam Carter behind the wheel.

  "Hello, Anna," he said as he pulled the car to the side of the street next to her. "What are you doing out walking at night like this?"

  "Just going...somewhere...not too far from home, so I chose to walk. Nothing wrong with that." She felt flustered and off-balance seeing him suddenly.

  "I guess in a small town it is pretty safe to walk around at night. Like I told you today, I've spent some time recently in a large city, and there's no way a woman would go walking by herself at night. Anyway, can I give you a ride?"

  Anna realized her mouth had opened but no words were coming out. She closed it and shrugged. She saw that Sam was looking at her with his head
tilted--just like in the bakery today. Finally she said, "Sure. It's just a couple streets over from here."

  As soon as he leaned over to open the passenger door for her, she felt like all her nerve endings were lit up like fireworks. What am I doing? What am I thinking? Oh my God, I'm getting in his car! Her inner dialogue became a churning chaos of questions and exclamations.

  "Anna? Can you put on your seatbelt?"

  "Oh yeah, sure, no problem."

  "Going to visit a friend?"

  "No."

  He glanced over at her. "Is it rude to ask just where you're going?"

  "Not rude, no, but--it's just a building--turn left here, then it's two blocks up."

  "Anna, do you have a secret life?" Sam asked in an obviously joking manner.

  She felt the blood drain from her face and saw Sam's smile change to a look of concern. "No, not a secret life...not like yours." She tried smiling to deflect his curiosity. "Okay, here we are. Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it. Drive safe tonight."

  She opened the door and scrambled out of the car as quickly as possible. After she walked a few feet toward the building and waved at him, he didn't move and she knew he was waiting until he saw her enter the building. Fumbling, she got her key in the door to the main floor foyer, opened it and waved again. She watched him drive off with a sense of having escaped. Anna didn't want him to know about her loft and her painting. It was private.

  * * * *

  Sam drove home with a head full of questions and no answers. He'd been coming back from the area mall when he'd seen Anna walking down the sidewalk. She'd seemed startled to see him—well, that was only natural. But the thing at the end. The way she dodged his question and the strange look on her face when he asked about a secret life...what was going on with the woman? She also hadn't looked him directly in the eye, which seemed off for her. And that mention of his secret life...what was she thinking about him?

  In his business, he had need of a great imagination and in his mind he was already coming up with scenarios that might fit Anna's situation. By the time he pulled into the driveway at the beach house, he started chuckling. He was conjuring up erotic scenes of him rescuing her from some dire straits--definitely going a bit far out there.

  Still he wondered just what she did in that building. It had looked like an industrial type of brick building with a couple of floors. Did she have a second job at night? He couldn't imagine Frank Grainger letting his daughter work another job at night on top of her day job. Clearly the family was doing okay financially, what with owning several businesses.

  He turned on the Bose sound system he'd brought with him the first week he was moved in. He didn't have a television in the house and he wouldn't in the future. It would be an unnecessary distraction. Since it was too late to continue any work on the outside of the house, he sat down at his makeshift desk and opened up his laptop computer, staring at the screen. He thought about Danielle. She was one of the most complex characters he'd ever written in one of his books. Her sparkling green eyes hid a multitude of sins. Green eyes, kind of like Anna's today. And just like Danielle in his story, Anna was hiding something, something big. It dawned on him that he was back to thinking about Anna.

  He stalked off in aggravation to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. After ordering a pizza for delivery, he sat out on the deck. And immediately started thinking about what Anna might be doing this night.

  * * * *

  Anna flipped on her iPod as soon as she walked in the door to the loft. Classical music began pouring out of the speakers at a high volume. She immediately turned it down and searched for something to listen to that would match her mood. The question was--just what was her mood?

  As always, she felt free as soon as she saw her easel set up and waiting for her. However, she also felt keyed up and all fluttery inside from the encounter with Sam. He really was quite gorgeous, she thought as she wandered into the large, open room. And he seemed like a nice guy. So why did she feel nervous thinking about him? She'd never felt like that before. Maybe he really was a hit man. She laughed at herself. Definitely not a hit man, not with those kind, interested eyes. And those strong hands, those were the hands of a working man. With the body of a god. She suddenly felt turned on and confused at the same time. No man had ever stayed on her mind like this.

  Anna pulled out tubes of paint and unveiled the painting she had been working on for weeks. She stood back and stared at it for long minutes. Finally she spoke aloud. "I'm going to need really loud music. Gotta focus." Shoving any more thoughts of the mysterious Sam Carter to the back of her mind, she took a deep breath, raised the volume on the music, and reached for her favorite paint brush.

  Painting had always been her path to peace. From a very young age, drawing had been something she wanted to do. Her mother recognized this and began taking her to the loft. Sitting for hours watching her mother paint, she absorbed lessons no teacher could ever give to her in words.

  Anna wasn't sure what would have happened if her mother hadn't died. But with that death, her grief and her paintings got all wrapped up together. Painting became a private thing, her escape, her place to feel all the things she couldn't express to her father, who was grieving too. Although she had let her family see her paintings through the years, she never showed them to anyone else. Painting was her link to her mother, and that was not something to be shared with outsiders. The loft became the refuge where she could let out all the intense feelings inside, with painting and drawing the conduit for the emotions. In the loft she became more free and expressive and felt like her true self.

  Now as she touched the canvas with her brush she felt a disturbance that didn't come from within, but from someone outside herself. Sam. Thoughts of him were intruding into her private place.

  She began to paint with a vengeance.

  Chapter 2

  The alarm woke her with the radio coming on and blaring loudly in the still-dark room. Stumbling across the floor to turn it off, Anna stubbed her toe and hopped the rest of the way over to the table. She'd spent the night in the loft on the old couch. It was surprisingly comfortable for sleeping.

  Deciding to take a shower at the loft rather than going home, she was glad she'd left a clean uniform in the closet, a pale yellow one. The uniform was Holly's idea. She felt it gave a clean, tidy look to the bakery. Anna thought it would look just as clean and tidy if she wore jeans and a t-shirt, but Holly could not be convinced of that. In the end, Anna and Kayla, the high school girl who helped out, wore a variety of pastel colors in polyester. Anna was pretty sure they resembled cupcakes in their uniforms.

  She hurried through her shower, getting ready quickly because she was dying for a cup of coffee. Somehow she had run out of coffee here. The bakery had the best coffee, anyway, due to the expensive coffee machine.

  She ran a brush through her hair and wondered again why she didn't just cut it off to a shorter length since it always ended up in a ponytail or bun.

  The mirror in the bathroom was tiny compared to most bathroom fixtures. She glanced at her face and decided there really was no point in makeup--she was plain and she always would be. She stuck her tongue out at the mirror and then whirled around to leave.

  Running to the bakery, she made it with plenty of time to make bread loaves and rolls. After drinking a cup of coffee, she was ready to tackle the donuts just as the sun started to come up. The bakery wasn't a donut shop, but every morning it carried one or two flavors. Anna's favorites were the cinnamon sugar-apple cider donuts she made in the fall, but today's batch would be pretty darn good--chocolate with chocolate frosting.

  She got a phone call from her father around six a.m. right after she put blueberry muffins in the oven. After reassuring him she'd spent a peaceful night at the loft, she began organizing trays of baked goods for the day.

  During all her activity, she determinedly did not think of Sam. Granted, it took some effort to ignore those thoughts, but she accomplished it. She f
igured if she stayed busy enough, she wouldn't fall into any stupid fantasies about the man. So it was with a sense of surprise and also inevitability that she saw him walking up to the front door of the bakery when she took down the closed sign. What is he doing out at that house of his, lifting weights? You can see his abs through the t-shirt he's wearing. It seemed to her a bit unfair he looked quite so delicious this early in the day.

  She opened the door, waving him inside. "Come on in, Sam. The muffins are still warm from the oven and the donuts are scrumptious today."

  Sam stepped inside and stopped, taking a deep breath. "This place smells...heavenly. I want one of everything."

  A giggle escaped her lips and Anna clapped a hand to her mouth. She never giggled. Sam laughed and then, after a few seconds, so did she. He always seemed so comfortable and at ease. She found her guard coming down just being around him.

  He walked over to the trays of baked goods and seemed to think hard about what his choice would be. Finally she said, "How long are you planning on being in Sully Point, Sam?"

  He met her gaze. "I'm not sure yet, but at least six months, I think. Why?"

  "Well, if you're going to be here that long, you'll have time to sample everything we make. You won't miss out if you don't try it all today."

  He laughed again. "You're right. It isn't quite so momentous a decision, is it? Okay, I want one of those blueberry muffins. And what the hell, give me one of those sinful-looking donuts. I can see I'm going to have to increase my workouts if I keep coming here."

  "You work out? What kind of exercise do you do?"

  "Some cardio, some weights and running on the beach--enough to stay in shape."

  "Ah," she said and bent her head down so her flushed face wasn't quite so visible as she boxed up his baked goods. Weight lifting! I knew it.

  He took the box when she handed it to him and stood there. She stared at him, puzzled, and he said with a grin, "Are these free or were you going to charge me something?"