Page 97 of The Romance Adventure
“Never wanting anything.”
“It’s good to want. Keeps you sharp.” My smile grows.
“I mean food, Isla. I’ll keep you stocked with muffins, smoothies, breakfast tacos, and chocolate. Lots of that.”
I tip my head back with laughter. “Now, that sounds great indeed.”
“I’m an investor. Not a gambler. I invest money, time, and energy in things I believe in. I believe in us.”
“Sounds like we’re a pair of stocks.”
“Not publicly traded.” His eyes dip to my mouth.
“Does that mean you’re all mine?” I ask as our future paints itself in vibrant color in my vision.
His lips quirk. “Indeed, it does. Will you be my Valentine?”
I nuzzle closer. “Your forever Valentine. If you’ll be mine.”
“I’m all yours, Isla. All yours.”
His lips catch mine and we kiss as the sun melts into the sea.
Epilogue
I end up painting not one, but two murals at the Driftwood Resort. The first is of the McGregor brothers on a ship with Chip at the wheel. It’s not obvious at first glance, but they’re sailing toward an island where a couple stands on the shore, waving them in.
Imagining them to be Mr. and Mrs. McGregor, the real lost treasure, makes me stress less about the actual mystery at hand.
It’s hard not to steal a glance at my ring finger where the engagement band with the pearl and diamonds sparkles in the sunshine. We’ve been discussing the big day and Royal had only one request: that a passage from the Gospel of Matthew be included during the ceremony. The guy has become obsessed with pearls.
The second mural is still a work in progress as progress is made on the rehabilitation of the resort. The scene is one a guest might find on the grounds complete with a pirate ship playground, mini golf with the tackiest features in the best sort of way, along with croquet, pickleball, volleyball, cornhole, and of course, a giant game of chess. The scene also showcases poolside and beachside lounging, sandcastle contests, snorkeling, gameday, movie night, and s’mores around the campfire. And let’s not forget dining alfresco alongside live entertainment.
It depicts all that the resort will be, a combination of serene seclusion and lively activity.
I even paint Royal and me in the scene, smiling lovingly at each other, but that’s no forgery. That’s the real deal, an expression I get to see on the daily as we plan our wedding. It’ll be right here as part of the soft opening of the resort in a couple of months.
In the meantime, love is in the air, in the water, and all around. It turns out that Royal and I work well together. He’ll handle the business end of the resort and extreme sports excursions while I’ll handle hospitality, guest relations, and making sure that no smoothies are harmed in the many meet-cutes we’re sure to sponsor.
As I add some brown onto the fur of a dog in the painting, a yip sounds from behind me. Startled, I whirl around, sending my can of paint splattering onto the fluorescent orange safety fence surrounding a shallow hole in the ground. Something glints from inside. I crouch down to see a little brindle dog dotted with pink paint.
“What did I do?” Hands pressed to my face, I get to my feet, turning in a panicked circle.
A woman hurtles toward me, hollering, “Madame, Madame!”
“I am so sorry. I didn’t see your dog. I apologize.”
“You found Madame?” the woman with a halo of brown hair asks.
Squinting with confusion, I say, “Huh? Madame? I thought you were calling me—”
The woman crouches next to the hole. “Madame de Pupadour, get up here right now.”
The dog yips again.
I scratch my head, not sure I heard her correctly. “Madame, what?”
“Madame de Pompadour is a historical figure. This is Madame de Pupadour, Madame for short. In college, I was at a crossroads. Did I study history or veterinary sciences? You can tell which one won.”
