Love By Moonlight: A Small Town Grumpy Sunshine Romance (Solhaven Forevers Book 2)
Love By Moonlight: Chapter 2

Daniel Morgan was desperately tired after the appalling start to yesterday, when he’d come home from his agent’s office to replace his ex-wife had taken up residence in his house. His very pregnant ex-wife, together with her lover. It didn’t help to know it was completely down to his own stupidity. He’d never changed the locks, and he hadn’t realised Gina had slipped off with a key. That she’d moved in was unbelievable in view of the fact she’d been the one to walk out on him last year. There was also the other thing she’d done when she—but there, his thoughts stopped. The pain was too much to bear just now. He’d felt exhausted ever since the bereavement and divorce, and had spent the last year recovering. He didn’t need her reviving all those bitter memories which he was finally putting behind him.

Like an ancient oil-painting, he felt on the verge of disintegration. Finding Gina had taken up residence in his house had threatened his very sanity. He’d made an instant decision to walk out, and put the whole matter into the hands of his solicitor. In the process, he’d made himself homeless, and had lost access to all his work, which, thank goodness, was safely locked away from Gina’s avaricious little paws in his loft studio. Trouble was, there were paintings in the studio which he needed. They were supposed to be with his agent before he left for America in two months’ time. Now he needed the coastline so he could paint some replacements.

It was his good friend and mentor, portrait painter Sebastian Whitchurch, who’d offered a viable solution. Sebastian’s second or third cousin—he couldn’t remember which, only that the man was now dead—had owned a house and a cottage in Solhaven, and had once told Sebastian he would leave them to a young man called Bradstock. Assuming the family now lived in the house, Sebastian had suggested the cottage might be available to rent. An excellent retreat, and one where he could paint as many seascapes as he needed. The sound of it suited Daniel, so today he’d driven a very long way west, to the beautiful coastline of Wales.

Now he was at a hotel called Haven House, looking at a slim woman with a tumbled mass of dark blonde waves falling down her back and large golden-brown eyes.

In view of all that had happened to him in the last couple of years, and the vow he’d taken never to let a woman close again, he found himself disturbed by the unexpected feelings seeping, faint but definite, through him now. Feelings of an instant recognition and a physical response, both of which held him immobile for a few brief, fascinated seconds. Maybe it was a relief to know he could still feel, but loving anyone was no longer on his agenda. Love equated to being hurt, and it wasn’t worth it.

Yet her face was gentle and her eyes, so clear and penetrating, seemed able to see his innermost misery, and there was something soothing about her. What would it be like to let go, give in, turn to her for comfort? Then, even more unexpected than those thoughts, and totally unwelcome, he noticed his body’s response, a stirring of interest which he immediately stepped back from.

It was only a result of his tiredness and hunger that his defences were down. A desperate justification as he strode off to choose a table. Daniel had no interest in women unless they were the kind who could take a night together and part company the next day with only a casual word of thanks, and he didn’t think this one would be that sort. Hopefully, a shot of spirits and some food might boost him sufficiently to replace these people he’d been directed to. Then, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Once he’d eaten, he wouldn’t have to see the woman again, anyway. He’d replace the Bradstocks and hopefully be able to rent this cottage of theirs, then he could avoid the hotel for the rest of the time he’d be here. If he could stay. He was rather dubious about Sebastian’s blithe reassurances that it would all be okay, that these people would have somewhere he could stay. His friend had been very vague. His visit to Henry Whitchurch had been many years ago, but he’d recalled the cottage was on the edge of the sea.

Oh, this was all such a fucking mess. He was emotionally and physically at the end of his tether. One more setback, and he might just lay his head down on the table and weep.

The sweet-faced server brought him, as requested, a whisky and then his meal and some wine. All was delicious, but his appetite for the food was poor, and although he ate most of it, it’d been a slow process. When she returned for his plate, he asked if she knew of the Bradstocks, and her surprise was unexpected.

Daniel stared at her. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Is there a problem asking for this family?’

‘No. Just unexpected. Which Bradstock do you want? And why them in particular?’

‘I have a friend called Sebastian Whitchurch. He’s a portrait painter. He’s a distant cousin of someone who used to live round here. Well, was, I suppose. I gather the other Whitchurch is deceased.’

‘That would be Henry Whitchurch. Yes, he died just over a year ago. And?’ Absently, the server pulled out a chair and sat, her chin on her hand, looking sympathetic.

The connection to the woman that had tugged at Daniel earlier tugged again, and he felt his defences rise, trying to guard against it. But it didn’t work, and he gave in, his defensiveness washed away by their unexpected bond, and he poured out more information than he’d intended. ‘I had to leave my home. It was imperative I left immediately, and I can’t go back until certain issues are resolved, so I can’t access my studio. I went to see Sebastian, and because I need to get some paintings done to give to my agent, he suggested going to the coast. He suggested tr-trying here…’ His voice stuttered to a halt.

‘Sounds like you’ve had a lot on your plate,’ she murmured, a gentle smile on her beautiful face, her hair escaping its ponytail and curling round her high cheekbones.

Kindness. Made him want to collapse into her arms. He’d make an utter fool out of himself, though. Exhaustion slammed into him, and he erected his defences fast. He couldn’t cope with kindness right now, couldn’t cope with whatever it was he felt for this woman he’d just met. Better to shut it out, shut her out.

‘Sebastian told me his relative had owned a large house, and he’d intended to leave it to some people called Bradstock. Anyway, he suggested if the family was living in the house, they might have a cottage to let, which I could rent for the summer. He seemed to recall there was one belonging to the house, which was on the cliffs nearby. I ju-just want to know where the Bradstocks live. So I can ask. F-for accommodation.’ His speech becoming disjointed again, Daniel scrubbed his face, dropped his hands onto the table, and stared at the white cloth, swamped with the fallout from the last two days.

He felt the cool touch of her fingers on the back of his hand and looked up, startled. She was gazing at him with compassion.

‘You’re exhausted, aren’t you? You poor man.’

Fuck! He couldn’t handle this kindness.

‘Do you know where I can replace them?’ His voice was sharp, and he hated himself as he saw her flinch. He felt irrationally saddened and rubbed his face with his hands again to avoid seeing her disappointment.

‘Mmm, well.’ Her voice had gone quiet, her eyes lost their brimming friendliness. ‘Your friend Sebastian Whitchurch is a bit out of date, which isn’t surprising. Henry Whitchurch left the house to Jake Bradstock, yes. Then Jake gave the house to his partner, and they used her money to turn it into a hotel.’

Daniel’s eyebrows rose, and he looked about. ‘Here? This place? The Haven House Hotel?’

She nodded, her smile returning. ‘Yep. Here. This place. And Jake has got some cottages, yes, but they’re probably all let out for summer, or if they have a vacancy, it might be a week here, a couple of weeks there, and you’d have to keep shifting round.’

Daniel despairingly shook his head. Now what?

‘Don’t worry.’ Her voice was soothing. ‘There will be a room here for tonight, so you can get some sleep at least. Meanwhile, I’m sure Jake and Emily will do their best to replace you somewhere.’ He saw her look dubious before she smiled again. ‘Let’s get you booked in and we’ll see what the morning brings. I’ll tell Jake and Emily what the situation is. Sounds as if you’re in a bit of a mess, so we’ll do our best to help you out.’

‘We?’

‘I’m another Bradstock. I’m Claire, Jake’s sister, and the gardener here. They were short staffed, so I was only serving for tonight.’

Daniel stared at her. This was his good luck for the day—that this kind, beautiful woman had been unexpectedly in the dining-room, had seen his exhaustion and distress, and was capably dealing with the current obstacles for him. Haven House Hotel—how apt the name. For now, the place was indeed a haven, and that included her.

‘Thank you,’ he said humbly.

‘Come.’ Standing, she reached out a hand, and he let her take one of his and tug him to his feet.

The warmth of her hand felt good. Her kindness was almost breaking him. His abruptness hadn’t put her off.

Still leading him, she took him through some large double doors and into the lounge. Not the way he’d come in, which had been via the reception hall. A man with longish hair in a riot of loose curls stood behind a serene looking, dark-haired woman sitting at a small table. His hands on her shoulders, both were looking at a laptop open in front of them.

‘Emily, Jake,’ Claire said to them, ‘this gentleman has a problem. First, he needs a room for the night, then tomorrow morning, he needs somewhere long-term to stay. Maybe we can sort something out over breakfast?’ She turned to smile at Daniel. ‘That sound okay?’

Dazed, he gave a slight nod of his head. ‘Yeah. Yes. That’s good, thanks. If you don’t mind?’ He looked at the other two. Oh, yes—his artist’s eye immediately picked out the likeness between the Bradstock siblings. A good-looking pair, with the same high cheekbones and well-shaped mouths, both brown-eyed with golden glints. Claire’s hair was darker and less curly than Jake’s tangled, sun-kissed blonde mop, but easy to see they were brother and sister, both of them more casual than Emily… is that what Claire had called her? Emily’s dark hair fell heavily to her shoulders, framing an oval face and emphasising her large, intensely blue eyes. She wore chinos and a silk shirt with a cardigan slung over her shoulders. Very smart and a bit of a contrast to Jake in his faded jeans and a pale blue tee shirt with a small tear on the shoulder.

Emily gazed at the dark stranger, a look of puzzlement in her eyes. ‘But isn’t this…?’ Her voice died away in hesitation.

Jake smiled, stepping into the awkward pause with friendly ease. ‘Yes, we’ve got a room spare. Emily will need to register you. Do you have any luggage?’

‘My name’s Daniel Morgan. I’ve got a bag in the car.’

‘Oh!’ Claire exclaimed, looking awed. ‘Daniel Morgan? The Daniel Morgan? Seascape artist? Now I know why you look familiar!’

Daniel turned to stare at her. Her eyes were wide, and she’d clasped her hands under her chin. He knew his fame was growing, but to replace a gardener here in coastal Wales who instantly knew his name, even seemed to recognise him, was a surprise. He raised his eyebrows, rubbing his chin tiredly. ‘You sound as if you might know me?’

‘Um, well, yes. I do. Or I should say, I know of you.’

He nodded.

‘So only by repute, and your paintings.’ She grinned. ‘I’m a fan. I love your work.’

Daniel stood, looking at her. Her words seemed genuinely meant. ‘Oh. Well—thank you. Look, my bag’s in the car. I’m parked just out the front. I’ll get my things.’ He was so tired he couldn’t even process this new bit of information—that Claire the rescuing angel knew of his work. Was a fan. Turning, he went out into the cool, just-turned-dark night and pulled his bag from the back seat. He left his travelling art kit in the boot for now until he found out what would happen to him tomorrow. Just for a moment, he paused and took a deep breath. The air was warm and full of delicate smells brought out by the dew. Wet grass, flowers, the sea. Raising his eyes, he saw stars, while behind him, the solid bulk of Haven House glowed with warm lights from its windows. An element of calm seeped into him.

Returning to the entrance hall, he could see Claire in animated discussion with her brother and his partner—or was she his wife?—and he overheard Jake saying something about thinking it over before tomorrow. Emily walked over, and, fingers flicking over the keyboard of the Reception laptop, asked for his address and any other contact details as she registered him.

Daniel turned towards the stairs, and Jake offered to show him to his room. With one last lingering look at Claire, he turned and staggered with sheer exhaustion, grabbing the handrail. He followed Jake up to replace his personal haven within the Haven House Hotel. What a whimsical thought. His lips flickered in a faint smile.

With a sigh of relief, Daniel undressed, showered and got into the comfortable bed. He could sort out the problems of his accommodation tomorrow, but just before he slept, he wondered if it might be best to stay here at the hotel… except it would make painting so difficult. And Claire might be a complication he hadn’t expected and didn’t think he wanted. This was a woman he could fall in love with. He knew that like he knew the sun would rise in the morning. He could love her with ease. If he let himself. But he wouldn’t let himself.

To the sound of distant waves washing onto an unseen beach, he was instantly asleep.