Page 15 of Belonging: KT & Lolo (Good Hope: The Next Generation #2)

CHAPTER TEN

When a summer storm blew in later that week, KT leaned into the energy of it, tracking the way rain slashed against the windows, the fierce sway of the trees, the thunder that rolled like distant cannon fire.

It wasn’t a masterpiece he was working on, but it felt good just to paint again. There was something grounding about matching motion with motion, emotion with emotion.

He was rinsing his brush in the kitchen when he caught movement outside. Light flickered through the curtain of the cabin next door. Her cabin. A shadow moved, then stilled.

Five days. That’s how long it had been since Daisy’s party, since they’d kissed. The start of something he hadn’t wanted to rush or smother. But maybe he’d waited too long. He should have texted. Called. Something.

He’d told himself she was busy, or gone, or resting. But the truth was, maybe he hadn’t wanted to push too hard. Maybe he’d been waiting for her to reach out first.

Now, with the storm easing to a drizzle, he wiped off his brushes and dried his hands .

He debated walking over. Thought better of it. Then, without overthinking it, he sent a text.

If you don’t have plans, I have a pan of lasagna that’s too much for one. Join me?

Ten heartbeats later, his phone buzzed.

What time?

He smiled.

Now? Or whenever works for you.

Her response came quickly.

I’ll change and be right over.

Less than ten minutes later, a knock.

KT opened the door to find Lolo on his stoop, damp curls soft around her face, a sketchbook under her arm, one hand clutching a pan covered with foil, the other holding a small bouquet of wildflowers.

Sun-bright coreopsis, purple clover and baby’s breath, all a little rain-splattered and wildly beautiful.

He stepped back, taking the bouquet she pushed into his hands.

“You brought me flowers,” he said, caught off guard in the best way.

“And dessert.” She held up the foil pan. “Cherry cobbler. I picked up some amazing cherries from Cherry Acres yesterday.”

She stepped inside like she belonged there, already hanging her raincoat on a nearby hook.

“And…” she added, pulling two bright lemons from her coat pocket. “A little lemonade for later. Or tomorrow. Whichever makes sense.”

“Tomorrow,” KT echoed softly. The word settled in his chest with unexpected weight. “Let me put these in water.”

He found a mason jar and filled it with water while she placed the cobbler on the counter.

“I don’t know about you,” she said, “but when it rains, I bake.”

“I paint.” He gestured toward the easel.

Her expression lit up. “May I?”

“It’s not done,” he warned.

“Oh, so this is a sneak peek,” she teased.

“If this were the real deal, there’d be an unveiling and maybe a cheese tray.”

She crossed to the easel and studied it in silence, her head tilting ever so slightly. “This is the storm, isn’t it?”

KT blinked. “How did you…”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

It wasn’t. Not to most. But to her, maybe. That did something to him.

“Like I said, just practice.”

She pointed to another canvas, this one covered. “And that one?”

“That one’s…special.”

Her eyes danced. “Can I see it?”

“Not yet.” Not ever, maybe. That one wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready.

She began arranging the flowers in the jar with an artist’s eye and a casual grace that made his chest ache.

“I practiced today, too,” she said.

“Baking?” he asked.

“Sketching.” She glanced over her shoulder. “The pencils are starting to feel familiar again. Like old friends.”

He liked that. Liked that she was settling into her art, just as he was finding his way back to his own.

KT opened the fridge, retrieved two club sodas and handed her one before placing the lasagna in the oven.

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” he said. “She drops food off like I’m a teenager who doesn’t know how to boil water.”

“I’d never complain about that.”

“She also gave me cake. Which…tragically didn’t survive the day.”

“She makes the best cake on the peninsula,” Lolo said reverently.

They laughed, the sound low and easy .

He gestured toward the couch. “Come sit. Tell me about your sketches.”

She settled beside him, their bodies close but not quite touching.

Outside, thunder cracked, as if the storm wanted to remind them it was still present.

Lolo jumped slightly, then laughed. “Looks like I got here just in time.”

“Exactly the right time,” KT replied, slipping his arm around her.

She leaned into him without hesitation, her head finding the curve of his shoulder.

Outside, the world shimmered in the storm’s wake.

They sat like that, nestled together on a rainy Friday night, a storm outside, something softer but no less powerful rising between them inside.

Lolo couldn’t believe that she and KT had been talking about her sketches the entire time they waited for the oven buzzer to go off.

“Let me see those last few again.” He held out his hand. “You didn’t give me a chance to look at those.”

Today, her mind had wandered to the Stillwell headquarters, and she’d found herself fleshing out several possibilities. She had lifted the sketchbook out of his hands when he’d reached those drawings.

He studied it thoughtfully, then looked at her. “Is this for Stillwell?”

She shrugged. “I had a few ideas kicking around in my head and thought I’d get them down before they poof.”

He studied them thoughtfully, flipping from one page to another and then back again. “These are good.”

“They’re a variation of something he’s already seen that he shot down,” she admitted. “Then again, that was when he was waiting for your decision.”

“He shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss these.” KT’s gaze dropped once again to the sketchbook. “I think you’re on to something, especially with this last one.”

“It’s coming together,” she agreed. “Tapping into my creative side is my favorite part of my job. That and working collaboratively with others who are as passionate about a project as I am.”

“The collaboration is what first got me interested in the corporate stuff.”

“Really?”

“The chance to collaborate with other artists in a way I normally didn’t.” He leaned back. “People thought it was about the money, but for me it was about showing that art and utility could overlap.”

“Why turn Stillwell down, then?” Lolo didn’t hide her confusion. “You’d be doing exactly that, merging art and function.”

“Because all those projects sucked the life out of me.” KT’s eyes turned distant as if he was looking back. “The last one especially. It took longer than I anticipated, and my creative well was dry by the time I finished. That’s why I came here. To get it back.”

“And have you?” she asked softly.

“I’m getting there.”

“No amount of money or favorable clauses is worth it if they affect your creativity.” Lolo laid her hand over his and gazed into his eyes, trying to will him to see she was telling the truth.

“When my dad returns from Italy, I’ll make sure he understands you have zero interest in accepting the Stillwell offer.

Though you’ve made that clear, I think that there’s still some element of hope. ”

The oven buzzer sounded.

KT pushed to his feet at the same time Lolo did, and when she turned, he bumped into her, knocking her off-balance .

Strong hands on her arms steadied her and brought her closer to him.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice sounding oddly breathless.

“You’re welcome.” The look in his eyes had shivers traveling up her spine.

In the background, the buzzer continued, reminding Lolo of an irritating fly she wanted to swat.

Releasing his hold, KT gestured to the kitchen. “Time to get out the lasagna before it burns.”

Still, for several seconds, neither of them moved a muscle. She wanted to kiss him, and from the look in his eyes, he wanted to kiss her.

Lolo stepped closer just as KT stepped around her.

She followed him into the kitchen and was reaching for the silverware when a loud boom of thunder shook the cabin’s windows.

“That felt close,” KT said in an unruffled tone.

“I’ve always liked being inside while a storm rages outside. I love the sound of rain on a roof and when it splashes against the windows.”

“I like to paint to the sound of rain.”

“Maybe after dinner, you could paint and I could sketch?”

“I’d like that.”

They began plating the lasagna. For a moment, the only sounds were the soft scrapes of serving utensils and the hum of the storm beyond the windows.

KT handed her a plate, then hesitated, his expression turning thoughtful.

“You know,” he said, almost offhand but not quite, “my brother—who’s still single, by the way—claims I have commitment issues.”

“Do you?” Lolo was careful to keep all judgment from her tone.

“Maybe.” KT began dishing out the lasagna. “I’ve had relationships that didn’t turn out how I thought they would, which makes me wary. Plus, my mom went through some hard relationships when my brother and I were growing up that make it hard to believe in lasting love.”

“But your mom and Krew are happy now, right?”

Since his mother had reunited with the boy she knew in high school, who was now a successful NFL coach, Lolo had heard only how happy they were.

“They are. Now.” KT’s expression turned serious. “They went through some difficult times when Krew returned to Good Hope and discovered he was Dakota’s father. It showed me how secrecy, even with good intentions, can erode trust and complicate relationships.”

“Sometimes individuals hide part of themselves out of fear of judgment or rejection,” Lolo asserted.

“My last girlfriend did that,” KT mused, “but not out of fear of judgment or rejection. I’m not even sure if it was deliberate or conscious. Sonya loved my corporate artwork and firmly believed that it was the direction I should take in my career.”

“She pushed you into going that route.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘pushed.’” KT’s eyes turned dark with memories. “Encouraged. Supported. It was what she wanted for me, but it wasn’t something I wanted.”

“Why didn’t you just tell her that wasn’t what you wanted?”