“How long do you think?” I was already itching to get to work. It was a foreign feeling after feeling blocked for so long. But all I could think about after last night was getting that image in my head down on canvas. Or maybe driftwood. I loved working on different mediums, but I hadn’t worked a lot on untouched natural surfaces. The idea had potential.

Hunter grinned. “One of the two questions I hate answering the most.”

“What’s the other?”

“How much is this going to cost?”

I shook my head. “I already know it’s going to be brutal.”

He shrugged. “Building on islands is never cheap. But I’ve got my full crew on this, so if we don’t run into any issues, I’m guessing four months.”

It wasn’t horrible, but it was still too long. I would have to set up a makeshift studio in one of the extra bedrooms. I had drop cloths to put on the floor. I’d have to hope I didn’t get paint on the walls. “Four months is doable.”

“Glad to hear it. We can get started in two days if that works for you.”

“It does…” I paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to say what I needed to without pissing the guy off. I went with brutal honesty. “Privacy is important. I went through some stuff back in New York. Got some press attention I didn’t like much. It’s mostly died down but—”

“I’ll have a word with my guys. We’ve worked for high-profile clients before. They know the drill. I have a one-strike policy, and I’ve enforced it before. You won’t have any problems.”

The set of my jaw eased. “I appreciate it. I’m not trying to be a prick. I just—this is a fresh start for me, and I don’t want that ruined before I even get started.” The fact that I felt the pull to create again told me that I was in the right place. And I really didn’t want to lose it.

Hunter’s gaze moved over my shoulder, and a grin stretched across his face. “Hey, Shay. Is this the island you’re in charge of?”

I turned to see her heading towards us, her hair swept back from her face, and her cheeks pink from the wind and the cool air. As my gaze traveled down her body, I swallowed. Hard. She’d clearly come from a workout. Her legs were encased in spandex, and her torso in a form-fitting top. I started reciting Mets stats in my head.

“Hi, Hunter. Yeah. This is the place.” Her expression took on a wary quality. “What are you doing here?”