The Near & Far Series

by Serena Clarke

  “Yes,” he said. “You’re my most level-headed two. I know you’ll represent us well.”

  When Kyle went back upstairs, Reid came and leaned against the bar, next to where she was sitting. “You could have tried to look a bit less horrified.”

  “I’m not horrified,” she replied, purposefully concentrating on the laptop screen while cursing herself for always being so transparent. “I’m just surprised. I thought he’d choose one of the other girls.”

  He grinned. “I know you’ve been avoiding me since I dragged you out in your PJs.” He lowered his voice. “Your very small PJs.”

  The shock of his words hit her low in her belly, and she felt the heat rise in her face. Wow, that was out of the blue. She looked around, but they were alone. Sitting at the desk, she was right at the level of his belt buckle, the only point around his hips where his t-shirt was tucked into his jeans. One of his hands was in his pocket, just the thumb out, pointing in the direction of…she swallowed. The heat suffused another part of her body, and she shifted in her chair.

  “Just an observation,” he added innocently, the expression on his face anything but innocent.

  She stood up, trying to even the playing field. “Put your work face back on,” she told him. Her voice came out more husky than she expected, and she cleared her throat. Now that she was standing, it took a huge effort to not step closer. As it was, her eyes kept dropping to his lips, but when she made herself look him in the eye instead, it was no better. He looked right back at her, and she could hardly look away. Her own lips parted of their own accord, like a character in a penny romance. Damn, didn’t she have more strength than this?

  At her words, he stood up straight too. “Sorry boss,” he said, the hint of a smile playing on his lips as he looked down at her. “Couldn’t resist that one.” He was obviously pleased at the reaction he’d got.

  “Well, you’ll have to try harder.” This was the first time they’d been alone together since their little interlude under the stars. She’d been faultlessly circumspect in company, but she was way too susceptible when faced with him one-on-one. “I’m avoiding you for a reason. You just can’t, remember? So no teasing.”

  The gap between them was barely a breath wide. His smile broke free, the dimples a teasing flash in his cheeks. “Are you saying you want to, even if I can’t?”

  What kind of unfair question was that? A question from someone who wasn’t going to go there, but wanted to know he could if he wanted to. Well, that was low. She wasn’t going to dignify it with an answer. But actually, she knew she didn’t have to say anything in reply—her face gave everything away.

  “Oh no,” she said. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too. Or….not eat it, that is.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head. “You know what I mean.”

  If she didn’t like him this much, she’d be happy to play the game—no harm, no foul. But she’d already laid it out, and he’d said no, for whatever reason. She had no intention of letting him toy with her now, for his amusement, when she already felt so firmly on the back foot.

  “What?” He feigned ignorance.

  “Go,” she said, finally tearing herself away and sitting back at the computer. “Go and do whatever you’re supposed to be doing instead of bothering me. Just be back here in time to go and see the Isaacsons.”

  “Yes, m’lady,” he said, unfazed. Then he gave a little bow, and was gone.

  She collapsed back in the chair, letting it swing around. Half of her—the half with her brain—was properly mad. Seriously, it wasn’t okay to mess with someone like that. But the hot and tingly half, that switched itself on whenever he came near, was singing with the thrill of being so near to him, and the suggestion behind his words. She wriggled in the chair and sat herself up straight. Not worth it, she told herself. Way too pleased with himself. Too hot for his own good. Too hot for her own good. And…too close for comfort.

  * * *

  When he came back later, she was ready for him—ready to resist any wickedness he’d send her way. But he was on his best behavior. She fought off the feeling of disappointment, and reminded her hot and tingly half that there had been no shift from I just can’t to I can. Just because her traitorous mind (and other parts) had gone all the way from there to oh baby fling me on the floor and make me cry for mercy, didn’t mean his had too. Or that it was a good idea.

  They took a cab to the Isaacson’s house, a simple but inviting two-story home on a small lot in a modest street. An American flag hung by the front door, and discarded sneakers littered the little porch. Someone had abandoned a creation of sticks tied together with loopy string, and a row of cars was carefully lined up along a windowsill, conveniently at kid level.

  Cady grinned. “Boys live here.”

  “Makes me feel right at home,” Reid said.

  Dayna welcomed them warmly, and ushered them in, apologizing for the mess. There was no mess, of course—although the furniture had definitely seen better days, and the drapes were faded. When Cady sat down, the sofa springs collapsed into a sinkhole underneath her, and the arms were worn through. But the room was tidy and clean, even with two small boys on the loose, and books of all kinds filled the shelves in the corner.

  After the introductions were done, Cady gave the boys their presents—an assortment of Hot Wheels cars each. They shouted with delight as they opened the packets, and Reid sat with them on the floor and made super-charged engine noises as they test drove each one. Then she gave Dayna the ultra-rich body wash and lotion she’d bought for her.

  “Oh! You shouldn’t have,” she said, looking a bit teary. “Sorry, I’m a bit over-emotional these days. But you’re already doing so much.”

  “Well, I hope we can do more,” Cady said. “I should have asked, do you know what combination of boys and girls the triplets are?”

  For a moment, Dayna looked downcast. “Two more boys,” she said. “And one girl. Heaven help her.” They looked at the two boys squealing and hollering as they wrestled Reid on the threadbare living room rug. It hadn’t taken long to descend into a complete ruckus. “Can you imagine?”

  “Not really,” Cady had to admit.

  Dayna laughed. “Neither can I. Sometimes it’s terrifying.”

  Reid came up for air, lifting a small rosy-cheeked wrestler under each arm and depositing them on the sofa. “Time out!” he announced.

  “No, no,” they begged. “More!”

  He looked at their flushed faces, and appeared to judge them sufficiently over-hyped.

  “If I wind you up any more, there’s a serious risk you may suffer some kind of explosion.” They looked equally horrified and fascinated by this idea. “And if that happens, it’ll be extremely messy, and I really don’t want to get in trouble with your mom. Why don’t you show me some of your cars? Do you have any SUPERCARS?” He gave the last word all the oomph and pizazz of a NASCAR announcer.

  It was exactly the right thing to say, and they leapt off the sofa and dragged him down the corridor. He went with good grace, not showing even a hint of reluctance.

  “What’s your favorite car?” Max asked as they went.

  Dayna and Cady heard him reply, “You’re kidding right? Lamborghini, of course.” There was a cheer and then a babble of little voices as they competed for his attention.

  “Wow, he’s great with them,” Dayna said. “Are you guys…do you have any kids?”

  “Oh no, no, we’re just working together on the flash mob,” Cady said hastily. “We don’t have any kids. Together or apart.”

  “Well, you should think about it. He’d make one heck of a baby daddy. And I bet he’d make some gorgeous babies.”

  Cady cleared her throat. “Um, yes, I think he would too.” Just not with her. She tried desperately not to think about the birds and the bees side of things, but Dayna was already there.

  “Damn, that would be some fun baby-making,” she sighed, rubbing her swollen belly wistfully. “Sorr
y,” she added. “It’s been a while. And I think it’ll be a while yet. Five kids will be a mighty effective passion-killer. Not to mention having nowhere to fool around, anyway.” She looked despondent again.

  Cady was sorry for her change in mood, but grateful for the change of subject. “Well, that’s where we come in,” she said. “Not for the fooling around though!” she added, laughing. “Let’s go over the plan. Hopefully this will keep a roof over your head, for whatever you get up to.”

  “Probably a lot of not sleeping, and a lot of not fooling around. But while we’re not doing those things, we’ll be eternally grateful.”

  Cady looked at the funny, honest, straight-talking, and enormously pregnant woman—someone she’d love to have as a friend in real life—and hoped like hell they could give her something to be grateful for.

  Thirteen

  Once he’d handed over to Cady, Kyle started spending even more time in his elevated, unkempt retreat. Cady hadn’t been up there again, but then she wasn’t exactly itching for a repeat visit. If anything, the memory of that (possibly unsanitary) disaster area made her feel itchy. He emerged a few times a day to check on progress, or to announce he was going in search of food. There wasn’t usually much to be had on the bus, unless you counted cheese puffs or Pop Tarts, or leftover fortune cookies. He always insisted on going alone, and shut himself away again when he returned.

  Shelby was disappointed that he was so near, yet so unattainable—but after her glimpse into his inner sanctum, Cady thought that was probably a good thing. And she hoped he was working on his part of the event organization while he was up there.

  But he did come out with them every night for drinks—and when he was on form, he was the master of the pep talk, the inspirational sound bite and the rallying cry. When he was on a persuasive roll, she found herself becoming quite captivated, along with Shelby and Alison and the others. Now, she could totally see how he kept this band of followers on board. And she started to understand what Reid had meant when he said, Don’t let him take you over. If she was slightly more susceptible to his brand of charisma, perhaps there would be a risk. But she was just impervious enough.

  She only wished she was equally impervious to Reid’s charms. After their outing to see Dayna and the boys, her crush had kicked up a notch. A man who was good with kids held a certain attraction. Even as someone quite likely destined to be childless, she felt it. If kids—and dogs, apparently—liked someone, he must have a good heart. Good heart, good banter, good butt…oh, good Lord. What was the old saying—something about an idle mind being the devil’s playground? Oh, so true in this case, she thought. It was a blessing there was so much to be done in preparation for the flash mob. The less time to think about him, the better.

  “I wonder if we can push this Iggy Pop angle,” she wondered aloud over dinner one night. They were having pizza ‘at home’ before they headed out to try another of the local bars. “He’s so cool, I wonder what he’d think of it all.”

  There was general agreement around the bus. “Does anyone here know anyone who knows him?” Kyle asked. But no one did.

  “I’ve been thinking, though,” Gavin said, rolling his beer bottle between his hands. “I know someone whose girlfriend works for E! I wonder if they’d be interested in this.”

  “Gavin!” Alison despaired. “Why didn’t you mention that sooner? I need every lead I can get.”

  “I don’t know…” he shrugged, and ducked to avoid a pizza crust that came flying his way. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t give me sorry,” Alison snapped. “Give me a name!”

  “Okay, okay. It’s Fenella. But I’ll get you a number too.” He took a swig of his beer, unfazed.

  Then Reid told them that he’d be leaving the bus in the morning, for a few days. “Sorry to leave you all in the lurch. I have to work.”

  “Pfft, call that work?” Gavin said. “I should send my niece to do it for you. She hasn’t started kindergarten yet, she has plenty of time on her hands.”

  Reid punched him in the arm. “At least I have a job.”

  “Dude, watch the guns!” He rubbed his arm, feigning injury, and Reid rolled his eyes.

  On the other side of the pizza box, Cady felt her heart drop. Yes, it was difficult being at such close quarters, but she had to admit—she didn’t want him to go. Apart from the heady over-reaction he inspired in her, there was something else now. After their visit to see Dayna and the boys, she’d seen a side of him she hadn’t expected. And she liked it. A lot.

  There were only so many bars in Rownville, and that night they found themselves in one that was about as far as you could get from Sanctuary’s urban hipness. It was a little bit country, and a little bit…more country. With its kitsch décor—including plenty of steer horns and random taxidermy—Cady thought it could have been plucked up from west Texas and deposited intact in northern California. Not that she’d been to west Texas, so she didn’t really know. But to her mind, it only needed saddles instead of bar stools, and a mechanical bull, and the scene would be complete.

  Reid came and stood next to her as she waited at the bar, watching Kyle swing Shelby around the dance floor to the world’s cheesiest country song. Her sister—who would usually die rather than be seen doing something so clichéd—was clearly having the time of her life, pink-cheeked and laughing.

  “I didn’t think Kyle would like a place like this,” Cady commented.

  “That’s the great thing about being a hipster,” Reid said, his tone dry. “You can enjoy anything, so long as it’s in an ironic way. Nothing compromises your own coolness.”

  “You don’t count yourself as a hipster then?” Her tone was light and teasing, but underneath she was starting to feel decidedly flustered. And by underneath, she meant…well. There was nothing cool about the way her body reacted to this guy. She took a grateful sip of her newly arrived drink.

  He gave a short laugh. “Uh, no. Not a hipster.”

  “What are you then? Tell me who the real Reid is.”

  She was joking, expecting a funny response, but his face clouded over. “I’d like to tell you. You, of all people.”

  There was an awkward silence while Cady looked for the right response to his sudden swerve. “Um…sorry. I was just kidding.”

  As quickly as the weight had descended, he seemed to shake it off. “Anyway, you’re never going to get a guy to talk about that stuff,” he said, exaggeratedly wagging a finger in her direction. “No deep and meaningful. It’s a rule. It’s in the manual.”

  This from the guy who shot straight to the ‘how many kids’ question? Okay then. But she took her cue and went back to levity. “What…the man manual?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, that’s the one. I shouldn’t have told you about it though. That’s actually one of the man manual rules.”

  “Damn, if I could only get my hands on a copy…maybe then I could figure you out.”

  “It’s enough to know that I’m not a hipster,” he said, bringing them neatly back to where they started.

  “Well, I’m not really a hundred percent clear on what makes a hipster, exactly,” she replied. “But you probably wouldn’t have to grow that beard a lot more, you know. Let it bush out. Find a nice cardigan. Borrow a pair of Gavin’s glasses.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, no thanks. And anyway, Gavin doesn’t qualify. No genuine hipster would care about their biceps the way that guy does.” He reached for the drink he’d ordered, thanking the barman. As he lifted the glass to his lips, she could see his own bicep flex below the short sleeve of his t-shirt. She itched to reach out and lay her palm on it, slip her hand up inside the cotton sleeve, pull him closer, and show how much she cared about a few of the other muscles that must be lurking under there. For a guy who made sandcastles for a living (if he made a living out of it), he seemed surprisingly well-built, and he didn’t seem to work out the way Gavin did. Maybe it was a more strenuous occupation than she thought.

  She pulled herself b
ack to their conversation. “But just think, you could be cool too,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Such a waste.”

  He grinned. “I’ll struggle on.”

  Something occurred to her. “Will you make it back in time for the flash mob?”

  “I hope so. I want to see it.”

  She laughed. “Me too. I’m actually really excited about it. It’s coming together so well.”

  “It totally is. You’re good at this. Kyle was right to let you run your own idea. But if he was going to leave you to do all the work, he should’ve let you have all the credit too.”

  “It’s not...” she started. Then she gave up—there was no point in arguing about it. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? I mean, it’s not a big deal. And, it’s not about credit. It’s about making something amazing happen. I hope it’ll be amazing, anyway.”

  He shook his head. “It’s amazing that you let him get away with it.”

  “I’m not letting him get away with anything. I just think this is something worth doing, while I have the chance.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder, like an irritated cat flicking its tail, and took another sip of her drink. He obviously had his own issues with Kyle, but whatever they were, they had nothing to do with her.

  “Lady Cady. You flew in from across the ocean to save all of us.”

  Was he mocking her? She looked for sarcasm in his expression, but his gaze was open and direct as he considered her.

  “If anything’s amazing, it’s you,” he said quietly.

  That small sentence hit her with a rush, and her breath suddenly caught in her chest. That hot and tingly half of her claimed a little more heated territory. She allowed herself a swoony moment in the tiger warmth of his eyes, looking at her with appreciation. Admiration, even. But. She was getting to know his tricks. Somewhere between the flirting and the I just can’t was the middle ground where she should safely stay. If she was the cake he wasn’t going to eat (at this thought her internal temperature rose noticeably), well, she didn’t have to lay herself on a plate for him. With that slightly confused metaphor in mind, she stood her middle ground.