by Lia London
He didn’t press the matter because the silence allowed him time to process what he was feeling.
Never, in a million years, could he have imagined spending nights like these with any of the other women he knew. He would have been bored or irritated out of his mind. Was it their shallowness or his?
This experience with Maris made him think of camera shoots, and the rare directors who took aim from unexpected angles. Most commercials followed a formula. They met viewer expectations but didn’t challenge them.
His mind’s eye replayed his favorite ads, the ones he watched with the wonder of a movie-goer. Those directors had a vision. They had magic.
Maris was like that.
“What’re you thinking in there?” asked Maris, fluttering her napkin in front of his eyes.
“Oh. I … uh. Work, I guess. Camera shoots.”
Maris stuffed the napkin beneath the rim of her plate. “Right. Me, too. I should probably go talk to the manager here for a bit if I can.” She made air quotes and mimicked her father’s voice. “Build bridges of community.”
“Sweet,” said Crawford, feeling sour. “Your dad will be happy.”
“Yeah.”
They paused, not making conversation or eye contact, deflated by the unspoken words between them.
“Ready?” he asked.
Maris sighed. “Yeah. Back to business, huh?”
Within a few minutes, she located the resort manager, a man sporting the handsome, middle-aged professional aura Crawford knew he’d need to cultivate in twenty more years when he could no longer pass for a young single. The man took one look at Maris and dropped everything, inviting her into his office with a wide smile and an enthusiastic handshake.
Crawford hated him instantly. He probably had an MBA, a house with a three-car garage, and a retirement fund. Maris undoubtedly found him intelligent and attractive. She laughed as the door clicked shut and didn’t even give a second glance at Crawford, waiting in the lobby.
“Hey, it’s the Samsonite slinger!”
Crawford glanced up and waved at Kelby at the reservation desk. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Busy busy.” Kelby hooked a thumb towards the elevators. “The seniors are all heading home today. Are you on duty again?”
Crawford shrugged, his eyes flitting to the closed office door. “I guess so. For a while, anyway.”
The elevator door opened, and a joyous cry went up. “It’s our knight in puffy armor!”
“Hey Miss Oralee.” Crawford gave an exaggerated courtly bow. “I’m at your service. Are you and Axel off to slay a dragon today?”
“We’re heading home to the castle for now.”
“Well, let me help you with those suitcases.”
Crawford spent the next half hour going back and forth with the different elderly couples, chatting and hauling luggage. He watched their interactions closely, noting the tender niceties they exchanged: kind words, a hand to steady a wobbling step, a pat on the arm, a wrinkly wink. Everyone in the party seemed to have survived decades of marriage with only the scars of time to hint that their love wasn’t new.
“How do you do it?” asked Crawford of Axel, who stayed to say good-bye to all his anniversary party guests. “How do you two stay in love so long?”
Axel furrowed his brows in thought. “You know, I used to answer that differently every time someone asked, but then I figured out it’s the same answer every time. I keep discovering new things to love about her every day, and when I do, I discover more about what makes me truly happy.” He took a step and stopped, raising a finger. “Too many people find new things to complain about. It kills love. Look for new things to love, and you’ll always find it.”
Crawford nodded his thanks, speechless at the sensation in his gut that told him the old man spoke truth. He turned back to the lodge to see Maris pressing through the front doors.
Her eyes caught his, and she beamed. “Kelby said you were out here helping again. You’re amazing!”
The words of the old man rolled over in his mind, and Crawford decided he loved how Maris showed appreciation for little things.
Unaware that his feet had pulled him back across the parking lot, he stood beaming down into her cheerful face. Without reservation, he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.
“What brought that on?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
“Something Axel said.” He tucked her under his arm. “Come on, Maris. This is our last day here. What do you want to do? You get to call the shots.”
Maris slid under the covers and closed her eyes, hoping her dreams would revisit every enchanted moment of their last day together. From the hike to the hot tub, the distracted chess game to the spilled bag of cheese puffs, and every soft touch and locked gaze in between, she was humbled by his attentive kindness and the way he clung with fascination to her shared thoughts. When she was clumsy, he played the clown, so they could laugh together. When she grew shy, he stayed connected without exerting pressure.
Then, with a delicious, heart-melting kiss, he had tucked her in bed and closed the door between him, claiming he’d get no sleep at all if he could see her from the other room.
She sighed and imagined that the plush blankets were his arms enveloping her body and soul, and she drifted off to sleep.
***
Maris awoke to the sound of Crawford’s voice in the next room. Was he ordering room service for their last morning together? How romantic!
She spruced herself up with deodorant, a brush, and a spritz of breath freshener before peeking out.
“…I can probably get there by ten, but …” Crawford glanced up, his cell phone plastered to his ear. His bare chest glistened with evidence of a sunrise workout. He gave her a wink and pointed to the phone, mouthing the words, Hang on.
“Make it eleven, okay?” he told the person on the other line. “I need to wrap things up out here.” He listened for a beat longer before agreeing to something and hanging up.
“Eleven?” Maris pouted. “You’re leaving early?”
Crawford grimaced. “It’ll take me an hour and a half to get there.” He hesitated. “I got a call for a job. A last-minute thing.” His smile only lit the bottom half of his face. “Sorry. I have to take what I can get because I never know when the next ride will come along, you know?”
“Sure. I understand.” The clouds that had lifted Maris into a dream fell to the ground like a heap of dirty laundry.
An image of the buxom tramp on Crawford’s phone passed through Maris’ mind, and she faked a yawn to hide the pain that suddenly stabbed at her stomach. He was rushing off now that their obligation was over. That woman had wanted him—was willing to give him what he wanted—and he was going. That had to be it.
“Maybe I should pack up and hit the road, too,” said Maris.
“We’ve still got over an hour. Don’t you want to do anything else?”
Crawford probably meant well by his feigned enthusiasm, but it only drove the knife of rejection into her heart and twisted it a few times.
“Oh, I think we’ve seen all I need to give a report.”
Crawford nodded. “Right. Work. Your Dad will be proud of you, huh?”
“Conway Comm.” She lifted her hands as if shaking pom-poms. “Go, team!”
He rose and cupped her arms in his hands. “I really had a great time, Maris. Thanks again for inviting me to the auction. What a great bid we made, huh?”
“Yeah.” She forced a smile. “Thanks for supporting the Annex.”
“I wish I could do more.” His eyes seemed to search hers, but what could she say? He lived in the Portland area. She needed to go home to Spokane.
“Well, if you ever find yourself in the area again. I mean, up there …”
“Right! Yeah. You, too. If you’re down here on business or anything.”
They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment and then Maris strode into the bedroom to get dressed. By the time she came out again, Crawford and
all of his belongings were gone.
Crawford wasn’t quite fast enough. He tried to run his bags down to the car and grab some breakfast pastries to bring up to the room, but by the time he’d jogged back up the hill to the Tree House, he could see her opening the door to leave, coat on, bag slung over her shoulder.
He almost called out for her to wait, but her stone-faced expression told him she was determined to go.
Darting quickly beneath the stairs and under the house, he hid from view until she’d marched out of sight. Sagging against one of the support posts for the Tree House, he stuffed the strudel into his mouth to stifle a groan of self-loathing. He must have pushed her too far, or been too stupid, or failed to convey how he felt. That’s why she was running away without saying good-bye.
Swiping a hand through his hair, he trudged back down to his car, realizing too late he’d smeared cream cheese icing into his bangs.
“Hi, Adi. It’s me.” Maris hit the button for the Bluetooth option as she navigated her way onto the I-84 eastbound. Her odd route took her into Oregon and then back over the Columbia River into Washington again.
Back-and-forth, like her emotions. Total infatuation warred with a sense of defeat, and she had no chocolate handy.
“Hey, girl. Where are you?”
“On my way home.”
“Have a good time?”
Maris hesitated, unsure how to answer.
“That good or that bad?” pressed Adi.
“Both, I think.”
“You think?” Adi’s voice altered as she clearly shifted from using speaker phone to the private call. “What happened?”
Maris trembled and squeezed the wheel. “It was heaven, and then it was over.”
“Aw, Angel! Tell me all about it.”
Her friend’s soothing understanding drove tears from Maris’ eyes, and she let her vision blur as she settled behind a semitruck. She’d follow it for the next several miles without having to think.
“He was perfect, Adi. So sweet to me. He didn’t push, even though I know he wanted more.”
“Isn’t it nice to be wanted?” asked Adi.
“Yes, but I hoped he’d want more more, not more more, you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
Maris batted away at the tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t think I’m enough for him. I …” Her voice trailed off in a withered pant of exasperation.
“First of all, that’s nonsense. You’re enough for any good man,” assured Adi. “Second of all, you were at a resort. That’s not reality. Any guy can seem perfect under those romantic circumstances. You need to see a man at work when things get stressful to find out his true colors.”
Maris sniffed and considered this. “Good point.”
“Bubble Bath Boy is beautiful, but if he’s never done anything harder than stand around being beautiful for the cameras, then he’s not enough for you.”
“No, Adi. He’s enough. He’s more than he thinks he is. He’s …” She sighed and flipped on the turn signal. Time to get in the fast lane and hurry home. “He’s not in Spokane, so it doesn’t matter.”
“All right, honey.” Adi paused, and Maris could hear her taking a bite of something. “Maris, girl, listen to me. Don’t let your tears drain you. Let them water your courage to move on. You’ve got great work to do. Believe in yourself!”
“Thanks, Adi.”
“I’ll see you when you get home, okay?”
“You’ll see a new me, Adi. A more confident me.” Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “And remind me to tell you about my time in the trees.”
Chapter 10 ~ Business Partners
Crawford stewed all the way back to Portland. Of all the rotten luck, he had to get an emergency modeling call that cut off his time with Maris. Why couldn’t Bran have arranged it for the next day?
Still, a body wash commercial would make bank. His short hair might not even make the shot, and it would be slicked back wet if so. He wouldn’t even have to stop home to bring his costume. They’d just wrap a towel around him.
Two hours and five takes later, he emerged from the set, dripping, and slopped over to a bench to dry off.
“Aw, they made you wear swim trunks under your towel?” A woman’s sultry voice beside him moaned. “And what did they do to your hair?”
Crawford felt a hand on his head, and carefully raised his eyes. They got stuck on the contents of a low-slung halter dress. He recognized those curves. Blinking back a cringe, he stood up and draped the towel over his shoulder.
“Hello, Amanda. Are you stalking me now?”
“You’re back in town, but you didn’t come to see me?”
“I literally got back two hours ago, and I’ve been here the whole time.” He jerked his elbow at the fake shower stall. “Lathering up with Lumberjack shower gel.”
Amanda shifted her weight from one hip to the other and raised an eyebrow. “I seem to remember you in a plaid shirt and not much else. It’s a good look on—”
“What are you doing here, Amanda?” More importantly, Crawford wondered how she’d found him.
“I’m doing the Minuet in G lingerie shoot next door. Someone mentioned they saw you.” She walked her fingers up his chest. “Aren’t you going to say something sexy about that?”
Crawford stared down at her fingers, wondering vaguely why they weren’t having the same effect on him as they had in the past. “I’m sorry. My mind is kind of elsewhere right now.”
In Skamania. Or maybe up in Spokane by now.
Amanda tugged at his towel. “If you’d look me in the eye, Crawdaddy, we could talk about tonight.”
“Tonight?” He sidled his way toward his overnight bag. “I just got back from—”
“A long, boring business trip.” Amanda wrapped her arms around him, making him shudder involuntarily. “Now it’s time for fun, right?”
Crawford remembered why he had removed Amanda from his phone list so long ago. She resembled Niagara Falls in her relentless persistence.
Maybe he could take her out for a drink and then feign a headache. “Um. Yeah, why don’t you let me get ready. I’ll be out in a few minutes, okay?” He snatched up his bag and dove into the bathroom off the sound stage.
As he peeled off his wet swimming trunks and traded them for boxer briefs, he heard his phone buzz.
“Oh, for … If that’s Amanda—”
It wasn’t Amanda.
“Maris!” Suddenly he floated above the cold, tiled floor on a warm breeze. “What’s up? You left before I could bring you breakfast in bed … or the shower, I guess.”
“You …?” She made a hiccupping sound. “Are you serious? I thought you’d ditched me.”
“Maris, how could you think that of me?”
“I don’t know. I… Oh, Crawford, I’m so sorry.”
He tucked the phone between his jaw and shoulder and rummaged in his bag for his jeans. “Did you call me up to chew me out?”
“No, Crawford. I am so, so, so sorry. I…” She exhaled.
Crawford could picture the rise and fall of her shoulders, the long strands of gold hair tumbling over them. He closed his eyes and imagined kissing her hair. “And?”
“Well, maybe if you get a break between modeling jobs, you could come help me with the Annex? I mean, while I get cots set up and all? It might be fun to work together.”
“It’d be—”
“I couldn’t pay you,” she said, rushing forward. “It’d be us volunteering. If you think it would be fun?”
He grinned. “I’ve got another day of Lumberjack ads, but—”
“Lumberjack?” she squealed. “For reals? That’s so cool!”
He crammed his legs into his jeans, still balancing the phone. “You think so?”
“I’ll be able to say I know you!”
“You do. Better than most.”
Her voice grew shy. “Really?”
A rattle of loud knocks shook the door, startling him i
nto fumbling the phone. The voice of his director, a snarky woman with green hair, shouted through the door. “Hurry up, Crawdaddy. Amanda is waiting for you! She says she won’t leave without her Love Hunk, and I need her off the set. She’s distracting everyone with those boobs.”
Crawford’s heart jumped up to his throat, and steam seethed in his eyes. “I’ll be right out!” he barked back. He lifted the phone to his ear. “Maris?”
The line had gone dead.
With laser focus, Maris set to work calling in favors and rounding up volunteers. She had work to do. The Annex wouldn’t organize itself, after all.
“Honey, I’m so proud of you,” said her father when he caught up with her in the elevator at Conway Comm. “You’re moving so fast on this. It’ll be great publicity.”
“Yeah.” She tried not to resent his motives. “Did you see the stuff I brought back from Skamania?”
“Yes. Good job. Did you have a good time?”
“It was a business venture, Dad.”
He patted her back as she got off on the first floor. “That’s my girl.” He held the doors open and called after her. “Hey, Honey? Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?”
“Us?” Maris narrowed her eyes.
He jostled the doors with his elbows. “Claudia’s coming over again, and I thought we could talk some business, and some family stuff.”
Nothing about his statement sounded like an invitation she wanted to accept, but she knew her father. “What time?”
“Tonight, around seven?”
“Okay.” She turned away before her face betrayed her. Dinner with Claudia pawing all over her father did not sound like a great night.
Three days had passed since she’d called Crawford and overheard the disgusting comment about the Love Hunk and his girlfriend’s boobs, and she couldn’t dispel the sour taste it left in her mouth. At the thought of Claudia and her father flirting, her stomach pinched, shooting bile a few inches higher up her throat.
Men and their hormones always chose the wrong women.