by Jill Shalvis
“Aren’t you guys going to the movies this afternoon?” Mia asked her.
“So?”
“So I’ll give you one thousand dollars to wear something bright pink today.”
Hope chewed on her wad of gum, then blew a big bubble.
Pink.
Pop.
“Yeah. I was thinking something Chanel,” Mia said.
For this, she got an eye roll.
After she dropped Hope off at the teen center and got to work, the fun began. Layoffs had hit close to home. Half her creative team had to go. It didn’t help that Margot and Ted faced the same cuts, not when saying good-bye to Tami and Steven.
That afternoon, the Anderson people started asking her about Ted, wanting to know if he could join her in handling their account. When Mia went to Dick about it, she realized the good-old-boy network had gone into effect when she hadn’t been paying attention, because he just said, “Do what you have to do to keep the Anderson people happy.”
Afraid to say anything because she was seriously peeved, and when she was seriously peeved, her Southern accent buttered her every word, she simply bit her tongue and stalked out of the office, where she ran into Margot. Mia and Margot had never exactly been friends, but in this firm, where they were in the definite minority as far as women went, were in fact the only two females at this level, they had a silent agreement to stick together when needed.
“Layoffs,” Margot said furiously. “Suck.”
“Men suck.”
Margot nodded, and in rare solidarity they smiled grimly at each other.
Mia went back to her office, going over and over the Runner stuff, wishing Tess would show up so she could get her opinion, but Tess had gone to lunch two hours ago and hadn’t come back.
Then, finally, Tess reappeared. She stuck her head in Mia’s office with an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry.”
“Are you sick?”
“No.” A flush worked its way up Tess’s throat.
“I, um…”
“Ah, hell.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Mike.”
Tess sighed dreamily.
Mia searched Tess’s face, found utter bliss, and let worry work its course. “It’s only been a few dates. You can’t engage your heart that quickly.”
“It was engaged the first moment I laid eyes on him.”
“Oh, Tess. Really?”
“Really.” Tess’s eyes wandered to her plant. “Hey, you’ve got to water that thing.”
“I’ve watered it. I’ve not watered it. Nothing makes it happy and it’s going to die to spite me. You’re changing the subject. Tell me about him. What does he what to do with himself?”
“Well, he’s between careers at the moment, but he’s putting in time at the teen center every day for a while.”
“Great.” Mia tossed her pen aside. “Damn it, you have too big a heart, you know this. You fall too hard, and then get hurt.”
“No I don’t.”
Mia ticked them off on her fingers. “Scott. Jon. Timothy—”
“Okay, fine. I’ve fallen too hard, too fast before, but not this time.”
“Ha. You’ve already slept with him, the hurt is just around the corner.”
“Shows what you know.” Tess lifted her chin smugly. “I haven’t sleep with him. Yet.”
Mia groaned. “How do you even communicate? You don’t know sign language.”
“He reads lips, and that’s where I was today. I started a sign language class.” Another dreamy sigh escaped her. “Did I tell you? He’s been making cookie dough with me at night.”
Tess had a small home business called Cookie Madness. She made cookie dough for extra cash, and she was amazing at it. She sold it by the pound, mostly to two small local bakeries, and in Mia’s opinion it was the best dough in the world. So many times she’d bugged Tess to get serious about the business, to let Mia market it, but Tess had resisted, enjoying the smallness of the company.
“Mia.” Tess smiled at her doubt. “Stop thinking. Just be happy for me.”
“If he hurts you, I hurt him.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him. Now prepare yourself. I have wince-inducing news.”
“God.” Mia pressed her fingers to her eyelids. “What now?”
“King Dickface wants to see you in his office.”
“Ted says the Anderson people asked for him specifically, and that you wouldn’t let him on board,” Dick said without preamble.
“Ted also says he’s a human being, but I have my doubts.” Mia smiled.
Dick did not. “Fix this,” he said and went back to his computer.
Mia moved to the door thinking, if she could only figure out how to set her cell phone to stun…
“Mia.”
She turned back. “Yes?”
“Ted wants to fire Tess. Says she came on to him.”
Mia found it difficult to speak with her jaw locked tight, but she managed. “Ted has an ego problem. Trust me, Tess wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.”
“We’re laying off at the lower tier this week, and I’m just looking for people to give me a reason to let them go, so you might want to make sure.”
What she would like to make sure of was Ted’s slow, painful demise, but she merely nodded.
“How’s it going with your niece? Is she in jail yet?”
“She’s not a bad kid,” she heard herself say and left in tune to his low laugh.
Mike showed up for work each day, a fact that quite frankly surprised Kevin. Mike even exhibited a glimmer of true interest: not just the happy-go-lucky, what-the-fuck Mike, but a man who wanted this job and who cared about making a living.
Now if Kevin could get Cole to care about his grades, convince Beth not to sell the building, get Joe off his back, get Mia to open up…if, if, if.
To suitably exhaust himself, he took a very long ride on the bike, after which he planned to fall into bed and not dream of Mia, or how if she knocked he hoped she was wearing that gauzy sundress again.
No. Christ, what was wrong with him? He was not going to keep sleeping with her whenever she knocked.
Yeah, but there was no sleeping involved, a little voice reminded him, while his body surged and said Oh, pretty please, one more time.
He parked the bike on his dark street and, in spite of himself, looked up at Mia’s house. It was well lit, and from somewhere inside came the thudding beat of music. Not as loud as the previous week, which meant the two wildly opinionated, edgy, fierce females inside—so different and yet somehow so similar—had come to some sort of compromise.
Interesting.
Encouraging.
It was possible he’d never met two more incredibly stubborn women. It’d been easy to let Hope inside his heart, and he was glad she’d gotten to stay as long as she had. He’d ordered the parts for her car in case she somehow pulled off the impossible and stayed even longer. There was just something about her tough exterior and soft, vulnerable inside that melted him. He understood her. Whatever her background, it hadn’t been easy, but she hadn’t allowed her spirit to be taken from her.
He could identify with that.
He identified with Mia, too, whether she liked it or not. Identified, and craved.
She craved, too, or she wouldn’t keep showing up on his doorstep.
From the top floor, probably her bedroom window, Mia appeared, looking blindly out into the night, her expression one of such sadness it pulled the air right out of his lungs.
She wasn’t all tough, kick-ass, coldhearted woman, any more than Hope was—not that she’d admit it. He stood there trying to talk himself into walking away instead of knocking on her door, when he heard an odd noise.
A different window, a different female standing in the window directly beneath Mia. Then the face vanished.
The screen popped out. A leg appeared, and a pale face glanced back to make sure no one was watching her escape.
Hope, on the move.
; Kevin sighed. Guess he was going over there, after all.
Chapter Thirteen
Hope swung her other leg out the den window and for a moment clung to the ledge, looking down. Not so far, only eight feet or so. Not enough to break her legs.
Probably.
But the bushes planted directly below looked a little prickly and uncomfortable, topped with the now bent screen. Aunt Apple wouldn’t be happy about that, but she squelched the regret because not even Mia wanted her around, not really.
And yet she didn’t send you back…
Yeah, yeah, give the woman a medal. Hope looked down. She just wanted to go somewhere and think…
And smoke.
And, okay, also see Adam. He’d said he’d meet her by the basketball court, where they’d maybe play one-on-one for a while. At the teen center, she’d looked into his sharp blue eyes and thought It’s not a game you want.
She wasn’t stupid, she knew what boys did want, and wasting time on the court with a girl was not it.
But Adam was so cute, cute enough for her to pretend she liked what he liked. He’d been playing football for a few years, putting on muscle where most guys her age were still too skinny. He was big and built and all the girls wanted him, including that beautiful Amber, but Adam wanted Hope. The rush of that!
God, she wanted a smoke bad. She wasn’t addicted, though. Nope, she would quit anytime. She pulled the pack out of her pocket with fingers that shook, then stared down at her hands in horror. Shaking, like her momma’s. Maybe she should quit.
Tomorrow.
She looked down again and got dizzy. If it hadn’t been for Adam, she’d have just sneaked a puff or two inside. And she’d started to, but then she looked around her at the wide-open, uncluttered, beautifully decorated house and faced the truth: she loved it here. It was clean and smelled good and so big she could be by herself whenever she wanted, without hearing another soul snore or yell. And the air conditioner, pure heaven on earth. No plastering her face to the inside of the freezer, she could get cool in any room of the house.
No, she couldn’t smoke in there.
She could have just told Mia she was going outside; Mia didn’t have any hold on her or anything. But it just felt good not to ask. Or tell. Or talk at all.
And that, if she was admitting stuff, was the most beautiful thing of all about this trip west. Mia, for all her faults—and there were many—didn’t bother her with the little stuff, or expectations at all, for that matter.
So she straddled the ledge, looking down at the screen. Somehow she had to get it back up to the window. Closing her eyes, holding her breath, she jumped.
Luckily, the screen broke her fall. Unluckily, the screen didn’t take it so well. She lay there for a moment and took stock. No pain anywhere, and she could still feel her arms and legs.
Plus her cigarette was only kinda bent.
With a wince, she stood up, then moved out of the bushes. She walked around to the side of the house where she couldn’t inadvertently be seen by Mia out one of the windows, then headed toward the basketball court.
It was empty. She sat back against the steel post of the basket, then lit the cigarette. She’d just deeply inhaled when someone said, “And here all this time I thought you were so smart.”
She nearly dropped the lit cigarette into her lap. Kevin. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She clamped her mouth shut, trapping the smoke, wondering how to get rid of him before she had to breathe.
But he sat on the ground next to her, then leaned back, raising a brow, signaling that it was her turn to talk.
Hard to do with a mouthful of smoke and holding her breath. She went for a smile that she hoped didn’t look like a grimace. Look at me, I’m fine, and I’m not smoking or anything.
Only suffocating.
“Pretty night,” Kevin said casually, putting his hands behind his head, crossing his feet. He had those old boots on, laced only halfway. They looked comfortable, like the man.
Not her, though. Completely. Out. Of. Air. Turning her head away from him, she tried to let out the smoke slowly, but the problem was her lungs. They were demanding more air. Right now. So she ended up trying to drag more in before she let the smoke all the way out, and then choked for her efforts.
Coughing, eyes watering, she bent over, trying to wheeze a lungful of air in.
Anybody would have laughed at her. Anyone. After all, she was being totally stupid trying to hide the smoke.
But Kevin didn’t laugh. He put a hand on her back and patted her lightly as she coughed. And coughed.
“Better?” he asked when she finally could breathe again.
She swiped at the tears streaming down her face and nodded.
He still didn’t seem to expect her to make excuses, or even speak. He just waited until he was sure she wasn’t going to die, and then leaned back, once again making himself perfectly at home in the dark night.
Something hooted. A light breeze blew, brushing the bushes together with a soft, wispy sound. An insect buzzed her face.
And still they sat there in shockingly companionable silence.
“Don’t you love it out here?” he finally said with a sigh. “The quiet. The noise.”
She couldn’t stand it another second. “I was smoking.”
“Yeah. You were turning an interesting shade of blue, too.”
She didn’t get it. “Aren’t you going to, like, yell at me?”
“If you want to be stupid and kill yourself, that’s your business.”
“I’m quitting tomorrow,” she heard herself say.
He turned his head and smiled at her. “That’s good.”
The warmth of his approval washed over her. They watched the night some more. “At home,” she said after a few minutes, “we’d be attacked alive by the mosquitoes, and sweating like crazy.”
“You should see August. Plenty of mosquitoes then.”
“I’m going back.”
“You know, you could always just ask to stay.”
She wanted to, God she wanted to, but she just shrugged.
“Your call.” Kevin went back to his easy quiet.
Then came the sound of a front door opening. And then running footsteps. Hope straightened to see Mia flying down the sidewalk, her bathrobe swirling behind her, her fancy high-heeled mules slapping down on the concrete as she came to a skidding halt between the Diplomat and the Audi.
Uh oh.
Hope glanced at Kevin. “Maybe you should have left a note,” he suggested.
Mia whipped her cell out of her pocket, her breath rasping loudly as she stood beneath the streetlight, trying to hold her robe closed while dialing at the same time.
“Mia,” Kevin called out as he rose to his feet. “Over here.”
Mia’s head whipped toward them, but Hope could tell she couldn’t see in the dark.
Mia’s hair wasn’t in its usual perfect state. That is, it was piled on top of her head, precariously perched there with pieces hanging down in her eyes, and it was damp as if she’d been in the bath or something. She wore no makeup, and if Hope’s eyesight was correct, she wore nothing beneath the gown. Wow. Her Aunt Apple had it going on.
“Hope?” Mia squinted toward them. Breathing heavily, she put her hand to her chest. “God. I thought—” She moved on the sidewalk until she came to the gate at center court. Slipping inside she came right up to them. “I really thought—”
She broke off when her voice cracked.
Kevin reached out for her, putting his hand on her arm and squeezing, and shockingly, for a moment, Mia leaned into him.
“You thought that I’d what?” Hope asked. “Stolen your car?”
Mia grimaced. “More like rewired the thing so that when I started it the horn would go off or something. Don’t even try to tell me you couldn’t do that if you wanted.”
Hope jerked a shoulder.
“You so belong in my science class,” Kevin said with a low laugh.
Hope hugged hers
elf. “Whatever.”
“Hope, you can’t just vanish on me,” Mia said. “It gives me gray hair.”
“You vanish, too. To go to his house.” She jerked a shoulder toward Kevin. “You’re totally crushing on him.”
Kevin eyed Mia with interest. “Really? Crushing?”
But Mia’s nostrils were wriggling. “Is that smoke—Hope, were you smoking again?”
Shit. “Yeah. But I didn’t inhale.”
Mia about had a coronary. “You think this is funny? Smoking kills, Hope.”
“So does stress,” Hope pointed out. “So does being a workaholic. A perfectionist—”
“Okay, great, thank you. I get the point,” Mia said tightly. “Look, I thought you’d left. That’s why I was upset.”
Something that felt suspiciously like regret and guilt twisted through Hope. “Well, I do live to upset you.”
“Hope,” Kevin said quietly, “come on. Meet her halfway.”
Hope sighed. “Okay, yeah. Whatever. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I made you run out here without makeup and with your hair all crazy.”
Mia put her hand to her hair. “Crazy?”
“Well, there’s three whole hairs out of place. A crime, I know, in your perfect world.”
“Is that what you think?” Mia asked, shocked. “That my world is perfect? Listen, you need a serious reality check if you really think my life is perfect.”
Hope shrugged. “You have a hotshot car, a hotshot job, a hot boyfriend, and your house is—”
“Yeah, hot. I get it,” Mia muttered, not looking at Kevin. “Look, we can analyze me later. This is about you, and the scare you gave me. I’m responsible for you while you’re here, damn it. And in case you’re still not clear on this, I freaked when I thought you’d left. I didn’t want you to go. And when I thought you had, I—”
“Wanted to celebrate?”
“No.”
“I know I’m a pain. I know you’re not interested in family, my momma said.”