No Fooling Around: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy

by Hunter, Talia

  Her gratitude only made me feel worse.

  As soon as I owned Santino’s house, I’d schedule the demolition for both his place and mine. Then neither Iola or I would have a place to live. And in all likelihood, Iola would be so angry with me by then, she wouldn’t let me help her.

  Offering my house for her to stay in was false comfort. Accepting her gratitude was just another lie. I was a fraud.

  “I feel terrible for my brother.” Iola moved to the kitchen stool and sat heavily, her expression bleak. “It was so hard for him after our parents died. To be framed for a crime, he must have been friendly with some bad people. I married Benedict because I was looking for family to replace the one I’d lost, and Santino might have been too trusting for the same reason. I should have tried harder to find him after I left school, and both our lives might have turned out differently.”

  I blinked. The way I saw it, Santino had selfishly abandoned his little sister and embraced a life of crime, partying with the money he made and blaming others when he was caught. But Iola was willing to believe the best of everyone, including a convicted felon.

  And including me.

  “Maybe your brother didn’t want to be found,” I said.

  “I can’t wait to see him so we can finally talk properly. I have a million questions.”

  “They’re letting you visit him?” The question came out sharper than I’d intended.

  “Not yet, but hopefully soon.”

  I had to confess everything by the time she saw him. If I didn’t tell her the truth, Santino would.

  After Iola left for the community center, I took out my cellphone to make a call.

  “Hello, Gloria? It’s Asher. Iola said she was coming to see you, and I need a favor.”

  “Hey, Asher. What do you need?” Gloria sounded cheerful.

  “Iola was counting on the money from selling her paintings. Now she needs financial help.”

  “The poor thing. What can I do?”

  “Tell her it’s standard practice for people to pay for commissioned paintings up front, or at least give her a deposit for them. I tried to pay in advance, and she wouldn’t take the money. Maybe if you suggest it, she’ll understand it’s not charity, but good business.”

  “Sure, I’ll bring it up with her.”

  “Thanks.” I hung up feeling hollow inside.

  It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. I’d been willing to take a huge financial risk to make Santino suffer. Now my plan was backfiring, hurting Iola instead.

  And now it was in motion, there was no way to stop it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Iola

  More than anything, I wanted to talk to Santino.

  Did he know his house would be confiscated? Had he signed ownership over to me hoping I’d find a way to fight for it? For him?

  I called the prison again, praying they’d decided to allow him to have visitors but forgotten to notify me. When they said he was still in confinement, I wanted to scream.

  Instead, I went to the community center to meet Gloria.

  She’d taken down my ruined canvases and stacked them against one wall, but seeing them again was almost as bad as the first time. Even after bracing myself, I was shocked all over again. I felt blood draining from my face, and wasn’t surprised when Gloria made a tsking sound and hugged me.

  “Are you all right, sweetie?”

  “Yes,” I lied. Then I sighed. “It’s just that I worked so hard on those paintings. I got up early each morning and painted until late. And they were all destroyed so quickly.”

  Gloria gave my arm a squeeze. “Let’s leave them here for a few minutes and head down to Mack’s Place. You look like you could use a coffee.”

  “Is that the café on Calle Collina? I’ve driven past it, but never been in.”

  “You haven’t?” Gloria looked surprised. “Mack’s Place is a landmark around here. Coffee will be my treat.”

  The café was just down the road, and when we walked in, Gloria called out to the brunette working behind the counter.

  “Hiya, Nat. Could we have two coffees, please?”

  We sat at a table next to the window, and while the woman made our coffees, I studied her curiously. She had long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and Harry Potter glasses. Her black Mack’s Place T-shirt, jeans, and apron only accentuated her curvaceous figure. I’d seen her briefly at my art exhibition, but a lot of people had shown up and I was still trying to match names to faces.

  “Is that woman’s name Natalie?” I asked quietly, nodding over to her. “Did she date Kade a few years ago?”

  Gloria’s eyebrows shot up and she gave a silent whistle. “Your knowledge of local gossip is impressive. Who told you?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to admit I knew she’d broken Kade’s heart. “I’ve just heard her name mentioned.”

  “Nat’s lovely. You’ll like her.”

  Natalie was certainly beautiful. And she was friendly. When she brought over our coffees, Gloria introduced us, and Natalie surprised me with a hug before telling me how shocked and sad she was about the destruction of my paintings. I’d never lived in a place where everyone knew each other’s business before, but it was kind of nice. And Gloria was right about Natalie being likeable.

  I’d suspected any woman who’d dump a great guy like Kade had to be nuttier than a peanut plantation, but Natalie seemed perfectly normal. What could have made her do it? Did she have some well-hidden personality flaw?

  “Can I ask you something?” Gloria regarded me over her coffee cup once Natalie had gone back to the counter. “What happened was devastating, but do you think you’ll be able to do some more portraits to replace the ones that were lost?”

  I nodded. “Those portraits were about letting out my anger, and I still have plenty of that.” Though I didn’t see how I could concentrate on painting with Ruff still missing and the threat of a forced return to England hanging over my head.

  “I’m glad you’re doing more portraits, because your work is special. And I need to give you this.” She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her jeans pocket and handed it to me.

  Unfolding it, I saw it was the list from the exhibition of everyone who’d put their names down to buy the portraits Benedict had destroyed. My stomach curled in on itself. Gloria had given me a reminder of what I’d lost?

  “What should I do with this?”

  “They’re the people who want to buy your pieces. Let them know you’re working on new paintings, so they can place their orders. Ask for a deposit right away. It’s standard business practice.”

  My heart lifted. “You really think they’d be interested?”

  “Of course. When I called to tell them the paintings had been damaged, I heard how disappointed they all were.”

  “You already called them for me? Oh no, I should have done that.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Honey, it was nothing. It had to be the last thing you felt like doing.”

  It was such a thoughtful thing for her to have done, I felt a little like crying. “Thank you.”

  She tapped the piece of paper. “You need help calling them back?”

  “You’ve done so much already, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  This pretty, wild-haired woman barely knew me, but she’d done more for me than anyone had in years. And she seemed to think it was no big deal.

  “No payment necessary. Though if you ever want to come and talk to one of my art classes about your work, I’m sure they’d be excited.”

  “Anytime you like.”

  She put her cup down, her expression concerned. “Seriously, are you okay? If you need help, I’ll do anything I can.”

  I blinked hard, still a little afraid tears might leak out and embarrass us both. “Is everyone in San Dante this nice?”

  “I can’t speak for the tourists, but we locals like to look out for each other.” Her voice held a hint of pride. “A lot of us went to the sam
e school. It’s that kind of place.”

  “Thanks for your offer of help, but please don’t worry. I’ll get by. Ruff and I won’t go hungry.”

  “Sweetie, any time you get hungry, come over to my place. I make unforgettable tacos. Come to think of it, the only thing that can make you forget my tacos is the margaritas I make to go with them.” Her grin was full of mischief.

  “I’d love to come.” I wouldn’t cry. Nope. No way. No matter how grateful I was to have made a friend like her.

  “Great. Then how’s next Friday?”

  “I’ll bring the tequila.” I crossed my fingers under the table, desperately hoping I’d be able to go. Everything hinged on whether I could get Ruff back.

  But it was unthinkable that I wouldn’t. I’d do whatever it took. And with Asher’s help, I had to succeed.

  “Hey, my house is apparently going to be sold,” I said. “You haven’t heard about any cheap apartments to rent, have you?”

  “Actually, I’ve had my eye out for one too. They’re hard to find around here.”

  “You’re looking for a new place to live?”

  Tucking a tangle of copper curls behind her ear, she leaned in and lowered her voice. “The woman who owns the house I live in hasn’t been well. I hate to think about her passing on, but eventually I’ll need to find a place where I can keep four old cats, a parrot, and an overgrown rabbit. And it’d be hard enough finding an affordable house if I were on my own.”

  I grimaced. Being a beach town so close to LA, I should have guessed San Dante housing would be in high demand. That made things more difficult.

  Unless…

  “Do you know any realtors who work around here?” I asked slowly, turning over the idea that had popped into my head. “I want to find the one who’s going to sell the house I’m living in.”

  “It’s probably Emmy Eaves. She’s the best realtor in town.”

  “Do you have her number?”

  “Sure. She takes a life drawing class with me. Basically it’s a group of women who meet every Wednesday evening.” Gloria’s face lit up. “Why don’t you join us? I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. We take turns bringing along the mixers to make different cocktails, and we drink and chat while we draw. To be honest, we’re not terribly serious, and you’ll be by far the best artist. But did I mention we have cocktails?”

  I smiled back at her. She was so sweet, I wanted to bottle her. “You do life drawing? With a nude model?”

  “One of the ViaGranny Gang poses for us. Beatrice is a naturist, and loves getting naked. We pay her in cocktails.”

  “Not Beatrice Abernathy? Isn’t she eighty?” I blinked rapidly as I tried to imagine the very well endowed woman posing naked for an art class.

  “Eighty-two. I’ll give you Emmy’s phone number.” Gloria pulled out her phone. “Are you thinking about trying to buy your place?”

  “It’s a long shot, but maybe. If I can get my ex to sign the divorce papers, the bank will unfreeze my bank account. Then I might be able to borrow some money.”

  Gloria told me Emmy’s number and I punched it in and told the cheerful-sounding woman who answered who I was and what I wanted.

  “That’s funny,” she said cheerfully. “I don’t even have the listing yet, and you’re the second person to tell me you’re interested. Usually I’d list it with an asking price, but seeing as it’s a hot property, I’m going to recommend we take it to auction.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We’ll do a three week marketing campaign before holding the auction.”

  “I’ll have three weeks to get the money?”

  “That’s right. I’ll send you all the details.”

  “Only three weeks,” I repeated to Gloria after I hung up. “It’s not long.”

  “How will you get your ex to sign the divorce papers?”

  “I just came up with an evil plan.” Leaning back with my fingers steepled, I threw my head back and let out my best super villain cackle. “Asher isn’t the only one who can come up with diabolical schemes.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have to call my lawyer in London.”

  “And?”

  When I told her what I had planned, she gave a delighted laugh, her eyes lighting up with glee. “You’re not?”

  “I am.”

  “Hilarious.” Gloria held up one hand for a high-five. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Iola

  I got home around eleven to my carefully secured and locked house, mentally preparing myself to spend a long, anxious afternoon alone while I waited for Benedict’s phone call.

  When I walked into the living room, Nemesis was sitting on my couch.

  “How do you keep getting in here?” I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. Just don’t steal anything on your way out and we’ll call it even.” Sidling toward her, I attempted to grab her.

  Nemesis dodged me effortlessly. She jumped onto the coffee table and sat down, as though daring me to chase her.

  “Nope. No way. I’m not going to race around the house after you, making a fool of myself for your amusement.”

  Stomping into my bedroom, I shoved the broken dresser drawer as hard as I could, trying to force it shut. With an inch to go, it stopped and refused to go in any further. Tugging it back out, I frowned at the open drawer.

  Where had all my panties gone?

  “Nemesis!” I marched back out to my now-empty living room. “Nemesis? Where’d you go?”

  I checked around the furniture, peered behind doors, and looked under beds. Some of the cupboards in the kitchen didn’t close properly, and I yanked them open, half expecting a pair of yellow eyes to be staring back at me. I tore from room to room searching for her, until I realized I was racing around the house, making a fool of myself. I could practically hear her laughing.

  There was a knock on the door. I froze, my heart speeding up. Then I heard Asher’s voice.

  “It’s me, Iola. Are you there?”

  Letting out a relieved breath, I went to open it.

  Asher was on my front step looking as gorgeous as ever. He had a paper bag in one hand and several pairs of panties in the other. “Are all of these yours?”

  “How did she…?” I shook my head. “Wait, I’ve finally figured this out. You’re a magician, and Nemesis is your assistant. You must be practicing for your Vegas show.”

  “If that were the case, I’m fairly sure I’d be the assistant.”

  He held out the panties, and when I took them, they rustled. I frowned down, then pulled out a note that had been slipped inside them.

  On the note was a simple but beautiful cartoon drawing of Nemesis. It was a police mugshot, with her holding up a mugshot letter board in her front paws.

  Below the drawing, in three neat lines he’d written:

  Wanted for having a bad cat-itude.

  Probable claws for arrest.

  No chance for a paw-don.

  I snorted a laugh. “You did this just now? I thought you were at work.”

  “My team has the work under control, and I couldn’t concentrate. I wanted to check on you.” He lifted the paper bag. “I got us some lunch.”

  “This is a clever drawing. You’re talented, you know that?”

  “Coming from you, that’s quite a compliment.”

  His navy T-shirt and dark jeans fit him to perfection, and as he brushed past me in the hallway all I could think about was how much I wanted him to put his arms around me. When he didn’t, I trailed behind him into the kitchen.

  “I wanted to come up with a joke about your construction business,” I said. “But I’m still working on it. Building up to a punch line.”

  He pulled sandwiches out of the bag. “Something wrong?”

  “No,” I lied. “Just trying to remember if I used my repellent spray this morning.”

  I was hoping he’d respond by sweeping me into his arms. Instead, he
stayed where he was, his expression giving nothing away.

  “This is a difficult time,” he said. “It wouldn’t hurt to cool things off until everything’s resolved.”

  It wouldn’t hurt to cool things off? I swallowed a disappointed lump in my throat. At least I no longer had the urge to crack jokes.

  “When will everything be resolved?” I tried to sound casual.

  “When your ex-husband’s no longer a threat.” He put one of the sandwiches on a plate and set it on the kitchen island. “Sit down. Eat.”

  I found myself sitting down, though my mind was full of questions. How could I cool things off when being around Asher made me feel like a volcano about to erupt? Was he not attracted to me anymore? If I got Ruff back and Benedict went back to England, would Asher even want to heat things up again?

  “I’m not really hungry,” I said.

  “Are you worried about the phone call?”

  I nodded. The phone call. Whether Ruff was doing okay without me. The barrier Asher had put between us. My lack of money and impending state of homelessness. Whether I’d have to stop wearing panties.

  It’d be a lot quicker to list the things in my life I wasn’t worried about.

  “What if I mess up the phone call and Benedict doesn’t take the bait?” I asked.

  “You’re too clever to mess it up. I have complete confidence in you.”

  Because he was so thoughtful and everything he said sounded so considered, whenever Asher paid me a compliment, I felt a surge of pride, like I’d won an award. My nervousness also faded a little, which seemed like a minor miracle.

  He sat next to me to eat and I found myself watching him wistfully. I’d probably volunteer to be his lunch if it meant I got to touch his lips.

  Forcing my eyes to my plate, I played with my food. My stomach had started to churn, and I couldn’t make myself eat. Asher finished his sandwich without speaking, then watched me pick at mine.

  After a few minutes he stood up. “We have a few hours before the phone call. I’m taking you out.”

  I blinked. “Out where?”