by Tracy Brogan
Matt smiled, and all the angels smiled back. “Kama Sutra.”
“Huh?” A little piece of apple fell from Horsey’s mouth.
“It’s Kama Sutra. Not caramel sultra.”
“Well, now see?” Horsey tossed his hands up in the air. “That’s why you get the babes and the rest of us don’t.”
That was not the reason. Well, it might be why Matt did get the babes, but it was not the reason why the rest of them didn’t. There was a long, exhaustive list of all the reasons why these other derelict guys did not get the babes. Starting with their lack of attention to personal hygiene and ending with . . . more lack of attention to personal hygiene.
“Tiny is certain that Gloria Persimmons would never go out with him, and I’m trying to convince him that he should at least ask her,” Georgie said. “No guts, no glory. And no Gloria, right?”
Matt nodded and sat down on the other side of Tiny. “You haven’t even asked her out, bro? Why not?”
“Because she’s . . . enchanting, like a princess. Have you seen her hair? It’s like spun gold.”
Spun gold growing out of brown dirt. Emily had just seen Gloria, and her dark roots were as wide as Tiny’s beefy thumb. Any woman could have that gold hair if they bought it from a box like she did.
“Have you at least talked to her?” Emily asked. “I don’t think she’s dating anyone.” Actually, she knew for a fact that Gloria was not currently dating anyone because they’d discussed it endlessly at drunk puzzle night.
“Of course she’s not. Who on this island is worthy of her?” Tiny said.
Perspective was an amazing thing. Maybe the dopamine in Tiny’s brain had somehow been kicked into overdrive, blinding him to some of Gloria’s more unique attributes.
“You are worthy of her,” Georgie answered. “I totally think she’d say yes if you asked her.”
“You know she comes to my yoga class every Monday, T. Maybe you should join, and then you can have a chance to talk to her,” Matt said.
“Oh, I think that’s not the best idea,” Emily blurted out. “I mean, yes, I think you should definitely talk to her, but I’m not sure yoga class is the best place.”
“Why?” Horsey asked, taking another big bite of apple.
“Why?” Garth said, laughing. “You think seeing Tiny’s big lard-ass pointing up at the mountain dog or whatever they call it, you think if she’s behind him and sees that she’s gonna think, ‘Oh yeah. Get me some of that.’”
Georgie scowled at her brother. “Shut up, Garth! Gosh, you’re so mean. Don’t listen to him, Tiny. He’s just jealous because he knows Gloria will probably say yes to you and she’d never say yes to him.”
Actually, Emily had been thinking exactly what Garth had said, but she just might have phrased it a little more gently. In fact, she might have turned it around completely. Like this.
“Tiny, what I meant was that Gloria likes to keep herself very put together, and if she sees you in yoga class, she may feel a little shy or awkward. But I think if you approached her in some other way or at some other time, you’d have better luck.”
“You think? You’re her friend. Do you think I have a shot?”
Knowing Gloria . . . yes. Tiny had a pretty good shot. “Yes, I do.”
That sparkle lit his bright blue eyes.
“In fact, I happen to know that she does, upon occasion, go to the Wednesday night square dancing at Saint Bart’s. I could find out if she’ll be there this week.” She’d promise anything if it would help get them back to work.
Tiny’s face fell again. “Square dancing? Oh, that’s no good. I’d just end up watching her have fun with all the other guys because I don’t know how to square-dance.”
“I can teach you,” said Wyatt, finally joining the conversation. “I’m a decent caller.”
“How you gonna teach him all by himself?” Horsey asked. “Square dancing has to happen in pairs. And you need at least . . .” He counted on his fingers. “Four pairs. And four pairs of people would be . . .” He counted on his fingers again. “That would be eight people.”
“Well, we’ve got seven people right here,” said Georgie.
“Six dancers. I’m the caller,” Wyatt said.
Emily really needed her people to be working today. Not square dancing. But Tiny looked so sad, and the truth was, he and Gloria would make a damn fine couple. And maybe if she got those two together it would make up for all the bad karma she was creating by trying to break up the romance between Tag and Lilly. If there was some sort of karmic score sheet, maybe this would balance things out.
“I can get Chloe and Gigi,” she said.
Ryan had seen a collection of interesting things while on this island. A pink restaurant, people in colonial military garb during a tour of the fort with Tag, and slabs of fudge being made. He’d watched his father fly an airplane and ride a bike, and he’d even seen two horses getting it on. In short, Ryan had learned to expect the unexpected around here, but what he never would have anticipated on this mild Tuesday afternoon was seeing a group of wild and mangy guys in work boots dancing around in the front yard of a Victorian cottage while some sort of twangy, hillbilly hoedown music played from a tiny set of speakers. There was a huge guy with a bald head and tattoos, a Mohawk-ed girl with even more tattoos, and a couple of guys so skinny they could blow away in a strong breeze. The last guy did not fit in with all the others and must certainly be the infamous Yoga Matt. Chloe and Gigi were there, and right in the thick of it all was Emily, a big smile on her face and the sound of her laughter louder than any of the rest of them.
“No, I said promenade, Garth. Not spin your partner.” A dark-haired man with a long braid sat on the railing next to the speakers.
“That’s your left hand, Horsey. Use your right,” Chloe called out over the general mayhem.
“Do I lead with my right foot, then?” someone asked.
“No, your left foot,” someone answered.
Whatever was going on here, clearly no one was really in charge. Ryan observed from the side of the house for a minute, until he found his head bobbing in time with the music. Oh hell no. He was not going to start liking square dancing. It was bad enough that Tag was so fascinated. He stepped out from his spot in the shade and walked up to the group.
“Hello?” The music stopped, and everyone turned to look his way.
“Hey, Ryan,” Emily gasped, pushing an errant strand of hair away from her face. She was flushed and disheveled, and it hit him in the gut like a sucker punch. That’s probably just what she’d look like after a good roll in the hay, and suddenly all his determination to keep everything between them strictly business evaporated. Stupid dopamine. No wonder his father enjoyed square dancing.
“Hey, yourself. You told me to stop by, but I didn’t realize you were having a hoedown.”
“Not so much a hoedown as a dance lesson. Let me introduce you to everyone. Chloe you know, of course.”
“Hi, Ryan.” She waved as if he was not just feet away from her.
“And of course you met my grandmother, Gigi O’Reilly-Callaghan-Harper-Smith. She owns this place.”
She made the rounds, saying names like Tiny and Horsey, and he shook everyone’s hand. They were polite enough, but with the exception of the infamous Yoga Matt, every single one of them, even the young woman, eyed him with some suspicion. He’d run into this kind of reaction from construction crews before. If you didn’t have calluses on your hands, they didn’t trust you.
“Well, I guess we’ve had enough dancing for today, gang,” Emily said. “How about if you all take a lunch break while I show Ryan around.”
“Sure thing, Miss Chambers.” Tiny nodded. The group turned and headed toward a little shady spot where a beat-up picnic table sat.
Emily, Chloe, and the grandmother who continued to undress him with her eyes stood at the bottom of the steps, and Ryan turned to get his first good look at the place.
“So, what do you think of the
outside of the cottage?” Emily asked.
Ryan had to smile. “I think calling it a cottage is misleading. It looks huge. A house this size in Sacramento would not be considered a cottage.”
“Most of the houses on the island are called cottages because they were built as summer homes for rich lumber barons and such back in the eighteen hundreds. It’s got about three thousand square feet, but unfortunately about five square feet of that is kitchen, so I’m trying to figure out how to upgrade everything while keeping the charm.”
“Well, let’s go inside and have a look.”
Two hours later, Chloe and the grandmother had left, the crew was downstairs making a ruckus, and it was just him and Emily standing in an upstairs bedroom. Listening to her describe all the plans she had for the cottage had made the time fly by. Her enthusiasm was engaging, and he was more than a little impressed by her knowledge. Not that he hadn’t expected it.
“If I can figure out a way to replace these windows with something more energy efficient without losing the historical charm, that would be ideal. Haven’t figured that one out yet. I’d also really love to make them bigger since the view from this room is one of the best in the house. See that lilac tree? It’s about one hundred years old.”
Ryan turned and looked out the window she was standing next to. There was a small front yard, and then the hill sloped downward toward a gnarled tree that looked like something from a fairy tale. His eyes traveled past it, on down the hill. There was a cottage, and beyond that was the lake, but it was the cottage that caught his attention. It was pink. And he was very nearly certain it was the place the Mahoney sisters were so determined to buy. Ryan had come from the other direction to get to Gigi’s place earlier today and hadn’t noticed until just now. But there it was. Right down there. The pink cottage.
“Isn’t that a great view?” Emily prompted as he stood there trying to think of what to say. Because what he wanted to say was, “My company has been hired by the Mahoney sisters to buy that land and build a three-story bed-and-breakfast right there that will almost certainly ruin this awesome view of yours.”
“That is a great view. You don’t often see a pink house,” was the best he could come up with.
Emily moved closer, and he could feel the heat of her body. Or maybe that was just heat from the sunshine coming through poorly insulated window frames? No, it was Emily. She smelled really nice again today. It was hot, and he hoped his antiperspirant was doing its job, yet there she stood next to him, warm as sunshine, smelling like flowers, with just a hint of moisture giving her face a glow. So even though Emily Chambers was technically off-limits, and even though his company was poised to ruin her view, he really wanted to give in to his baser desires and make her glow all over. What would happen if he just leaned over and kissed her?
“That pink house belongs to Bridget O’Malley,” Emily said, wiping a smudge off the window glass, clearly not reading his mind. “She is closing in on a hundred and three years old. Last I knew she was still baking all her own bread, but Gigi said she’s starting to get forgetful. The fire department would really like her to stop cooking because they get called out here every time she forgets to take something out of the oven.”
Bridget O’Malley, huh? He tamped down a sigh. It was definitely the place the Mahoney sisters were interested in. He wished he could mention that to Emily, but all he said was, “One hundred and three? That’s amazing. If my dad lives to that age, he’d still have another forty-five years to go.”
“Sure, and Lilly would have seventy-seven. By the way, did you tell him that their clandestine rendezvous are the worst-kept secret on the island?”
He shook his head. “Did you tell your sister?”
“No, not yet, but at least my dad is still in the dark. Father’s Day was not the day to tell him, and I convinced Lilly to keep it to herself for a while longer. I’m having such a nice visit, and quite frankly, I don’t want her making Harlan all grumpy and spoiling that. Let’s go sit on the porch. It’s stifling up here.”
He followed her down the stairs, and they went outside to literally sit on the porch, because there were no chairs. Even so, the breeze was nice, and he sure could use some cooling off.
“What do you think I should do with the teeny-tiny kitchen in this place?” she asked, pulling her knees up in front of her.
Ah, at last. A problem Ryan could solve. “I have a couple of ideas. Do you have any drawing paper?”
“I think so.” She hopped up and went inside, returning a minute later with a notebook and pen.
He talked as he sketched. “If you take out that powder room to the left of the kitchen, you can expand this way and add an island in the center, and then you can add another section of cabinets right here.”
“I love that idea,” she said. “I never would have thought of that. You’re pretty good at this construction stuff, I guess.”
Ryan knew he was pretty good at this construction stuff, but hearing her say it and having her gaze at him with that light in her eyes, he felt like he was the best in the world.
“I have lots of ideas.” He did, too. He kept silent on the ones involving her and a mattress and focused instead on suggestions for the cottage renovation. An hour later, they were surrounded by sheets of paper, torn from the notebook and covered with sketches.
“Wow, I’m not joking. You really are good at this stuff,” she said, holding up a drawing of two tiny bedrooms transformed into a luxurious suite. “You’re practically a superhero. Like . . . Remodel-Man. Or Construct-Thor.”
“You’re funny.” He flipped the page and started another drawing.
She leaned over to see it, and her hair tickled his nose. He laughed and reached up to push the strands away, and damned if her hair wasn’t every bit as soft as he’d imagined. His fingers curled around it, catching, twisting. She looked up at him in surprise, and the urge to kiss her nearly overwhelmed him. Gazes locked, the moment hung suspended. Her lips were only inches away, looking so soft and so tempting. He leaned forward, nearly closing the distance, and something went crash! Followed by more crash, crash, crash inside the house, and Ryan and Emily jerked backward like they’d been zapped by a live wire.
“Nothing!” Georgie called out, almost immediately. “That was nothing. Just dropped a big frickin’ jar of about five hundred frickin’ nails down the stairs.”
“Butterfingers!”
“Shut up, Garth!”
Ryan looked back at Emily, who was now staring at her shoes and not at him, and he knew the moment had passed.
Chapter 20
“I’ve decided I want to try every flavor of fudge and every flavor of ice cream on the island,” Chloe said as she licked a dribble of triple-caramel swirl from the side of her waffle cone.
It was a beautiful evening near the bay, and after a tough day of dealing with cabinets being delivered that were the wrong finish, Horsey being late because the shoelace of his work boot had broken so he’d had to run to O’Doul’s to get some new ones, the Trillium Bay building inspector stopping by to let Emily know she had more forms to fill out, and smashing her thumb with a hammer just when she was trying to show off to her crew her hammering prowess, Emily had decided that this was a good night to have dessert for dinner. She’d gotten no argument from her daughter, and so they were now sitting on a bench near Trillium Park, having ice cream and watching the ducks paddle around in the water.
“Every flavor of ice cream? That’s a lot of flavors,” Emily said. She’d gotten a strawberry sundae, just as she had as a kid whenever Gigi would take her for ice cream. She never got these in San Antonio and had no idea why. Surely they’d taste just as good there, but then again, maybe they wouldn’t because Texas just wasn’t Trillium Bay.
“Yep,” Chloe said with another swipe at her cone. “But you’ve always told me it’s important to have goals. I think tomorrow morning I should have coffee ice cream. Because, you know, coffee in the morning?”
“No
t sure about that, but I’m glad to know you consider goals important. So, what did you do earlier today?”
“I went up to Holmes Point with Susie Mahoney. I know we’re not supposed to like them because of, you know, that feud stuff, but I really like her. I like all the kids here. Everybody is so nice.”
“Don’t worry about the feud, honey. No one pays any attention to that except for the old folks, and most of them think it’s silly, too. I’m just glad to hear you’ve found some nice kids. Seems like you’re having a pretty good summer so far.”
Chloe nodded, moving her ice-cream cone along with her head. “I am. I’m having the best summer I’ve ever had. Can we come back here next year?”
Next summer? Heaven only knew what would be going on for them next summer. “Um, probably. If you want to.”
“I do want to. Can I take riding lessons? I saw that guy Percy, and he said he gives group lessons on Tuesday and Friday mornings.”
“Riding lessons?” That might cost some money, but if Chloe was interested, Emily would find a way to make it work. “Yes, you can take riding lessons. That sounds fun. Just stay away from Duke and Periwinkle.”
Chloe giggled. “That’s a deal. Can I ask you something else? You’re probably going to say no, but I really, really, really hope you say yes.”
That was quite a windup. It must be something big. “You can ask me.”
“Can I go camping overnight this Tuesday with a bunch of the girls? There won’t be any boys, and Carrie Crenshaw’s mom and aunt are going, too, so there will be grown-ups with us.”
“Camping overnight. Like outside? Are you sure you can handle sleeping outside and peeing next to a tree?”
Chloe’s expression was indignant. “I think if you could do it, then I can do it.”
Emily wasn’t sure if her daughter was trying to insult her or just demonstrate her own confidence. She chose to give her the benefit of the doubt and go with the latter.
“Let me talk to Carrie’s mom tomorrow. If she says it’s okay with her, then it’s okay with me.”