Matt sat up, scratching his head with both hands and trying to remember if he’d covered the statue of Pretty before he’d left the studio. The momentary conviction that he hadn’t drove him out of bed and into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
Zoe quirked an eyebrow and looked up as he rushed into the room. “Did you miss me that much?”
He ignored the question. After a check of the covered statue, Matt set up the screens he needed and got his camera in order. Zoe was her normal vapid self, and he found himself gritting his teeth as the day dragged on.
“All right…just a couple more shots. Don’t move.” He adjusted the lens.
Zoe deliberately took a deep breath, swelling her already impressive chest and putting the shot off again. Matt closed his eyes and counted to ten before dropping the camera to his side. Zoe laughed. “What? Everyone has to breathe.”
“Zoe, do you want this job?”
Her eyes snapped with a burst of outrage. “No, Matt. I’m standing here bucky-assed naked and in a fucking awkward position because I don’t want this job. Don’t be an ass.”
“Then don’t move.” He snapped a shot, admiring the flow of her hair toward the floor as she arched backward.
Zoe huffed, but she stayed as Matt had positioned her for once. “So, where’s tall, dimpled, and studly today?” she asked. “This was a hell of a lot easier with him holding me up.”
“Race. He’ll be back in a couple of days.” Matt adjusted the curve of her arm, and then took another picture. “If I can see you without Jason in the way, we can skip an extended session later.” Pictures weren’t his preferred method of dealing with detail in an almost finished human sculpture, but he’d had it with the both of them. Between Zoe’s blatant flirting and Jason’s…existing…Matt was on a knife’s edge of tension most days.
Zoe eyed Matt and started to turn toward him. “Damn it, Zoe!” he snapped, pushing her none too gently into the right position.
A slow smile spread across her face, and he cursed under his breath, realizing that getting a rise out of him had been her goal. “What are you gonna do, Mattie? Fire me like you did Tyler?” Her brain seemed to shift into another gear. “And what is up with him and that old woman? He’s following her around like a puppy.”
Matt grunted noncommittally and moved in for the last shot, aiming at the sweep of her thigh as her foot rested on a chair. The finished statue would have her leg wrapped around Jason’s thigh, but this was close enough. “What does Tyler see in her bony ass? Tiny tits would be a deal breaker for most guys I know.” She ran her hands over her breasts fondly as Matt carried the camera to a table and started shutting off the lights. Zoe lowered her foot and closed the gap between them.
Matt ignored her, stepping to the side to shut off another light and then looking down at his notes to see for how many more days he would have to endure her. “Sarah is a nice woman,” he said, grinning as he remembered how entertaining she had been at dinner the night before. Every story about Abby had been one more thing to add to his scanty store of information.
“Since when are you on a first name basis with the tourists?” When Matt didn’t answer right away, Zoe finished buttoning her top and yanked on a pair of cut-offs. “I suppose you were playing patty-cake with her friend too, huh?” She snorted and took a brush out of her bag and attacked her hair. “At least she has some kind of a figure.”
Thinking of Abby’s shape took Matt’s mind to the corner of the room where the clandestine statue stood. He’d given up even pretending to himself that it was merely an exercise to relax him from the stress of working faster on a sculpture than he had ever worked before. The Pretty sculpture was his favorite project in a very long time, and Matt couldn’t imagine leaving it unfinished. He’d worked diligently to get the hair and arms correct, the hips were perfect, and he had the legs roughed in. He hoped the surfing lesson would fill in some blanks when it came to her upper body and thighs.
He forgot Zoe was still standing there until she tapped him on the chest. She stood with a hand on her hip, glaring. “What the hell’s up with you, Matt? You’re grinning like a goob, and you haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you?”
“Guilty as charged. I have a lot on my mind.” He consulted his calendar. “I won’t need you again for quite a while, I don’t think. I’ll call you.”
“If I’m available,” she said with a snort, stalking to the vestibule. The outer door slammed.
Chris peeked into the studio. “Did I hear Madam Tata’s dulcet tones?”
“Yeah. Lord, I wish I hadn’t used her for the test shots. The buyer’s husband has become attached. Otherwise I’d find someone else tomorrow.”
Chris looked around the studio. “Speaking of tomorrow, are you interested in running over to Monterey? I feel like a day off from the boardwalk.”
“I’ll bet.” Matt grinned. “Exhausting work, guessing people’s deepest secrets.” He finished shutting down the equipment. He expected a joking comeback, and when it didn’t come he glanced at Chris. He was gazing at the floor, a tiny frown between his eyebrows.
“What?” Matt asked.
Chris sank down on a kitchen chair. “There was this girl, you know? Yesterday?” Matt nodded. “She was the saddest person I’ve ever met. I almost didn’t have to guess at anything, because her eyes told the whole story.” Chris let out a huge breath of air and scratched at his head with both hands. “I have to admit, it threw me a little. This fortune-telling thing is usually just a laugh. People tell so much with their faces that I don’t feel guilty for taking their money so they can hear it out loud, but I need a break. So, you up for it?”
Matt shook his head. “Sorry, I have plans. Teaching a nice lady how to surf.”
Chris stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his bare chest, leaning against the wall. “That nice lady wouldn’t be named Abby, would she?” Matt nodded, and Chris laughed. “Teaching, my ass. Showing off is what you mean, cuz. Isn’t she dating Jason The Tank?” Chris tsk-tsked. “Shame on you.”
“Purely platonic,” Matt said. “She’s interested, and what kind of representative of our sport would I be if I didn’t give her a chance to try it herself?”
“A living representative, ’cause Jason is going to pound you when he hears about this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s surfing, not sex. Everyone will be fully clothed the entire time.”
Chris stood up. “Riiight. If you call bathing suits or wetsuits fully clothed.” He smirked. “Don’t even try to tell me that you wouldn’t hit that if you’d gotten there first, because I hate calling a family member a liar. I saw the way you guys were circling each other at your party. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tomorrow night.”
“No need.” Matt put his glass in the sink and opened the refrigerator, hoping something would jump out at him as a dinner choice. “Even if you were right, and I’m definitely not saying that you are, I told you that I don’t bring drama home. My Fortress of Solitude remains inviolate—that’s a personal rule.”
Chris shook his head in disbelief. “You’re a stronger man than I am. I likes my comfort, and you never know what kind of crappy-ass bed you’re gonna find in someone else’s house. Plus, you have to get up and get dressed right when you’re most comfortable. If you want them to leave your house, you just snore really loud and that usually does it. Or play sleep coma.” He pointed out some fish on the bottom shelf.
When dinner was over, Chris slipped off to his room, leaving his cousin to stretch out on the couch with a beer. Though it was Matt’s norm, the silence that night seemed oppressive. Grabbing the remote, he put on some music and leaned his head against the back of the couch. With his eyes closed, he replayed the moment when he’d cupped Abby’s warm hip in his hand as he was leaving. He recalled the feeling of her fingers on his back when he’d pecked her cheek. Pleasantly occupied, he eventually dropped off, only blearily staggering into his room when Chris shook him and told him to go
to bed.
A tap at his bedroom door as the first rays of light peeked around his blinds interrupted the lingering sound of Dream Abby’s tiny gasp when Dream Matt traced the lower curve of her breast with his thumb. Damn if that didn’t make it difficult to contemplate leaving bed right then.
“You awake?” Chris asked as he poked his head in the door. “I checked Surfline, and you’ll want to take Miss Abby out early this morning. The swells are supposed to get wicked this afternoon.” He paused. “Where you taking her? Capitola or Cowell’s?” Chris named two of the local beaches known for being beginner-friendly.
Matt rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the roughness of stubble and wondering if he should bother shaving. Wondering what Abby liked. “Cowell’s, most likely. It’s close, and it shouldn’t be too bad on a weekday.”
“And close enough to Steamer Lane that you can get in a good ride when she gets tired.” Chris grinned.
“That, too,” Matt admitted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and snagging a pair of shorts with his big toe. Chris looked away as Matt stood and pulled them up, letting them hang loose on his hips.
“Underwear, man,” he said as he looked back around. “You could at least wear underwear.”
“Can’t sleep in clothes,” Matt answered, mentally running over what he had to get done before he picked up Abby. Deciding to forgo the razor, he changed into board shorts and a T-shirt. He crammed a wetsuit and towels into a bag before loading that and a couple of surfboards into his Jeep.
Chris toted a cooler down to the car, saying nothing even as he smiled at Matt’s impatience to get going. “See you tomorrow!” he yelled as Matt drove off.
“Tonight!” Matt shouted back, waving.
Abby answered the door immediately, gesturing for Matt to come in. “Coffee?” she asked, and he nodded, following her into the kitchen. She poured another mug, offering cream and sugar, before settling against the counter. They sipped for a minute before he thought to ask about Sarah.
“Biking with another kiddie,” Abby said. “Apparently she hasn’t learned her lesson about younger men.”
“I’ve heard they’re pretty irresistible,” Matt said, sipping his coffee and raising an eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Abby yawned and shook her head. “Sorry. I was up late last night with Jason. He left this morning for New York.” She dropped her eyes to her cup. “We had some things to talk about.”
“Hmm.” Matt said noncommittally.
“Listen…” Abby fiddled with her spoon. “What were you talking about with Jason the other day?” She looked at him intently.
Matt wondered if the truth was what she really wanted. “He wanted to know if I was planning on moving in on you.”
“Are you?”
Matt brushed the side of her free hand, from palm to the tip of her pinky, with his finger. “Not while you’re dating Jason. I don’t poach either.”
Abby nodded, but her small finger wrapped around Matt’s, anchoring his hand with hers. “What if I wasn’t seeing Jason?”
Smiling, Matt stepped forward until he could rest his free hand on the side of Abby’s neck, where it curved into her shoulder. “That, Pretty…that would be a very different story.” He ran his hand down her arm, squeezing her fingers before he stepped back. “Ready to go?”
“Uh…yeah,” Abby answered, shaking her head and smiling.
“What?” Matt asked.
She grinned again. “Never mind.” For a minute, he thought she had changed her mind about going along, but she nodded. “I don’t have a wetsuit,” she warned.
“Don’t need one. A bathing suit is fine. I won’t take you out to the really cold water, I promise.”
“Baby-pool surfing,” she joked, and Matt chuckled and nodded. Abby took a deep breath and let it out in a gust. “Sounds like fun. A nice change after the brain bucket and those damned lock-in shoes. Shall we?” She scooped up a bag that Matt hadn’t noticed at first and headed out the door, waiting for his exit before she closed and locked it.
They were walking down the stairs at Cowell’s beach within minutes, talking easily about their differing beach experiences on each coast. Matt was surprised to hear that she wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with surfing, having seen it done during visits to her grandmother’s house on the Washington coast. She had also done some research in the last day and asked a thousand questions about the differences between various beaches, shortboards and longboards, tides, and marine life. Matt finally covered her mouth, laughing, and asked if she ever wanted to try it.
Abby flushed. “Sorry. Endlessly curious here. Plus, I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be.” He stripped off his shirt and started applying sunscreen to his shoulders, tossing Abby the bottle when he had a handful of lotion. “You’re with a pro. I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Abby almost missed the bottle. “Thanks,” she said, pulling her own T-shirt off and revealing a deep plum bikini top that accented the paleness of her skin. She rubbed lotion onto her arms and legs. Matt eyed the curve of breast that Dream Matt had traced with his thumb, wondering how it would feel when he was awake.
Abby tossed the bottle back to him. “Can you get my back?” she asked, turning and presenting it to him.
He studied the sweep of skin before him, entirely exposed aside from a narrow strip that was covered by the top’s band. Hell, yes, he could. Squirting the lotion into his hand, Matt smoothed it over her shoulders, stroking downward to coat her shoulder blades, feathering the lotion onto her sides.
Abby arched forward, chuckling breathlessly. “Sorry. Cold,” she murmured, drawing a breath as the tips of Matt’s fingers brushed the outer curve of her breast.
Checking his own internal temperature, Matt acknowledged that “cold” was nowhere near accurate.
Resisting the impulse to let his fingers linger at the low waistband of her swimsuit bottom, he finished and stepped back. “Done.”
“Thanks.” Abby crouched and pulled a white, long-sleeved T-shirt out of her bag. She tugged it over her head, covering the body he had been trying to impress into his mind so he could take it home to his unfinished statue. “Extra protection. I hate burning, and I nearly always do,” she confessed, tugging at the lower hem of her shirt.
“No problem.” Matt looked out over the ocean, judging that the biggest morning swells should be about over. “Ready?” Abby nodded, and Matt went into teacher mode. Starting with the basics, she practiced stances with the board on the sand. Matt stood behind her, holding her hips and demonstrating how she should move. Eventually, she practiced on her own before moving to the water. Matt took his time, explaining things thoroughly. He both wanted her first surf to be a pleasant experience and wished for the day to last.
Her first ride on a small swell ended in a wipeout a few yards from the beach, but Abby came up laughing and shrieking in triumph. She immediately paddled back out to try again and again until she could ride her board almost to the beach before leaping into the water. Each time, Matt followed her back out, straddling his board as she mirrored that position while they waited for the next wave to come in. After several rides, they went out once again and sat quietly, watching the next wave build.
“How long have you been doing this, Matt?” Abby asked.
“Mmm…I think I was seven or eight the first time, so about thirty years.” He winced theatrically, and she laughed, eyeing the water. She shifted to one knee, with a foot braced and hands gripping the sides of the board, measuring the ocean with her gaze.
Cutting her eyes toward Matt, one side of her mouth lifted in a smile. “You look pretty good for an older man. That year between us makes a huge difference, you know.”
He grinned back, ready to stand on his board. “It’s always about age with you. You’re lucky I like slightly younger women.” Abby laughed, and then the wave rushed in, and they got on top of it, riding it nearly to the beach before slipping off the boards and taking them to shore.
Matt headed toward the blanket that he’d anchored on the sand with the cooler and their bags. “Hungry?”
“Starving. Being in the water always does that to me,” Abby said from behind him, and he nodded, opening the cooler and picking up two bottles of water before turning around.
Holy hell. Matt stood stunned, holding out the bottle. Abby walked closer, twisting her hair over her shoulder and wringing water out of it. Far from hiding her curves, the T-shirt that he’d resented now accentuated every one, clinging to her body as the deep plum top, showing through the translucent shirt, accentuated her chest.
Taking the bottle from Matt’s hand, she gave him a curious look, and he dropped his eyes to the cooler, busying himself with unpacking it and willing his body to behave itself. “Chris put this together, so I don’t know exactly what’s in here. He has pretty good taste, so I’m sure it’s okay.” Enough babbling, he told himself.
Abby didn’t seem to mind. She sat beside him and reached for some grapes as she gushed about her rides. Matt relaxed, laughing at her enthusiasm and answering another dozen questions as they snacked on fruit, cheese, and bread. Opening a thermos she’d retrieved from the bottom of the cooler, Abby took a deep swallow and started coughing. “Wasn’t expecting sangria,” she gasped out, laughing as Matt cursed Chris for not warning him. Sharing the rest of the wine, they rested on the blanket, talking about different styles of sculpture and the funny “buys” Charles had made over the years.
The Art of Appreciation Page 10