“How’s Amanda anyway?” asked Bob.
“Better. I think.”
Bob nodded. “So what did you need my help with?”
Their dinners came, and they both leaned back. As soon as the waiter was gone, Bob lunged into his steak, and Adam filled in more details about Paige’s plan to sell to Dorothy Silver.
“It’s an interesting idea,” Bob said, “but frankly I don’t know if you can wait that long.”
Adam stared at his plate for a long time. He didn’t know why he was even bringing this up. They’d had a plan; he’d already put the wheels in motion. He knew he needed to hurry and leave for Amanda—everything should keep moving forward. But, for some reason, Paige’s presence, and Paige’s idea, kept causing the record to skip.
“Though, I have to say . . . ,” Bob said, his voice drifting off toward some unspoken idea.
Adam glanced up. “What?”
“Something doesn’t feel right with MacGregor.”
Adam nodded. “I’ve been feeling the same way.”
“But MacGregor’s offering cash. If you’re in a hurry, it’s the easiest thing to do.”
“I’m in a hurry.”
Bob nodded. “When’s he coming anyway?”
“Tomorrow.”
Bob paid attention to his meal for a couple of minutes, giving Adam the amount of time he needed to make friends with this new reality.
“I’m sorry your dad put you in this position,” Bob said. He always seemed to apologize for George, as if he could’ve talked him into other financial arrangements—like putting Adam and Noel on titles as partners, or otherwise saving parts of the property from probate—but Adam knew what a mule his father had been.
“It’s not your fault, Bob.”
“We’ll make it work,” Bob said, his voice drifting off.
Adam nodded yet again.
“But now”—Bob’s eyes twinkled as he looked up from his dinner—“I want to hear more about Paige, and why you get that look on your face every time you say her name.”
“What look?”
“That one,” Bob said, pointing with his fork.
Adam looked away and pushed some potatoes around his plate. But as he glanced up, he caught a glimpse in the mirror of something that made his gut tighten. “Looks like maybe you can see for yourself,” he said.
Bob looked at him with confusion, and Adam nodded toward the mirror. “She just walked in.”
Paige stood in indecision in the doorway, her earrings brushing her cheek, staring at Adam at the bar with an elderly gentleman.
Maybe this was a terrible idea.
She clutched her laptop closer to her chest. Maybe she should eat in the dining room. She could actually get some work done, which was the lame excuse she’d given herself for coming here in the first place.
In full makeup.
In her favorite outfit.
Wearing her lucky pair of earrings.
As she took a step back, however, Adam turned in the bar stool and looked right at her. He didn’t exactly motion her over. In fact, he didn’t move at all. He simply stared.
Since he’d caught her eye, though, she told herself she shouldn’t be impolite.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said when she arrived at his shoulder. “I left something at your door.”
“Yes, thank you. I, uh . . . I decided maybe I’d get out a little. Get some work done.” She lifted her laptop satchel for proof.
“Ah.” Adam nodded.
Paige turned to the older gentleman, who was studying her with interest.
“Ms. Grant, this is Bob Hastings. Bob, Paige Grant.” Adam turned to flag down the bartender with something that looked like sheer desperation.
“Nice to meet you,” Bob said enthusiastically, holding out his hand. “I’m Adam’s accountant. How’s your mother?”
Paige blinked back surprise. “You know my mom?”
“I’ve known the Masons and the Grants for a long time. Lived here on Lavender Island since the seventies. I met you when you were a little girl.”
“Oh. Well, nice to meet you again.” She shook his hand.
“Why don’t you join us?” he asked.
Adam suddenly coughed, chaotically, then slammed his chest with his fist.
“Thank you, but that’s okay,” Paige said. “I need to get some work done. Thanks for the invitation, though.”
Before Bob could argue—he looked the type to always put forth an effort of gallantry—and before Adam could start choking again, Paige retreated to a quiet back corner. She felt silly moving so far away, since the room was practically empty, but she needed to get out of earshot. She didn’t want to appear to be spying on what looked like a possible business meeting. And who knew—maybe it was even about the Dorothy Silver sale. Of course, her mother would probably approve of spying. But even though Paige wanted to do her mother proud, she still couldn’t bring herself to take on Grant-women guerrilla tactics. Becoming her mother’s daughter would have to come in steps.
She chose a table against the window and stole one more look at the bar. Adam was still watching her. An unrecognizable thrill shot through her, and it had nothing to do with furthering her position in a business deal.
Biting her lip, she chided herself. She couldn’t get herself worked up like she had sixteen years ago. This guy was exciting her on every level, but he’d already broken her heart once. And there was no way she was going to let it happen again.
As her mom said, she was just going to have to be smart.
“Are you determining the angle of the creases in her slacks or how many buttons she has undone to her bra?”
Adam looked with embarrassment at Bob, who was smirking at him relentlessly.
“My life is falling apart,” Adam said, turning back toward his scotch. “How could I look at her with anything but dismissal?”
“Well, I’ve got a fifty that says you’re looking at her with something other than dismissal.”
Adam stabbed at his dinner. “Listen, regardless of how beautiful a coral snake is, you stay away.”
“Those are the poisonous ones?”
“‘Red touching yellow kills a fellow’?” He waited for some recognition to alight on Bob’s face, but when none came, he shook his head. “Bob, you’re not much of a mountain man.”
Bob’s eyes crinkled at the edges, and he let out a warm chuckle. “Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Sometimes you just want to enjoy beauty for beauty’s sake and not worry about what’s poisonous or not. Aren’t those snakes generally reclusive unless you bother them?” Bob looked at him for a long time, chewing his steak.
“Are you giving me hell, old man?”
Bob laughed into his potatoes. “I’m just saying I’ve known you a long time, Adam, and I’ve seen you through many a girlfriend, but that woman looks more your type than anyone I’ve quite possibly ever seen.”
Adam pushed his plate away and stole a look at her over his shoulder. “Too bad she’s a beautiful coral snake.”
Bob took another sip of his scotch and suddenly moved off the bar stool, getting out his wallet.
Adam looked at him with alarm. “Where are you going? We haven’t even talked yet.”
“Listen, son,” Bob said. He threw several bills onto the bar. “Let me pay for your dinner, and let me buy that lady a bottle of wine, and I want you to walk over there and apologize for whatever you did or said that’s making her sit way over there. Then I want you to sit with her and have a couple of drinks and ask her to dance at least once and celebrate with Tanya and Antonio tonight. You’ve looked like something the cat’s dragged in for the last three years, and seeing that look on your face right now makes me happy. So make me happy tonight.”
“I’ve got to get back, Bob. There’s so much to do. I’ve got books to keep, and—”
Bob chuckled into his wallet. “You must be losing your touch, son, if you can’t stay up late enough for a few drinks and some dancing and still g
et your bookkeeping done.”
“Amanda doesn’t like to be alone in the house late at night.”
“I’ll swing by and bring Amanda some pie. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Denny’s with her, right?”
“Yeah.” Adam glanced over his shoulder. Maybe Bob was right. He’d aged about twenty years in the last five. And Paige was looking incredible. And it had been a long time since he’d sat across a table over a flickering candle to have a few drinks with an interesting woman. Paige was funny and smart and intriguing, and he hadn’t been around a woman in years who’d captivated him quite like she did.
“Send her a chardonnay.” Bob clapped Adam on the shoulder and left.
Paige looked up from her screen and noted that Friendly Bob was heading for the door. She wondered if something had gone wrong between the two men. She forced her eyes back to her laptop but stopped absorbing a single word.
“This is from the gentleman at the bar.” A waiter suddenly set a bottle of white wine on the table. “Would you like me to pour?”
Paige nodded and waited until the waiter was gone, focusing on breathing, then glanced at Adam. That, apparently, was all the welcome he required. He slid off the bar stool and began a reluctant gait toward her.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked stiffly.
She didn’t know. He looked too good tonight. She’d forgotten to factor in that part. The ever-present hat was now off his head, dangling at his side. His hair was pushed off his face, making his eyes more prominent and blue. The work shirt had given way to a crisp white button-up, which he wore under a tweed jacket, and his dark jeans curved around his thick thighs before falling over black boots.
Her voice couldn’t seem to form the words no or yes, so she simply made a spasmodic jerk toward the extra seat and closed her laptop.
“I was getting some work done,” she said. “Is that what you were doing with Bob?”
He gave her a wan smile as he slid into the chair. “Are we back to talking about business already? I was going to say you look nice tonight.”
She straightened her shoulders and stared at her wine. She did think she looked nice. The silky top in a gorgeous mustard color made her feel grown-up and sophisticated for once.
“Thank you. So were you talking to Bob about my proposition?”
He took a swig of his scotch. “I was, in fact.”
“And?”
“I’m sorry, Paige. Unless MacGregor doesn’t show up at all tomorrow, I don’t think I’m going to be able to take Dorothy’s deal. But tomorrow is Thursday. So I’ll give you my final word then.”
Paige’s shoulders slumped. This was not what she wanted to hear. But she held out a tiny sliver of hope that MacGregor might not show up. And if he did, maybe she could at least borrow part of the meadow for the time being—just to get the gazebo erected—and they could make sure it was a temporary structure. The orchard she could work on later.
“But I didn’t come over here to talk to you about land,” Adam said, glancing around the room.
The bar was starting to fill up, and Adam seemed to nod at almost everyone.
“What did you come to talk about?” she squeaked. Moving this to a social rendezvous could be dangerous for her.
“Bob wanted me to cover three things.”
“What three things?”
“One is to have a couple of drinks with you.”
She nodded toward the bottle. “I think we can handle that. Thank you for the wine.” She had to make sure she didn’t drink much. She pushed the extra wineglass toward him. “Do you want a glass? Or three?”
“I’m good.” He lifted his scotch. “And the wine’s actually from Bob.”
An odd disappointment fell through her stomach. She gazed at the flickering candle in a leaf-shaped bronze holder and wished she hadn’t just felt that. She wasn’t supposed to let herself get hopeful about gallantry from Adam Mason.
He stared at her for a few beats, then laughed with embarrassment and shook his head. “But I should’ve taken the credit,” he said softly.
Her fingers nervously stroked her wineglass stem. “So what are the other two things?” she managed to ask.
“The second is apologize,” he said.
Apologize? A new panic seized her. Was he remembering more from the past? Did Bob know more about that summer than he let on?
When Adam didn’t continue, she had to prompt him through dry lips. “Apologize for what?”
“For whatever I did or said that made you sit over here instead of joining us.”
She relaxed back into her seat a little, but her heart continued to thump as she wondered how much she could admit: Feeling guilty for contributing to the breakup of a family? Feeling guilty for having a mother who sent you away? Being the one to tell on you? Lusting after you anyway? Reverting to a hormonal teenager every time I’m near you? The list was long and pitiful.
He patiently waited for an answer, staring right into her eyes, but just then a man’s voice bellowed across the room.
“A-dam!”
A man Paige recognized as Antonio from earlier came barreling across the wood floor, followed by a crowd of three men and four women.
“Paige, right?” Antonio said, leaning over to shake her hand. “This is Tanya.” He pointed behind him. “And Joe, Little, Tony, Jen, Sherryl, and Kelly.” Paige glanced up to see Kelly, whom she recognized from the front desk. Kelly gave her a quick wave before plopping into a chair nearby.
For the next half hour, the friends and ranch hands danced to never-ending songs on the jukebox. A country band took over around ten, and bottles clinked in several toasts to Antonio and Tanya. Every time the new couple kissed, everyone took a drink—until they started making out on the dance floor, and everyone finished their glasses and ordered another round. Paige didn’t mean to take so many sips of wine, but the kissing went on and on. The group laughed at story after story, explaining details to Paige when necessary so she’d get the jokes, especially when they were about Adam, and next thing she knew she was relaxing and having a great time.
Adam laughed along but kept glancing across the table at her nervously. She enjoyed watching his dimples make brief appearances.
When the music got louder and faster, and the malty scent of spilled beer hung heavier in the air, Little leaned over and asked Paige if she knew how to dance.
“I do all right.”
“Thought so.” He smiled and held out his hand.
Little was anything but, but the man could bust a move. He was all over the floor, his body jiggling in impressive hip-hop moves that made him look like some kind of gelatin dessert. Paige did her best to keep up with him, and, after the second number, when she glanced back at the table, she noticed Adam staring at her. He took a sip of scotch and looked away.
At the end of the night, once they’d toasted Antonio and Tanya about a million times, once they’d all danced with one another, and once their tables were littered with beer bottles, Paige finally pushed herself to her feet and announced that she had to go home.
“I’ll take you,” Joe said. “I’m heading out myself.”
“I’ll take you,” Adam said, pushing his chair back. He glanced briefly at Joe.
Paige turned toward Adam, coming up to his chest. “Are you sober?” she whispered. She wasn’t sure. His hair was mussed, his grin a little cocky. He had a recklessness about him that didn’t seem his normal self.
“Not entirely, but neither is he,” he said, low. “We’ll walk.”
She nodded. She didn’t know if this was a fun Adam to be with, or a very, very dangerous one. Because he looked too sexy. And too easy. And she wasn’t entirely sober, either. And she knew liquor made her Calamity June side come out and made her confess all kinds of things . . .
She watched him grab his hat, set it on his head, and nod toward the door.
And then had the frightening but thrilling thought that this night could go either way.
CHAPTER 11
> The night air carried the warm, earthy scent of California sage as Adam tried to slow his pace to let Paige keep up. Crickets chirped along the dusty roadside, filling the silence that grew between them. His boots and her heels crunched together in perfect rhythm. But then he heard her panting.
“Can we slow down?” she asked.
Damn. He hadn’t realized he was walking too fast for her. He slowed immediately and glanced at her shoes. They made her legs look great—he couldn’t help but notice that—and they made her move in the sexiest way. But they couldn’t be easy to walk in, especially along a dirt road. He wished he could pick her up and carry her.
“So . . . ,” she said on a deep breath, “what was the third thing?”
He frowned. “Third thing?”
“The third thing Bob wanted you to do. He wanted you to have a few drinks with me, apologize, and what was the third thing?”
“Dance with you.”
She looked up at him quickly. When she seemed to collect herself, she shrugged. “But you didn’t.”
He wanted to read her tone as disappointment, but he wasn’t sure. “No, I didn’t.”
Their shoes crunched along the gravel. Adam had to admit he was disappointed. It would have been nice to have held her for a moment, even if he didn’t know how to dance. He’d thought about asking her five or six times. But honestly, he didn’t trust himself. With the way she’d made his blood race all night, he thought his second scotch might have had his hands roaming a little too far.
“Your friends are nice,” she said suddenly. “I didn’t know you had an entire community up here. Do you go out with them often?”
“Not as much as I used to. But they’re good people. We grew up together here.”
“Little sure can dance.”
“Yeah, I noticed you were dancing with him a lot.”
He’d had strange flare-ups of jealousy all night. Every time Little or Joe or Tony would look her way, he wanted to jump in and intervene. It was misplaced, he knew, but there it was.
Love on Lavender Island (A Lavender Island Novel Book 2) Page 11