by Judi Fennell
“Actually, Valerie, there is.” Mr. Hill cleared his throat and fiddled with his gray-and-navy striped tie, the brass tie tack popping off as he pulled it too far from his white shirt, revealing a coffee stain beneath.
“There’s, um…” He brushed back the comb-over that had fallen over his glasses after he picked up his tie tack. “There’s an issue. With the taxes. For the building. It’s why I’m here.”
“Taxes? Issue?” Those two words ranked right up there with “fired” and “IRS.” Her knees buckled and it felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. “What issue?”
She didn’t protest when Rod helped her onto the counter, posting himself at her side.
Mr. Hill’s hands switched from his front pockets to the back ones then back again. His shoulders rose and fell in a sigh that was bigger than he was.
“I’m sorry, Valerie. I didn’t want to have to do this. You understand? I wanted to give you time, but there just isn’t any anymore. It’s all coming due and I can’t think of a way to stop it and she’d be so upset that she’d cry and I couldn’t stand to see her cry, she’d been through so much and if I could only make it easier for her, so I did. In the only way I knew, but now there’s nothing more I can do and she’ll be so sad that I’ve failed her—”
The man looked like he was going to cry and it cut through Val’s haze. “Mr. Hill? What are you talking about? Who’s going to be sad? What did you do?”
Rod gripped the man’s arm, steadying him. “Take a breath and compose your thoughts. Then tell us clearly and concisely.”
Val wasn’t so sure about the collective “us,” but since Rod had managed to calm the man down, she couldn’t exactly complain.
“Your mother,” Mr. Hill said, swallowing hard.
Val nodded. She’d figured as much.
“The taxes are overdue and, well, the county wants them, and that developer is willing to pay them and, well… the law’s the law. I tried to find some way around this, but there just isn’t any, we’ve exhausted every avenue and—”
“Taxes? Mr. Hill, what are you talking about? Mom loved this place. She wouldn’t risk losing it.”
“You’re right. She was very responsible. But, well, you see… This place… it, well, it wasn’t earning enough, but she wouldn’t sell it and she wouldn’t consider another type of merchandise.”
That’s right. She wouldn’t. Mom had said the ocean theme was to remind her of Val’s father. She’d said they were so in love, and Val had found it so romantic…
But it was a lie Mom had created for her, to give her a happy history of her father, while, all along, the man had left them—
“Don’t worry.” Val straightened her shoulders. “I’ll get that money, Mr. Hill. This shop is staying in my family and no developer is going to tear it down to make another strip mall. How long do I have?”
“Two weeks,” Mr. Hill whispered as if he were afraid that saying it would make the situation worse than it already was. “That’s the longest I could get. After that, the building and all its contents go up for auction. I’m so sorry, Valerie.” He blinked against the tears.
But Val didn’t have any tears. Oh, no. She knew just where and how she was going to get that money, and it made perfect sense in the cosmic scheme of the universe.
Lance was finally going to make Mom’s dream come true.
She slid off the counter, babying the injured ankle, and looked at Rod. “So, is tomorrow soon enough to go collect my inheritance?”
Chapter 6
After an evening spent doing reconnaissance on a certain seagull who’d been a little too interested in Therese’s Treasure Trove lately, Maybelle Merriweather, the sparrow of 215 Main, second eave on the right, went for the swoop-and-flutter landing onto her friend Adele’s perch on the Parkers’ garage in the alley kitty-corner to the shop.
Not a bad landing at all. She was getting better.
It might have something to do with that cute new flight instructor…
Maybelle ruffled her feathers and glanced at the gift shop. Hmmm, from this angle, she couldn’t see through those annoying blinds Therese had used to cover the windows.
“Adele, forget about nest-keeping. Let’s go see what’s going on over there.” She’d been keeping an eye on Valerie ever since the girl had returned home. Especially with all the gulls who’d been making quick flybys over the shop recently. With the added news of the Mer Heir’s visit, well, she hadn’t been hatched yesterday. Something big was going on.
And she had the proverbial bird’s-eye view.
“What are you chirping about, Maybelle?” Adele rearranged the same twig in her nest for the third time. Poor Adele really needed a mate. Ever since Seymour’s passing, she wasn’t handling the empty-nest syndrome very well at all.
Maybelle, on the other hand, was loving it.
“The Mer Heir’s in there.”
“No he’s not.” Adele fluttered her wings to keep from falling off her narrow ledge.
Narrow ledges were what you got when you chose to live over a garage. And in an alley, of all places. Maybelle had never understood that. It was all about location, location, location. Why, from her own eave above Archer’s Bakery next door to the gift shop, she could see a good three-fourths of the town, whereas Adele, poor dear, only saw part of a road and the back half of the alley.
“Yes, he is. And he’s de-lish. For a Biped, I mean,” Maybelle clarified.
Adele adjusted the twig again. “No, he isn’t in there. They all left a little while ago. Valerie drove off; Mr. Hill chatted with Mrs. Archer; and The Heir went back upstairs to the apartment.” She pointed to the shop with the twig in her beak. “See? The lights are off.”
“She left, huh? Then why is she heading up the apartment stairs with an overnight bag?”
“What?” Adele craned her neck over the ledge, almost dropping the twig in the process. “But Rod’s staying at the apartment.”
Maybelle took the twig and stuffed it into place. “Ahhh. This could get interesting.”
“I fail to see how you think Valerie will find it interesting, Maybelle. She’s injured. She’s not going to want to climb back down those stairs on that leg.”
“Exactly.”
“Maybelle, what are you tittering about?”
Maybelle arched the feathers above one eye. “Oh, come now, Adele. It can’t have been that long.” She turned around as Valerie made it to the uppermost stair. “I just hope they don’t close the door.”
An hour after Valerie’s sudden capitulation and subsequent departure to prepare for their trip the following day, Rod turned when the door to the apartment opened. Valerie stood there, teetering on the threshold on one leg, looking as surprised as he was.
“Rod? What are you doing here? We aren’t leaving until the morning.” She looked even more surprised when her momentum carried her forward. Her fingers slipped off the doorframe and she fell. Before she could hit the floor, he swept her up in his arms. Again.
He could get used to this.
“What is it about you that has me falling all over myself?” Her bag landed on the floor with a clunk while her fingers splayed below his heart. Rod had a momentary vision of her wrapping her arms—and, yes, those legs—around him.
At least one part of him was greeting that image with a salute.
He tried to form a coherent reply as he pulled her close to his chest. This rescuing thing was becoming a habit. A rather nice one, he had to admit. “Perhaps it’s my charm?”
Her lips twitched.
He knew because he was watching them. Closely.
“Okay. If you say so.”
“Then I say so.”
“All right then, Prince Charming.” She chuckled, and her breasts brushed his arm. “Is there any chance you want to put me down?”
None whatsoever.
“There’s a problem with that.” And he didn’t mean the one in his shorts.
Or maybe he did.
“Oh?”
“If I put you down, you’ll find another part of your anatomy in as much pain as your ankle.” He lifted her away from his body to show her they were in the middle of the room where the only thing cushioning her fall would be a thin carpet.
Of course, he also pulled her back against him when he realized that clothing didn’t hide as much as he’d thought.
“Ah, good point.” She wiggled her feet and, when she shifted, he hefted her back into the cradle of his arms, which had the added bonus of placing his fingers against the side of her soft breast. “How about putting me on the sofa instead?”
“I think I can manage that.” He hoped he could manage it.
Then he once again smashed his toe into the coffee table, which was far too low to drink from in the first place (not to mention see with her in his arms), almost pitching them both to the floor.
“Hades!” Rod tucked Valerie tighter against his chest and regained his balance, while she threw her arms around his neck. He knew she’d done it every bit as instinctively as he’d held on to her, but he couldn’t deny the reaction her embrace sparked—as if he’d landed in a bed of fire coral…
Only this didn’t sting.
It burned.
Long, slow and hot. From the point of contact through the rest of his body.
For the space of a heartbeat or two, their eyes held. He saw a flicker of the burn in her eyes, felt the slight shift in her breath before she unwound her arms from his neck, her fingertips barely touching his chest as they returned to her lap.
Barely, but he felt them. Every single one.
She looked up at him, those blue eyes soft and warm and swirling, and she said softly, “You want to let me down?”
Not really.
Especially once the word “bed” had made an appearance in his thoughts. In relation to fire coral or not, with her in his arms, it created a force unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
And thinking those thoughts, with her fingers just grazing his skin… her in his arms, well, the next thing he knew, her lips were so close he could taste them.
So he did.
The kiss was everything he’d thought it’d be and nothing he’d ever imagined. A short gasp of breath, and he was swimming in a whirlpool of feeling, every curve of her body pressing against him, all the soft hollows beneath his fingertips urging him to explore further. Her lips opened under his, the warmth of her breath stealing his, and Rod found himself mesmerized by the tiny sound she made as his tongue found hers.
Her fingers slid upward again, tentative, and those minute touches were enough to make his knees weak, electricity spiraling from that one touch to every part of him.
He released her legs, sliding his arm around her, up over her tail end, slipping around her slim waist, to bring her face level with his so he could fully explore the delicious warmth of her mouth. Her breasts flattened against his bare chest, her nipples pointed and hard against him, her legs cradling his erection as his tongue traced the sweet outline of her lips… her cheek… her eyelids.
Valerie’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his head down to hers or herself up to him. Rod didn’t know which. Didn’t care either, because her movement ignited new threads of electricity, new sensations, new awareness of how their bodies matched. How they were different in the most elemental and fantastic ways possible, and he didn’t mean race.
His shin hit the sofa and Rod laid her down on the cushions, covering her with his body, sinking into the softness of her and the furniture without breaking the kiss. Hades, he didn’t think he could break it—not that he had any intention of doing so. There was a whole new world to experience here, the feel of her legs as they parted around his, the rise of her mound against him, the soft gasp as he traced the cord in her neck, the soft hollow beneath her ear—
“Hey! Uh… Oh. Hello.” Livingston flew in the window and crash-landed onto the table beside the sofa, breaking both the lamp and the mood.
Valerie dragged her lips from Rod’s, her eyes wide, the blue irises almost as dark as her pupils.
It took her a few seconds to find the words… and Rod enjoyed the moment. He was not about to apologize. He didn’t know if he could anyway, and he sure as Hades didn’t want to.
Tension hung heavy between them, then Rod felt embarrassment crawl up her body. He knew the moment she registered they had an audience—and that she’d been as engaged in that kiss as he had.
She started struggling, worming her way out from beneath him, eyes downcast, and her breathing still as shallow as it’d been when he’d nibbled on her earlobe.
“Rod… what did we… what happened… a bird…” She inched upward, her knee coming dangerously close to a part of him that wouldn’t enjoy making its acquaintance.
He lowered one of his knees to the floor, lifting himself from her. “Here. Let me help you—”
“That’s okay. I can do it.” She swatted his hands away then righted herself with another example of the grace he’d witnessed earlier.
“There’s—” She gulped. “ A bird. In your living room. My living room. Whatever.”
Rod sighed. Talk about bad timing. “Yes.”
“It’s a seagull.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why?” That was a new one. “Because his parents are seagulls?”
Livingston snorted.
Valerie did a double take, then her eyes narrowed. “Did that thing just snort at me?”
Thing. Oh, Zeus.
“Hold on.” Rod jumped to his feet as fast as he could. He swooped Livingston off the table and into the kitchen before the bird could come up with one of his scathing retorts, as he was known to do.
“Rod, we’ve got to talk,” Livingston said, getting over her insult quicker than Rod would have imagined—which didn’t bode well for whatever Livingston wanted to tell him.
Rod clamped his hand around Livingston’s beak, a huge breach in etiquette, but he didn’t care. “Not now.”
The gull shook his bill free. “Look, you can play kissy-face later. Right now—”
Rod glanced around the corner at the sofa and repeated his clam-up job on the bird. “I said, ‘Not now,’ Livingston. She doesn’t know you can talk.”
The bird used his wings to pry himself out of Rod’s grasp and dropped onto the tiny kitchen table. “Well she’s going to find out at some point. Especially with what I have to tell you. Might as well do it sooner rather than later.” He ruffled his feathers, then settled his wings on his back while twisting his neck, opening and closing his beak as if he had a cramp. “Oh, and by the way? You’ve used up your two allotted beak-grabs. Don’t do it again. I don’t care who your father is or what you’re in line to become. My bill is off-limits.”
“Knock it off, Livingston. We can’t tell her yet. It’s a little complicated.”
“A little complicated? Rod, you have no idea. Talking seagulls are nothing.” Livingston shook his head and clacked his bill shut. “Not when we’re talking about—”
“Not now,” Rod whispered harshly. “Let me get rid of her.”
“You might not want to do that.” Livingston mimicked in an equally harsh whisper—one of his lesser-known talents.
“Oh?” Rod leaned back to peer at the sofa. If she were to overhear this conversation… “Why?”
“Because what I have to say concerns her, too. I’ll show you complicated, and it’s not what you’d call little. That’s why we need to tell her now.”
“It’s not part of the plan, Livingston. Or didn’t The Council clue you in?”
“What I just found out wasn’t part of the plan either, Rod, but that doesn’t seem to have stopped anyone fr
om putting events in motion.”
Rod took a deep breath. “You can’t tell her, Livingston. She’s too freaked out by the sight of you. You can thank your friend Ace for that. I’ve just gotten her to agree to go with me. That’ll change if a talking seagull shows up. Give me a few minutes to tell her something.”
“Fine, but we need to have this conversation sooner rather than later. So, while I’m waiting for you to bring her onboard, is there anything else to eat around here? The pickings in this town aren’t what I’m used to.” Livingston glanced around the kitchen, his bill pointing at the cabinets.
“Here.” Rod grabbed a packet of crackers and tossed them onto the table. “Make do with these while I try to come up with something. Then we’ll talk.”
Val shook off the creeps that bird had given her. Well, she tried to. If she hadn’t canceled her date, this wouldn’t be happening. But after meeting Rod, well, she just hadn’t been up for meeting Glen.
Now, however, she was reconsidering.
There was a seagull. Here. Now. That was beyond weird and entirely too coincidental to be a coincidence.
First seagulls, then Rod. Then seagulls again. In her store and in her living room—both Rod and the gulls.
Wait a minute.
What was Rod doing here? Those had been her first words to him before he’d sidetracked her with that kiss and he still hadn’t answered her.
And, no, she was not going to think about that kiss. Just because it was the best one she’d ever received and the man had the sweeping-her-up-in-his-arms thing down pat and he certainly knew what to do with his tongue, not to mention those little puffs against her skin, a moist kiss in that spot beneath her ear—
Val shook her head. Focus. What was he doing here—and looking way too comfortable doing it? Shirtless and barefoot—a very good look on him. One that screamed of domesticity and squatters’ rights. In her apartment.
She was going to find out right now. She stood up and started for the kitchen, only to almost lose her balance again. And, once again, it had nothing to do with her sore ankle and everything to do with the fact that he was rounding the corner from the kitchen, still shirtless, still barefoot. And still incredibly hot, as Tricia had so correctly pointed out.