“To the favor. The answer is yes.”
The dog returned and dropped the ball.
“What if I wanted to seek revenge on an old boyfriend?”
“You don’t collect boyfriends. So I think I’m safe.”
“Rob a bank?” she asked.
“That’s how you make your money, I knew it.” He was laughing along with her.
“I wanted your opinion on a house I’m working on in Brentwood.”
“Working on how?”
“I help people with estate sales. Mainly with the wealthy and most often after the death of a parent or a spouse.”
Liam winced. “Sounds morbid.”
“I’m not a director of a funeral home. I deal with stuff. Dead people’s stuff, but just things. Most of the time my clients are either living out of the state or the country and need to make sure Grandma’s antique watch that’s worth a hundred grand isn’t being sold at a garage sale on the two-dollar table.”
“That happens?”
“All the time. Anyway. My client is selling the house but wants to get a ballpark of what it would cost to bring it into this century. You’re probably way too busy for a project like this, but if you could offer your expert opinion, and maybe toss a few phone numbers my way of contractors that would be interested in the job, that would be great.”
“The answer is still yes.”
“Two weeks.”
Safe to say Trina was excited about tying the knot . . . again.
Avery set her phone on speaker and continued to talk while she did her morning stretches. “Yes, I know. I have my countdown list, and it does say you’re collecting a ball and chain in two weeks.”
“He’s a very sexy ball.”
“You’re killing me.”
“Diane and Andrea are definitely coming to the bachelorette party, so we need to add two to the guest list.”
Avery made a mental note. “Got it. You sure you don’t want to take that party to Vegas?”
“Nothing good happens in Vegas at a strip club.”
Avery could tell her otherwise. “I’m guessing the club in Houston will be just as hot.” And since Avery was the one in charge of said party, she was making damn sure it was a night Trina would remember for the rest of her married life.
“So you’re flying in Friday night, right?”
“Yes.” She made another mental note to tell Brenda that she was going to miss Friday . . . actually, two Fridays in a row.
“Are you sure you can’t just stay until the wedding?”
Avery shifted her legs and bent into a stretch over her right knee. “I’m a working woman these days. The old Avery would happily blow off her new client. The adulting Avery has to show up on Monday. But don’t worry, I’ll be on the charter on Wednesday with Lori, Reed, and Shannon.”
“I’m getting nervous.”
“Nerves are good. Second thoughts, not so much.”
“Not a chance. I’m not letting Wade get away.”
“I didn’t think so. Just enjoy the whole thing. When you’re back from your honeymoon and need some air, we’ll book a girls’ trip to Paris. I could use some new shoes.”
“Speaking of shoes . . . who is Liam?”
Avery stopped her stretch. “What do shoes and Liam have in common?”
“Nothing, but I couldn’t think of a smoother way to ask about the guy in your life.”
“He’s not the guy in my life,” she said.
“Lori said she met him. That he’s a stalker and she’s worried about you.”
Avery gave up on her stretches, grabbed her phone off the floor, and moved to sit on her bed. “He’s not a stalker. I think I’d know it if he were. He’s just a guy I met. No big deal.”
Trina paused. “Just a guy?”
“Yeah. You know I collect them.”
“How’s the sex?”
“We haven’t gone there.”
“Whoa, back up the truck. You’re saying he is just a guy and no big deal. And you haven’t slept with him?”
Avery deserved that.
“I don’t sleep with every guy I’m attracted to.”
“Since when?”
“Jesus, Trina, I’m not a slut.”
“Calm down. I’m not calling you anything and you know it. But Avery Grant prides herself on her prowess. You telling me he is part of the collection and yet you haven’t gotten naked with him tells me he is more than a number.”
“Yet. I haven’t slept with him yet. I’m sure we’ll get there sooner rather than later.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t analyze this, Trina. I don’t date. You know that.”
“Have you had dinner with him?”
“Once,” Avery admitted.
“That’s a date.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Were you with a group of people or just the two of you?”
Trina was backing her into a verbal corner.
“There were other people there.”
“In the restaurant or at the table?”
Avery shook her head. “This is a ridiculous conversation.”
Trina wasn’t fooled. “I wanna meet him.”
“No.” Avery stood from the bed and started to pace the room.
“Bring him to the wedding.”
“Absolutely not. Your wedding is about you, not me flirting with a guy.” The conversation was making her angry.
There was silence on the line.
“You’re my best friend, Avery. You know that, right?”
She smiled through her annoyance. “Yes. I love you, too.”
“Remember when I was in Venice last year and you told me you were worried about me?”
“Yeah.” Trina had been in Italy, escaping the anniversary of her first husband’s death and trying to power through on her own.
“Well, it’s my turn to tell you I’m worried about you.”
“Why? I’m actually working and self-sufficient for the first time in my life. I’m more capable of taking care of myself now than ever before.” When you added the krav she’d been studying, it made her even more adept at dealing with whatever life threw at her.
“Because you’ve closed yourself off. You don’t laugh as much or joke as often. Now there is a guy who, from what Lori says, worked hard to get you to go out with him. Maybe he isn’t the one, but how will you know if you never give a guy a chance?”
Avery closed her eyes. “Can you accept the fact that you’re in a heightened state of I do and happily ever after and not everyone wants that in their life? I love you, Trina, but you’re wrong on this one. If my lack of joking or laughing is bothering you, then try and understand that I’m trying really hard to grow up here. I spent the first twenty-eight years of my life being a spoiled brat with crappy parents, the next three playing pretend wife and new divorcée with a shit ton of money. It’s only been since New York that I’m finding me . . . the real me. Admittedly, I’m picking up the pieces of my personal mess, but I’m doing it. And that doesn’t include me finding a man to break my stride. I’m finally doing well on my own and want to keep it that way.”
“Oh, Avery. I’m sorry.” Trina sounded teary.
“It’s okay. You’re excited and emotional and want everyone as happy as you are. Please know that I am. Just in a different way.”
“Okay . . . I’ll let it go. Please talk to me. Anytime.”
“I know you’re there, Trina. I have to get in the shower. I’m meeting a contractor at my new client’s house and want to be there on time.” Omitting Liam’s name wasn’t an accident.
“I miss you.”
Avery smiled. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
Chapter Twelve
Liam was fifteen minutes early. Wearing a pullover shirt that hugged his chest like a glove and denim that made Avery’s palms itch, he looked even better than the last time she saw him.
He walked through the open front door while Avery stood alongside Felicia, the art expert from a local a
uction house.
Avery removed her reading glasses and excused herself from Felicia to greet Liam.
“Good afternoon,” he said. His eyes took her in, looking at her face, her head.
With an unconscious hand, Avery smoothed over her hair and ponytail. Work mode meant she hadn’t paid too much attention to what she was wearing. Today was about digging in closets and unearthing treasures. Skirts and fancy shoes didn’t hold up in those circumstances.
“You found the place okay?”
“Sat nav is an amazing thing.”
There was a moment of awkward silence when Liam stared at her and smiled.
Avery shifted from foot to foot, willing her pulse to slow.
“Thank you again for coming by,” she said, breaking the quiet.
Liam finally looked away and glanced at the foyer. “This is definitely in need of an update.”
“The question is how deep.”
Liam turned his gaze back to her. “Deep?”
“Yeah, beyond the cosmetic stuff. My client has no idea how new or old the plumbing is, the insulation. It was built in the late thirties originally, and then massively updated in the fifties. There were a few changes on record in the eighties, but I’m not sure the extent. The home is three generations old. Which is a lot of years for homes in the LA area.”
“Seems a shame to sell.”
Avery agreed, but who was she to judge? She’d sell her parents’ estate in a heartbeat. “C’mon, let me show you around.” She pulled him out of the hall. “If you need me, Felicia . . .”
“I have it, Ms. Grant.”
She walked him through the family room and around the crates that were already set up to accept the artwork on the walls. “There are four fireplaces. None of them look like they’ve had a fire in them for several years.”
Liam walked over to the hearth and knelt down. “This one is massive.” He knocked on the plain facade. “Bet this is covering up something.”
Avery shrugged and pulled her eyes away from his butt as he stood.
They walked through a den, or as Sheldon called it, his father’s smoking room. The massive dining room was off a spacious kitchen that needed a total gut, in her opinion.
Liam wrote a few things on a notepad as she continued the tour.
Outside, she pointed to the patio living area. “It’s been maintained out here. I think because the wife liked her garden.”
“Greenhouse?” he asked, pointing to the far side of the property.
“Yup. The groundskeepers use it now, but Sheldon said his mother once grew orchids.”
Back inside, she took him up the stairway to the upper floor. A maze of smaller bedrooms, a second laundry room, and a his and hers master suite. The rooms were separated by a sitting room like you’d see in the Windsor House in Westminster.
“Parents didn’t like each other?” Liam asked with a smirk.
“Maybe he snored.”
He traced his hands on the bedpost. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Snore?”
Caught off guard, Avery stuttered. “Is that . . . is that a professional question from a contractor to a client?”
“Nope. It’s one hundred percent personal.” He was smiling.
Avery paused. “Like a trucker. All night. I’m told it’s miserable.”
He laughed. “I sleep like the dead.” Liam moved away from the bed and opened a door. “A nursery.”
“Yeah, strange that it still looks like that. Their son is thirty-five years old.”
“Maybe they were hoping for grandchildren.” The room was a mausoleum, complete with scary dolls and black-and-white photos. And dust. Lots of dust.
“Sheldon’s single. But who knows.”
“Avery?” Felicia called her name from the hall.
Avery pointed toward the door. “Let me see what she needs.”
“Take your time. I need to poke around, get a few things from my truck, and look under the sinks, check the electrical panels.”
Damn, he was easy to look at. Tall enough, but not towering. Thick in all the right places . . . well, as much as she could tell without seeing him naked. Does he have any tattoos?
“Avery?” Felicia yelled again.
She jumped. “Right. Coming!”
Liam’s laughter followed her out of the room.
Avery jogged down the main staircase to the foyer and found the back of the Uber food delivery guy. “Perfect timing.”
He turned around and Avery almost tripped.
The dance all night, buy me drinks, but I’m not going home with you dude from the Basement.
Yeah, no name came to mind. Then again, she didn’t think they’d exchanged names.
“You,” he said, staring.
“Yeah . . .” Avery glanced up the stairs.
“Avery?” he asked, looking at his slip.
This wasn’t good.
She pointed a finger at the bags of food in his hands. “That’s for me.”
“Hundred and thirty dollars’ worth of sandwiches and salads . . . I’m guessing a chick like you can afford her own drinks at a bar.”
“Right.” She took the bags from him slowly. “About that. I’ll be sure and tip you well.”
He dragged his gaze over her frame. “You do that.”
“Hey, Avery?”
Oh, geez, what now?
Liam had turned the corner on the stairs.
“Yeah, just a minute.” She practically pushed what’s-his-name out the door. “Thanks for bringing the food.”
“I see what’s going on.” They had made it to the front porch, and Avery half closed the door behind them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Saturday was a weird night.”
“Uh-huh. Right.”
“I will tip you.”
“You be sure and do that, Avery.”
“I will . . .” What the hell was his name?
Nothing.
She had nothing.
It took him forever to get off the steps and into his car. He drove a Prius.
He buzzed around the driveway, coming way too close to her Aston for her taste, and disappeared.
With a sigh, she pushed back into the house and painted on a smile.
“I ordered lunch. I hope you’re hungry.”
Liam wandered the eight-thousand-square-foot home and the grounds for two hours. Every time he told himself to hurry up, that he had other jobs pulling at him, he ignored the voice in his head. This was a favor for Avery, and he didn’t want to lead her wrong.
His work phone buzzed. “Hey, Carlos.”
“When are you getting back here? The developer is poking around and asking for answers I don’t have for him.”
Carlos was his first in charge when Liam wasn’t on-site.
“I wasn’t expecting him today.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t here.”
“I’ll call him.” Liam checked his watch. “Give me forty-five minutes.”
He hung up the phone and searched for Avery.
He found her in a study, or a home office, although there wasn’t a computer on the desk or any sign of the normal equipment one would find in a functioning office space.
For a moment, he stood in the doorway and watched her.
Sitting behind the substantial wooden desk with her elbows firmly planted on the top, she rolled a thick pen between her fingers and stared beyond the object in her hands. Her eyelids twitched and her lips were in a thin, expressionless line. Liam couldn’t tell if she was deep in thought or upset . . . or what?
He cleared his throat and jarred her out of her trance.
“Am I disturbing you?”
Avery closed her eyes briefly and painted on a smile. “I’m fine . . . I mean, you’re fine.” She took a few quick breaths and dropped the pen on the desk. “Did you finish up?”
Her voice sounded strangled.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Again she
grinned and shook her head. “Of course.”
“I need to get back to my job site. I think I have everything I need here.”
She stood from behind the desk and walked toward him. “Let me walk you out.”
The closer she came, the better he could see the lack of color on her face. He glanced back at the desk. “What was that you were looking at?”
Avery looked over her shoulder. “Nothing, really. A pen.” She walked beside him down the hallway and around the crates that now lined the foyer walls.
Liam placed a hand on her elbow to have her walk in front of him through the door.
Her skin was cold to the touch.
Outside he let go and she rubbed her bare arms.
“You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Long day.” She stopped at the bottom of the steps. “So what do you think?”
“I need to crunch some numbers before I give you a realistic bottom line.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“We can go over them Friday after krav.”
She looked away. “Actually, I need to skip Friday for the next two weeks.”
The air swished out of his sails.
“My best friend is getting married. We have a bachelorette party this weekend and the wedding next.”
“Do you have time on Thursday?”
“I’ll be here all day.”
“After work, then. I’ll call you.” He didn’t give her an opportunity to say no. He opened the door to his truck and stood beside it.
“Thanks again for doing this.”
“You’re welcome.”
The heat outside seemed to transform her fake smile into something he could believe in. “Have you thought about that plus-one?”
The teasing grin was even better.
“No, I haven’t.” She blushed.
“You’re not a good liar.”
“I’m busy.”
“We all are.” He thought about her excuse for missing their sparring match. “Weddings are perfect plus-one events.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No. I already told Trina that wasn’t going to happen. I’m the maid of honor. I have duties.”
“Who’s Trina?”
She looked at him as if he were missing a few cards in his deck. “The bride.”
It was his turn to find a shit-eating grin and use it. “You told your best friend about my plus-one date suggestion?”
Chasing Shadows (First Wives Book 3) Page 9