The part that struck me the most was that I hadn’t even noticed a woman since I walked in on Cecily fucking her co-writer. There hadn’t been one woman who’d caught my eye. Not that I hadn’t seen beautiful women in the last six months, I just wasn’t interested.
And I wasn’t interested in Talia, either. Well, I suppose I was, but not in a serious way. Something urged me to ask her to stay, but it wasn’t necessarily attraction. I wasn’t hoping to get to know her because I was interested in her. She seemed cool and Lord knew I’d been solitary for so long. It wouldn’t kill me to socialize with anyone, even if it was over home renovations.
“So, these will go along the bottom of the walls? Like baseboards?” she asked, pulling me out of my blatant staring. I quickly moved my eyes off her ass and back to my own moldings and paintbrush.
“And the tops of the walls too. Kind of like a frame.”
“That will look nice.” She ran her paintbrush back and forth a few times, but then she spoke again. “So you’re selling this house and then where will you live? Do you have a second house somewhere?”
“Nope. No second house. Well, Cecily and I had a second house, but she got that one in the divorce.”
“Cecily is your ex?”
“Yeah. She got the house in Portland.”
She must have heard the underlying anger in my voice because her question followed soon after.
“Pretty nasty divorce?”
I looked up and noticed she’d stopped painting and was turned toward me. Her eyes were soft and concerned, which seemed unusual seeing as how we hardly knew each other. What her eyes didn’t convey, however, was pity or even curiosity, which was what I was usually met with. I couldn’t stand gossipers, which was ironic seeing as how that was exactly what Cecily was. Talia didn’t come across to me as someone who was digging for information. She seemed to be genuinely concerned, which was probably why my mouth opened up and words fell out.
“I’m not sure the divorce was any nastier than the separation. I walked in on Cecily and her colleague. Turns out, as I learned, she’s been sleeping with him for a while.”
“Ugh, that’s horrible. I’m sorry. It really sucks when people you put your trust in take it and stab you in the back with it.”
She sounded as though she was speaking from experience.
“The most ironic part of this whole situation is that Jeff—the guy she slept with—was her writing partner. They’d been coming here for a few years to work, or so I thought. But I walked in on them back in that room.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder, signaling to the room we’d just been in. “She fucked him in the house we bought together with the money from their books, and in the end she made me keep it.”
Talia’s mouth was gaping open in what I assumed was shock or exasperation. After a moment she snapped her mouth shut and turned back to the molding she was painting. After a few moments of running the paintbrush back and forth with much more force than before, she turned suddenly and pointed the paintbrush at me.
“You know what? That’s really shitty. I know it’s none of my business, and we don’t even actually know each other at all, but you’re better off.”
She turned back around and continued to angrily paint my moldings. It occurred to me that since Cecily had ruined our marriage, no one had told me I was better off without her. Everyone, even my parents, were completely shocked and couldn’t understand why it had happened. Our friends, who had been mostly hers, tried to comfort me for a little while, but eventually picked their sides and went back the same way they came: with Cecily. Not one person had looked me in the eye and said, “That’s really shitty.”
And it was shitty. Our marriage hadn’t been perfect, but I’d done my best. Even when I’d had little suspicions that Cess was messing around with Jeff, I’d talked myself out of it, convinced myself she’d never do that to me. She wrote fucking romance novels, for Christ’s sake.
“Wanna know the most ironic part?” I said, now completely willing to open up to Talia, finding my usual filter gone. Talia turned back around, angry scowl on her face. “Cecily and Jeff wrote romance novels together. They probably are up at the house in Portland thinking they’ve lived the most romantic fairy tale. Meanwhile, Jeff’s wife and I are royally fucked. I lost everything that was important to me in that divorce. Not the house and not my pride, but my wife.”
At my words, Talia’s angry scowl subsided, and a more familiar pitying expression took its place.
“I’m sorry, Briggs. Really, I know what it feels like to be cheated on, and I remember the hurt.”
Suddenly I understood the anger she’d expressed. She’d been hurt too. Cheated on.
“I’m sorry too, then,” I replied.
“We weren’t married, but we were together for a really long time. We might as well have been married.”
“How long?”
“Eleven years,” she answered without hesitation. That was three years longer than I’d been with Cecily.
“Damn, Talia. That sucks.”
“Yeah, well, at least you got a house out of it. I left with nothing. It should have been some sort of indication that we’d been together for so long but hadn’t taken any of the steps normal people take when they’re building a life together. We still had separate bank accounts, we rented our house, we didn’t cosign for each other’s cars, nothing. We might as well have been roommates.”
“He sounds like an asshole. Or, uh, she? Either way. They’re a dumbass.”
She gave me a smile. “He. Chris.”
For some reason, hearing she was into men made me happy.
“Chris? He sounds like some sort of douchebag accountant.”
She laughed and it caught me off guard. It was bright and airy, her laughter. My grip on the paintbrush tightened as I watched her. “Close,” she said, still giggling through her words. “He was a stock broker.”
“We sound like a pretty pathetic pair.”
She turned her head to look at me, green eyes sparkling over a freckled shoulder. “Nah. Their loss, remember?”
We worked for another hour, passing the time by painting and talking. Talking to Talia was easy. She asked questions in a way that made me feel as though she was really interested in the answer, not just filling time or forcing awkward conversation. She asked the questions and she listened to the answers. My responses only made me curious about her, so I asked about her life too. Before I could even think much about it, it was after lunch time and my stomach was complaining.
A knock sounded at the door, drawing my attention away from Talia. I put my paintbrush down and walked through the house to open the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I was surprised to see who was on the other side.
“Briggs, good to see you, man.”
“Patrick?” I said on a laugh as he pulled me into a manly hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Megan and I took a few days off work and decided to come to the beach. I knew you were here, so it didn’t take much convincing. Plus, Meg’s sister and her family are here too.”
I took a step back, welcoming him into the house.
“Man, this place is torn up. You’ve got Porter coming to help you out?”
“Yeah, he’ll be here tomorrow. I’m just doing what I can to keep costs down.”
Patrick’s gaze moved around the room, taking in the demolition I’d managed. His eyes stopped when they reached the sliding glass door and I watched his face move from observant to intrigued.
“Got yourself a little helper?” He nodded toward the door and my eyes followed. We had a great view of Talia from the back. I’d already noticed how attractive she was, but seeing her through Patrick’s eyes gave me a new view.
Talia was hot. She had a fantastic body, emphasized all too well by those damn white shorts. Patrick was a happily married man, but something inside me didn’t like his eyes on Talia.
“She’s staying next door. Borrowed a flashlight last night and returned it a littl
e while ago. Seemed like she needed a break from her family.” My eyes slid back to Patrick. “Where’s Megan?”
“She’s with her sister, visiting the niece and nephew. We’re meeting for lunch. I stopped by to see if you wanted to come. Called you a few times, but you didn’t answer.” Patrick stepped farther into the house, so I shut the door behind him.
“Uh, yeah, that’d be great.” My gaze drifted back to Talia and I caught her eye. She gave me a smile and put her paintbrush down, then walked back into the house.
“Patrick, this is Talia. She’s here on vacation. Talia, this is my best friend, Patrick.”
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Talia gave him that vibrant smile and held her hand out toward him. He took it, smiling back, charming as always.
“Same goes. I was just here to invite Briggs out to lunch. Would you like to join us? My wife will be meeting us there, so you wouldn’t be a third wheel, promise. In fact, Megan would probably love another woman to talk to while he and I grunt and smash things.”
She laughed, which was good. Patrick was always making jokes, and it was always clear when people didn’t get that about him. Cecily, for instance, hardly ever laughed at his jokes. She laughed at him plenty, but not in a friendly way. There was no love lost between the two of them.
“That’s okay,” she said with a smile. “I don’t want to intrude.”
I was surprised by the disappointment I felt at her words.
“Come on, don’t be silly. You won’t be intruding,” Patrick said pleasantly.
Talia’s gaze drifted to mine, her eyes asking me to say something to appease my friend.
“He’s right,” I found myself adding. “You are more than welcome. It’ll be fun.” Fun? I sounded like a fifteen-year-old asking a girl out on a date. “Unless you already have plans.” I had to give her an out.
“My plans for the day only included the beach and a book. If I go back home I’ll just be suckered into feeding the twins.”
“Sounds like you’re coming with us then,” Patrick said with a laugh. He headed toward the front door and turned back to me. “Meet you at Tilly’s in thirty?”
“Sounds good,” I responded, clapping him on the shoulder.
“See you there, Talia.”
“Bye,” she said, smiling.
The door closed behind him and a quiet fell over the room. I looked back at Talia and as soon as our eyes met she looked away.
“It’s cool if you don’t want to go,” I said quickly. “Patrick can be a little overbearing. But, like he said, you’re more than welcome. Lunch is the least I can offer after all the painting you’ve done.” The war she was having with herself was evident in her eyes that were darting all over the room, landing anywhere but on me.
Finally, her face tilted up, eyes meeting mine, and she said with confidence I thought she might be forcing, “It would actually be really nice to have lunch with someone other than my immediate family.” She let out a breath and then continued. “I just need to go grab a jacket.”
“Great. I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes then? We can take my truck.”
“Okay, sounds good.” She gave me another shy smile and then let herself out of the house. I quickly ran upstairs to change seeing as how there was still sawdust all over my clothes and a few paint splotches.
That morning, alone was the only thing I wanted to be. I was content with my days spent by myself. But after only an hour or so with Talia, I wanted more time with her.
Chapter Five
Talia
When I flew into the house it was practically silent. I figured the babies were sleeping and knew that would work to my advantage.
“Talia?” my mother called softly from the living room. “Where’ve you been? We were starting to worry.”
“Briggs, the man who lives next door, needed some help painting. He’s invited me out to lunch.” That was all the info I was willing to dispense and moved toward the stairs. If the babies truly were sleeping, there was no way my mother would risk shouting at me. I pushed the door to the bathroom open and groaned when I saw my reflection.
My red wavy hair had little splatters of paint in it, my chin sported the same flecks of paint, and I was seriously deranged to have gone over to his house without one iota of makeup on. I hastily pulled my hair up into a messy bun, thanking the hair gods that messy was the new trend, managed to pick off the flecks of paint off my face, applied some mascara and lip gloss, then gave myself another once-over in the mirror.
“Meh,” I said to myself with a one-shouldered shrug. There wasn’t anything wrong with the way I looked, and there wasn’t any reason why I should try to impress Briggs or his friends, but there was something nagging at me, making me care about what he thought. I wanted him to like what he saw.
While we were painting I could practically feel his eyes on me, making me very self-conscious. Surprisingly, I liked the feeling of his gaze, but wanted a chance to look at him too. All I could see was the ocean, and even though it was a great view, I couldn’t help but feel a little shafted that he could look all he wanted and I could only sneak a peek at him when it was socially acceptable to turn and talk to him.
Returning to the bedroom, I slipped off my flip-flops and exchanged them for a pair of gold-colored gladiator sandals. I grabbed my denim jacket and purse, then made my way back down the stairs. Not surprisingly, my mother was waiting for me at the door.
“Are you sure you want to go to lunch with him? You’ve only just met.”
“He’s not a serial killer, Mom. If he were, he would have murdered me last night when I showed up at his house in the dark, all alone. We’re going to some place called Tilly’s. We’re meeting his best friend and his wife. He’s a nice guy. Harmless. Promise.” I kissed her on the cheek and then scrambled out the door before she could stop me. I’d learned a while ago that even though I was twenty-nine, my mother would never stop being a mom.
When I made it back to Briggs’s house, I tried so very hard to keep my body from reacting to the vision I came upon.
Briggs was in his driveway, leaning up against the tailgate of a very large truck. His arms were laced over his chest, biceps bulging, and his ankles were crossed. He was wearing cowboy boots, which in the past had never ever done anything for me in the attraction department, but Briggs in boots was a sight to behold. It was strange to imagine a cowboy at the beach, but there he was and I had no complaints. Continuing toward him, I tried to keep my breaths even, but I was probably a little gaspy when I said a lame, “Hello.”
“Ready?” he asked with a smile.
Unable to form any more words, I simply nodded.
He strode around to the passenger side of the truck, opened the door for me, and held out his hand. I took it and stepped onto the foot rails, then hoisted myself up and into his truck. The door closed behind me and I watched as he made his way around the front of the truck. Once his door was open, he reached up and grabbed the steering wheel, using it as leverage to effortlessly lift himself into his seat. Even as it was happening, I was telling myself to look away, that no good could come of watching, but it was no use.
His forearm rippled as he gripped the steering wheel, and then his bicep tensed as he pulled himself into the truck. I was probably gaping. You’d have to be dead not to notice the masculinity and testosterone filling the cab of the truck. I was drunk on it at that point, giving few to no fucks whether or not he caught me staring. It was too good not to look.
“I hope you like Tilly’s,” he remarked, completely unaware of my blatant ogling. “Porter’s mom owns the place and it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but the food is great and Tilly is incredible.”
“Porter is Patrick’s brother-in-law, right?”
“Right. Megan and Ella are sisters. Porter is Ella’s husband.”
“Got it,” I replied, a little surprised my brain could even function after the show I’d gotten. We made it to the main road, Oregon coastal brush lining
the highway, evergreen trees offering only spotty views of the ocean. The highway was right along the oceanside, but eventually turned heading east. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” He took his eyes from the road for just a second, glancing at me with a smile.
“If you don’t want the house, and it’s the house your wife was cheating on you in, why are you fixing it up? Why not just sell it?”
“The truth is, if the house needs work people won’t pay much for it and you’ll end up selling the property to someone who will tear it down. If I fix it up, someone who wants to live in the house will buy it and I’ll get more money.”
“Ah, well, that makes sense.”
“I don’t mind doing the work. It gives me something to do, keeps my mind off things. Plus, I already missed the window for selling beach houses this year, so I have about nine months to get the work done.”
“So, do you live here year-round?”
“I do now.”
“And what about your job?”
“I’m a freelance graphic designer, so I can work anywhere. Portland was convenient because I could network with a lot more people, have meetings with clients if I needed to, but I can’t afford to have this place and an apartment in the city. Plus, it’s calm at the beach.”
“And it isn’t hard for you to come home to the place your wife was having an affair?”
“I walked in on them having sex on the kitchen island. Guess which part of the house I took a sledge hammer to first?” He looked over and gave me a big smile then, followed by manly laughter. I couldn’t help but laugh too.
“That must have been cathartic. I kind of wish I could have destroyed something after Chris cheated.”
He shrugged. “I probably would have just preferred it if she hadn’t slept with someone else.”
“Yeah,” I said on a sigh.
Never With You (The Never Series Book 6) Page 4