Together. They were supposed to be at each other’s throats in an effort to beat the other one. Money was on the line. That motivated people. Perhaps not this particular group. Money would motivate Kyle and every decision he’d make in the next few weeks.
“Now that the air is cleared, we should discuss our strategy going forward,” Barbra said.
“We need a strategy?” Confusion shifted across Ava’s face and lifted her voice an octave. “It was one article, and everyone here knows the truth.”
“There will be more articles,” Barbra said.
Kyle winced at Ava’s gasp.
The rest of the group murmured their agreement.
“How many more?” Ava’s voice came out in a breathless squeak.
Definitely not the voice of a fame-seeking woman who was confident in her ability to capture the spotlight and hold it. Ava looked like she wanted to shoot out the spotlight and slide under the table.
Chad tossed the paper on the table and shook his head.
“You roused the interest of the press.” Grant picked up the article and frowned. “That woman must have a thing for restrooms, men’s and women’s.”
“Nikki James cornered you in the men’s bathroom?” Ava’s grimace matched Grant’s.
At least Nikki James couldn’t be accused of discriminating. Why was he defending a reporter?
Grant nodded. “Nikki stopped me outside the bathroom at Rustic Grille.”
“Was that after she came over to our table?” Chad asked.
“Before,” Grant said. “I don’t think she liked my answer outside the men’s restroom, so she followed me to our table.”
“What did she want to know?” Kyle asked. Neither Grant nor Ava looked like they wanted to be a part of a news cycle, especially a gossip column. As yesterday’s lecture had clearly failed, perhaps this would deter them from continuing with the contest.
“Nikki wanted to know where you and Ava were spending your Saturday evening,” Grant said.
Ava coughed and set a pretzel half on the table. “Spending our evening?”
Grant and Chad both held up their hands.
Chad shook his head. “Not that we told her anything.”
“Because there was nothing to tell.” Kyle rubbed his forehead and glanced at Ava. “Where were you, by the way?”
“What does it matter?” she challenged back. Her mouth set into a stubborn frown.
It mattered a lot. If she’d been on a date, then Kyle could feed that information to Nikki James somehow and end the sudden fascination of the press with them as a couple. He stared at Ava and waited.
“Working,” Ava said and smacked her palms on the table. “Some of us have jobs to do.”
Something inside Kyle released like a pressure valve. He’d only wanted to know for the reporters. He hardly cared if Ava dated or not. If he didn’t meet his contract obligations, he, too, would be reentering the nine-to-five workforce soon. He should stop networking for Iris and start networking for himself.
“Where were you?” Barbra asked him.
All the attention shifted to Kyle. He said, “Here, at home. Working.”
Or more precisely, slamming his head against the wall as his list of already patented ideas leaked onto the second page of his legal notepad. And his confidence that there was an original idea out there dwindled.
Sam rubbed his chin. “Ava’s coworkers can verify her presence.”
Kyle pressed his fingertips into the table and leaned forward. “What are you getting at?”
“You were here alone.” Sam shrugged. “A resourceful reporter could link you to Ava last night.”
“The only way to link me to Ava would be if I called 9-1-1 for a medical emergency.” Kyle let both frustration and sarcasm drip through his voice.
“Which he didn’t,” Ava stressed. She looked as confused as Kyle felt.
“Why are we talking about this?” Kyle asked.
“It’s simple, really. The press has taken an interest in you both as a couple. You should see the number of comments on the internet boards. There’s a flurry of commenters calling for the TV network to announce Kyle as the next star of their reality TV show Marriage Material.” Barbra set her phone on the table and looked over her glasses at him. The glint in her gaze weakened the seriousness in her tone. “Kyle, did you know that you’re one of the city’s most elusive bachelors?”
Kyle rubbed his forehead to massage away the tension. He’d heard that before. Didn’t require the reminder now. After all, he’d chosen to be elusive.
Sam swiped across the screen on his phone and handed it to Chad. “Barbra isn’t kidding.”
Chad laughed and said, “Theweddingplanner101 says that she’s the perfect marriage material for Kyle Quinn. But Exfinder disagrees and claims she can win Kyle herself.”
Sam leaned over his shoulder. “The comments just keep going on and on. Ava, you’re not very popular.”
“I think we get the idea.” Kyle wanted to grab their phones and lock them in a drawer. “Ava already established that she isn’t interested in catching me. I’m not interested in being caught. That’s enough said about that.”
“We need a new strategy.” Barbra tapped her fingers on the table.
“A strategy for what?” Kyle asked. Papa Quinn had cautioned him to never ignore a bad feeling. He and Ava both looked to Barbra as if she had all the answers.
“A strategy to handle the press,” Barbra said. “We need to keep the focus on the contest and not let it become a matchmaking ploy.”
Sam set down his phone. “What do you have in mind?”
Barbra smiled. “Simple. We only go out as a group in public. If we’re having lunch out, we all go. If we’re attending an event, we all go. It’s all or nothing. We’re even more of a team now.”
There was that word again: team. Barbra accused him of building a team. That was the last thing he was building. He played on his own team. Kyle filled a glass with water from the watercooler. His mouth dried out with every word. “You can’t be serious?”
“Quite.” Barbra stared him down. “We’ve committed to helping Grant and Ava develop prototypes. We can’t afford to be distracted from our mission.”
Their mission? Their commitment? Those were buzzwords for a team. This was supposed to be a contest, not a run for some national championship title. This was supposed to save him. Barbra talked as if this project would change the finalists in life-altering ways. As if they’d taken oaths and signed player contracts. “We can’t do everything together all the time.”
“Contest-related activities only,” Barbra clarified.
He’d ensure there weren’t too many of those types of outings. The team belonged in the design lab anyway, not out in the city, being social.
“Barbra is right,” Sam said. “We don’t want to look biased toward one finalist over another.”
“That would ruin the integrity of our contest,” Chad added.
Now Chad and Sam had bought into the mission and the commitment. It’d become their contest, too. But it was only ever supposed to be Kyle’s contest. He’d named the contest after himself. He’d be the one to damage the integrity of the whole thing by himself in a few weeks.
Disapproval turned down the corners of Barbra’s mouth. “We don’t want to do anything that could damage our contest’s reputation.”
“What are you saying exactly?” Clearly, he needed things spelled out. He wasn’t usually quite this slow. But teams weren’t his specialty and he’d never read a playbook.
“As mentors, we don’t want to be seen with one of you alone and have someone accuse us of breaking a contest rule,” Chad said.
Kyle should imitate his mentor’s lead and become a rule-follower, too. He’d already come too close to breaking his own personal rules with Ava.
; “They might accuse Grant and I of having an illicit affair.” Barbra’s eyebrows lifted with her grin.
Grant rubbed his chin. “We could do that to keep the attention off Kyle and Ava.”
Kyle needed a distraction to keep his own attention off Ava. His impending financial ruin should be reason enough. Still, his gaze continued to track to her again and again. “We’ll keep that as a backup plan if the reporters insist on making up things that don’t exist.”
Or if a reporter got too close to the truth. Although Kyle wondered what truth he feared the most: that he was a fraud or that he wanted to win Ava for himself.
“Then everyone understands our strategy going forward?” Barbra looked around the table, letting her gaze rest on each contest member for several seconds.
“The team that works together, wins together,” Kyle muttered.
“Looks like we’ll get to challenge for the high score on basketball shoot after dinner.” Chad tapped his fist against Grant’s.
Grant grinned. “Care to make it interesting?”
Kyle looked between the two men. “What are you betting on?”
“Do you want in?” Chad asked.
No. He wanted out. Wanted everyone out. He wanted his team of one back. “We’re working in the lab all afternoon.”
The two men nodded as if he’d called the perfect play to win the game.
“I agree with Kyle,” Sam said. “We don’t need to go out when we have the ideal work-and-play space right here.”
It was impossible to agree with Kyle. He’d never said anything like that. He hadn’t issued an extended invitation to anyone at the table. He’d only agreed to the all-in-or-nothing approach. How had they gotten to his suite becoming the de facto safety zone? All to avoid any more awkward encounters with Nikki James at public restrooms.
“Ava has to work tonight, so we can’t all go out for dinner,” Chad added.
“That means takeout from that pizza place that Kyle introduced us to,” Grant said. “Ava, we’ll even give you time to challenge for high score on basketball shoot before you leave.”
Ava made the motion of shooting a basketball and laughed. “I only need one chance to win.”
Tonight should be the nothing part of the all-in-or-nothing clause. Without Ava, their team was down one player. Surely, they were breaking some contest rule staying at his place for dinner and games. Kyle just needed to figure out what rule that was.
“New rule,” Ava said. “No one gets to try for Skee-Ball high score unless I’m here to defend my title.”
That was not the rule Kyle expected.
“Now that dinner and games are settled, we can get to the real work.” Barbra stood and motioned the group toward the door. “Otherwise it’ll be a working dinner with no time to relax.”
Kyle stood and rolled his shoulders. He’d relax in four weeks, after the contest ended and he fulfilled his contract. For now, he’d stop getting any further involved.
CHAPTER TWELVE
KYLE STUFFED ANOTHER handful of candy into his mouth to shut himself up. He stared at his laptop and chewed to drown out the suggestions and helpful advice being lobbed around the design lab like tennis balls. The group collaboration kept pulling him in. Apparently, he had endless recommendations for Ava’s portable vitals device and Grant’s cell-phone security case. And still he had nothing for himself and his own as-yet-to-be-thought-of idea.
He wasn’t the only one contributing, either. Yesterday, he walked into the conference room to find a full spread of food for the entire contest crew, courtesy of Haley. She’d left a note on the dry-erase board that she was fueling the group with brain food. Then added an extra-large smiley face.
The group had stayed later than expected last night. This afternoon appeared to be heading in the same direction. Kyle had to get them out. This couldn’t become a habit.
He closed his laptop and picked up the bowl of candy. Maybe if he called it a day, they’d follow his lead. No one noticed him. Ava and Sam, their heads together, studied the computer screen. Chad and Barbra talked beside Grant’s station.
Finally, Grant stood up and scooped candy out of Kyle’s bowl. “Never could resist a sugar rush.”
“My grandmother blamed my grandfather for my sweet tooth.” Kyle wasn’t sure who to blame for that particular confession. He preferred not to talk about himself. Kyle locked on to Grant’s army T-shirt and asked, “Why didn’t you move home after you retired from the army?”
Grant looked at him, his face blank. “Don’t know where that is.”
Kyle studied Grant. Kyle had always known where his home was: his grandparents’ house across the bay. The one place he always depended on. There were only warm hugs, freshly baked cookies and encouragement inside their house. Pretenders and phony people weren’t ever allowed past the wrought-iron fence. Bad manners were never welcome. “Where did you grow up?”
“Everywhere.” Grant shrugged. “And nowhere.”
Kyle’s parents had lived a block away from his grandparents, where everyone gathered for Sunday dinner and on most weekdays. Security and acceptance had only ever been a bike ride away.
“My grandmother got me out of the foster system when I was five. I was shuffled between aunts and uncles over the years. Until, finally, I was old enough to make my own choice and enlisted in the army.” Grant leaned against the counter with the printers. “You grew up here?’
“All my life.” Kyle nodded. “My parents and grandparents lived a street away from each other across the bay.”
“Nice. You had two homes.” Grant’s voice was thoughtful. “How did you decide where to have family dinners and holiday celebrations?”
“My grandmother loved to cook. My grandfather loved to have everyone in his home,” Kyle said. “He always said life was fuller and richer with the people he loved right beside him.”
“I always wanted to be a part of a family like yours.” Grant grabbed more candy and pointed at Kyle. “I would’ve spent most of my time with you growing up.”
Kyle shoved off the counter, pushing away that pinch of regret inside him. Kyle knew the truth. Grant wouldn’t have spent time with him as kids. Kyle wouldn’t have risked it. He was risking too much now. He could only blame himself for asking Grant what was supposed to have been a simple question. That settled it. No more simple questions. Suddenly he wanted to retreat into that solitude he’d created for himself.
Could he kick everyone out? His grandmother would scold him for his poor manners. His grandfather would be disappointed.
“I need to get going.” Ava rolled her chair away from the computer she worked on with Sam. Standing up, she pressed her hands into her lower back and stretched. “I promised to take my mom to Creative Craft Warehouse this afternoon.”
Kyle relaxed his hold on the candy dish. Thanks to Ava, he wouldn’t have to summon his bad manners and end the evening early. Thanks to Ava’s exit, he’d have his suite all to himself tonight, like he preferred.
“The Copper Table is in the same shopping complex as the craft warehouse,” Chad offered. “We could have dinner there tonight.”
“Their sweet potato french fries are the best I’ve found.” Barbra rubbed her hands together. “With their homemade honey mustard sauce, they are beyond divine.”
Sam rubbed his stomach. “A bison burger sounds pretty good right now. Or even the open-faced steak sandwich.”
Grant saved his work and closed the design application they’d been working in. “I haven’t been there, but you had me at burger.”
“We aren’t all going to the craft warehouse, are we?” Kyle straightened, his muscles tightened along his entire spine. He’d wanted the group to disperse and head to their respective homes. Not take a field trip to a craft store.
Sam shrugged. “It’s the all-in policy we agreed to on Sunday.”
“But this isn’t a contest-related activity,” Kyle argued. There was no need for everyone to go. This was an errand for Ava and her mother.
“It’s sort of contest-related.” Ava swung her bag over her shoulder and frowned at him. “Thanks to Kyle, Creative Craft Warehouse is the only store that has the supplies my mom must now have.”
“My suggestion?” Kyle scratched the back of his neck as if that would rewind his conversations.
“Mom told me you suggested the stacked glass bubble bowls with chrysanthemums and orchids for the centerpieces at the fund-raiser.” Ava tapped on her phone screen and handed it to Barbra.
“Iris and I saw something at an art exhibit last month.” Kyle winced. His sister had conned him into joining her after he’d dragged her to several networking events. He’d spent the evening learning the new features on his upgraded cell phone, including the camera. “I remembered them and mentioned the centerpieces to Karen in a text.”
“Those will look absolutely lovely.” Barbra shifted the phone screen to show Chad and Sam. The men nodded and murmured their agreement as if their opinion mattered.
Kyle knew the centerpieces would look really special. He’d shared the idea with Karen, knowing that she’d expand on the simple design. But he’d only shared an idea. He hadn’t offered to assemble the centerpieces. Or shop for the supplies.
Sam motioned for the phone. “How many are we going to make?”
We? When had his contest crew become Sophie’s decoration committee for her City Causes gala? When had his contest crew become a team like a family that did everything together? He already had a family and they were the only ones he’d ever needed. Once he brought his family back where they belonged, his life would be full again. Replacing his family had never been a consideration. Or an option. How did he stop this?
“Right now, the count is one hundred.” Ava grinned at Kyle as if she hadn’t noticed his distress.
“Well, we should get going.” Sam closed his laptop and shoved the computer in his leather bag. “That’s a lot of supplies to find and order.”
“You can’t seriously want to go to the Creative Craft Warehouse.” Kyle heard the panic in his voice and plowed on. “Craft stores are like the Bermuda Triangle. Or worse, kryptonite.”
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