He’d been more times than he could count with Iris. His sister hadn’t coerced him into going. On more than one occasion, it’d been his suggestion. But that wasn’t the point. The point now was the group going together as if mandated. As if the contest rules required an excursion. This was too much. How was he supposed to keep his distance? Remain uninterested? He already enjoyed everyone’s company too much. Soon he’d consider each of them a friend.
This had never been about making friends. Friends relied on each other. Trusted each other. No one should trust him.
Every morning he woke up without a solid idea of his own to submit, his decision dwindled. Both Ava’s and Grant’s ideas were better than he’d anticipated. Smart. Workable. Marketable. And would save him from financial disaster. Their ideas would fulfill his contract and keep his bank account flush.
Nausea rolled through him. No doubt the unplanned trip to the craft store was upsetting him. Shopping made him ill.
Sam stood and squeezed Kyle’s shoulder as if he sensed Kyle had lost his balance. He’d only lost his focus.
“We’ll be with you, Kyle.” Laughter bounced through Sam’s voice. “If it gets to be too much, the craft warehouse has quite the wine section. You can seek solace among the shelves of international red wines on sale.”
Chad stood as if eager to get to the store, too. Too much candy had distorted his perception. Chad looked like he should be driving his hand-built robot in an international competition. Grant looked more suited for the extreme gym in the Bay View district, instructing beginners on how to climb the massive four-story indoor rock wall. Neither one looked like they should be wandering through a craft store and enjoying it. “You two really want to go there?” To make sure there was no misunderstanding, Kyle added, “To the Creative Craft Warehouse?”
“I just texted Sophie and Brad to see if they needed anything for the backdrop they’re designing for the gala.” Grant waved his phone at Kyle. “I offered to help with the construction.”
“I’m helping, too.” Chad zipped up his navy windbreaker and tugged a baseball cap out of the pocket.
When exactly had Kyle’s entire team been recruited for Sophie’s charity event?
Grant looked at Kyle, his eyebrows lifted while his voice lowered. “I might’ve volunteered your services, too, Kyle.”
Kyle stepped back. He wasn’t used to being included. He relied on being the first to refuse. His gaze clashed with Ava’s. She tipped her head, her mouth pulled together and her eyes narrowed. Kyle waited for her to point at him and yell, “I knew it.”
Ava expected him to back out. She expected him to refuse to help. She assumed he’d disappoint her. Even though he’d told Ava that he’d work on the charity event and watch out for her mom. She didn’t trust him to keep his word. She shouldn’t trust him—that he admitted freely. But she should know he always kept his word.
“I’m more than happy to help.” Kyle pumped enthusiasm into his voice and hid his reservations about this particular field trip behind a grin. “Looks like we’re heading to Creative Craft Warehouse, everyone.”
Ava blinked as if she hadn’t quite understood him. Or perhaps that was confusion from her assumptions being proved wrong. Her mention of shopping at the Creative Craft Warehouse hadn’t cleared the room and sent everyone running in the opposite direction. Kyle hadn’t let her down.
Kyle stepped closer to her and held on to his grin. “Where are we meeting your mom?”
“Mom,” Ava repeated.
He smiled wider at the sudden dismay that Ava failed to hide. Was it wrong that her discomfort pleased him? He was more than happy that he wasn’t the only one rattled. “Your mom will want to be there to make the final decision on the supplies for the centerpieces.”
“I have Dan’s truck. I just need to pick up my mom.” Ava squeezed her forehead.
Kyle could’ve told her not to bother. Nothing would bring sense back to this afternoon.
“That’s perfect.” Barbra slipped on her jacket and pulled a set of car keys from her purse. “I can take Grant and Sam with me. Chad can ride with you, Kyle and your mom.”
“Creative Craft is south of the city,” Ava said.
Barbra smiled; her voice was patient. “I know where it is. I even know a shortcut. You’ll want to follow me.”
“You spend time at Creative Craft?” Ava asked.
Kyle caught his laugh before it escaped. Once again, Ava and he shared the same surprise. He wouldn’t have pinned crafter to Barbra’s many talents.
“I’m there most weekends, and if I’m lucky, on a weekday like today,” Barbra confessed. “I inherited my mother’s decorating genes and my father’s DIY tendencies.”
“Maybe you’ll have some suggestions for my wife.” Sam followed Barbra into the hallway. “She wants to redesign the guest room and en suite bathroom to help our guests feel more comfortable and welcome.”
“You should also get help from Iris.” Grant hurried after Barbra and Sam. “Kyle’s sister did the bathrooms and the elevator in here.”
But Kyle’s sister wasn’t an interior decorator. Iris was, however, avoiding Kyle’s phone calls and his attempts to schedule several job interviews for her. Her text messages had been short, curt reminders that she was currently employed as Mia’s photography assistant. No job interviews were required. But she couldn’t remain Mia’s assistant forever. She’d never stayed with any job for the long-term. Her art was the only consistent piece of her life. She’d been carrying a paintbrush since she had learned to walk, or so their parents had always told them. She’d expanded her hobby from painting to sculpting and crafting over the years. Iris would’ve been the first one in the car for a trip to Creative Craft. But that didn’t make her qualified to give decorating tips.
Barbra glanced back at him. “I’m sure Iris will be decorating the house you’re designing in wine country.”
Kyle trailed behind the group through the arcade room.
“You’re a house designer, too?” Ava asked.
Kyle shrugged. “It’s a home for my family.”
“Or a place to disappear in,” Barbra said. “Haven’t you seen the plans on the desk in Kyle’s office?”
Everyone shifted like a school of fish toward Kyle’s office. “It’s nothing special. Just a place for my family to come home to.”
The group gathered around the house plans spread out across the drafting table.
Sam whistled and shook his head. “I’d need a map after I checked in.”
Chad pushed his glasses up with one finger and leaned closer to the floor plans. “I think the pool house might be larger than my entire apartment.”
“You’d have an extra couch for me in this place for sure.” Grant laughed.
Chad pointed at the upper corner of the architect drawings. “If you stayed in the west wing, no one would find you unless you wanted to be found.”
Kyle watched Ava. “What do you think?”
“It’s certainly extravagant.” Her voice was contained, almost cold.
But was that such a bad thing? He wanted to give his family everything they wanted and anything they didn’t know they needed.
“I think I’m used to city homes and tight quarters.” Ava glanced at him. “What’s wrong with here?”
“It’s not...” Home. Kyle turned and looked out the doorway into the suite. Although with Ava and the contest crew there the past few days and nights, his suite felt fuller and more alive than it had since he’d moved in over two years ago. “My family has drifted in different directions. The house will change that.”
“Maybe they like where they are,” Ava suggested.
How could his family be happier someplace else? They’d always belonged in the city with Papa Quinn. But his grandfather had died. And Kyle wasn’t sure where he belonged anymore. The house would end his wander
ing. “They’re going to love the new place.”
And if they didn’t?
He saw the unspoken question in Ava’s searching gaze.
He wasn’t worried. He had the money to design whatever his family wanted. Whatever would get his family home.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AVA HAD MORPHED into a taskmaster. For the past two hours, she’d tried to guide the group through the craft warehouse and keep everyone on task. The experience had been more like herding moths. Someone was constantly flittering to the next aisle and getting distracted by the cool items on the shelves.
Only Kyle had cooperated. He’d worked with her through the supply list, offered suggestions and kept her entertained. He’d been more fun and helpful than she’d ever expected.
Now she had to get back on schedule. The group trip to the craft warehouse hadn’t been part of her afternoon plans. Nor was dinner at the Copper Table. If dinner proceeded without any hiccups, she could be home in time for her evening conference call. A conference call that could end in a part-time job offer for a telemarketer. Not her first choice in work, but her dwindling checking account couldn’t be too picky.
“Could you send over the waiter?” Ava asked the hostess on their way to the table. “Everyone has been discussing what they were going to order since we left the city. They don’t need extra time to look over the menu.”
The group seated, Ava once again kept everyone on task and urged them to place their orders with the waiter.
Kyle leaned toward her and bumped his shoulder against hers. “Have someplace else you need to be?”
Yes, she had a job interview she hadn’t told anyone about, including her mom. She hadn’t wanted to hear that she was stretching herself too thin or that she couldn’t handle so much. Or that telemarketer might not be a good fit for her. Several of her mother’s medications were due to be refilled next week. “I’m just really hungry.”
“You should be more relaxed,” Kyle said. “It’s your day off.”
“Easy for you to be so cavalier. Your bank account isn’t bordering on empty.” Ava shoved her straw in her mouth and soaked her voice with a deep sip of soda. It wasn’t his fault or maybe it was. A night off meant unproductive time with no money coming in and that always upped her stress. Anxiety wasn’t ping-ponging through her like usual. She’d enjoyed her time with Kyle. Too much. That should make her worry.
“How can I help?” He looked at her, sincerity in his gaze and his tone. “What do you need?”
He probably had enough to cover the balance in his wallet right now. He’d give it to her, if she only asked. Then she’d become another handout like Iris. Like his sister, she’d resent it. She’d earn her money with hard work and pay her own bills. “Sorry, that was the hunger pangs talking. Forget I mentioned anything.”
He shifted farther into her personal space and searched her face.
She saw the questions in his blue gaze. Knew from the way his eyes narrowed at the edges he wasn’t about to forget anything.
She almost forgot herself and confided in him. Ava reached for a distraction. “You didn’t order any food.”
“I’m not hungry.” He eased away and picked up his iced tea. “I had a big brunch this morning.”
“That’s a lie,” she countered. She could recognize the lie; she’d been telling enough of her own.
He smeared the water drops from his glass across the table and eyed her. “Is that so?”
“It’s Thursday and Haley won’t come until tomorrow with meals for the weekend. That means you ate yogurt this morning,” Ava said.
“That’s perceptive.”
“And accurate.” Had she not been aiming her satisfied smile at him, she’d have missed the quick touch of his fingers on his medical ID band. The big brunch was a cover story to deflect attention away from him. Ava never mentioned her interview to avoid a lecture. Kyle never ordered to avoid anaphylaxis. “Why did you agree to come here if you can’t eat?”
“I never agreed,” he said.
She’d been too distracted by the group’s determination to head to the craft store together. She hadn’t stopped to check the list of Kyle’s approved restaurants. She wanted to yell at him for not saying something and search his jacket for his EpiPen. Not that it was her business. Irritation shifted into her voice. “You could’ve stayed home.”
“And miss all this? Not a chance.” He motioned to the group around the table. Barbra and her mother assembled a sample centerpiece. The guys discussed the latest cell phone upgrade. “I’m flattered you’re so interested in my eating habits, by the way.”
“Don’t be.” Ava unzipped her purse, pulled out a nut-free protein bar and handed it to him. He was too close again. Worried he’d think she cared, she pushed disinterest into her tone. “I want to win the grand prize. I’m sure your death would ruin the contest.”
His quiet laugh streamed through her and tugged a smile free from deep inside her. She should be practicing for her interview, not edging closer to him.
“Or maybe the contest would become more popular, like an artist’s work after their untimely demise.” His fingers tapped against the protein bar.
Ava liked him like this: relaxed, funny and engaged. She liked herself with him. She added, “The contest would gain momentum eventually, but not before the investigation over your suspicious death concluded and a suspect was charged.”
“If the circumstances of my demise are suspicious, then someone took me out.” Kyle leaned toward her until his shoulder touched hers. His chin dipped forward, and his voice lowered into the conspiratorial. “Who do you think did me in?”
“I’m going with Chad in the drafting room with the ruler.” Ava kept contact with him as if she relied on his support. “Chad’s innocent look will keep the police off his tail for weeks.”
“Barbra is more of the mastermind type.” Kyle picked up his iced tea glass and shifted it toward Barbra and her mother. The pair studied the different centerpiece items and whispered as if they were plotting world domination. “I’m going with Barbra in the kitchen with the herb garden.”
“The herb garden is the least lethal thing in the kitchen,” Ava said. Kyle on the other hand could be dangerous to her and her heart.
“Exactly.” Kyle spread his hands across the table as if he’d just dropped the winning poker hand for the jackpot. “She’s a mastermind.”
Ava’s laughter spilled between them.
“What are you two discussing over there?” her mom asked.
The table quieted, and everyone shifted their attention to Kyle and Ava.
Ava straightened away from Kyle.
Kyle lifted his glass and grinned at her. “We’re debating who here would be the best evil mastermind of the group. My money is on Barbra.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” Barbra lifted her glass in a toast to Kyle. “I believe most of my students would agree with you.”
A debate ensued over the best qualifications for an evil mastermind and who at the table possessed those skills. Ava’s mother offered several suggestions, and to her amusement, the others nominated Karen as the best skilled at subterfuge and mind control. Laughter filled the table and rolled through Ava.
Meals arrived one by one courtesy of the efficient waitstaff. Her interview loomed and yet Ava jumped into the conversation, wanting the joy on her mom’s face to stay. She should be encouraging the group to eat faster. She shouldn’t be extending the conversation as if it was a leisurely meal. If the group skipped dessert, she’d have time to take the scheduled call from the truck.
No one commented on Kyle’s lack of food. Certainly, Ava wasn’t the only one who didn’t buy his big brunch story. She was just the only one who’d called Kyle out. “You should eat the protein bar.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said.
“You haven’t ea
ten all day,” she argued.
“I’m fine.”
“It feels wrong eating in front of you.” Ava pushed her plate away. She’d get a to-go box. That could prompt the others, too. Then she’d definitely be home before her interview.
“Really, I don’t mind.” Kyle nudged her plate back toward her. “I like watching you eat.”
“That’s weird,” she said. “No one likes watching someone eat food that they can’t have.”
“I like watching you,” he said. “I’ve never seen someone approach every meal so analytically and with such precision.”
“It’s not that big of a deal.” Ava shifted her plate a quarter turn on the placemat.
“She’s gotten much better, Kyle.” Her mother wiped her napkin in the corner of her mouth, but failed to hide her grin. “When Ava was little, we had to serve each part of her dinner on different plates.”
Ava nudged the steamed broccoli away from her chicken parmesan. “Certain foods aren’t supposed to touch.”
“Is that why you use multiple paper plates when we order takeout?” Grant asked.
Ava aimed her fork at him. “I know what you’re going to tell me.”
Chad grinned. “That it’s all going to the same place.”
Ava pointed her fork at Chad’s mess of a plate. “But my food is going into my stomach in an organized fashion. It’s better for the digestion.”
“But sometimes, if you experiment—” Grant said. He stabbed his fork into a french fry and speared a beet from his salad and dipped it into his aioli sauce. He held the loaded fork up and eyed her “—you might discover something unexpected like the perfect bite. The perfect combination.”
“Or you might discover that certain foods just don’t belong together.” Like certain people didn’t belong together.
Grant shrugged and shoved his fork in his mouth, willing to take the chance.
“Some things are more of an acquired taste,” Kyle said.
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