His hands went to his hips as he stared me down.
“I was thinking something more soothing and maybe cottagey?”
“Wrong again! That is so, so boring! Just because you live on a lake doesn’t mean it has to look like every other house on a lake. If you tell me you want nautical decor, I’m going to cut myself.”
“I don’t want nautical, but I don’t think I’m much of a sultan’s harem kind of person either.”
He giggled and waved his delicate hand at me. “Oh, I was just kidding with that. No sultan’s harem. But I do think this room should have dark purple walls. Nothing too girly in here. You want Tyler to feel comfortable too.”
I gasped. “Tyler? What would make you say something like that?” How the hell did this guy know about Tyler?
“Oh, sorry,” Fontaine whispered, covering his lips with two fingers. “Is that a secret? My brother said you’d been banging it out with Tyler Connelly. Excellent choice, by the way. Love the whole EMT, run-toward-danger thing. Very sexy.”
The floor starting spinning, and all that white carpet seemed to be getting closer. I reached out to grasp the door frame. “Your brother? Who’s your brother?”
“Jasper Baker, of course.”
Of course. Another link in the Bell Harbor chain of incessant information sharing. One night with Tyler and the news had spread like Nutella over a warm toaster waffle. There were no secrets in this town, no concept of privacy. My personal data would continue to bubble out like water from a leaky sprinkler head, and once the information was out, there was no containing it. What was the point in even trying?
Chapter 20
AN EARLY SUSHI LUNCH AND an emotional meeting with my flamboyant decorator had left me starving and exhausted. It was nearly six by the time I’d finished listening to Fontaine pitch one outrageous idea after another. If I gave him free rein, my house would end up looking like something Picasso had painted. But we’d reached a comfortable middle ground, and after convincing him I did not want a Cirque du Soleil–themed living room, I think we’d come up with some good design compromises.
Now, at last, I was home, the dog was walked, and I was in for the night. I kicked off my shoes and padded over to the refrigerator, hoping the grocery fairies had filled it with food. No such luck. I shut the door and saw the note from Tyler with the number to Jasper’s. My mouth watered, and before I could even swallow, I’d picked up the phone to order myself some dinner.
I’d just slipped into some pajama pants and a tank top when the delivery boy rang my doorbell.
Only it wasn’t a delivery boy.
It was Tyler.
Panzer barked a greeting and thumped his tail against the floor. If I had a tail, I’d have done the same thing. Thoughts of Chris Beaumont dimmed as I stared into the brightness that was Tyler. The surprise of him being there only added to the swell of my attraction. Maybe we’d only shared one night, but it had been one fantabulous night. Way better than a sushi lunch.
Tyler held up a brown paper bag with the logo for Jasper’s restaurant emblazoned on the side.
“Hi!” My voice squeaked. So much for playing it cool.
“Hi, yourself. Hungry?” He strolled in as if he owned the place and set the bag down on my kitchen counter, unloading the contents. Then he opened my utensil drawer and pulled out a knife and fork.
“I didn’t realize you did the deliveries.” I walked over and stood next to him, wondering how I could be so hungry, have food right there in front of me, but suddenly be thinking of postponing this meal for a little hanky-panky.
He turned so we were facing each other, toe to toe, chest to chest, bits to bits.
“I was done with my shift and offered to drop this off.” His voice lowered along with his gaze. I wasn’t wearing a bra. He noticed, and we both smiled.
“So, you’re finished for the night, then?” I asked, trying to sound as if it didn’t matter much.
He looped a finger around the strap of my tank top. “I’m done working for the night. But I’m by no means finished.”
He leaned down and kissed me, and life was good.
Chris was a nice guy. Maybe even a great guy. And I should get to know him better. But Tyler was here, and he was now. All my senses soaked him in and reveled. My gaze followed my hands, traveling over his shoulders, my nose teased by the sweet-spicy scent of his cologne, and my mouth tasting mint and pleasure. I could do this all night.
But he ended that kiss far too soon and started taking the foil top off the food container. “Here. Eat this manicotti while it’s still warm. And I have a question for you.”
I scooped up a bite. I didn’t think anything could be as pleasurable as that kiss, but this was a close second. I carried the plate over to the couch and sat down, and Tyler joined me.
“What question?” I asked between bites.
“How would you feel about going to a bonfire tonight? Some friends of mine are having a little beach party.”
A beach party? On a Tuesday night? That sounded . . . youthful. I shook my head. “I think I should pass on that one. I don’t want to impose.”
Tyler’s laugh rolled around my apartment. “You can’t impose on a bonfire, Evie. Come on. It’ll be fun. You can meet some of my friends.”
That’s kind of what I was afraid of. What would they think of me? What would I think of them?
“If we show up together, your friends will think we’re dating.” I took a bite of manicotti.
“So?” He smiled, which was very unfair, because those dimples of his were about ten feet deep. One of these times I was going to fall in and not be able to climb back out. Chris Beaumont did not have dimples. I hadn’t thought about that at lunch. But I thought about it now.
“So, I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing,” I said. “But whatever it is, I’d like to keep it mostly private. And anyway, I have a huge day tomorrow. I need to be in bed early.”
Actually, what I needed, or at least wanted, was to be in bed right now, with Tyler, but it might seem a little desperate and clingy to suggest he miss a party just to go horizontal with me.
“I’ll have you back here and in your bed well before you turn into a pumpkin.”
“I don’t know, Tyler. I might feel a little awkward hanging out on the beach with your friends. You go ahead, though.”
His happy expression dimmed. “No, I’ll skip it then. I have a week of night shifts coming up, so honestly, I was hoping to spend some time with you. I was planning to text you about the party when your order came in at the restaurant.”
“You were?” That felt far better than it should. It’s not as if he was inviting me to some exotic location, after all. It was just a bonfire on the beach. With a bunch of twentysomethings.
“Yes, I was,” he said, sliding closer to me on the couch. “Because you promised you’d go out with me, remember?”
I did remember. We’d been naked at the time. Naked and in my bed, which is where I wanted to be right now.
But first things first, I guess.
Right now it looked like I was going to a beach party.
The setting was picture-perfect. Warm air, cool sand, cloudless night sky full of stars. I’d expected a dozen or so people sitting around a fire pit, maybe roasting marshmallows, probably drinking beer. The only part I got right was the beer. There was plenty of it, just as there were plenty of people; most of them were in various stages of intoxication. I stopped counting, or trying to remember anyone’s name, after the first twenty or so.
Tyler knew everyone, and everyone wanted an introduction to me. I hadn’t expected such a frenzy of interest. The guys were clearly appraising while the women, girls, really, were either vivaciously overfriendly or reservedly polite. I felt like the new girl arriving on the first day of senior year. The attention and undercurrent of speculation was unnerving, but I drank
my beer and tried to relax. At least it was dark enough now so they wouldn’t see I was ten years older than most of them.
Tyler and I found a spot to sit on a big log not too close to the fire, a little pocket of calm in a storm of loud music and unevenly pitched voices. People were dancing and laughing and swapping favorite stories. Two little blondes in bikinis the size of cocktail napkins walked past us toward the lake. They looked like lingerie models. I automatically sucked in my stomach. I was in decent enough shape, but gravity was a bitch who’d slapped me a few times. And although I might have the surgical skills to make a woman’s body look better, even I couldn’t lift up an ass the way youth and genetics could. I leaned over to murmur in Tyler’s ear, “Some of these girls are a little intimidating.”
He looked around. “These girls? Why?”
“They’re just so . . . firm.”
His burst of laughter turned a few heads. At least the heads that hadn’t already been tilted our way. He put his hand on my thigh and gave it a little squeeze. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said.
“You can say that. You’re pretty firm too.” I realized what I’d said when he laughed even louder. I put my hand over his. “You know what I mean. Your friends are really young.”
“Some of them, yeah. But guess how many of them are doctors? None. And besides, they’re just girls. I’ve known most of them all my life. But you’re . . . a woman.” He sounded smug, as if he had something to do with that.
“I feel like Mrs. Robinson.”
“Who?”
“Oh, God.” I gulped down the last of my beer. Until tonight, I hadn’t really thought about him in his natural habitat, just hanging around with his buddies. I’d let myself think he was usually working, and maybe he was. But even so, these were his peers, with their shaggy hair and board shorts. With their lives entirely open before them, so many options, so much time. I was on the middle of my path, and they were just beginning theirs. I did not fit in with this crowd.
“Hey! Ty!”
A voice called from the other side of the fire, and a lanky blond with buzz-cut hair ambled over. He had beer cans in both hands and seemed to be drinking them both.
Tyler nodded at the cans. “Hey, go easy there, huh?”
“I got it. I got this. It’s all good. Who’s this?” He nodded at me, and as he turned, the Connelly DNA became obvious. He was a shorter, darker version, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Tyler stood up, pulling me with him.
“Scotty, this is Evie.”
Scotty’s hooded eyes widened for a second, then he grasped both cans with one hand to reach out and shake mine with his other.
“Evie. Nice to meet you. Heard all about you.” He tilted a little to one side and stepped backward. Scotty Connelly was drunk. I shouldn’t be surprised. First of all, this was a beach party. Second, he was drinking two beers at once. And third, I’d heard enough about him to know his judgment was deplorable. What kind of man would let his brother get arrested and not have the stones to stand up and do the right thing? I kind of wanted to say that, but I smiled for Tyler’s sake and said, “Nice to meet you too.”
Scotty listed forward again and turned to his brother. “You going swimming? Let’s go swimming.”
Tyler glanced at me. “No. We’re not staying long. Maybe you should skip it too.” He nodded at the beer cans.
Scotty’s scowl was exaggerated. “No, man, I’m good. I’m going swimming. It’s all good.”
“No, it isn’t. Sit down. Let me get you a Coke.” Tyler put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I don’t want a Coke,” Scotty said but looked around for a seat.
Tyler nudged him down to the log. “Here. Sit with Evie while I find you a Coke.”
“Yeah, yeah, OK. How you doing, Evie?” He fell as much as sat on the log.
Tyler looked at me apologetically. “I’ll be right back.”
“OK. Grab me a Coke too, will you?” No more beer for me. Suddenly the idea of being drunk had lost its appeal.
I sat down next to Scotty, who continued to drink from both cans until one was empty, and he threw it into the fire.
After a minute, he looked at me, his forehead creased in a frown. “So, are you Ty’s girlfriend now?”
That was a good, if somewhat abrupt question. “Um, not exactly.”
“But you want to get married. Like, right now? Right? And have kids. That’s what he said.” He punctuated his question with a burp.
“Um, well, I guess, yes, but—”
“He’s never had a chance to do his own thing, you know.” Scotty leaned forward, put his head between his knees, and swayed a bit.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
His head popped back up. “I mean ever since he dropped out of college he’s been working his ass off helping our mom. Trying to keep my sisters in school. Trying to keep me out of jail.” In the mercurial way of drunks, he giggled at that and put his head back between his knees.
Dropped out of college? I’d never asked Tyler about school, but realized now I’d secretly hoped he’d had a degree. Maybe that was snobbish of me, but I’d grown up being taught that academic achievement was paramount to success in life.
Scotty burped again and looked at me, his eyes narrowing, his voice slowing down even more, as if each word took concentration. “My big brother likes to fix things, you know? Fix.” He moved his hands around as if he was tinkering with something. “Like that bullshit with the Jet Ski. That was my problem. All my problem.” He shook his head side to side, like a horse shaking flies from his mane. “But Ty has to fix everything for everybody. So if he thinks you need a husband, that’s what he’ll try to give you.”
I suddenly felt as wobbly as Scotty was. Give me a husband? I wasn’t expecting Tyler to step up to that plate. That was ridiculous.
“Scotty, I’m not expecting him to marry me. We’re just . . . just spending a little time together.”
Scotty’s nod was philosophical. “Yeah, that’s usually how it starts, but spending time with you has got him all fucked up in the head.” He pointed to his temple. “You’re pretty as hell, so I get that. But he had plans, and you’re messing with them. Plans. My brother will never fix that boat if he’s got a wife and babies to support.”
Wife and babies to support? Scotty had this all wrong.
“We’re not getting married, Scotty. We’re not even dating, technically. And nobody supports me except for me. I don’t need your brother’s help.” I kept my voice low but insistent. Not that my words would make much impression. I’d spent enough time in the emergency department to know that trying to communicate with a drunk person was rather pointless.
His body lolled to the side before he righted himself, and he laughed again. “Doesn’t matter if you need it. He’s just . . . there. Helping. You think I wanted him to take the heat for me in court? No, sir. Ma’am.” Scotty scrubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair, and I felt the first flicker of sympathy for this reckless little brother, but before I could say so, there was Tyler, holding out two cans of Coke.
“What are you two whispering about?”
“Singing your praises, bro. Singing.” Scotty took a can and struggled to open it. He finally managed on the third or fourth try. “Did you tell her about Dad’s boat, Ty? You should tell her about Dad’s boat.”
Tyler’s sigh was audible. “Not really. Who’s driving you home tonight?”
Scotty stood up and looked around, then pointed at the two little blondes in the teeny bikinis. “Them?”
Tyler patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s going to happen. Good luck. Call me if you need a ride. And don’t go swimming, OK?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Scotty stumbled away without saying good-bye, and Tyler sat back down, eying me thoughtfully.
“Sorry if my brother was obnoxious. It’
s a talent he’s really cultivated.”
“He was fine.” That was the universal kind of fine. The kind that meant you’d better ask me again.
“But?”
I shrugged, hoping I’d sound indifferent even if I didn’t feel particularly indifferent. I felt unsettled by virtually everything Scotty had said. The college, the boat, the married with children. What the hell had Tyler told him?
“But he said I’m fucking up your head and messing with your plans. What boat is he talking about?”
Tyler wrapped his arm around my waist. “Evie, Scotty is a moron and he talks too much. Don’t listen to him.”
“What plans?” I prodded. I guess the good news was, at least he had some. But now I was nervous to hear what they were. He scratched his fingers across his jaw. Then he stood up and held out his hand.
“Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
We strolled down the beach, leaving behind the warmth of the fire and the splashing and laughter of the party. I knew I shouldn’t let Scotty’s words get under my skin, but they had. They hinted of accusation, as if I was Tyler’s biggest problem and not the legal issues he was facing in Scotty’s place.
“Have you ever heard that joke about how to make God laugh?” Tyler said after a few minutes. He sounded more contemplative than teasing.
“No. How?”
“You make plans.”
I squeezed his hand. “I hadn’t pegged you as particularly religious.”
He took a drink from the beer he carried. “Twelve years of Catholic school, not that much of it stuck. At any rate, I do make plans, Evie. All the time. Sometimes they work, sometimes they fall through. Then I just make different plans.” I sensed an underlying disappointment, though he said this in a casual way, swinging our clasped hands as we walked.
Best Medicine, The Page 18