by Annie Dean
Returning to the desk, he pretended to work on the article, pretended not to inhale the scent of green apples wafting as she worked with neat efficiency. He didn't want to see the smooth curve of her ass as she bent over to tuck the sheets and he especially didn't want to notice the way sunshine called red and gold threads out of her dark hair. The silence didn't bother him at all, he decided, reading the lead for the tenth time.
Which was why, maybe two minutes later, he couldn't help asking, “Have a good time last night?"
A difficult-to-interpret smile slanted her mouth. “It was ... interesting."
Interesting. What an utterly obnoxious word. Would she use it to describe a sexual encounter that involved Redi-Whip and sliced strawberries or a creative use for a kitchen spatula? And why the hell did he care anyway?
"Great,” he bit out, trying not to sound as savage as he felt. “I had an interesting night myself. And breakfast this morning was fabulous. Did I mention that I made it? You should be paying me to look after those two."
She finished fluffing the pillows and swooped the quilt over the top of them with a grace he didn't want to appreciate. Damn her anyway. “I'm sorry. They can be a little needy. But it's never wise to piss off a lawman who's done you a favor."
What favor? It was driving him crazy, not knowing what was between her and Ben Fuller. Worse because he had no right to ask, and he reminded himself that for what had to be the hundredth time. Frustrated, he slammed his laptop shut and vented in the only way available to him. “A little needy? Honey, they're class-A codependents and you are a champion enabler. If I had to stay here longer than a week, I'd go fucking nuts."
Her eyes narrowed, more green than hazel in this light, and she picked up a feather duster like it was a weapon. Slash, at the top of the dresser. Feathers flew.
"It's a good thing you haven't been invited then, huh? Listen here, mister.” She jabbed him in the chest with business end of the duster. “I don't need your approval and neither does my family. You can leave here anytime and take your damn article with you. In fact why don't you shove it up your..."
Sean snagged his hand in her hair and kissed her. God, she tasted like honey and cinnamon, and—she was mad enough to bite him. His lower lip throbbed as he let go, and for good measure, she whacked him like he was a rug, a fine mist of motes raining down. Her hair looked as if she'd powdered it in an attempt to recapture the lost glory of the Georgian era, and Sean felt sure he'd fared no better.
"I don't put articles in my ass,” he told her, deadpan. “I find it makes them difficult to edit."
Her lips twitched. “Don't be cute when I'm mad at you."
"Mad at me?” That was fucking rich. “I'm not the one who took off and left you alone with Laurel and Hardy for eighteen hours. And Hardy would love to kick my ass, I might add."
"He's not mad at you anymore. I finally got him to understand that I have a right to sleep with anyone I want. That took some doing since he doesn't want to see me as a woman. If you don't provoke him, he'll probably even apologize. I know they can be ... trying,” she added, and he snorted at the understatement.
That earned him another whack.
He plucked the feather duster from her hands. “Will you put that thing down already? We both need a shower."
"Quit interrupting me. I know they can be trying.” Addie held up a hand to forestall further comment. “And I appreciate you standing in for me. I've had a number of issues to deal with, things I couldn't let ride. But I'll make it up to you tonight, I promise. The party will be fun, and afterward..."
"I thought you might be going with Ben Fuller.” The words got away from him, and Sean could've kicked himself. Up until that point, he'd done a fairly good job of concealing his feelings. Goddamn it.
Her brows rose. “You're jealous!” She said it as if he'd admitted to having a tail or something, like it was both shocking and extraordinary.
He folded his arms. “I am not."
"You are,” she said, stepping closer. “Do you want to hear what happened last night? Want a play-by-play of who's better? Maybe you'd like to hear you have him beat for in the oral department?"
His whole body tensed at the onslaught of images. Who knew the woman had such a mean streak? He backed up, needing some distance. Right now, he wanted to throw her down on the bed she'd just made and make her forget anyone else had ever touched her, whether last night or ten years ago.
"No thanks. I'm good."
"Yeah.” Her expression struck him as provocative. “You are. But I'm not going to talk about anyone else. Because like I tell Manu and Pop, it's not your business."
The hell it isn't.
Sean made himself smile, though there was no warmth in it. “Sure it is. If I'm sleeping with you, then it's like I'm with anyone you are. I don't want to catch anything."
Addie went for him, like he knew she would, but he was ready, catching her wrists before she could do damage. As he'd come to know, she had quite a short fuse, although she didn't seem to hold a grudge in the normal course of things. She kicked at his shins but since she was barefoot, it hurt her more than him.
"Are you calling me a slut? If I sleep with more than one man at a time, that makes me a whore? Goddamn it, I hate a double standard. If a man did that..."
"He'd be gay,” he said, suddenly amused.
She let out a sound of pure frustration. “You're such an asshole!"
That was an astonishing accusation, since he'd spent his life being Mr. Steady and Reliable, Mr. Nice Guy. His friends back home would stare bug-eyed over the way he acted with Addie. Maybe he'd just needed the right person to provoke him.
"I can be,” he admitted, drawing her against him with the cautious air of one taming a wild animal. “But you give as good as you get, baby. I swear you're trying to drive me crazy. And no, I don't think you're a slut, although maybe you need your mouth washed out with soap. What would your abuela say?"
"My abuela cussed like a sailor ... I miss her. That's where I learned most of my Spanish, and when I asked what a pendejo was, Mama was horrified."
She snuggled for a moment, eyes closing. Staring down at her, he saw that Addie looked tired, a faint bruising beneath her pretty eyes. He felt a shimmer of remorse because he hadn't noticed before.
So many losses ... her grandmother, mother, sister—for the first time, he understood what she represented to her father and brother in law. She was the last woman directly from their family. No wonder they felt both possessive and protective. Losing her would be unthinkable, and to his dismay, he shared the feeling.
"Why don't you get a nap?” He tightened his arms around her and then let go, picking up the pail full of cleaning supplies. How had he managed to wind up vacationing somewhere he cooked and cleaned on purpose? “I'll finish up in here."
"Okay. I don't want to be too tired to have fun later. Lorene throws the best parties in the county ... we're going to have a fabulous time.” Her full lower lip compelled him to drop a kiss on her upturned mouth, and then she headed for the door, where she paused, hand on the knob, and tossed him a wicked smile. “I guess I didn't get much sleep on that lumpy couch last night."
Yeah, he thought as she left. She was definitely going to drive him crazy.
Chapter Twenty
The place looked good, Addie thought.
Lorene lived in a white adobe style ranch house on sprawling grounds, the mountains providing an astonishing backdrop. She tried to see the setting through Sean's eyes, wondering what he made of palm trees in the front yard and her friend's cactus garden. Taking his hand, she led him along the flagstone walk to the back, where the party was already in full swing.
Manu followed in morose silence. He hadn't wanted to come, but through a clever combination of pleading and blackmail, she'd gotten her brother-in-law to agree that nobody grilled a better burger. Fortunately, that argument carried more weight because it was accurate. Like a true artist, he'd brought along his own spatula, tongs and
meat fork. She made a mental note to get him a case to carry them in for Christmas.
Waving her arm, she caught Lorene's attention and she jerked her head in a none-too-subtle cue. Her friend broke away from the knot of people demanding her attention and hurried toward the big, golden-skinned man who looked like he'd rather be grouting a tub. Addie didn't miss the way the other woman skimmed him, head-to-toe, either.
"So glad you could come,” Lorene said, taking Manu's arm. “I could use some help getting the fire started, and Addie says you're a pro. You don't mind, do you?"
Manu let the blonde lead him away, glancing over his shoulder once with an expression of mild panic. Nope, I'm not getting involved, sorry. You're on your own, bud. She managed not to laugh until they were out of earshot.
The backyard didn't mark the bounds of the property, but most of it was wild scrubland. Lorene had claimed a portion of it for a semi-level lawn and the lagoon-style pool, ringed with a rock garden Addie particularly admired. Tonight her friend had dragged out tired Tiki torches with their citronella candles and strung paper lanterns, just like every other BBQ she'd thrown in the last five years, but Addie found that very familiarity comforting. She knew pretty much everyone here, but she didn't start introducing Sean around just yet. Let them wonder a while.
"I knew it wouldn't just be the four of us,” she said, waving at Wanda Parker, who had clearly been watching too many Pink videos. “When Lorene invites a ‘few’ people over, everyone in the county hears about it and winds up knocking. She won't turn anybody away, so if there's not enough food, she'll send someone to get burgers, hot dogs or buns before long."
"Should we have brought suits?” Sean asked, tipping his head toward the pool.
A guy cannonballed into the water, drenching a woman in a sleek red party dress. Addie shook her head. “Not unless you really want to swim. There will be games inside and dancing on the patio. She'll probably put a movie on after we eat, too. Her parties are ... eclectic? I usually just wander around until I get sucked in somewhere. One night we played dare-me Twister."
He quirked a brow. “What's that like?"
"I don't actually remember the rules, but I know it involved a lot of shots and I was in my underpants when I lost."
"Sounds fun.” His tone gave her no indication whether he was being ironic, and given his mood earlier, she couldn't be sure.
Deciding not to inquire, she snagged a couple of beers out of a red cooler sitting prominently beside the patio doors. Tossing one to him, she said, “Let's mingle. Who do you want to meet first?"
"That hot redhead falling out of her bikini."
Addie jerked her head around, trying to spot the woman in question—only to glance up and see him smirking. Bastard. He hadn't said a word about how she looked either, and she'd gone to extra effort. Did he have any idea how rarely she put on a dress or tottered around in heels? Feeling aggrieved, she smoothed her white linen skirt. If he had any manners, he should've at least commented on the shoes.
"It would serve you right if I did introduce you to Marilyn. She's been married three times and is on the hunt for number four."
He glanced at the woman with apparently renewed interest. “Serial monogamist?"
"More like serial killer,” she muttered. “You're too young for her anyway. I don't think she'll even date a man unless he's seventy-five and well-insured."
Sean chuckled. “Noted. What about the cute blonde with the ponytail?"
Addie went up on tiptoe and saw he'd indicated Kitty Sullivan, the nighttime cashier at the Kwik-Stop; tonight must be her evening off. Sadly, there wasn't a thing wrong with her, so Addie pinned on a smile and started working her way through the crowd. This wasn't the way she'd envisioned the night, although maybe it served her right. She'd die before admitting her irritation, though.
"Hi Kitty,” she said, touching the other woman on the arm. “This is my friend, Sean. He's vacationing with us for a week or so."
"Oh really?” Like her namesake, Kitty just radiated fluffy cuteness. She was the sort of woman who gazed wide-eyed in sincere admiration while a man told the most boring stories imaginable. “How do you find California?"
"Very pretty,” Sean said in his honey drawl.
She really wanted to hit him over the head with something. The other woman giggled, as if she knew she was being paid an indirect compliment, and at that point, Addie decided she'd heard enough. If he wanted to meet anyone else, Kitty could damn well perform the introductions.
"I'm going to see if there's anything I can do in the kitchen,” she muttered, not that she expected either of them would miss her.
Kitty would be a good wife for a man like Sean. If he didn't already have one, she thought uncharitably. They even looked quite picturesque together, small and blonde balanced by large and dark, an attraction of opposites, perhaps. Her heels clicked angrily over the cement, and even the mellow sound of Sugar Ray singing I Just Want to Fly couldn't cheer her up.
Brushing by couples who were already dancing on the patio, including Sandy and Emmett—they'd apparently made up whatever quarrel had them looking so mad at The Bar last night—Addie paused to check on Manu. In his sphere, tending to sizzling beef, he actually looked better than she felt, even if he had kibitzers trying to get him to add more sauce. But she asked anyway.
"You okay?"
He looked up, a smile creasing his broad face. “Sure. You were right, I need to get out more. Hey!” Her brother-in-law slapped at someone's hand with his spatula. “You'll eat when I say it's done, not a minute before."
Addie laughed. “Flame on, big guy."
As expected, she found Lorene looking harassed by all the Tupperware dishes people had brought. “I need to set this out somehow,” she complained. “But I donated my folding table to Goodwill."
She thought for a moment. “What about the card table? We could set it up outside the patio doors."
"Good idea."
"Do you have paper plates?"
Lorene cocked her hip and affected a posh accent. “Darling, I live on Chinet."
While they worked, Sugar Ray gave way to Sheryl Crow, and once they set the food out, the line formed without anyone saying a word. Manu got involved then, doling out dogs and burgers as if he were offering first communion. Addie had lost track of Sean entirely by that point, but doubtless Kitty was taking great care of him.
By anyone's definition, it was shaping up to be a great party. She served herself a plate filled with fresh sliced pineapple, potato salad, which she recognized as being Val Davis's recipe, as the woman insisted on putting mustard in it, and a sizzling Manu specialty burger piled with lettuce and tomato. As she sat down on one of the rocks in the garden—the built-in seating was another thing that commended it—Addie told herself she wasn't lonely at all.
"Hey, we're almost out of beer!” That was Emmett's voice.
"Then I recommend you haul your ass to the Kwik-Stop,” Lorene shot back. “I bet they have plenty."
Strange, but she didn't feel part of things tonight. It had to be her mood, nobody's fault, really. So instead she watched everyone else while she ate. Lorene took up residence near Manu, flirting with him with a subtle flare she rarely employed. Probably doesn't want to scare him off. Based on body language, it looked like he was anything but opposed, though.
In an odd way, Lorene and Manu looked good together too, and the realization twisted her up inside. It wasn't that she begrudged the man what happiness he could find. He'd loved Mel as faithfully as anyone could ask, and she was four years gone. But suddenly she felt like everything was changing, and she wasn't sure she was ready.
Doesn't matter, Addie thought, when Lorene sets her mind on somebody, she bags him. She envied her friend's surety in that regard. No matter how many relationships tanked, she never seemed to get skittish, never seemed to think it might happen again. Never seemed to think it was her fault somehow. Lorene possessed an endless supply of sunny optimism, and she'd like a little of
that for herself, sometimes.
Wonder how I'd do with Ben Fuller. She tried on the idea of a relationship with a nice man and found it didn't quite fit. But as if thinking of the man summoned him up, the deputy sat down beside her, a plate balanced on his knees. She had to wonder how he stayed so thin because he had two hot dogs, a burger, a mound of Waldorf salad and four chocolate chip cookies.
"You expecting company?” she asked, mustering a smile.
"I've got it, but it looks like you already ate. Lucky me.” He took a bite and then went on, “Mainly I wanted to thank you for looking after me last night. I can't believe I was such a dumbass."
"At least you weren't nervous,” was all she could think to say.
He laughed. “I guess that's right."
The wind played cool over her skin, and she shivered. It wasn't a cue, but he seemed to take it as one, setting his plate aside to wrap his arm around her. His proximity wasn't unpleasant; she just preferred men with more substance, probably because her dad was a bean pole, and she could feel Ben's ribs against her side.
"It could always be worse."
Her mom always said that whenever something terrible happened. Not until recently could she repeat it without wincing. But lately she found herself appreciating the sentiment, able to reflect without feeling the overwhelming loss. Life went on, and you honored the people you loved by remembering.
In companionable silence, he cleared his plate with the efficient greed of a man who did his own cooking—and not well. Sheryl Crow yielded to Eric Clapton and the dancing slowed way down. Since it was a little chilly after dark, the few swimmers climbed out of the pool, standing around looking for someone to warm them up. Addie tipped her head back and gazed at the night sky, finding constellations.
Busy looking at the Bear, she'd almost forgotten Ben sitting beside her, arm across her shoulders, until he said, “I'm not too good, but maybe you want to dance?"
"Maybe next time.” Sean answered for her, as Eric sang: it's late in the evening. “This is our song."
Addie wasn't sure why she didn't object as he pulled her to her feet, but she merely smiled an apology at Ben as they took their place among the couples swaying beneath Japanese paper lanterns, poolside. His hand felt large and warm as it settled on her waist, and she curled her fingers through his. Nearby Sandy danced with her head on Emmett's shoulder, and Lorene was tugging on Manu's hand, trying to get him to abandon the grill.