by Vicki Essex
She had to call Shane and cancel. She didn’t need the Everville rumor mill grinding out news about their local shut-in dating the real estate developer who wanted her building.
She dialed his number.
“I’m right outside,” he said without any preamble. “Ready to go?”
She tripped over her words as she checked the time. Dear lord, had she spent that much time getting ready? “I... I’ll be right out.”
Crap. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. In a panic, she hung up. Double crap. There was no way out now. She searched for her keys and purse and... What else would she need? A jacket? She hadn’t been out after dark in so long she couldn’t remember what summer nights were like.
She threw her phone, wallet and keys into a purse and headed for the door.
She paused, then grabbed the tube of lip gloss. What the hell.
CHAPTER NINE
AS CASUAL AS Shane tried to be, dinner was a stilted affair. Mira ate with singular focus, digging into her fried rice and chow mein without saying much. She answered his ice-breaking banter with short, clipped words. Maybe the long day had made them both tired and hungry.
He let her pay, but only because she insisted. It wasn’t an expensive meal—Shane would take her somewhere nice for a real dinner date—if he ever got to that point. As she polished off her plate, he wondered what he’d done wrong.
“It’s still early,” he said as they left the Chinese diner. “You wanna go for a drive?”
“Drive?” She said it as though she’d never heard the word before.
“My family and I used to drive around after dinner, look at the trees and greenery. We’d stop at the chip truck for dessert fries.” At her confused look, he added, “Just regular fries and gravy. We called them dessert fries because they came after dinner.”
She looked as though she was going to refuse. Shane could see the wariness in her eyes. “I know,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Let’s watch a movie.”
“At the Welksville theater?”
“At your theater.” He relaxed when her eyes brightened a fraction. “You mentioned a bunch of films I should watch. Now’s as good a time as any for a movie forcening.”
“Movie forcening?”
“It’s—”
“Self-explanatory.” They were walking back toward the Crown. The evening was clear and warm with just enough of a breeze to keep them comfy after the day’s dry heat. She hunched her shoulders as she stuck her hands in her pockets. “Why are you doing this?”
He blinked at her. “I don’t want to go home just yet.”
“I mean, why are you being nice to me?”
He understood her suspicions. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll be up-front. Clearly you’re too smart not to wonder about my motivations. And frankly, you wouldn’t be wrong about them. I do want to convince you to sell. The opportunity is too good for both of us not to explore. But apart from that, I find you...interesting. I like spending time with you.”
Her cheeks turned tomato red and she glanced around as if searching for the nearest exit. He hadn’t exaggerated: even if there were long, awkward silences, he truly enjoyed her quiet company. He was used to filling every second with chatter—his dates often involved a constant thread of inane conversation. But with Mira, he had to work hard to get her to talk. Perhaps the challenge was part of the intrigue.
“I don’t understand,” she said, discomfited.
She didn’t understand the opportunity? Or the kindness? Not wanting to condescend, he picked his words carefully.
“When my father first moved to the States from Mumbai and started his business in the early eighties, he was one of the few Indian businessmen in the neighborhood. He got a lot of support from the landlords. They were this older couple who shared my dad’s vision of the future of personal computing and electronics. They let him pay his rent late at the beginning, and helped him invest in stock he wanted for the shop but couldn’t afford. He eventually paid them back, but he wanted to give them something to thank them for their trust and kindness. Yet to them, the investment in the community was payment enough. They credit my father’s business with helping turn around a rough part of the neighborhood.
“This couple, the Latimers, was originally from Everville. Every summer, they’d invite my family to stay with them at their summer home here by the lake. They were like my surrogate grandparents. After they passed away, my father kept on the tradition of coming here to honor their memory and give back to the generous community they came from.”
Mira studied him, the lines between her eyes deepening. “That doesn’t explain why you’re being nice to me,” she said blandly.
He smirked. “Would you rather I not be?”
“I don’t know.” Her lips pinched as she quietly admitted, “I don’t trust easily.”
No kidding. He pressed on optimistically. “What I’m doing a terrible job of saying is that the people of Everville, starting with the Latimers, have always been kind to me and my family. I feel it’s my personal mission to give back, one person at a time.”
“I don’t think I was living in Everville when you would’ve been here.”
“That doesn’t matter to me. You needed help. I was here.”
Her face settled into a mask of cool composure. “Let me say what’s on my mind.” Her tone was as precise and vaguely threatening as the barrel of a paintball gun. “I appreciate everything you did today. And I know that your phobia of heights made everything that much harder.” He started to deny it, but she held up a hand. “Going up and down that ladder wasn’t easy, and it means a lot to me that you put yourself through that. What I’m struggling with is why, when you’re here to buy the theater. You could’ve let things be, not put yourself through that. You don’t owe me anything.”
“And you could’ve pushed me off the roof and claimed it was an accident.”
Her shock and outrage were reassuring. “I know you wouldn’t have, Mira. But the bottom line is I couldn’t let you deal with this on your own any more than you could’ve fathomed taking advantage of me at my most vulnerable.”
The sun was dipping behind the buildings as they arrived back at the Crown. Shane shivered. It was chilly in the shadow of the theater.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to skip the movie and turn in for the night,” Mira said quietly. “It’s been a long day.”
He nodded despite his disappointment. “Of course. I’ll come by tomorrow morning to help you finish the roof.”
“You don’t have to. I could call Arty or hire some workmen.”
“I’m sure he’s capable, but I’m available. Besides,” he added, grinning, “I like to finish what I start.”
Their eyes locked, and he thought he could see her sifting through his words for deeper meaning or deception. He wondered who or what in her life had made her so cautious and distrustful of people.
She relented with a short huff. “All right. Come around ten. I’ll have coffee and croissants.”
“Great.”
He didn’t know why he did it, or even if he really meant to. But he found himself leaning in and planting a quick peck on her cheek. It felt so natural he almost didn’t register the buzz of electricity humming through him. The moment he recognized it for what it was, though, it was like a bee sting, the shock of desire spreading through him like fire. His breathing hitched in his throat.
Just as quickly, the sensation evaporated. Mira’s head snapped back, her eyes wide. Before he could apologize, though, she whipped away, short hair flying as she disappeared around the corner of the theater.
“Mira—” He barely got her name out before the door slammed shut behind her.
Dammit. He couldn’t seem to do anything right with her.
* * *
HOW DARE HE!
Mira gingerly touched her cheek again. The hot, lingering sensation bristled like fryer oil, as though he’d planted an ember on her skin. Her whole body seemed to fizz.
She’d been kissed before, of course. She’d had a boyfriend in college. But Shane’s touch even after she’d scrubbed her cheek and pressed a cool cloth to it stayed with her as she got ready for bed.
How dare he, she thought again, but with less heated indignation. She hated feeling this way—like she wanted to crawl out of her skin, confused and warm and flustered.
She started up Singin’ In the Rain on her laptop. She often put on a movie at night so she didn’t have to listen to the theater groan and creak. Back when she’d first moved to Everville to live with Grandpa, he’d shown her classics on the VCR in his office, the room she now called her bedroom. Falling asleep curled up on the mustard-colored corduroy couch under a plaid flannel blanket was one of her best memories, and even now it made her feel safe.
The couch had been replaced by a futon, the VCR had long since broken down and the VHS tapes were probably degrading. But the spirit was still the same; this place had always been more of a home to her than any place she’d ever lived. She could still sense Grandpa’s presence here.
As she climbed into bed, stiff and sore and still buzzing from Shane’s peck on the cheek, she lay quietly and listened to the theater breathe in the night.
“It’s not as if he likes me,” she said aloud, staring at the ceiling. From the soft glow of the laptop, Gene Kelly wooed Debbie Reynolds atop her makeshift soundstage balcony, singing “You Were Meant For Me.” The stutter of her fridge sounded too much like a chuckle in her ears. Mira turned her head and closed the laptop.
She punched her pillow and turned over. So what if he’d kissed her? A guy like him probably kissed every woman he was on a first-name basis with on the cheek. She wouldn’t be sucked in by his charm. He was a salesman, bred and trained to manipulate people into thinking they needed something they didn’t. She certainly didn’t need him.
Romantic notions were best confined to the movies. Real life was too complicated and awkward for big sweep-me-off-my-feet romance. People didn’t break into song and dance to express their burgeoning feelings, and life did not end with happy-ever-afters and scrolling marquees.
Unfortunately, her subconscious didn’t get the memo. As she drifted off, she dreamed of curtains closing on a kiss with Shane.
* * *
CLIMBING THE LADDER to repair the roof the next day went a lot more smoothly. Shane told himself it was because he was focused on getting the two sheets of plywood up to the roof. The truth was, he was distracted by Mira.
And she seemed distracted, too, though she blamed the heat, which soared into the midnineties by noon. He just hoped he hadn’t made her feel uncomfortable. Though if she were, he assumed she would’ve told him to scram—she’d had no problem doing that before. Still, kissing her had been a bad move. He wasn’t sure he regretted it, though.
With minimal chitchat, they patched the hole in the roof. The tar product and paper had to set overnight before they could cover it with gravel. Shane watched Mira as she drifted around the raised garden beds, picking out weeds, ignoring him.
“Need help?” he asked. “I can pull weeds.”
“Please don’t.” She shot him a look. “You might rip out the wrong thing.”
“So show me what not to pull. This isn’t the first time I’ve played in the dirt. I used to help my aunt in her garden.”
Mira’s ears perked up. “What did she grow?”
He’d thought she might be interested. “Peppers, mostly, but also onions and tomatoes. They were always going on about how peppers in the States weren’t spicy enough, and insisted on growing their own. My mother made me help my aunt, hauling watering cans and fertilizer. Said it would be good for my character to do something other than play video games and study.”
“She was right.” With only the slightest hesitation, she beckoned and pointed. “See these spiky leaves? They’re dandelions, and I don’t want them spreading. Get them out by the root, otherwise they’ll grow back. You can leave the tiny plants—anything smaller than half your thumb.”
Shane dutifully obeyed while Mira went to work on another bed of vegetables. He silently thanked Amma and Chachi Priya for the long hours in the garden that today gave him an excuse to stick around and stay in Mira’s good graces.
CHAPTER TEN
AT THE END of the day, Mira was dirty, sweaty and sore, but in a good way. Her discomfort meant she’d accomplished something. Seeing Shane in an equally dirty, sweaty state, and then watching him gingerly make his way down the ladder once more, she knew she owed him big-time for all he’d done. Even if she wasn’t sure of his motives, she was still grateful for his help.
He’d heartily accepted her offer to share a frozen pizza and watch The Maltese Falcon on her projector. Feeding him was the least she could do—the movie was simply a way to avoid awkward conversations. About midway through the film, though, the picture turned yellowy green and the sound fizzled out.
“Dammit.” Mira bumped the projector with the heel of her palm and huffed. “It’s been doing this a lot lately.”
“Maybe it needs a new bulb,” Shane said.
“This model projector is pretty old, so finding parts for it is hard and expensive.” Besides which, she was supposed to be prioritizing the theater’s projector, not her personal one. She whacked the side of the machine again. The picture blacked out. Her heart sank. “Crap.”
“We could finish the movie on your laptop.”
She grimaced. “It’s not the same.”
“Well...there’s a big-screen TV and DVD player back at my place.”
Heat flushed through her. It wasn’t that she was afraid of what might happen—she knew without a doubt she was safe with him. No, she couldn’t accept his offer because the temptation was too great. Sharing a meal and watching movies on her home turf was one thing. Going back to Shane’s place by Silver Lake opened her up to all kinds of possibilities. What if he started inviting her to do other activities, tried getting chummy with her? She knew it was irrational to avoid forging a relationship with him when it was a remote possibility at best. But she didn’t trust him—or herself.
She shook her head. “I’d better not. But I’ll lend you the DVD and you can finish it on your own.” It almost hurt to say the words, though she didn’t understand why. “Anyhow, it’s late,” she added, the words meant to solidify her resolve.
Shane shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was kinda hoping you’d come over, too. I don’t like watching movies on my own.”
“I have to keep an eye on things here.”
“Well, I won’t push.” Shane eased up out of the seat. She hadn’t realized how tall he was, or how good he looked when he stretched, his T-shirt pulled against his firm torso, his jeans taut against his butt...
Stop ogling the man. She jumped up to eject the disk, but Shane stopped her.
“Hang on to the DVD—I don’t want to watch the rest unless you’re there.”
“But you’re so close to the end. It’s just as good without another person in the room, you know.”
“That may be, but I like your commentary. It makes the slower parts more interesting.”
She sucked in her lip. She’d been accused of ruining movies with running annotations. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk through them like some kind of tour guide.”
“Not at all. I like hearing what you have to say.”
Man, the guy was a piece of work. He knew exactly what to say to flatter her—and it worked. “I cut my teeth on these films,” she said self-consciously. “Sharing them with someone who’s never watched is like breaking in a virgin.”
Oh, God, had she just said tha
t? “I mean—I...”
“Consider my cherry popped.” He winked. A warm, light sensation fluttered across her skin like a feather on fire, leaving cinders in all kinds of secret places she’d become a lot more aware of since Shane Patel entered her life. Damn him.
As he strolled to his car, she called her thanks to him repeatedly until she felt stupid for sounding so obsequiously grateful. Worse, she was almost sad to see him go.
She’d started the day by swearing she wouldn’t get caught up by his kindness, his charm, his masculine magnetism. But she couldn’t help that she liked him. Even if it was in a totally superficial way.
* * *
SHE DIDN’T SEE Shane the following day. She didn’t know why she expected to now that the roof was fixed. She’d just covered the now-dry patch with gravel when a brief but intense summer shower swallowed the sky and drenched everything. Hours later, there was no sign of a leak.
She was about to call Shane to let him know, but stopped herself. She didn’t want to sound needy or overeager. Instead, she threw herself into her writing. By eight in the evening, though, even after banging out a record number of articles and blog posts, she found herself pacing restlessly, and went looking for something to occupy herself. After twenty minutes of furiously polishing the brass railings in the lobby, she realized her thoughts still circled the previous days’ events—around Shane, that kiss, their...relationship, for lack of a better word, and everything that stood between them. Namely, the Crown. Her home.
Then she thought about the deputation she’d be giving at the next town council meeting and her stomach flipped. She had no idea how she was going to convince the zoning board to save the Crown—there were too many caveats attached to the arguments. The theater could be up and running again if she came up with the cash to fix everything. It could be reopened to the public if everyone promised to see a movie there every night for the next five years...
Don’t think so negatively. Grandpa had kept the place going for decades on less. She would do whatever it took to open the place again. Make him proud.