by Tawna Fenske
She didn’t answer right away, but he watched her shoulders tense. “Fine,” she said at last. “I’ve found an appraiser with expertise on Pacific Northwest tribal erotica.”
“I hope it says that on her business card.”
“His business card. And he won’t be able to come out and do the appraisal until next week, so I’m sorry I won’t have answers for your family right away.”
Will shrugged, which was dumb since she couldn’t see him walking behind her. “It makes no difference to me. I just want the whole thing over so my Aunt Nancy can stop talking about it.”
“And so she can stop calling me every ten minutes?”
“Aunt Nancy can certainly be persistent,” Will said. “Wait ’til you meet her in person.”
“I look forward to it.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He watched Marley’s shoulders tense again and wondered what the hell that was all about. She was quiet for a while after that, and Will wondered what she was thinking. Mulling over her first few days on the job? Plotting strategies for dating blue-collar men? Calculating pi out to the millionth digit?
“How long were you married, Will?”
The question caught him off-guard, and he hesitated for a moment before replying. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. I have a hard time picturing you and April as man and wife.”
“So do I.”
“There’s an evasive answer.”
Will laughed. “Four years.”
“Really?”
“You thought longer or shorter?”
Marley shrugged, and Will watched her ponytail swish across her back with the rocking of her steps. “I guess I thought shorter.”
“Good taste and professional decorum is preventing me from making a comment about how it’s better to be longer than what’s expected.”
Marley looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at him. “You’re really a champ at using humor as a defense mechanism, you know?”
“Absolutely. If it were an Olympic sport, I’d take gold.”
“Your sister might give you a run for your money.”
“I see you’ve picked up on the sibling dynamic.”
“You two seem close. Surprising, considering—”
“She plays tickle-the-jellybean with my ex-wife?”
Marley halted in the middle of the trail, and Will had to stop fast to avoid hitting her. “I was going to say considering the eight-year age difference.”
Will shrugged. “The age difference was never a big deal.”
“And the divorce?”
“I’m over it.”
“Are you?”
Her tone was as intense as her expression, and Will felt her eyes boring into his. Something roiled in the pit of his stomach, and he looked away. “Come on, we’re almost to the end of the trail. Do you have a bike rack for that?”
“No, actually. I live so close that I just rode the bike here from Dad’s condo.”
Will hesitated, scratching his chin. “You can’t walk it all the way back to your place like that. I’ve got a rack on my car. Might as well get that to a shop so we can get it fixed up quickly.”
“Do you know a good place?”
“Sure, there’s one just up the road a ways. We can drop the bike off, and then I’ll run you home and collect another twenty from your dad.”
“You only get that for keeping your hands off me,” she taunted.
Will stole a glance at her backside and thought that was one twenty he’d be happy not to earn.
***
Will had only himself to blame.
That’s what he thought as he watched the Neanderthal bike repair guy wipe the arm of his plaid shirt across his forehead while ogling Marley over the seat of her bike.
“You sure did a number on this baby,” he said, tearing his eyes off Marley long enough to point out some of the damage on the bike. “You’ve dinged up the frame right here, and the rim is bent badly enough it’s hitting the brake pads here. And see this spot on the fork where it’s a little crooked?”
Marley bit her lip. “Can it be fixed?”
“Sure, we’ll just have to order some parts, and it’ll take a few days to do the work. You want me to write up an estimate for you?”
“That would be great.”
The guy reached past Marley for a pen, brushing his hand against her arm in such an obvious way, Will wanted to grab the letter opener off the counter and poke the guy in the eye.
But Marley just smiled politely and left her arms on the counter. Plaid Neanderthal began jotting numbers on a form, pausing twice to look things up on the computer.
“Have you worked here long?” Marley asked.
“Six years. I actually manage the place, but I still do a lot of the labor myself.”
Will stole a glance at Marley. Her eyes were fixed on the guy’s tool belt, and she seemed to be assessing him with more care than necessary in choosing a bike repairman.
It’s none of your business who she dates, he reminded himself through gritted teeth.
“Have you been biking long?” he asked Marley, glancing up from his form to smile at her.
“Oh, off and on for a while,” she replied. “Can’t wait to hit the trails hard now that I’m in Bend.”
“You’re new here?”
“Just moved last week. I can’t wait to do more biking!”
There was a faux eagerness in her voice that made Will think of beribboned badger cages and forced enthusiasm for football teams and all the other times Will had caught Marley feigning interest in something for the sake of connecting with someone. The thought annoyed him, and he moved around her to admire a display of bicycle shorts.
“Hey Marley, you probably want to grab a couple pairs of these,” he said, nodding at the well-padded backsides. “For all the cycling you’re going to be doing?”
She looked at him, then looked down at the counter, and Will felt triumphant and guilty all at once. “I’ll add that to my list,” she mumbled as Plaid Neanderthal stopped scribbling on his form and looked up.
“Here’s what I came up with,” he said, pushing the form across the counter and handing it to Marley. “The total bid is down here at the bottom.”
Marley squinted at the paper and traced her hand down one column. “That’s parts and labor?”
“Yup. All-inclusive.”
“Seems fair,” she said. “Let’s get it done so I can get back out on the trail.”
She seemed to be trying for chipper enthusiasm, but there was a distinct note of dread in her voice. Will felt a pang of sympathy, followed by something that felt more like frustration.
If she wants to bruise her ass pretending to be a cycling nut, let her. Why do you care how she wins friends and influences people?
He didn’t care. He didn’t. Marley’s butt—and her habit of feigning interest in things to connect with others—was none of his business.
Plaid Neanderthal brushed his hand against Marley’s as he pointed to a few spots on the form. “Be sure to include your phone number right here in case I need to get in touch with you.”
His tone was slightly suggestive, and it made Marley look up at him.
It made Will want to take a shower, but Marley’s smile seemed genuine. Beautiful. When she flashed her real smile instead of that stiff one she reserved for donors, Will could swear he felt his heart swell in a tight, throbbing ball.
That’s not your heart.
“I’m just writing my cell phone here, since I don’t have a landline,” Marley said as she scribbled on the form, leaning across the counter as she wrote. Plaid Neanderthal didn’t even pretend not to look down the front of her shirt. Will wondered if the guy would be ogling her so brazenly if Marley hadn’t introduced him earlier
as “my colleague, Will.”
Colleague? The word sounded like a sneer, even though he knew that’s exactly what they were. And their professional relationship was precisely the reason they would not be getting involved.
Will looked back at Plaid Neanderthal and considered waving a hand in front of his eyes to distract him from the view down Marley’s shirt.
Fine, if Will were being fair—which he didn’t much feel like—he could admit he’d stolen the same glimpses any chance he’d gotten since he and Marley met. But seeing this guy doing it so blatantly, hungrily—
“Do I need to sign here?” Marley asked.
“Yup, and right there, too.”
“Why is it asking for my address?”
“So we can mail you our quarterly newsletter. It’s also in case you want the bike delivered back to your home when the work is complete. We offer that as a complimentary delivery service.”
“You can get anything delivered in this town,” Will said. “Kibble, bicycles, giant pink rabbits—”
“I think I’ll just pick it up when it’s ready,” Marley said, jotting her father’s address before scrawling her signature on the bottom of the form and pushing it across the counter. “Any idea when that might be?”
“I have to check on the parts,” Plaid Neanderthal said. “It might take an extra week, maybe longer, if anything’s back-ordered. This time of year that’s possible. Are you in a big rush to get it back?”
Marley frowned. “Kinda. I’m supposed to go biking next weekend with some new friends.”
Will stepped a little closer to Marley, effectively blocking Plaid Neanderthal’s view of her curves. “You mean your outing with Bethany and April? Beth has an old bike she could probably let you use. Want me to check?”
“I don’t want to impose—”
“It’s not a problem. The bike’s just sitting in her garage anyway as a backup. Let me shoot her a quick message and see what’s up.”
Will pulled out his phone and fired off a text to his sister. Marley busted her bike. Can she borrow your extra?
He waited only a few seconds for the reply to pop up. You’re with Marley?
Will sighed. Yes. Not WITH Marley, but with Marley.
Whatever. We’re home now, so bring her by & grab the bike.
Will stuffed the phone back in his pocket and looked up to see Marley watching him and Plaid Neanderthal watching Marley.
“All good,” Will said. “My sister says we can swing by for the bike on the way home. That way you’ll have it all week so you can practice.”
“I probably need a rack,” Marley said.
“A nice rack is key,” said Plaid Neanderthal, staring dazedly at the front of Marley’s shirt.
Will cleared his throat and Plaid Neanderthal blinked once, then tore his eyes off Marley. He nodded toward the back of the shop. “We have a lot of models in stock. Let me show you some of our most popular ones.”
As Plaid Neanderthal led Marley toward the back of the shop, Will gave some serious thought to backing over him with his car. Instead, he texted his sister.
Grabbing Marley’s rack & heading over in 10 minutes.
He’d set up the joke perfectly, so he wasn’t surprised by Bethany’s quick response.
You should take longer than that to grab Marley’s rack.
Will smiled, predictably soothed by the power of a lame joke to keep the awkward feelings at bay.
Chapter 8
Will pulled up in front of a modest ranch house on Bend’s west side and killed the engine. Marley studied the home’s exterior, thinking it was exactly the sort of place she imagined April and Bethany living in. There was very little grass in the front yard—xeriscaping, she’d heard it called. The high desert landscape lacked the water that made for lush forests and lawns on the other side of the mountains, so environmentally conscious Central Oregonians landscaped with river rock and drought-resistant native shrubs.
The home was painted a neutral taupe with sunny yellow trim and a red door. An orange cat snoozed in an Adirondack chair adorning the wide front porch, and two gnarled juniper trees hunkered on either side of the driveway.
“Looks like they’ve got company,” Will said.
“What?”
He gestured at the street, where Marley spotted at least a dozen cars parked neatly against the curb. They ran the gamut from glossy BMWs to minivans with car seats in back to Volkswagen busses decorated with political bumper stickers.
“I recognize a few as friends of theirs,” Will said. “Beth didn’t mention a dinner party, but she and April are always doing something like that. We’ll make this quick.”
Marley hesitated, not wanting to barge in on a party. “We shouldn’t intrude if they have guests. Is this going to be weird?”
“No weirder than any visit to see my sister and my ex-wife.”
His voice was even, devoid of the ice she sometimes detected when he referenced the odd dynamic. Still…
“We shouldn’t intrude—”
“Marley, she told us to come by. Besides, I know most of their friends. It’s really not a big deal to grab the bike and go.”
“Think it’s okay to leave Magoo in the car?”
At the sound of his name, Magoo leaned over the seat and licked Marley’s arm. Will reached out to scratch behind his ears and was rewarded with a healthy slurp across the cheek.
“I’m sure he’ll hump the seats, but he’s not going to do much damage,” Will said. “We’ve got the windows down and the car’s in the shade. He’ll be fine.”
Magoo licked Marley’s hand again, then sneezed. “Are you sure it’s okay to just barge in?”
“Come on,” Will said, opening the door and stepping out. “It’s not barging in if we’re invited.”
Marley gave Magoo one last pat on the head. She got out of the car and followed Will up to the front porch, self-conscious in her sweaty T-shirt and faded shorts. Her sneakers were caked with trail dust, and she was sure her bowlegged, butt-coddling walk marked her as a rookie cyclist who’d been thoroughly debauched by her bike.
Will knocked on the door while Marley tried to discretely peer though the blinds. She couldn’t see anyone, but the eruption of feminine squeals and laughter told her something was happening inside. She hated to interrupt, especially if they were having some sort of formal dinner party. Not the best way to make an impression as a professional fund-raiser in a new town. Maybe they should come back another time.
She touched Will’s arm as he reached for the doorbell. “Will, let’s just—”
Ding-dong!
Marley jumped as he pressed the bell. She watched him lean casually on the doorframe, a man who’d clearly been here dozens of times before. How weird must it be to pay social visits at the love nest of his ex-wife and sister? She studied Will’s face, watching for signs of discomfort. Sensing her eyes on him, he turned and smiled at her.
“How’s your butt?” he asked.
“Is this going to be our new greeting? Because I kind of preferred hello.”
Will’s smile broadened as shrieks of laughter echoed inside the house. At last, the sound of clicky footsteps across a wood floor echoed inside the house. The front door flew open, and Will took a step back as Bethany launched herself at her brother, engulfing him in a big hug.
“Will! Bro! So nice of you to come!”
Will staggered back, not so much hugging his sister as keeping her from toppling into the shrubs. “Bethany! Sis! So nice of you to sanitize the front of my shirt with vodka!”
He spit out a mouthful of her hair and gave her a perfunctory squeeze before stepping back. Bethany swayed a little on her feet and gave him a loopy grin.
“I take it you’re having a party?” he asked.
She gripped the doorframe and beamed, her blush-tinged cheeks showing
a dimple that perfectly matched her brother’s.
“Pure Romance! Ohmygod, Will, I’m so glad you’re here. And Marley—so great to see you.”
“You too, Bethany,” Marley declared, stifling the urge to laugh. “You’re looking very… jolly.”
“I sure am!” she slurred, beaming wider. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“It is a surprise,” Will agreed, “considering you told us to come ten minutes ago.”
“You said come!” Bethany squealed, slugging Will in the shoulder. At least, she seemed to be aiming for his shoulder. She missed, and the punch bounced ineffectively off the decorative wreath by the front door.
Marley studied Will’s bemused expression, uncertain what to do. “Um, if this is a bad time—”
“It’s a great time!” Bethany announced. “The best time ever! Have you ever had a screaming orgasm?”
“Um, well—”
“It’s a drink,” April said, stepping up beside Bethany and shooting Marley a sympathetic smile. She placed a hand on Bethany’s arm, either a gesture of affection or an attempt to hold her upright. “The screaming orgasm is made with vodka, Bailey’s, and Kahlua. It’s an absolutely lovely cocktail, if you’d like to try one. Please, come on inside and join us.”
Will tossed his keys from one hand to the other. “We aren’t staying long. We’re just here to grab the bike.”
“The bike, right!” Bethany yelped. “Right right right right-e-o.” Without warning, Bethany grabbed Marley’s arm and began towing her inside. “Don’t leave, come on—the party’s just getting good, and we can grab the bike so you have a place to sit.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Will said as he followed them into the house.
Marley tried to study the décor as Bethany pulled her through the entryway and into the living room. The art on the walls consisted of tastefully framed black-and-white photos and a few colorful, abstract paintings. The floors were a high-gloss hickory, and an antique-looking bench was piled high with brightly whimsical throw pillows. April trotted along beside them, looking like a nervous spaniel.
“Welcome to our home,” April chirped, stopping to straighten a throw pillow. “Bethany’s been… um, enjoying the refreshments a lot this evening. Can I get you something? A cocktail, maybe some water, or a glass of wine? We just opened a lovely chardonnay.”