by Julia London
“You got a job.” Brennan was smiling, his gaze moving over her face as she told her tale, his amusement evident in his eyes.
“An interview! It was at a bath and kitchen fixtures shop, but it was an interview, and a job is a job, right?” Mia laughed again. “I had dressed for success to sell faucets. So I go for the interview, and the woman said, ‘We can offer you part-time work,’” she said, mimicking the manager’s voice.
“Well okay, then,” Brennan said. “That’s all you needed.”
“That’s all—just one really good part-time job and a room somewhere. I’d have time to paint and I could stay in Brooklyn. And then the lady said, ‘I can offer you ten hours a week!’” Mia leaned across the table. “Like it was a million dollars.”
Brennan laughed. Mia shook her head and scooped up a big bite of apple pie. “That’s when I called it—my life in the city was no more. I couldn’t make it without a real job, and I was almost out of money. I had no idea what else to do, so . . .” She shrugged. “I came home.”
“You know what? I’m glad you did.”
Mia’s smile deepened. “At the moment, I am, too. So what about you, Brennan Yates?” she asked. “Why did you come to East Beach? And where were you before this?”
She noticed the slight hesitation. He stuck his spoon into the bowl. “LA,” he said. “I hadn’t seen my mom in a while, and thought now was as good a time as any.”
“Did you have a job?”
He looked up at her. “Not exactly,” he said.
Must be nice, she thought. She could just picture him in some very nice house, playing around with his guitar or piano. Oh, the idle rich! How freeing all that money must be. Brennan didn’t have a job because he didn’t need one.
Mia wanted to ask more, but Becky returned with the check and laid it down on the table. Brennan grabbed it up, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a thick roll of bills. He peeled off a one hundred dollar bill and laid it down on the ticket and stuffed the roll of cash back into his pocket. “Let’s get out of here,” he said with a smile.
Mia looked at the hundred dollar bill on the table, but Brennan was already standing, offering his hand. She scooted out of the booth and, with his hand on the small of her back, allowed him to lead her out of the diner. But before they made it through the glass door, Becky came hurrying toward them. “Wait!” she called.
Brennan opened the diner door, almost as if he hadn’t heard her, and with his hand on Mia’s back, ushered her out.
“I think she’s calling you,” Mia said.
“Excuse me! Wait!” Becky called again.
Brennan looked down, his jaw tightly clenched. It was such an odd reaction that for a moment, Mia thought he must really know Becky.
“Sorry,” Becky said breathlessly. She smiled at Mia, and Mia’s pulse fluttered. She’d remembered her. “I’m sorry, I wanted to catch you before you left.”
“Me? Why?” Mia asked. Don’t say it. Don’t say that you remember me from that night on the beach.
“Because I love your dress! It’s adorable. Where did you get it, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Brennan’s head came up. He looked at the waitress, then at Mia.
“My dress?” Mia looked down. “I made it.”
Becky’s eyes rounded. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I made it.”
“I love it. I want one,” Becky said. “Do you have a shop?”
“A shop?” Mia laughed loudly. “No, it’s just a hobby.”
“You should open a shop,” the waitress said as she eased back into the diner. “I’m not kidding. You should.” She disappeared inside.
Mia turned a big grin to Brennan. “She liked my dress,” she said proudly.
“I heard,” he said and, with his hand on her back once more, steered her toward his car and opened the passenger door.
“So did you know her?” Mia asked curiously before stepping in.
“Who, the waitress? No. Never saw her before tonight.”
“Are you sure?” Mia asked. “Because you looked like you were trying to run when she was calling us.”
“Did I?” He smiled and tweaked her cheek. “Are you going to get in or stand here all night?”
“Oh, I get it,” Mia said as she got into the passenger seat. “You’re used to women chasing after you, is that it?”
She couldn’t guess why Brennan looked so uncomfortable, but he sort of shrugged her remark off and shut the door.
On the drive home, Brennan tuned the radio to classical music. It was as if the talk had gone out of him, and they listened to a piece Mia recognized as Mozart. She gazed out the window, at the stars above Lake Haven, her thoughts awash in the fantastic scenarios of what if. What if she had one hundred dollars in her pocket?
He turned into the drive to Dalton’s house, killing the lights as they coasted toward the barn. It was eleven o’clock, Mia realized. Where had the time gone? Brennan got out of his car and came around to her side as she got out. “Thanks for feeding me,” she said.
“Thanks for keeping me company.” He put his arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest. He kissed her softly, his lips gliding across hers, his tongue casually twirling around hers. The spark of the kiss began to grow, flaring out into her veins. He cupped her chin, lifting her face up to his, and Mia put her hands on his waist, sinking into him. When he lifted his head, he stroked his thumb across her lip. “Are you going to ask me inside?”
Mia tilted her head back and looked up at the stars glittering overhead. She thought of how many millions there must be shining down on them, and how they reminded her of the way she felt when Brennan kissed her—a million stars glittering in her veins. “No,” she said, and lowered her head to meet his gaze.
One of his brows arched above the other, surprised. “No?”
She shook her head, rose up, and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Thanks for a great evening. Good night, Brennan.” She stepped around him and jogged up the steps to her loft.
When she got to the top of the stairs, she turned around. He was still standing at his car, and cast his arms out in the universal symbol of why?
Mia smiled. She waved at him, then stepped inside her apartment. Once inside, she leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. Her body was still thrumming with that kiss.
Kissing was one thing. Being lured into a summer fling with a handsome face and a piece of pie was quite another. No, she hadn’t lost her mind completely. At least not yet. Thank God for small favors.
And she wasn’t taking any bets on how long her resolve would hold.
Fifteen
Mia was in an exceptionally good mood Friday morning when Aunt Bev called and asked her to come to the shop. She sent Wallace to pick her up.
“What’s that smile all about?” Wallace asked accusingly when she climbed into the shop van. “Did you come into a windfall? Find another job? Or maybe you got a bargain on discontinued furniture slips and are envisioning a whole new wardrobe?”
“I’m just so happy to spend this time with you, Wallace. I was hoping we could talk about conservation.”
Wallace shot her a suspicious look.
“I was thinking we could begin a recycling program at the shop—”
“Stop right there,” he said sternly. “And what, pray tell, shall we recycle? I’ll tell you what I’d like to recycle—your aunt’s endless fascination with beige. What is it with her and Chico’s and beige?”
Wallace continued to catalogue all the things he found objectionable about Aunt Bev’s wardrobe all the way to the shop.
They were the first to arrive, but Aunt Bev was right on their heels and instantly dispatched Mia out for coffee. When Mia returned, Skylar had managed to drag herself in, yawning loudly and settling in on a stool behind the counter with a magazine.
“I need everything dusted today,” Aunt Bev said imperiously, and tossed a feather duster at her daughter. “Mia, you can busy yourself around
here, too. The wall demolition won’t begin until Monday, and the materials won’t arrive till then, either, so there’s no reason for you to be at the Ross house today.”
Well, that was disappointing. Mia had tossed and turned most of the night with thoughts and images of Brennan.
“I’m going to run a few errands,” Aunt Bev said, and disappeared into the back room with her long bell sleeves billowing out behind her. They were beige.
Once she’d gone, Skylar tossed the duster to Mia.
“Hey,” Mia said. “That’s your job.”
“My job is to man the shop. This is manning it.” She fluttered her fingers to Mia and opened her magazine.
Mia groaned with general exasperation at her cousin, but the truth was that she’d rather have something to do than to sit around and read magazines all day long.
She started with the porcelain figurines on the back wall and was still working there when she heard the little bell sound at the front door, indicating someone had come in. She didn’t hear Skylar greet anyone, and when she leaned to look around a display of pillows, she saw that, not surprisingly, Skylar had left her post. “Be with you in a moment!” she said, and put down the duster. She walked out to the front of the store, her head down as she dusted off her faded jeans, and looked up at the last moment.
Mia gasped with surprise. Jesse Fisher, the unchallenged hunk of her high school years, was smiling down at her. “Hey, Mia,” he said. “I heard you were back in town.”
Good God, Jesse had definitely filled out. He’d always been tall, but he looked even taller. Moreover, Mia had forgotten how green his eyes were. No wonder girls used to swoon over his handsome physique and face, and time had only enhanced those good looks.
“You remember me, don’t you?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Skylar said low, appearing next to Mia.
“Hey, Sky,” Jesse said, his smile not quite as bright as it had been a moment before.
Skylar elbowed Mia in the ribs. Mia ignored her, but she got Skylar’s point. Jesse looked good. Really good. And Mia felt suddenly shy, the overlooked high school girl standing on the edge of the in-crowd. It was amazing how quickly the role a person played in her high school class came back to her. “Umm . . . did you need some help?” Mia asked curiously, wondering why a guy like Jesse Fisher would be in a home décor shop.
“Jesus, Mia, at least say a real hello,” Skylar chided her, then sidled forward. “Jesse Fisher,” she purred. “You sure grew up, didn’t you?” She nodded approvingly as she blatantly checked him out.
Mia was appalled. She put her hand on Skylar’s arm and stepped in front of her. “Sorry, I should have asked how you are, Jesse,” she said apologetically, and nervously wiped her hands on her hips and extended one to him. “It’s been a long time.”
“About nine years,” he said, his smile warming again. “I’m doing great. I took over my dad’s construction business this year when he retired. How about you? Are you back for good?”
“Just the summer,” Mia said quickly. She averted her gaze from his curious green eyes as she pretended to straighten a little bowl. “So what can we do for you?” She glanced at him again.
“Oh. Right.” He wouldn’t stop smiling at her with those dancing eyes, and Mia could feel heat rising up her neck. “I have a list of things we’re going to need for Beverly, and I thought as long as I was here, I’d look for a gift for my mom. Her birthday is Sunday.”
“Well . . . um . . . what does she like?” Mia asked. “Skylar can help you—”
“Mom’s not here. I’ll take the list and put it on her desk,” Skylar said, and gave Mia a push, causing her to hop awkwardly forward. “You help him, Mia. Give him lots and lots of help.”
What the hell was Skylar doing? Something clicked in Mia’s head, and she suddenly looked at Jesse. “Did my grandmother ask you to come by?”
“What?” He laughed. “No! Your aunt gave me the demolition job at the Ross house. And I need a gift for my mom.”
Mia didn’t believe him.
He handed the list of items to Skylar. “I’m serious,” he said, holding up his hands.
The heat in Mia had now spread into her cheeks and neck, making her look like a beacon of insecurity. “Okay. I believe you,” she lied. She turned partially from him, and to her horror, she saw that not only was Skylar grinning at them like a loon, Wallace had stopped working to have a look, too. As if Mia were fifteen and a boy had come around to invite her to her first prom. She wanted to kick them both right in the ass.
“Skylar, weren’t you going to go and put the list somewhere?” Mia asked low.
“Right,” Skylar said.
“Well, here are some silver salt and pepper shakers,” she said, pointing to a pair that was shaped like pigs.
“Hmm. Okay,” Jesse said.
“What about this?” she said, quickly moving on. “It’s a silk couch pillow.”
“Yeah, that’s nice. You know, Mia, I saw your painting at the bistro.”
Well alrighty then, it was official. Mia could die at the age of twenty-seven from pure humiliation.
When she didn’t say anything, he added quickly, “I thought it was fantastic. I always knew you had real talent.”
Mia smiled a little at that because she was human and was touched by the compliment. But honestly, she couldn’t imagine that he’d ever thought anything about her at all. She couldn’t imagine that he ever knew she existed before this moment. “Thank you,” she said. “What about a picture frame?” She held up one made of ivory pearl.
Jesse’s expression was indulgent. He seemed to sense that she was uncomfortable with everyone watching them and took the picture frame from her and pretended to examine it. “Okay. I’ll take it.”
“It’s seventy-five dollars,” she softly warned him.
But Jesse merely shrugged. “Do you gift wrap?”
“We do.” She carried the picture frame to the counter, found some tissue paper and a gift bag, and began to put the wrapping together.
Jesse watched her, standing patiently, his eyes fixed on her as she wrapped the frame and charged him for it. When she put the wrapped package in the bag and tied the cheerful pink ribbon through the handles and handed it to him, Jesse caught her fingers in his and held on a moment. “Hey, what would you think about getting a drink sometime?”
“A drink?” she repeated stupidly, her mind swirling as she tried to think of an excuse out of habit, a thought that was quickly followed by the silent question of why she would ever turn him down.
“There’s a new Italian place in Black Springs. I haven’t been, but my sister told me about it. She said it’s pretty nice. I’d love to catch up,” he added.
Catch up to what, she wondered? She and Jesse had never run in the same circles. She didn’t know much about him, other than who he’d dated. And it didn’t help her to think when she was acutely aware of the gazes her cousin and Wallace were boring into her right now.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t Aunt Bev or Skylar who swept in to push her practically into Jesse’s arms; it was Wallace. “Of course she would like to go,” he said, appearing from nowhere and putting the gift bag firmly in Jesse’s hand, thereby freeing Mia’s. “She doesn’t know anyone in town anymore but me. And she needs to get out. She’s living in a garage apartment behind Eckland’s, off Juneberry Road. You can’t miss it. I tell you this because you will have to pick her up. Miss Mia doesn’t drive.”
“Wallace!” Mia cried.
“No problem,” Jesse said quickly. “How about tomorrow? Seven okay?” he asked.
“Ah . . . sure,” Mia said uncertainly.
“Great.” Jesse grinned at her. “Tell you what.” He stepped over to the counter and picked up a pen. “Here’s my number. Text me later with the address.” He handed her the paper, all smiles, and walked backward a step or two. “Looking forward to it.” He turned and w
ent out of the shop, carrying his little bag.
The door jingled behind him.
No one said anything for a moment, until Skylar startled Mia by throwing her arms around her from behind. “He is so cute!” she said. “I just want to eat him up.”
“Cut it out,” Mia said, shaking Skylar off her back.
“Don’t be like that—I’m so glad you’re going, Mia!”
“Why? Why do you care?” Mia said irritably. “Stop acting like I’m a charity case. I don’t need anyone setting me up!”
“Honey, you need all the help you can get,” Wallace sniffed. “It’s not going to hurt you to spend some time with the opposite sex.”
Mia desperately wanted to tell them all that she’d spent time with the opposite sex recently.
Aunt Bev appeared from the back room. “Is this what you three call working?” she demanded.
“Mom, Mia has a date with Jesse Fisher. We can all rest easy now!”
“Well that’s great. Now everyone can get back to work,” she said, and disappeared back into her office.
Aunt Bev didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised. Mia whirled around and gave Skylar a look; Skylar threw her hands up and lifted her brows as if to say, who, me? And then she grinned and moved behind the counter, plopping herself down on a stool.
“Skylar—”
“No, I didn’t do it,” Skylar said. “I have no knowledge. Not much knowledge, I should say. Jesus, just take it for what it’s worth, Mia and have a good time. You’d think we’d sent you off to join the Scientologists or something.” She picked up her magazine.