“You don’t talk about them much.”
“We’ve never exactly gotten along…especially not after I got pregnant.”
Gavin reached into the bag I held and pulled out a slice of bread. Breaking it in half, he examined it thoughtfully before tossing it out to the ducks. “Why is that? Did they not approve of Joel’s father?”
“They didn’t know who he was. They still don’t.” I took a deep breath and then confessed, “I refused to tell them. I think they jumped to the conclusion that I don’t even know. Do you have any idea what it’s like for your parents to assume you’re a slut? Well I mean no, of course not. Guys don’t have that problem, do they? It’s embarrassing. But it’s for the best.”
“But you do know, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question so much as an observation.
I nodded. “Yes. No good would come of telling them. They wouldn’t approve if they did know, so as bad as it is, I’d rather they just assume I’m a slut. I haven’t told anyone who Joel’s father is, actually…not even my closest friends.”
“Who is he?”
I hesitated.
“Come on,” Gavin pressed. “You’re a long way from home. We’re all the way in Los Angeles. I don’t even know anyone in Vermont. You can tell me.”
“He was one of my college professors,” I blurted out.
There, I’d said it. And surprisingly, it felt liberating to say it aloud, like a weight had been lifted. I hadn’t realized how heavily secrets could weigh on a person, and it was a secret I’d been keeping for a long, long time…or at least part of it.
“I see.” There was no judgment in Gavin’s voice and for that I was grateful.
“I was a twenty-five year old grad student,” I explained even though Gavin hadn’t asked. “He was nearly twenty years my senior but that didn’t matter. He was just so worldly and charming and different from the college guys I’d been dating. He swept me off my feet for a while.”
“…A fairytale romance?” Gavin guessed. Once again I couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking.
“No, not at all,” I replied at once. “I guess I got caught up in the idea of him. The reality was far less glamorous. But I was young and idealistic and didn’t have any idea who I was back then. I suppose I still don’t.”
“It was only a few years ago. You talk as though it was a lifetime ago,” Gavin observed.
“In a way it was.”
“Do you really not know who you are?” he asked as though that was hard to believe.
I shrugged. “I’m Joel’s mom. Beyond that, I really have no idea. Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder who the stranger staring back at me is. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself or my life anymore. I guess I’ve been so preoccupied with parenthood that I’ve sort of lost sight of the person I was…the person I wanted to be.”
“You are Joel’s mom,” Gavin agreed, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back against the park bench. “But you’re so much more than that. I can see it, so I don’t know why you can’t. You’re an independent, smart, stubborn, irritating woman. You’re a fighter, a chef and an aspiring entrepreneur. You’re brave. You’re strong.” His voice grew softer. “You’re gorgeous. And I admire you very much.”
Bread cast aside, I folded my hands in my lap and stared at them hard. When Gavin gently tilted my chin towards him he saw my eyes were full of tears.
“Hey,” he murmured, brushing them away with his fingertip. “You’ve cried enough today.”
“Why do you let people think you’re such an asshole?” I demanded.
“Because I am?” he replied with a touch of amusement, instantly lightening the mood.
“You act like the biggest jerk on the face of the planet but you’re really not,” I insisted.
He chuckled. “That just might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I’m serious,” I told him. “I’ve been watching you. It’s like the second there are cameras around, you morph into this egotistical guy with a chip on his shoulder. I don’t get it. What are you trying to prove?”
“It’s getting dark,” he said with a nod at the sky. “Shall I walk you home?”
I followed his gaze and saw the most brilliant sunset lighting up the sky, hues of pink and mauve painting the horizon like a canvas. Until then, I’d been oblivious. We’d been enjoying our time together in the park so much that I don’t think either one of us had realized how late it was.
“Okay,” I agreed, “but it’s a long walk and you’ve already seen how stubborn I am. I’m not going to stop pestering you until you give me some answers.” My tone was playful but I found myself genuinely curious and almost a little nervous about what secrets Gavin might be keeping.
I knew all too well that men who keep secrets are usually bad news.
Chapter 11
“Do you remember when you asked me why I keep doing TV shows when I hate Hollywood?” Gavin and I were walking slowly down a quiet residential street, our steps synchronized and our fingertips not quite brushing. When he asked the question, I felt my whole body tense.
“Yes.”
“And do you remember my answer?”
“Spite,” I replied at once. It had been such an unusual and vague explanation that it was impossible to forget. I’d wanted to know more but he’d cautioned me it was better I didn’t. Maybe that was back before he realized how relentless I could be about getting answers.
Gavin sighed. “Yes, spite. What do you know about me?”
“What do you mean?”
“My life,” Gavin clarified. “What do you know about my life?”
“Not a lot,” I admitted. “You have a cooking show that shot to fame a few years ago. You’re possibly even more famous for your reputation. But everyone knows that.”
“What’s my reputation?” he asked curiously.
“You know,” I replied, wondering why he was goading me into saying it. After all, it wasn’t exactly flattering. “You’re a womanizer and a pain in the ass to work with. You throw lavish parties just because you can and you sleep around with models and actresses.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Well maybe that’s my reputation,” Gavin conceded, “but none of it is true…except for the pain in the ass bit. That part might be true. In fact, that part is true, but it’s only because the phoniness of Hollywood grates on my nerves.”
“I’m not an idiot, you know.”
“I never said you were.”
I stopped walking then and positioned myself in front of Gavin so he had to stop too. With my hands planted firmly on my hips, I informed him, “I’ve seen the photos on the covers of the tabloids. I’ve seen you on yachts with the rich and famous, guzzling champagne with women whose bikinis are the size of postage stamps. Why deny it?”
“Oh I’m not denying that,” Gavin responded at once. “That much is true. But I don’t sleep around. I pose for photos with the models and actresses. I make sure to give the paparazzi exactly what they’re after. But I’m not the man-whore you make me out to be. In fact, ‘womanizer’ is the last word I’d ever used to describe myself.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why’s that? I have no reason to lie to you.”
“But what about Bitchy?” I demanded, thinking of the skanky bottle blonde server at Palate whose only redeeming qualities were being tall, leggy and tanned. She was good for providing eye candy and snootiness but not much else.
“Uh…pardon?”
“You hired me and Amanda to help us out,” I pointed out. “But Bitchy – uh, I mean Trisha – I’m pretty sure she’s just a conceited aspiring wannabe actress who came to Hollywood to try to make it big, no?”
Girls like her were a dime a dozen in this city. I could spot them from a mile away.
“She is,” Gavin agreed. “I hate to say it but there’s not much substance there.”
“But she has big tits.”
He chuckled
at that. “Yes, she has big, fake tits. Your point is what, exactly?”
“Well that has to be the reason you keep her around, right? Her looks…?”
“Yes.”
“I knew it!” Normally I’d celebrate being right because I had a way of being annoyingly competitive. But this time proving my point brought me no joy. In fact, it only upset me.
“Are you going to let me explain or are you going to keep interrogating me?” Gavin asked.
“What is there to explain?” I grumbled.
“Well let me talk and I’ll tell you,” he teased. Then, just like that, the humor was gone. Gavin became somber and began walking again, giving me no choice but to fall into step beside him. “Did you know I was married once?” he asked.
“What? No…I had no idea.” My head was spinning. I never would have taken Gavin for the settling down type, but it seemed there was a time when he’d been exactly that. A million questions were swirling around inside my head, but I forced myself to stay quiet and let him take the lead.
“Her name was Jessica and we were high school sweethearts,” he explained. “We married after college, back before my career took off. I was barely making minimum wage back then but it didn’t matter. She was the only woman I’d ever loved. Or at least I loved the person I thought she was,” he added.
I recognized the rawness in his voice well. It was the same bitterness that consumed me every time I spoke of Joel’s father. I could sense that, like mine, Gavin’s wounds ran deep.
“So I’m guessing things didn’t work out?” I ventured when he fell silent.
“Nope, we got divorced before we even made it to our first wedding anniversary,” he replied.
“Oh.”
“Call it stupid pride or…whatever, but when my career started taking off I just had this urge to flaunt my success. So I hammed it up for the cameras at every opportunity. I flirted with women like Trisha whenever cameras were around. I schmoozed with beautiful celebrities. In the beginning it was about spiting my ex-wife. Now I guess it’s just become a bad habit.”
“I…guess that makes sense?” It seemed reasonable enough that a guy would do stupid things to save face after having his heart ripped out, but did it mean he was still in love with his ex?
“I’m not sure how else to explain it,” Gavin said. “It sounds stupid and petty and honestly, it was. Sometimes I think divorce has a way of bringing pettiness and spite to the forefront. I wanted to prove a point, I suppose, and make it clear that I was better off without her.”
“Do you believe that?”
It was Gavin’s turn to stop walking. “You know,” he said contemplatively, “they say that ignorance is bliss. I think that’s complete bullshit. Ignorance is ignorance and bliss is bliss. A relationship that’s built on lies is exactly that: lies. So yes, I’m better off without her. I wish I’d never met her. I wish I hadn’t invested so much time and energy into our relationship. But at least now I know not to make the same mistake again.”
“Isn’t that a bit dark?”
“I don’t know, is it?” Gavin looked at me like he knew my heart and my innermost secrets. “Have you dated anyone since the college professor?” It seemed he already had a good idea of what the answer would be.
“No.” The sun was almost completely down now, though the night air was still warm. I studied the long shadows our bodies cast on the sidewalk intently. “I’ve been a little busy, you know, raising a kid.”
“Then you’re not all that different than me. Your love story turned sour it made you swear off relationships. You can say you’ve been busy – and I don’t doubt that you have been – but that’s really what it comes down to, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know that I’ve shunned relationships,” I protested somewhat uncertainly.
“But you’re suspicious now…guarded…closed off. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I have to be more selective about who I date now that I have Joel to consider,” I insisted.
“Being selective about who you date and not dating are two different things,” Gavin pointed out. Infuriatingly, he was right. I hated when that happened. “Do you at least have one night stands?” he asked with a wink that was intended to make me blush. It accomplished its mission.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business!” I exclaimed, my cheeks burning hotly.
Gavin laughed. “I’m guessing that’s a no?”
“It’s a no. I mean, there may have been some drunken fooling around at frat parties and stuff back before the professor came into the picture. But nothing too crazy,” I replied with a touch of nostalgia in my voice. “Just regular college stuff.”
“Do you miss it?”
“What, the partying? No. I think I’m past that stage of my life. But I do miss the spontaneity. I took it for granted back then. I could do what I wanted when I wanted, usually without much regard for the consequences – I suppose that’s how I ended up getting pregnant,” I said wryly. “But I don’t exactly get to be spontaneous anymore.”
Gavin took my hand then and pulled me in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” I protested, momentarily resisting. “My apartment is the other way.”
“Just trust me.”
Chapter 12
Hand-in-hand, Gavin and I walked down the residential street. I watched him as he looked around, surveying the area. After a while I started to suspect he didn’t have any particular destination in mind; our route seemed too haphazard and impulsive for that.
But then, just as I was about to call him out, Gavin appeared to spot what he was looking for.
“You know the nicest thing about living in California?” he asked conversationally.
“The weather…?” I wagered.
“Good guess, but not quite. The best thing is that you can find a yard with a swimming pool in almost any neighborhood. See? I bet there’s one back there.” He pointed at a darkened house with a high fence at the end of the street. Then he pulled on my hand. “Come on.”
“Gavin, what are you doing?” I hissed as he decisively marched me up the front walk. “Do you even know the people who live here?”
“Nope, but I can see they’re not home,” he informed me cheerfully. “Look at that: overflowing mailbox, no car in the driveway and no lights on inside. I’d say there’s a pretty good chance we have the place to ourselves. And I don’t know about you, but I could go for a midnight swim.”
“We can’t go over the fence!” I argued as we approached it.
“You’re right,” Gavin agreed with a grin. He reached over the top of the gate and undid the latch on the other side. “Why climb over when we can walk through? After you, Ms. Sinclair,” he said, dramatically stepping aside so I could enter.
Something about Gavin’s playful insistence made me comply. I walked into the backyard which, sure enough, did boast a swimming pool. He shut the gate behind us. Then I turned around and saw he’d already removed his shirt. The sight of those smooth muscles rippling in the moonlight rendered me momentarily speechless. Gavin was gorgeous.
“Skinny dipping is sort of like sex,” he announced with a smile when he saw me just standing there staring. “It’s much more fun to do it with someone than by yourself.” He looked at me pointedly and then motioned for me to undress. “You’re not going to make me do it alone, are you Mina?”
Immediately, I reddened.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d skinny dipped. I’d probably been a teenager. I was about to tell him he was crazy but then I looked at the water in the pool. It looked so inviting, clean and cool and calm. A swim would be nice…and there was something rather thrilling about sneaking into someone’s backyard to skinny dip at midnight.
It was, after all, nothing more than a little harmless fun.
“Turn around,” I ordered Gavin.
“Aw come on,” he protested with a grin as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwe
ar. “Ever hear of reciprocation? It’s only fair – I mean, I’m cool with giving you a good long look.”
“Yes, but you’re…” I trailed off then. I’d been about to tell him he was hot. That was actually an understatement. He was a gorgeous specimen of a man whose lean but muscular body looked like it belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine. But I balked at saying it.
Instead, I focused on my own insecurities. “You haven’t had a baby.”
With a dramatic shake of his head, Gavin obligingly turned around. I quickly shed my clothes and, with a splash, jumped into the pool. The water felt every bit as wonderful as it looked, instantly reinvigorating me. I let it envelop me right up to my neck and then began to leisurely tread water.
The next thing I knew, Gavin did a cannonball into the water right beside me.
Of course, his intent was to get me as wet as he could.
And it worked.
“You’re a liar,” he informed me when he came up for air, his hands immediately encircling my wrists so I couldn’t splash him in retaliation for the cannonball. I could see the droplets of water dripping off his hair and rolling down his face. His lips looked so kissable.
My toes were barely touching the bottom of the pool. It felt like I was floating.
“What are you talking about?”
“The way you made me turn around while you undressed, I thought you had scales under your clothes or something,” he joked. “But I’ll admit it: I peeked. There, I said it. And you’re gorgeous, just like I imagined you would be. Liar!”
“I’m not,” I objected, thinking immediately of my stretch marks and the fuller, more womanly figure that I sometimes still struggled to get used to. I wouldn’t trade my son for anything in the world, but pregnancy had not been kind to my body. I opened my mouth to inform Gavin of just that, but I didn’t have a chance.
Before I could utter another word, he kissed me.
Spicy (Palate #1) Page 8