The mere thought of it sent a bolt of heat where it definitely didn't belong.
This wasn't good.
I gave myself a mental slap and focused on the issue at-hand. "So if Waverly is just a figurehead, who's really running the film crew?"
"Who do you think?"
Slowly, I turned to look. And there Roy was, standing out of earshot, with his camera pointed in our direction. When he saw me looking, he gave me a thumbs-up, followed by the usual forwarding gesture.
With a sigh, I turned and began walking again, even as Brody did the same.
In a hushed voice, I asked, "Are you sure that Roy can't hear us?"
"I'm sure," Brody said. "He would've mic’d us if he was getting audio."
Well, that was a relief.
As we walked farther along the beach, I said, "Hey, can I ask you something? How come you're the only one here? I mean, the show supposedly stars you and your brothers, but I haven't seen either one of them at the job site."
"No. But you will."
As I listened, Brody went on to explain that he and his brothers divided up responsibilities according to their personal interests. Although both of his brothers had plenty of skills, neither one of them had the same passion for using the tools their company produced. And more to the point, he added, neither one of them had any interest in dealing with construction crews – or film crews for that matter.
After taking all of this in, I said, "But you'd never guess it from watching the show. I mean, the way it looks, the three of you run things equally."
"We do," Brody said. "It's just that we handle different pieces of the larger pie. And the things they handle…" He gave a mock shudder. "Not my bag."
I laughed in spite of myself. "So you divide and conquer, huh?"
"Something like that." And then, Brody surprised me by revealing that he had a real thing for historic homes, fixing them up, restoring them to their original glory.
Listening, I was surprised not only by what he was saying, but that he was saying it at all.
I found myself nodding in agreement when he launched into a long tirade of how people were too quick to tear things down, rather than fix them up.
And just when I was beginning to conclude that he might not be too terrible, I recalled how all of this had started. "Hey, wait a minute," I said. "Does this mean you never considered tearing down the house?"
"Not for a minute," he said. "It would've been a crying shame."
Even though I agreed, I couldn’t resist saying, "Yeah, but speaking of shame, don't you feel bad for telling me otherwise?"
"I didn't tell you anything," he said. "You assumed."
"Yeah, but you let me assume it."
"Well maybe I get funny when people break into my house."
My stomach sank. His house. Not mine. As if I needed the reminder.
Still, I protested, "I didn't break in. I had a key."
With a half shrug, he replied, "It's still my house."
For now? Or forever? Bracing myself, I asked, "So, are you planning to keep it?"
He was silent for a long moment. And when he finally spoke, his answer was entirely unsatisfying. "Don't ask."
Chapter 29
Brody
Next to me, her pace slowed. "Don’t ask?" she said. "What does that mean?"
"It means what I said. Don't ask."
She gave me a subtle sideways glance. She did that a lot. She thought that I didn't notice. But I did, just like I'd noticed how her eyes had lit up when I'd mentioned fixing up old houses – and how those same eyes hadn't glazed over when I'd gone deeper into the details.
The crazy thing was, she'd looked genuinely interested – which probably explained why I'd told her more than I'd planned.
Funny, I hadn't planned to tell her anything at all.
But she had this way of getting under my skin, of making me say more than I wanted – and making me think things that were best unthought.
Like right now, I was thinking how sweet she looked with the morning breeze lifting the ends of her long hair and how the flush of her cheeks made me want to smile – although hell if I knew why.
"But about the house," she said, "you're either planning to keep it, or you're not."
"Yeah, so?"
"So why won't you tell me? Is it because you really don't know? Or because you don't want to say?"
I had been thinking of keeping the house – not as a rental, and not as a vacation spot either, but as my own personal residence.
I liked my condo well enough. It was big, luxurious, and right on the river. Even so, it had never felt like home.
Come to think of it, no place had felt like home – or at least not in a long while. But there was something about this place that made me think otherwise. Maybe it was the full package – the beach, the view, the architecture, and yeah, maybe Arden Weathers, too.
So, why was I being such a dick about it?
I didn't want to be. Not now.
"Listen," I said, "the truth is, I don't know, just like I said."
"But don’t you already have a condo? I mean, right here in Bayside?"
"Yeah, on the river."
She frowned, but said nothing.
I asked, "Is that a problem?"
"No," she said. "It's just that, well, if you already have a place that you like, why would you want another? Especially another place on the water. And in the same town." Her voice picked up steam. "Because really, when you think about it, you already have it all."
She was wrong. Yeah, I had plenty of money. And dozens of houses – including the crew house across the street. I didn't live in them. Mostly I rented them out – only after fixing them up.
Arden might not realize it, but I juggled a lot more than the show and the business – and yeah, enough "dates" to make life interesting. But sometime in the past year or so, the game had lost its luster.
Or maybe I was just tired of life in the fast lane.
I stopped walking and took a long look around. The beach was quiet, except for the sounds of seagulls and the waves lapping at the shore. It was like something out of a children's book – the kind that decent parents read to their kids on Sunday afternoons.
That hadn't been my life. And yet, I'd seen enough of luckier kids to know how life could be.
As my thoughts churned, I scanned the horizon. This place – it would be a nice spot to raise a family, assuming I were into that sort of thing, which I wasn't.
Except now, it wasn't sounding so bad.
I stiffened. What the hell?
I looked to Arden, standing beside me. She was gazing out over the water as a soft smile played across her lips.
At the sight of her, I almost smiled, too. But then, I caught myself. She was making me nuts.
Her obsession with the house was contagious, like a bad rash or something worse.
In reply to her statement, all I said was, "Hey, you can never have too much."
She blinked, as if she'd lost track of our debate. She wasn't the only one. My own thoughts had travelled way too far for my liking, and it was time to rein them back in.
Arden said, "But that's not true." She turned to face me. "And this house – it means nothing to you, not in the big scheme of things."
She was wrong. As usual.
I said, "Hey if you're still pissed that I bought it—"
"I'm not."
I crossed my arms. "Is that so?"
"Yes." She hesitated. "And no."
"Now who's being evasive?"
She sighed. "It's just that yes, I'm glad someone bought it who's going to fix it up, but you know I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'd love the chance to buy it myself."
This again?
I gave her a hard look. "With what?"
"Money. How else would I buy it?"
"And how much money do you have?"
Her cheeks, already flushed, grew a shade redder. "Well…none right now. But there's the bonus."
&nbs
p; "Which I already told you, won't be enough."
"It might be for a down payment."
"You can say that all you want," I said. "It doesn't make it true."
Her mouth tightened. "Well, maybe I'm not the type to give up so easily. Did you ever think of that?"
I recalled how she'd been in high school. "Hell, I don't think it. I know it."
She smiled. "See?"
I didn’t smile back. "That wasn't a compliment."
Her smile faded, which made me feel like a total dick. The truth was, I admired the way she went after the things she wanted – but not when the thing she wanted belonged to me.
She turned and looked toward the house – and then toward Roy, who was still filming us from afar. In a quieter voice, she said, "I think we've gone far enough."
Something in her tone suggested that she wasn't talking about distance. And hey, I wasn't about to argue. She was right. When it came to anything with me and Arden, less was always better.
But first I had to set her straight. "Listen, there's something I want you to know."
"What?"
"When I bought that house, I didn't know you had your eye on it."
She gave me a dubious look, but said nothing.
I held her gaze. "Believe me. Or don't. I just figured you'd want to know." And with that, I turned and began walking toward the house, trying like hell to ignore Roy and his camera, along with the sight of Arden, trudging along beside me like I'd just popped her favorite balloon.
As far as the camera, I felt its presence more than I should've. From the look on Arden's face, she felt it, too.
As we moved ever closer to the house, there was a part of me – the dumb-ass part of me – that wanted to shield her from the intrusion. But Arden wasn't mine to protect. And even if she were, she needed to realize – and fast – exactly what she'd signed on for.
And if she didn't realize it?
Hey, it wasn't my problem, and I'd be smart to keep it that way.
Chapter 30
Arden
On the phone, Cami asked, "So, do you believe him?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But he didn't sound like he was lying."
It was nearly seven o'clock at night, and I was hunkered down in my bedroom, where I'd have no chance of being overheard.
The house was empty except for myself, but I was all too aware that either of my roommates could return at any moment.
I'd just finished a full day under the nonstop glare of Roy's video camera, and I was in no mood to be scrutinized by anyone. Even though my day hadn't been difficult by any stretch, all of those hours in the spotlight had left me feeling unsettled and stupidly exhausted.
Looking back, was it any wonder?
After that walk along the beach, Mitch, the sound technician, had fitted me with a wireless microphone. And then, he and Roy had taken me through the house, room-by-room, as I reacted to its horrible condition and shared stories of what the house had been like in years past, back when my grandparents had owned it.
As far as Brody, I'd seen him only in passing as he haunted the various rooms with a pencil in-hand, probably making notes on what needed to be fixed. Or who knows? Maybe he'd been writing a list of ways to torment me because, yes, he did seem the type.
Still, I had to admit, our walk along the beach hadn't been nearly as terrible as I'd expected. And, assuming it was true that he hadn't known about my family's connection to the place, maybe he wasn't quite as vindictive as I'd thought.
On the phone, Cami was saying, "Why don't you ask your cousin if Brody knew? He'd be able to tell you, right?"
At this, I couldn't help but scoff. "Yeah. Assuming I ever hear from him again." As Cami listened, I went on to tell her about last night's odd phone call with Jason and how he was apparently back to avoiding me.
Today, I'd called him several times, only to receive no response whatsoever. I couldn’t even confront him in person because I had no idea where he lived. And why? It was because like a total idiot, I'd actually believed him when he'd told me that he was still living at our grandparent's place.
When I explained all of this to Cami, she said, "Did you try him at work?"
"Oh yeah." I gave a bitter laugh. "Get this. I call his office at the local college, and do you know what they tell me?"
"What?"
"They tell me that he's on leave, something about a family emergency."
"Really? What kind of emergency?"
"Oh, that's the best part," I said. "Apparently, his 'cousin' is having health problems."
"Which cousin?"
My voice hardened. "Guess."
"You don't mean you?"
"Well, I am his only cousin."
"That dip-wad!"
"Yeah," I muttered. "Tell me about it."
"But he can't avoid you forever."
I gave another scoff. "That won't stop him from trying though. I mean, he must know that I'll be expecting my money back."
"What money?"
"All the money I gave him for the house. You know, the payments, the repairs, everything." I made a sound of disgust. "God, I was such an idiot."
"You were not," she said. "Come on, if you can't trust family, who can you trust?"
This was so easy for Cami to say. Unlike me, she had the kind of family you could really count on – parents who loved her and a whole bunch of siblings, too.
But me? I had nobody. Sure, I had parents, but they were off doing their own thing. And even my mom, who should care about the house, hadn't cared one bit about keeping it in the family, even when I'd begged her for just a tiny bit of help.
Now, thinking about it, I almost wanted to cry. But I'd cried plenty already, especially three years ago, when my grandpa had passed away so suddenly.
At the memory of him – and my grandma, too – my eyes grew misty like they always did.
Desperate to focus on something else, I said to Cami, "Hey, do you want to hear something funny?"
"It can't be too funny," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because you sound like you're gonna cry."
"I am not going to cry," I said, wiping a stray tear from my eye. "I'm gonna throttle Brody."
"For what now?"
"Well, remember when I told you how the film crew was walking me through the house, making me talk about the damage and stuff?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, get this. We get to the upstairs hallway, and I see this hole that wasn't there before."
"What kind of hole?" she asked.
"Oh, that's the funniest part," I said. "It's like, well… a peep-hole."
"A peep-hole?" She hesitated. "Into what?"
"The bathroom." When she made no reply, I felt compelled to explain. "You know, the one where Brody barged in on me."
"Ohhhhhh, that bathroom. So, do you think he's a perv?"
"No. I think he's a jerk."
"You do realize, you can be a perv and a jerk at the same time, right? In fact, I'm pretty sure they go hand-in-hand."
"Not with Brody," I said.
And then, there was the thing I didn't say. Even if Brody were a perv, he would never get pervy with me.
In fact, other than our attic encounter – which had ended only with my humiliation – Brody had shown so little interest in me that I might've gotten some sort of complex if I happened to be interested in him, which I totally wasn't.
"So if he's not a perv," Cami said, "why the peephole?"
"I'll tell you why," I said. "He was thinking of shooting me."
She hesitated. "You mean with a gun?"
"Well, I'm not talking about his 'love gun', if that's your other guess." I sighed. "Anyway, the next time I see him, I'm gonna let him have it."
I meant it, too.
And just fifteen minutes later, I had my chance.
Chapter 31
Arden
Brody gave me a look. "Hell yeah, I made a peephole. What, you think I'm nuts?"
We were
standing in the kitchen of the crew house, and I'd just confronted him about that hole in the wall.
If Brody were anyone else, he would've been mortified at my discovery, or at least a little embarrassed. But Brody was neither of these things, and his lack of shame was a real kick in the pants.
With growing indignation, I considered his question. He was nuts, alright. And he was making me nuts, too.
I glared up at him. "How am I supposed to answer that?"
"With an honest opinion," he said. "Pretend you're me. It's the middle of the night. And you hear someone in the bathroom – someone who doesn’t belong. So tell me. Are you gonna look to see who it is? Or wait for them to come at you first?"
I rolled my eyes. "And do what? Shoot you through the door? That is what you implied earlier, wasn't it?"
Too late, I recalled where he'd said such a thing. It had been in the attic, where we'd had that unsettling encounter.
Then again, nearly all of my interactions with Brody were unsettling.
In fact, I was feeling a little unsettled now. His shirt was slightly damp, and his face and arms were glistening with perspiration. The muscles in his arms were gloriously defined, not just by the sheen of his skin, but also by the lingering after-effects of whatever he'd been doing.
He was majorly pumped.
And so was I – but in a totally different way.
As I watched, he lifted the hem of his T-shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off his face.
The movement shouldn't have been sexy. I mean, who liked sweat, right? And yet, I couldn’t help but notice how his abs glistened, and how the tendrils of his damp hair curled on the very ends.
He looked so "donkable" that I felt myself swallow.
When he finished, I gave him an annoyed look. "What were you doing, anyway?"
"When?"
"Before you walked in," I said. "Like why are you all…" I made a vague fluttering motion with my hands. "…hot and stuff."
And just like that, my cheeks were flaming.
I cleared my throat. "And just so you know, I said hot and stuff. Not 'hot stuff.' That's totally different."
His lips twitched at the corners. "So you think I’m hot stuff, huh?"
Damn it. He was goading me again. "That's not what I said, as I just explained. And you never answered the question. What were you doing?"
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