Cold Nose, Warm Heart

by Mara Wells

  “Did you know your guy was married?”

  “Not really. The clues did pile up after a while. Like an idiot, I ignored them.”

  “So he lied to you.”

  Sydney shook her head, long blond tresses getting caught in the creases of her elbows. “Not directly. I was an idiot all on my own.”

  Riley clucked her tongue in sympathy, a gesture she recognized as one of Grams’ signature moves. Most women worried about turning into their mothers. Riley worried about turning into Grams. Not that it would be all bad, but she really was hoping for a happily-ever-after that included a solid marriage and a kid or two to be proud of. Funny, she’d never thought of it so distinctly before, but thinking about Sydney’s mishap helped put things in perspective. She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend or a good time. A few weeks ago, she would’ve said she wasn’t looking for anything or anyone. But she couldn’t deny her attraction to Caleb, her addiction to the way he looked at her, the way he touched her. Yeah, she was in the market all right. She just hadn’t realized for what until this moment.

  “Shit, Sydney, what am I going to do?” She told Sydney about this long-dormant wish for a home and family, a loving husband. “I feel antiquated. Shouldn’t I be more worried about my career?”

  “Haven’t you heard? We can have it all.” Sydney stood, planting both hands on her table. “And I’ll tell you what to do next. Highlights.”

  “What?” Riley’d expected some girlfriend wisdom about going for it or guarding her heart or some other cliché. She’d not been expecting beauty tips.

  “Oh yeah, you need some honey streaks around your face. That’ll do the trick.”

  “What trick?”

  “The trick to get him on board the wifey train. Step one, make it so he can’t stop thinking about you. And for you, my friend, honey highlights to brighten up your skin tone, well, that’s the ticket. Trust me. I have a beautician’s license.”

  Maybe it was the wine talking. Maybe she should’ve turned down the third pour, but it’d seemed a shame to leave that tiny bit left sitting in the bottle. “Okay.” Riley stood, a bit wobblier on her feet than normal. “Let’s do it.”

  “Perfect!” Sydney twirled her finger in a follow-me gesture. “I’ve got everything we need in my bathroom.”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  * * *

  “Ready?” Sydney’s excited voice was decidedly more sober than it had been an hour ago but hadn’t lost any of its enthusiasm. “You’re going to die.”

  Riley swallowed hard and turned to face the bathroom mirror. It was double the size of her mirror at home with makeup lights running up and down both sides. It was a no-hiding-anything kind of mirror, which was why she’d closed her eyes for most of the process. She sucked in a breath and opened her eyes.

  “I love it.” Riley marveled at the soft, honey-toned streaks running through her hair. She’d always thought of herself as a rather bland blond, but the subtle color Sydney’d added did lighten her face and made her skin luminous. Or maybe that was the happiness shining through.

  Riley hugged Sydney. “You’re the absolute best. I can’t believe it.”

  “Oh, I’ve been dying to get my hands on your hair since the day you came to borrow the suit. Which, by the way, I do eventually need back. I’m styling a photo shoot next week, and the client loved that Chanel number.”

  Riley dug her toe into the plush bathroom mat, a subtle gray-to-black gradient that was both practical and luxurious. “It’s at the cleaners. I’m not sure the shoes will make it back though. I’ll add the cost to whatever you’re charging me for this.” She fluffed her hair.

  Sydney arranged Riley’s hair first one way and then another. “The highlights are a gift. As is the trim I’m about to give you. What happened to my shoes?”

  Riley filled her in on the plumbing drama that day, and true to her word, Sydney pulled out shears, taking a half inch off Riley’s hair and creating soft layers that framed her face.

  “I love it even more now.” Riley marveled at her own reflection. She looked like one of those young women who hit the clubs after midnight and brunched on Lincoln Road in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday. “You’re a wonder. Now I feel even worse about your shoes.”

  Sydney merely shook her head and laughed. “Look, come with me.”

  Riley followed her down the hall to a bedroom door.

  “I had to have a two-bedroom. One for my bed and one for”—she opened the door—“my clothes. And shoes.”

  Riley spun in a circle, feeling like Belle in the library in Beauty and the Beast. Only it was shoes, floor-to-ceiling racks on two walls. “I had no idea!”

  “I know it’s a little overwhelming. That’s why I brought things out to the living room last time you were here. But I want you to see that seriously, don’t worry about replacing my shoes. What’s a pair of kitten heels between friends?”

  Riley covered her mouth with her hand, suddenly so overwhelmed with feeling she couldn’t speak. Finally, she choked out, “It’s too much.”

  “I know!” Sydney laughed and spun in a circle. “It’s absolutely too much. I have a serious problem. It’s why I became a stylist, to have a healthy outlet for my style-hoarding.”

  “No, I mean it’s too much for me. First the suit loan, the wine, fixing my hair. I haven’t given you anything. I don’t know how to pay you back.”

  Sydney hurried to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Sweetie, it’s not a transaction. You said you wanted to be friends. This is what friends do. Don’t worry. I’ll have a crisis soon enough, and you’ll get to step in for some drama control. That’s how it works. There’s no keeping score.”

  Riley wanted to blame the wine for the tears rolling down her cheeks, but the truth was, the buzz had evaporated before the timer went off for her highlights to be washed out. She hung her head. “Thanks, Sydney. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. You’ve been taking care of so many people for so long, you forgot what it’s like to be taken care of for a minute. It’s okay. You’ll be surprised how quickly you get used to it.”

  Riley blinked back the extra tears that wanted to fall. She hugged Sydney and backed away. “I should probably grab LouLou and get going. You’ve been too kind.”

  “Not at all. I’m sure Chewy would enjoy a walk down to the dog park. Why don’t we walk you part of the way home?”

  Riley linked her arm through Sydney’s. “That sounds perfect.”

  Chapter 21

  Caleb ripped the parking ticket out from under the windshield wiper of his Porsche and cursed under his breath. Absolutely nothing had been going smoothly since that email from his lawyer. First, the tenants sue Rainy Day—and by extension Grandpa William—for improper upkeep of the property. Then a city inspector was sent to investigate the claim, and lo and behold, somehow it had been missed that the Dorothy hadn’t had its forty-year inspection. It should’ve been done two years ago, but with Grandpa William’s health at the time and what was going on in the courts, that tiny detail had slipped through the cracks. The head of Rainy Day at the time retired a year ago, so there wasn’t anyone in the office to be mad at, either.

  Perhaps even worse, the Historic Preservation Board had officially declared interest in the Dorothy, and therefore, his plans were on hold until they made their determination. Forty-year inspections he could get around. A failed one could even help his cause. He could claim that the building was in such disrepair that the logical thing to do was tear it down and build a new structure. But if the Historic Preservation Board decided the Dorothy was a priceless treasure of the Miami Beach tropical Deco era, well, then, bye-bye new building, bye-bye parking structure.

  Caleb clutched his phone in his hand. He’d wanted to call Riley a ridiculous number of times, but each time, as he was about to hit her number, he’d
remember getting that email, that flush of guilt on her skin that meant she’d known all along. She’d known on their dog park excursion. She’d known while kissing him on the bench, while holding hands in his car, while shyly asking him in for coffee. He’d seen nothing but invitation in her eyes, but behind all that, she’d known. Just like his father, she’d let him believe what he wanted while knowing his downfall was near.

  He’d vowed never to forgive his father. He wouldn’t visit his old man in jail again or answer his letters. No, the time for believing in carefully woven fairy tales was over. Why, then, did his fingers itch to dial Riley? Wasn’t she just as bad as Robert Donovan? Just as undeserving of a second chance to explain herself?

  What if there was an explanation? That was what preyed on his mind. What if he’d let the memory of his father overshadow his reaction? What if he’d bolted too soon? What might’ve happened if he’d stayed and listened to her? Would she have convinced him she was innocent? Or that the email wasn’t what it seemed? Would she have kissed his concerns away? Led him to her bedroom?

  He wished he could get the taste of her out of his mind, the feel of her under his hands. He crumbled the parking ticket into a ball and tossed it into the passenger’s seat. His meeting with Commissioner Santos had been precisely what he’d expected. Apologies and delays. Until the lawsuit was settled, until the Historic Preservation Board weighed in, they were at a deadlock. Well played, Riley and her merry band of geriatrics, well played.

  Caleb sped away from city hall. If he told Grandpa William about the delays, he might feel guilty that he hadn’t been on top of the forty-year inspection issue, and the last thing Caleb wanted was to put more stress on Grandpa William’s already weak heart. No, he was all alone on this, and he needed to figure out what to do—and fast.

  He didn’t like the way his own heart beat hollowly in his chest. He found himself wanting to ask Riley’s advice. What would she say? He shook his head as if he could fling the thought of calling her out of his mind. Grandpa William liked to go on and on about the importance of family working together. Why not try his brothers?

  Knox’s number rang and rang until he was informed that the voicemail box was full. At first, he’d found Knox’s elusiveness annoying, but now he was worried. Why couldn’t he get hold of him? Did he even have the right number? Perhaps he should ask Knox’s mom, but no, that would mean getting her information from Robert, and he didn’t want to be grateful to Robert for anything. Maybe the lawyers had her information. He made a mental note to check later and asked Siri to call Lance.

  “Little bro.” Lance picked up on the second ring. A miracle. “In over your head already?”

  Caleb ground his back teeth together. “Merely looking for an expert opinion.”

  Lance chuckled into the phone. “Must be worse than I thought. Did the second floor collapse? The roof cave in? Tell me everything. I do love a good construction story.”

  “They missed a forty-year inspection.”

  Lance snorted. “Happens all the time. With so much turnover in management companies and such, these oversights occur. It’s no big. Just call the city inspector and set it up.”

  “What if it doesn’t pass?”

  “From what I saw? It won’t. They give you a list of things to fix, you fix ’em, and then you get a new inspection.”

  “Sounds straightforward enough.” Caleb’s shoulders stopped trying to climb up his ears. He always felt better when there was a plan.

  Lance outright laughed in his ear. “Only someone who’s never done a renovation project would say something like that. Those old buildings are never easy. Once you open up a wall, no telling what other things you’ll find. You’ve got yourself a money pit there, no doubt about it.”

  Caleb’s teeth gnashed a bit more, and he had to forcibly relax his jaw. He’d had to wear teeth night guards as a teen because he ground his teeth in his sleep, and the dentist claimed he was doing permanent damage to his bite. He’d broken himself of the habit, and now was not the time to lapse back into it. He took a few deep breaths and concentrated on Lance’s words.

  “I don’t suppose you could be there for the inspection?” The words slipped out even though Caleb specifically told his brain it was not a good idea to ask. “To keep an eye on things? Make sure it’s done right.”

  Lance laughed again. “You’re not dragging me into this mess. I don’t care what dear old Grandpa Will wants. I thought I made myself clear.”

  “I’m asking for me. We don’t have to tell Grandpa William anything.”

  “You? Do something without family approval? I’m shocked.”

  “Shocked enough to help me out?”

  A long pause. “Text me the information. If I can fit it in, I will.”

  Caleb flexed his jaw, feeling the tension release at Lance’s tentative agreement to help. Damn it, he hated it when Grandpa William was right, but it turned out, Caleb did need his brother’s help. Turned out leopards did change their spots and pigs could fly. Maybe the inspection consultation would be enough to satisfy Grandpa William’s terms. Maybe Caleb wasn’t seeing his options clearly yet. He’d already done some adapting of his original plan for the Dorothy. What if he tried some other angles? Found a way to update the building and make it profitable while still keeping the current residents on, pacifying the Historic Preservation Board, and getting Commissioner Santos that parking garage? He pulled out his phone and dialed the architect. Only one way to find out.

  * * *

  “Look, look.” Mr. Cardoza called Riley to the window over his sink. With a sigh, Riley set down her café solo and joined him, her poodle pitter-pattering behind her. LouLou bounce-bounced against Mr. Cardoza’s leg until he picked her up, and the three of them stared out the window. “See?”

  Riley saw the usual assortment of neighbors, absent Eliza and Sydney, and their dogs. A few people stood in the corner closest to the fence gap, chatting with one another, while a Lab mix and golden played tug-of-war with a palm frond.

  “See what?” Riley leaned on her hands and stood on tiptoe, pushing her belly into the counter’s edge. That was when she saw two blond men walking the perimeter of the fence. They were tall and engaged in an intense conversation. “You mean the Donovans?”

  “Yes, yes. You should go find out what they are scheming.” Mr. Cardoza kissed the top of LouLou’s fuzzy head. Her top mop was getting out of control. She’d need to go to the groomer soon for her bimonthly buzz.

  Riley pushed away from the counter, her weight shifting back into the heels of her feet. “I don’t know. He’s pretty mad at me.”

  “He has the nerve! He’s the one trying to change everything. You go find out what he’s doing. Take your little spy with you.” He transferred LouLou into Riley’s arms. “No man can resist her charms.”

  Riley scratched LouLou under her chin, her favorite place, and then around her ears. “I don’t think he’ll tell me anything.”

  “You don’t know until you try.” Mr. Cardoza shooed her out the door. Riley cast one last longing look at the café solo left abandoned on his kitchen table. At the door, Mr. Cardoza winked at her. “He won’t be mad forever. He likes you, I think, and you like him. Make it right between you two, and everything else will fall into place.”

  “H-how could you possibly—” Riley sputtered and set LouLou on the floor. The poodle quickly dashed down the hall to wait for the elevator.

  Mr. Cardoza pointed at his face. “These eyes may be old, but they still see. At the city meeting, the way he looked at you. And you looked back. The Porsche is parked out front many times. It’s not the building he comes to see, is it?”

  Grams always said there were no secrets at the Dorothy, but Riley was still taken aback by Mr. Cardoza’s conclusions. She tried to play it off with a low laugh. “Oh, Mr. Cardoza, are you watching telenovelas again? Are you seeing romance everywhere?”<
br />
  Mr. Cardoza straightened to his full five-foot-six height and sniffed. “Romance is everywhere. Open your eyes, and you’ll see.”

  Riley kissed his cheek. “Thank you for the coffee. See you tomorrow?”

  “Yes, yes.” He patted her back. “Come tell me what you find out.”

  Riley waved and caught up with LouLou at the elevator. It had been a while since LouLou went outside. No harm in going to the dog park, and if she happened to run into Caleb and his brother, she’d keep in mind that Mr. Cardoza was watching every move from his apartment window. Nosy neighbors indeed, but it was hard to be mad when she knew how much Mr. Cardoza cared. She and Caleb seemed to have a thing for kissing in parks. Maybe they’d really give Mr. Cardoza something to see.

  * * *

  “You’re right about needing parking for the building.” Lance stopped on the sidewalk outside the empty lot and turned to his brother, arms crossed over his bulky chest. Years working construction was more of a workout than any gym regimen. “Street parking is awful. I’m like two blocks away. Ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Caleb scanned the dog park crowd. No LouLou. No Riley. He told himself he wasn’t disappointed, but he knew it for the lie it was. “I really wanted your opinion on the building. Renovations, upgrades, what your prediction is for the forty-year inspection.”

  “Sure.” Lance reversed his steps back toward the Dorothy, work boots scuffing on the sidewalk. “Uh-oh, here comes trouble.”

  Riley walked toward them, her long legs eating up the distance in quick strides. Today’s T-shirt read Pink in big, zebra-striped collegiate lettering. Her poodle trotted happily at her side, stopping every few feet to squat on the grass swale between the sidewalk and the street.

  “Good morning!” She greeted them brightly, as if she hadn’t betrayed him the last time they’d seen each other.

  Caleb’s jaw tensed, and though he told those muscles to relax, they did not. He’d wanted to hear her voice, wanted to see her so badly, wanted their last encounter to have ended very differently. How could she act like everything was fine? She was smiling. Smiling at Lance.