by Anna Durand
The room did a pirouette around me. I hugged the paint can tighter, unable to speak until the spinning stopped. Even then, I opened my mouth but couldn't muster words. Quentin had called the paparazzi? How had he even known who to call?
He bowed his head, his shoulders hiking up even higher. "I'd been kinda jealous of Val. Started talking to the pretty new cashier Sam hired. More than once, I talked about Val and how he's a nudist, how he did all kinds of crazy shit that anybody can see online."
"You were blabbing about my private life to the checkout girl."
"Well…" He coughed and peeked up at me before averting his gaze again. "It was kinda like therapy for me. I got all my frustrations out and, after the third time, I realized I'm not jealous anymore."
"Hooray for you." I shoved the paint can onto the shelf where I'd found it and rounded on Quentin. "You feel better, so you decided to call in the hell hounds?"
"No, I—" He raised his face to me. "The cashier girl did. Just now, I was talking to her. She was upset the paparazzi didn't hang around for longer since she was looking forward to our little town getting on the evening news. That's why she told them about Val. She went to the website of one of those tabloids and submitted a tip. I think she got paid for it too."
We hadn't made the evening news. Not even our sex photo had gone that wide.
"Did you take that photo of me and Val?" I asked.
He covered his eyes with his hand, wincing. "Yeah. I went back to the resort to grab my last paycheck and a few tools I'd left behind. That's when I saw you two. I showed the cashier the picture on my phone. She wanted me to text it to her, so I…did."
You bastard, I wanted to scream. Shock paralyzed me, though, and I could manage only to stare at him. "Those tools belong to me. I bought them."
"After I saw what I saw, I left without taking any tools."
I glared at Quentin. "Let me get this straight. First, you beat up Val. Then, after I fire your ass, you start blabbing to the hardware store cashier. Next, you take a dirty picture of me and Val. Finally, you give that photo to the fucking cashier so she can sell it and all the gossip you told her to the first scummy tabloid she can find online. My life got blown up, and it's all because of you."
"Yeah, it's my fault. I'm sorry, Eve. I'm so sorry."
"I never want to see your face again. Not in the hardware store, not in the grocery store, not even when I drive past your truck on the street." I jabbed a finger into the air near his face. "Do you understand?"
"Don't worry, you'll never see me again. I got a job in Salt Lake City."
Maybe I should've felt relieved hearing that. All I really felt was sad. I'd lost a friend because he betrayed me and proved he'd never been a friend at all. I'd lost my privacy and my sense of security thanks to the invasion of the tabloid vultures.
I'd lost Val.
Maybe I couldn't change any of that stuff, but I could sure as hell change one thing. I pushed past Quentin and marched straight to Sam's office at the back of the store. The door hung open as usual, so I walked inside and dropped onto the empty chair beside his desk.
Once I'd explained the situation, I didn't get a chance to demand he fire the cashier.
"She's gone," Sam said. "I'll inform her right away."
Getting the cashier fired didn't make me feel better. Well, not a lot better. At least one person who'd screwed with my life had paid for it. When I got home, Ollie suggested I talk to a lawyer, but suing Quentin or the stupid girl who'd tattled to the paparazzi wouldn't help anything. I'd spend money I didn't have in an attempt to get restitution from a girl who earned minimum wage. Quentin wasn't rolling in dough either.
So, I took the high road and let it go.
A good wallow sounded awesome, but I had no time for that. The attack of the rampaging paparazzi had triggered an unexpected side effect. The resort was now fully booked for the next six months.
When the calls had started to pour in, I'd contacted my regular guests to find out when they might want to return, to make sure they got a spot reserved.
Ruth had told me, "We're coming right away, sweetie. You need all the support you can get."
"I'm fine, really. Ollie's sticking around to help out."
"We're coming, Eve. No arguments."
A few days later, Ruth and Sylvester arrived in a chartered bus.
When I saw the huge vehicle, I gaped at it and at the gaggle of people disembarking. I knew all of them. There was Ruth, Sylvester, my parents, my brother and sister and their significant others, my niece and nephew, and the entire Kitten Brigade. Well, almost all of them. Heidi wasn't among them. Shelby told me Heidi had gotten engaged and was too busy to come, but she'd sent a care package. It contained fancy things that might be found at a spa, things like goat's milk soap and bath beads. I loved Heidi in spite of the way she'd dumped Ollie. He still cared about her, I knew, but he'd recovered from their breakup better than I was recovering from mine.
Every member of my family hugged me. Even Krista's fiancé, Jeremy, hugged me.
Surrounded by my family and Ruth and Sylvester, I studied the vehicle they'd arrived in. "Why did you guys charter a bus? I would've picked you up at the airport. My old bus isn't luxurious, but it would've fit all of you."
"We didn't charter the bus," Mom said. "Val bought it for you."
"Yeah," Sylvester said, "he seems to think he's your business partner."
"What?" I started gaping again, my gaze flicking from Mom to Sly and back again. "But he went home. I haven't heard from him in two weeks."
"Don't know anything about that," Sly said, "but I heard him saying, clear as day, he bought this bus for your business."
"He said 'our business,' honey," Ruth corrected. "He meant the resort because he and Eve run it together."
"But—" I couldn't finish the thought because it had already fled my brain. Val bought me a bus. He called it "our" business. And yet he hadn't responded to a single damn voicemail, email, or text since the day he'd left.
"Give her the papers," Ruth said to her husband.
Sylvester pulled a sheaf of papers, folded in half, out of his back pocket and offered it to me. "Val said to give you these."
I took the sheaf and unfolded it. An envelope fell out and fluttered to the ground.
Krista snatched it up and handed it to me.
"You go inside," Mom said, "and look through that stuff alone. We'll join you in a little while, after we get unpacked and settled in."
"I don't have enough rooms for all of you," I said. "I was expecting Ruth and Sylvester, not a small army."
"An army of people who love you," Krista said. "It was a surprise. We knew if we told you all of us were coming, you'd tell us not to."
I couldn't argue with that. I probably would have told them to stay away.
But I loved them so much for being here.
"We brought tents," Jeremy said. "And the bus is pretty sweet too, comfortable enough to sleep in."
My surprise guests headed for the guest house, and I returned to my house to read the papers Val had sent. Seated at the island, I set the sealed envelope on the wood surface. I wasn't ashamed to admit I was afraid to open that envelope, afraid of what I'd find inside it. The papers consisted of legal documents that altered the structure of my LLC to allow for a partner and that also iterated the terms of our partnership. Val had signed the documents. They required only my signature to become real. Little sticky flags marked the places where I needed to sign.
I stared at the envelope for a couple minutes after I read the legal documents. Then, finally, I summoned the nerve to rip it open. The envelope contained a single sheet of paper, a letter written in Val's hand. I read slowly, making sure I didn't miss a single syllable. A tingle chased over my skin, a kind of excitement I hadn't experienced before or since Val had been in residence here. I read the note three times, despite the fact the damn thing consisted of only eleven words.
; "Wait for me," he said. "Thirty days and I'll be coming for you."
Coming for me? What, like I was a dog he'd sent to a kennel? He couldn't not call me for two weeks and then expect me to be thrilled he might come back for me in another month. He could've called or texted or emailed. Instead, he left me hanging.
And he expected me to sign the papers.
The sound of bare feet slapping on the wood floors pulled me out of my contemplation. I glanced over my shoulder to see Ollie racing out of the living room.
"You've gotta see this," he said, breathless.
He hugged my laptop to his chest.
I waved a dismissive hand. "I trust you to handle whatever it is."
Ollie had become my de facto assistant manager. He handled everything from paying bills to cleaning toilets, so I didn't understand what could be so important that I needed to see it.
"Not this," he said as he plopped onto the stool beside me and flipped up the laptop's lid. He pointed at the screen. "Look. Somebody sent you money."
I bent forward and squinted at the screen. It showed the company PayPal account, and there was indeed a new transfer. It had come from Valentim Silva.
"Val sent you ten thousand dollars," Ollie said.
The amount sounded familiar, and I grabbed the legal papers to flip through them again. Yep, there it was. Val's initial investment in the company, required to become a partner, was ten thousand dollars.
Why would he send the money before I signed the papers? Was he trying to force me to accept him as my business partner? I couldn't believe he would do that. Maybe I didn't know everything about Val, but I knew him well enough to realize his investment in the company was his way of showing he still wanted to be a part of my life.
So answer your damn phone, Val.
"Thank you for showing me this," I told Ollie as I leaped off the stool and grabbed the papers. "I have some private calls to make."
"No problem."
I turned to leave the room but hesitated. I looked at him over my shoulder. "Could you handle everything if I, um, took a vacation?"
"Sure, but maybe you should hire a real assistant manager for that."
"No time." I clutched the papers to my chest. "I'm leaving as soon as I can make the arrangements."
Assuming my first phone call went the way I hoped it would. I needed answers, and I was sick of waiting to receive them. Time to go get them myself.
My family wouldn't mind me leaving them right after they'd arrived. Once I explained why I was doing this, they'd understand.
"Where are you going?" Ollie asked.
"California."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Val
Waves swelled and broke on the shoreline outside the picture windows, seeming dark and foreboding under the gloomy sky. Slouched in an armchair, I stared at the breakers and sipped my glass of bourbon. I'd always loved the view from my living room. Ever since I'd left Eve, nothing was beautiful anymore. I hated my house, I hated the ocean, and I hated the fucking paparazzi. Most of all, I hated myself for hurting Eve.
I would get back to her. If she'd have me.
A large breaker crashed onto the shore, spraying the beach.
Whatever I had to do to make this up to Eve, I would do it. Somehow, I had to make her understand why I'd abandoned her. Maybe I shouldn't have sent her the legal documents without at least calling first to explain. A phone call wouldn't be enough. I needed to look into her eyes when I told her.
I hoped I'd be kissing her seconds after that, but it might've been wishful thinking.
God, I missed her.
Why the hell did you leave her, then?
The doorbell chimed.
I groaned and swigged the last of my bourbon. Seeing anyone appealed to me about as much as wrestling with a porcupine. Poor Ollie had almost done that. A smile tugged at my lips but couldn't quite take hold. I missed Ollie too, and Ruth and Sylvester, even the Kitten Brigade. They'd become like family to me. Eve had become so much more.
The doorbell chimed again, three times in quick succession.
Christ, whoever it was had a hard-on for talking to me.
I slapped my glass down on the table and shoved myself out of the chair. The wood floor chilled my bare feet, but I didn't care. When I reached the front door, I swung it wide open. A wave of shock broke over me, but it swiftly transformed into a warm and welcome relief.
Until she spoke.
"Você partiu meu coração."
A pain tightened the back of my throat, roughening my voice. "I know I broke your heart. I'm sorry, Evie, I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, I know you are."
What could I say? What could I do? I'd abandoned her. Now she was here, standing on my doorstep, and I was paralyzed.
"You know," she said, "we haven't seen each other in more than two weeks. I think it would be appropriate for you to kiss me."
That was all the invitation I needed.
I threw my arms around Eve and dragged her into me. She tried to speak, but I silenced her with my lips. She melted against me, moaning, opening her mouth and welcoming my tongue. She tasted even better than I remembered, sweet and sexy—if "sexy" were a flavor. With Eve, it definitely was. The taste of her and the feel of her body intoxicated me more than any alcohol.
Finally, I relinquished her lips. I held on to her body, though. No force on earth could make me let go.
"Well," she said breathlessly, "that answers one question."
I arched a brow. "What question is that?"
"Did you miss me."
"Of course I missed you. Penso em você o tempo todo." I brushed stray hairs away from her face. "That means I think about you all the time. Missed you so much I want to drag you down to the floor and fuck you with the door wide open."
She laughed. "Same old Val."
The words she'd spoken a moment ago replayed in my mind. "Where did you learn Portuguese? You pronounced that phrase perfectly."
"I talked to your sister Maria. She suggested I ought to tell you in Portuguese how much you'd hurt me by taking off like that." Eve hunched her shoulders. "I figured what the hell. My voicemails and texts in English weren't getting through to you."
Yes, I'd done that. I'd taken off, then I had ignored her attempts to contact me. How could I explain the reasons for my behavior? I'd convinced myself I was protecting her.
We both fell silent for a moment, our gazes bound to each other, neither of us knowing quite what to say.
At last, I broke the silence. "You know I'm glad you're here, but why are you here?"
"Did you really think a crappy eleven-word note was enough?" She tapped a finger on my chest. "You ought to know better. Wait and I'll come for you? Please."
"Hmm." I grasped her bottom with both hands. "I suppose you're right. The Eve I know would never sit still for that."
"Damn right." She pulled out of my grasp. "What the hell were you thinking? Running away without even saying goodbye? I get a deafening silence for weeks, then legal papers and a half-assed note. I deserve better than that, Val."
"Yes, you do." I noticed my neighbors across the street staring at us and clearly whispering to each other about the scandalous sight at the home of the infamous footballer. "Come inside, Eve. Public nudity is still illegal in California."
A slight smile tightened her lips as she scanned me up and down. "I had thought you were exaggerating when you said you always go naked at home. But here you are, answering the door in your birthday suit."
I stepped back, and she walked inside. As I shut the door, I asked, "How angry are you?"
She ambled down the hallway toward the living room, visible at the hall's end. Glancing back at me, she gave me a sarcastically sweet smile. "Angry? Why would I be angry? Just because I fantasized about castrating you, that doesn't mean I'm mad."
I followed her into the living room, wondering how I was going to make this right. My plan had so
unded reasonable and even noble at the time. Looking back, I realized how stupid I'd been.
Eve sat down at one end of the sofa.
After a brief hesitation, I settled onto the opposite end.
She watched me, her mood unreadable.
It was a challenge for me to explain, but I forged ahead. "I'm sorry, Eve. I did what I thought was necessary to protect you from the paparazzi, but I realize now it was a stupid idea. I'd intended to lure them away from your home for long enough that they would get bored and move on to the next pop star who goes into rehab. Did it at least work? Have the paparazzi left you alone?"
"Yeah, they're gone."
"This was all my fault."
She snorted. "No, it was all Quentin's fault. He blabbed to the cashier at the hardware store, and he took that photo of us. The cashier sold it all to a tabloid."
"Christ, I can't believe it. After all of that, and considering what I've done since I left you, I'll understand if you never want to see me again."
Her steady gaze remained fixated on me. "What have you done?"
"You must've seen the photos and videos."
"What photos? What videos?"
"On the internet."
She flapped a hand, dismissing the suggestion. "Oh, I don't look at stuff like that online. I don't even use social media."
How had I not known that about her? I'd learned a lot about Eve Holt over the past six weeks, but I still had much more to learn.
Eve angled sideways, leaning back into the sofa's corner. "What kind of trouble have you been getting into without me?"
I scratched my cheek. "Well, I needed to distract the paparazzi, to keep them away from you. That required…a splash."
"And by 'splash' I'm guessing you mean 'tsunami.' Right?"
"Yes." I crossed my ankle over the other knee, fidgeted, and tucked my foot under my knee. "I danced naked on the beach in broad daylight while singing Brazilian pop songs. And I did that every day for a week."
Her expression blanked. For a few seconds, she neither spoke nor moved.
Until she burst out laughing.
