Fixer-Upper

by Linda Seed

  He enfolded her in his arms, and her whole body sighed in response.

  “It’s good to see you,” he murmured into her hair.

  “You too.” Her words were muffled because her face was pressed into his chest. She smelled the clean laundry scent of his shirt and, beneath that, the warm musk of his body. “How was your trip?”

  “Fine. Lonely. I’ll tell you all about it.”

  She tipped her face up to him. “Maybe later.”

  He kissed her, and she thought, Yes. This.

  “Later’s good.” He took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom.

  After they’d made love and showered and they were standing, half dressed, in the kitchen looking for something to eat, he told her about what he’d done while he was gone.

  He’d had the meeting with his accountant, mostly focused on his income tax return; he’d had dinner with a friend, a guy who’d worked with him to develop PlayDate and who had bought the company when Chris had decided to retire; and he’d gathered some clothes and other things from his condo he’d forgotten to bring the last time he came to Cambria.

  “Sounds productive.” Martina looked in the refrigerator and selected a carton of yogurt the caretaker at Cooper House had bought during Chris’s absence. Martina had been surprised to find the kitchen fully stocked—one of the perks, apparently, of wealth. She didn’t envy Chris many of the trappings of money, but it would be great never to have to go grocery shopping again.

  “It was productive.” He sipped beer from a longneck bottle as he leaned against the counter, watching her. He was shirtless, and his jeans were open at the top button. “How about you? How were things while I was gone?”

  Her face fell. She’d tried not to think about the Hall property because she’d wanted to simply enjoy being with Chris. But now that he’d brought it up, the disappointment hit her anew.

  “It was okay, mostly. But …”

  “But?”

  “But someone bought the property I was interested in. The investment opportunity I told you about? It was a house for sale on Lodge Hill. I went to put an offer on it, and it was already in escrow.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them away, laughing bitterly at herself. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be this upset over something that was never mine to begin with.”

  He was giving her a look that was almost … pleased.

  “What?” she asked.

  His mouth curved into a slow half grin. He put down his beer and came to her. “What if I said you can still have the property?”

  She froze. “What?”

  He gathered her into his arms and rubbed her back through the T-shirt—his—that she was wearing. “I’m the one who bought it. I wanted to surprise you.”

  At first, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You … Wait. What? How did you even know about it?” She pushed back from him so she could see his face more fully.

  “I asked around, and I found out you were looking at the property. Then I heard someone had made an offer on it. I didn’t want you to lose it, so I put in a higher bid. It’s in escrow. It’s yours.”

  Martina’s jaw dropped. She stepped farther away from him and stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her face a mask of outrage. “Chris … You can’t just do things like this. What’s wrong with you?”

  Chris was beginning to think he’d made an important tactical error, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what it was. Why wasn’t she happy? Why wasn’t she kissing him in gratitude? He’d been certain this would make her see him as a hero. Why didn’t she?

  “Martina, I thought this would be good news. I thought you’d be glad.”

  She paced the room, looking so beautiful wearing nothing but his T-shirt, her long legs bare and lean, her hair still mussed from lovemaking, that he could hardly focus on the argument they were about to have.

  “I wanted to do this myself. I wanted to buy the property myself.”

  “But someone had put an offer on it. You were going to lose it. I thought—”

  “Explain to me how you knew someone had put an offer on it. Explain how you knew I wanted to buy it in the first place. Why did you ‘ask around’?”

  He had to tread carefully here. There were a lot of ways this part of the conversation could go wrong. “I talked to Riley Whittaker, and she told me.” That seemed safe enough.

  “Riley Whittaker.” Martina said the name more to herself than to him.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know Riley Whittaker?”

  “She showed me some properties a while back. She called me to ask if I’d thought any more about them, and the subject of the Hall property came up.”

  “It came up.”

  She was repeating things, and that seemed like a bad sign.

  “Yes.”

  “So, with all of the properties on the market, all of the things available or in escrow or with offers on them … she just happened to mention the Hall property to you, and she just happened to tell you I wanted it.” She was eyeing him with suspicion, and he felt like he was being interrogated by a particularly canny FBI agent.

  “Well … I’d asked her about it. When she showed me properties, before.”

  “You asked about it.”

  “Martina, you keep repeating the things I say. It’s unsettling.”

  “I don’t care.” She paced some more, and he felt himself starting to sweat. “And why did you ask about it? It doesn’t seem like the kind of property you’d be interested in.”

  He wasn’t going to be able to pull off lying about it. That much was clear. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and told her the truth.

  “When you said you needed money for an investment, I was worried maybe you were going through some financial problems. I thought … Well, I thought maybe I could help. So I asked around a little. And I found Riley Whittaker, and I … I maybe led her to believe I already knew your plans.”

  She gaped at him, her jaw slack, eyes wide. “You spied on me?”

  It sounded bad when she said it that way, so he reframed it. “I just asked around.”

  “What gave you the right to ask people about my personal business?”

  God, she was beautiful when she was mad. He tried not to let that distract him. He had to keep his head in the game.

  “Martina. I think we’re losing sight of the fact that you almost lost the property to another buyer, but now you can have it. That was the goal, wasn’t it? You wanted it, and now it’s going to be yours.”

  He’d thought the logic of that might calm her, but it had the opposite effect. She whirled toward him in a rush of righteous fury. “It’s going to be mine because you bought it,” she said. “What’s your plan? To give it to me? That property is half a million dollars. Were you just going to hand it over like a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates?”

  “Of course not.” In fact, it was exactly what he’d planned to do, but considering her anger, it seemed imprudent to say so.

  She let out a harsh laugh. “Really. You were going to let me set up a payment plan with late payment penalties and a competitive interest rate? Somehow, I don’t think that was what you had in mind.”

  He was losing a fight he hadn’t anticipated having. Why were they fighting, when he’d intended to do something nice for her? When he’d meant to make her happy? He rubbed at his face with both hands, suddenly exhausted.

  “What if I did plan to give it to you? So what? Is that so wrong?”

  She stared at him as though she couldn’t believe he’d said it. Then her shoulders fell, and she wouldn’t look at him. She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. In a moment, he heard her walking up the stairs.

  He followed her up and found her hurriedly getting dressed.

  “What are you doing?” But he knew what she was doing—she was leaving.

  “I’m going home.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” There was that look again—the
one that said he was such a fool that it defied credibility. “Because I’m not Alexis. Unlike the Hall property, I can’t be bought.”

  She pulled on her sweater, slipped on her shoes, grabbed her things, and left.

  As Chris watched her go, his instinct was to go after her. But his instinct didn’t seem to work for shit these days, so he didn’t do it. Instead, he listened to the distant sound of her car starting up and driving away.

  26

  Martina started banging things around the moment she got home. She started with the door, which she slammed, then moved on to her purse, which she flung to the floor. She was about to hurl her messenger bag against the wall, when she remembered her computer was in there. Instead, she put it down gently, though it took her some effort to restrain herself.

  It was late, and the house was dark. At the sound of Martina’s angry noises, her sisters began to open their bedroom doors.

  “What’s going on out here?” Sofia was squinty-eyed, her hair mussed. She was wearing a pair of plaid flannel pajamas to stay warm in the chilly house.

  “Seriously. What the hell?” Benny looked more perky. Apparently she’d been watching TV instead of sleeping, because Martina could hear the tinny sounds of sitcom dialogue coming from inside Benny’s room.

  “Is everything okay?” Patrick poked his head out into the hallway. “I heard something. Was there a break-in? Do I need to call somebody?”

  “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Just leave me the hell alone.” Martina turned her back on them so they wouldn’t see she was near tears.

  “Oh, boy. This has something to do with Richie Rich, obviously,” Benny said.

  “Oh, no.” Sofia turned to Patrick. “This is girl stuff. Go back to sleep.” She kissed him, and he retreated back into their room.

  Sofia and Benny came into the living room. Part of Martina wanted to tell them everything and have them console her, the way sisters did. And another part of her just wanted them to leave her alone because she didn’t want to admit she’d been so stupid.

  “Come on. Sit down. Tell your favorite sister everything.” Benny sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her.

  “She can’t. Bianca’s not here,” Sofia quipped.

  Benny shot Sofia a middle finger, then returned her attention to Martina. “Seriously, Martina. What happened?”

  Martina gave in to the part of her that wanted commiseration. What would the point be in hiding what had happened? They’d know eventually. And if she couldn’t tell her sisters how big an idiot she’d been, then who could she tell?

  “Chris and I had a fight.”

  “No shit,” Benny said. “I gathered that much. About what? What did he do?”

  A few tears were falling now, and Martina wiped them away. She sat beside Benny on the sofa while Sofia settled into a chair on the other side of the coffee table.

  “He bought the Maxwell Hall property.”

  Sofia and Benny looked at each other. Then Sofia said, “But … why? Did he know you wanted it?”

  “That’s why. That’s the reason. He bought it for me. That asshole.”

  “Hold up.” Benny put up her hands in a traffic-cop gesture. “Are you saying he bought a piece of property worth more than I’ll make in six years … so he could give it to you?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  Benny let out a laugh. “Well, I’d have settled for a bouquet of flowers, but that works, too.”

  “Benny!” Martina was outraged.

  “I mean,” Benny went on, “if your gazillionaire boyfriend can’t buy you a prime piece of property, who can?”

  “Stop,” Sofia told Benny. “I get it. I do. It’s too much, too soon. And she wanted to do it herself. She wanted it to be hers.”

  “Yes! Exactly! And he took that away from me.”

  “Okay.” Sofia’s voice was soothing. “But, back up a little. Why did he do that? How did it come about?”

  So Martina told both of them the whole story: how Chris had gone behind her back to learn about her financial affairs; how he’d found out she wanted the Hall property but someone else had made an offer on it; and finally, how he’d bought it himself. She recounted the fight, including the way Chris had admitted he’d intended to give the property to Martina.

  “He wasn’t even going to let me pay for it! Which makes me, what? A prostitute? A whore? A gold digger?”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re not a prostitute unless you set the terms in advance,” Benny said. “As for the gold digger thing, that implies you’re only with him for his money. He surprised you with this, and you didn’t even want it, so it doesn’t count.”

  “It’s not about whether she actually is a gold digger,” Sofia clarified for Benny. “It’s that now, she feels like one.”

  “Yes!” Martina said. “And obviously he sees me that way, or he wouldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t have thought he had to.”

  “Well … not necessarily.” Benny had dropped some of her smartass attitude and seemed to be honestly considering it. “Wealthy people don’t think the same as the rest of us do. When he found out the property had an offer on it and you might not get it, he probably thought, why not? That kind of money is nothing to him. If he could make you happy, why not do it?” Martina glared at her, and she put her hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying he was right. I’m just saying, that’s probably what he thought.”

  “So, how did you leave it?” Sofia asked. “What did you tell him about the property?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything. I got mad, and he insisted he’d meant to sell it to me, and I called bullshit, and he finally admitted he’d meant to just give it to me. So I left. I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I still want the property, but I can’t accept it from him. It just doesn’t feel right.” She wrung her hands in her lap. “And there are bigger issues! Like, why was he stalking around, asking about my private financial business!”

  “That really is creepy,” Benny admitted.

  “And he thinks he has to buy his women,” Sofia added. “Because that’s obviously what he was trying to do. I mean, look at how he was with his ex. He was going to remodel Cooper House just because she wanted him to. And their relationship wasn’t even that serious!”

  Martina slumped into the cushions on the sofa, her head back, looking at the ceiling. Her face felt hot and her middle felt hollowed out. “It’s just not right—any of it. I don’t want to be bought. I don’t want him doing things for me that I want to do for myself. I don’t want him thinking I’m only around for the perks. And I don’t want to feel that I can’t make reasonable decisions regarding the relationship because … because …”

  “Because you’re in hock to him for five hundred grand,” Benny supplied.

  “Right.” Martina let out a ragged breath. “God, this is so messed up.”

  Sofia moved from her chair to the sofa, sitting down on Martina’s other side. She put a hand on Martina’s shoulder and squeezed. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Break up with him, I guess.”

  “Is that what you want?” Sofia asked.

  “No.” And, damn it, there were more tears. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them with her fingertips. “No, damn it. It’s not what I want.”

  “Then I think you two are going to need to have a come to Jesus talk,” Benny said.

  Chris knew he’d made a terrible mistake with Martina. He just didn’t know exactly what it was.

  He’d listened to her while she was yelling at him, so he did understand some of her complaint. She’d wanted to buy the property herself, for one thing. Okay, he got that. But someone had made an offer. What was he supposed to do, just let the other party buy the house and the land and let Martina be disappointed? Why, when there was something he could easily do to correct the situation?

  Then there was the part about her not being for sale. That one was harder for him to comprehend. When, exactly, had he said he wanted to buy he
r? When had he said he expected anything in return for what he’d done? He’d done something nice, for Christ’s sake. Something considerate. Since when did a guy get kicked in the balls—metaphorically speaking—for that?

  She’d said the thing about Alexis, too. How she wasn’t like Alexis. Well, of course she wasn’t. Martina couldn’t be any different from Alexis if the two of them had come from different planets. So, why had Alexis’s name even come up in the conversation?

  All of it was giving him a headache, so he took a couple of Tylenol before going back to bed. Alone.

  The Tylenol didn’t help—not really—so he got up and got himself a couple of fingers of whiskey from the bar cart in the library. He sat in a chair by the dark, cold fireplace, sipping and thinking.

  Was he that dense when it came to women? Was he so entirely clueless that he could get in a huge fight with his girlfriend, get yelled at about what he’d done, and still have no idea whatsoever about how he’d fucked up?

  Yes, asshole. You’re exactly that clueless.

  He wanted to fix this, but how could he when he didn’t know where he’d gone wrong?

  One thing he absolutely couldn’t do was ask Martina to explain it to him. If she realized that not only wasn’t he sorry for what he’d done, but that he didn’t even know what it was or why she was upset, she was going to dump his ass for sure.

  There were many thing he didn’t know about women, but one thing he did know was they didn’t like to be misunderstood, and if they were misunderstood, they took it as definitive proof the person who’d misunderstood them needed to be cut off—not only from sex, but from their lives.

  Finished. Done. Delete their contact information and block them on Twitter.

  He didn’t want to be that guy. He didn’t want to get ghosted.

  He rubbed his forehead, feeling like one miserable son of a bitch.

  This evening had started so well, too.

  He didn’t want to sleep alone—not with the memory of Martina so fresh—but it seemed he didn’t have a choice. He finished his drink, went upstairs, and got into bed, hoping things would look clearer in the morning.