by J. A. Coffey
She fiddled with a loose string dangling on the hem of her shorts. “Isn’t that like kinda like lying?”
“I told him I was getting it detailed. It’s close enough to the truth.” Wasn’t it? He swallowed the hard lump that suddenly formed in his throat. “It isn’t worth getting Pops riled up over. Not when we can fix it.”
“Okay, if that’s how you want to play it.” Anna was watching him again, with that alert artist’s stare that seemed to see right through him. “But I don’t get why he doesn’t think you’re good enough. Landscaping seems to be a lot more than just plunking stuff in the ground.”
“It is.” In a way, it was the most accountable work he’d ever done, until now. Working with kids was a lot like working with plants. You had to know where to place things, to create an environment where they could grow.
She nodded. “You put in a lot of planning, and things may not always turn out as you intended. One wrong move and…stuff dies. Seems pretty serious.” Her gaze flitted away.
“For someone like me, you mean?” The back of his neck burned. He supposed if he was looking at his recent work history, a scrapped show and a string of home improvement events, he’d probably feel the same way. His parents did, but he didn’t like Anna seeing him that way.
“For anyone, Kane.” She put her hand over his for a second, then removed it. “You’re like an artist using natural materials.”
“I guess.” He’d never thought of it that way, but the way she said it made him sound a lot closer to Antoni Gaudí than he’d thought. The heat on the back of his neck started to subside. “What about you? You’re the true artist.”
“You have to work with Mother Nature.” She grinned. “That’s a tough muse.”
“And you work with Mother Goose,” he quipped. “Even tougher to pull off.”
She laughed, the light sound bubbling like a waterfall. “I suppose so.”
“Guess that makes us kindred spirits.” Was he imagining it or was she leaning closer? Man, he wanted to kiss her. To put his mouth on her and claim her for his own. He flared his nostrils and caught the fire and flux scent of her, the unique perfume of her skin, like strawberries and summertime. It was sweet, sharp, and completely intoxicating.
“Does it?” Her cheeks flushed but her eyes cut over his shoulder. She made a halting motion to one of the kids who was trying to chase birds. “Hey! Cut it out, David.”
Recess was over.
“Yo, D-man. Leave ‘em alone,” Kane called out. The boy stopped and waved back at them. Anna watched them for a moment longer.
“They listen to you.” She stood and untangled her legs from the bench. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah, but they like you,” he joked. “You’re the mastermind. I’m just the grunt labor, remember?”
“I think we both know you’re a lot more than that, Kane.” She shepherded the kids back inside for the afternoon, leaving him and her words hanging.
Chapter Five
By the end of the first week, Kane’s lopsided, papier-mache-crusted grin had completely disarmed her. Thank God his father’s car was almost finished. She was on a roller coaster with a broken track, and she desperately needed to stop. Kane made her feel things, want things…things she hadn’t felt since before her dad had died when she could afford to act her age.
She’d been so caught up thinking about him, now she was running late. Her cell buzzed on the top of the work cart where she’d left it. She made a grab for it, in time to see Kane’s number flash once and disconnect.
“Hello? Hello?” She jerked the phone from her face. The display was dark. Growling in irritation, she hit the power button to wake it. The cell stayed dark.
“When’s the last time you charged that thing?” Fred asked.
“I don’t know. Sometime halfway between dinner yesterday and here?” She’d had a full charge when she’d left the center yesterday. Had she left the apps open on her screen while hashing out a new sketch? “You got a charger cord for this?” She waggled her Android phone.
“Not here. Millie and I switched to one of them Apples last month.”
“Traitor.” She chuckled. “That means the closest one is at my dad’s house.”
Fred halted, his normally affable expression turning sharp. “You mean your house, right, Anna?”
“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her neck. “The one he left me.” She’d never gotten used to thinking of the place as hers. All the furniture was just as her dad had left it. Same easy chair. Same plaid sofa. Same Farberware dishes, the ones with the little daisies on them. She hadn’t moved her things from the smaller bedroom, either. It was just…too weird.
“He isn’t coming back, Anna Banana. Your mom either. Maybe it’s time you stopped living in the past.”
“I’m not!” she protested.
Fred stabbed his thick finger up at the sculpture of Bo. “Your mom was always reading you fairy tales and nursery rhymes. Don’t think I don’t know why you bust your ass to keep those memories alive.”
“I…just…” Because it was familiar. It was easier to pretend things were just as they’d always been, instead of carving out a brand new life from the spare parts. “I’ve got to get to the community center.”
She rushed to her car, a powder blue 1970 Chevelle, with her eyes stinging, hoping there’d be no traffic. There it was. For all her bravado, Annabelle Thomas was a giant chicken when it came to dealing with her own past. She knew it held her back, but it also gave her a solid foundation to draw from. One that was routine and unchanging and completely unlike being with Kane.
Isn’t that what terrified and thrilled her about him? He was both familiar and unexpected. Like the promise of sunshine during the Seattle early morning rain.
Their chemistry awakened sparks in her she thought were long dormant—ever since her last disastrous attempt at love. They’d had lunches together while teaching the class, of course, and once they shared snacks from the vending machines before she headed back to the garage to work on the Dino, but it was nothing like an actual date. She didn’t even know why she wanted him to ask her out, exactly. Except for the way he made her blush whenever he looked at her.
She’d put her feelings into her work on his father’s car, heating the metal to anneal the surface and then painstakingly banging out the dents with a hammer and rubber mallet. Wednesday, he’d sent her a few texts asking what she was doing. Afraid to answer, she’d ignored the first message, but when he persisted, she sent him a string of emoticons with hammers, smiley faces, and muscles. He’d replied with a thumbs-up and a heart.
She’d mulled over the meaning of that heart for a good half hour before she could force herself to pick up the mallet again.
He hadn’t contacted her outside of the camp sessions since. Good. She needed to focus, keep this on a professional level, no matter how much her heart wanted something more.
Thankfully, the next few days of camp went off without a hitch.
“How’s the car coming?” Kane asked as they started the clean-up routine on Thursday.
She was down to the final sanding stages that would hopefully remove every trace of damage and polish the fender to a mirror shine. If only she could figure out what she was feeling for Kane as easily. “Great. Almost finished. How are things going with the summer show?”
Might as well remind him what their real connection was. Kane scrubbed the table tops with muscular grace, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing as he wiped away their afternoon messes. Anna cocked her head and observed him for a moment, wishing she had some privacy, a pencil, and her sketchpad. The man should be immortalized.
“Great.” His eyes sparked, like July heat waves on a summer lawn. “I nailed down the selections for the committee to consider.”
“Committee?” Her heart started pounding. “I thought it was your decision.”
Kane grabbed a sponge. “Well, if my father counts as a committee. Our schedules haven’t lined up lately and I have t
o run my candidates past him. But it’s gonna be killer. Unlike anything we’ve done before.”
“That sounds cool.” Cool? She was anything but. Sweat broke out on her upper lip as she placed the campers’ watercolor paintings in the drying rack. “Well, keep me posted.”
Kane halted. “You should know that I want you, Anna.”
One of the paintings drooped to the floor. Blue and red paint dripped on the linoleum like Kool-Aid.
“Excuse me?” She bent to retrieve it, her breath stuck in her throat. Her hands looked like she’d murdered a bunch of grapes. She wiped them on her apron.
“For the show.” He ducked his head, then looked up at her with a smoldering smile. “I’m putting you in The Mav. Just as soon as I run things by my father.”
She wanted to hug him and kiss him and…well, all kinds of things.
But there were campers around, and little Jasmine was watching her and she had to contain herself. She settled for squealing and bouncing up and down on her toes. “That’s brilliant, Kane. Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“I think I do.” He tossed the words off as if he hadn’t just made all her dreams come true.
She’d pegged him as an irresponsible playboy, but he’d been accountable for his end of their deal. He worked just as hard as she did. He surprised her. Kane was proving himself more than just able. He was invaluable. And completely devastating to her plans to keep him at arm’s length.
Her arms wanted him close. Hell, her whole body did. Up close and all kinds of personal.
“Camp is over for today, guys.” She was tingling from her head to her toes.
“Clean up, clean up,” he sing-songed to the kids washing up at the sink. “Everybody do your share.”
She smiled. He was off-key, but he couldn’t be more adorable if he tried.
Kane caught her watching and winked as he finished calling out instructions for the kids to line up. One of the smaller campers latched onto his muscular bicep like he was a jungle-gym as they rounded up the class to lead them to the front foyer for pick-up.
He lifted the little girl easily, her tiny feet dangling as he hefted her. Wow. Kane was more than handsome and built. He was funny, too. And kind. She felt like she’d swallowed butterflies along with her daily PB&J. Thinking of lunch made her remember the delicate way Kane had brushed crumbs from the corner of her lips on Monday.
He hadn’t reached out to her physically since, but the weight of his gaze made her want so much more from him. She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. Fantasizing about anyone, especially Kane, was a bad idea, no matter how much her opinion of him had improved.
Another shriek of laughter from one of the girls as he lined them up at the door. They were just as enamored with him as she was. Oh, God. She was totally falling for him.
“C’mon, everyone. Your families are waiting.” She clapped her hands and Kane helped her lead the children out of the class and down the hall to the front of the community center.
On the way to the front of the building, Anna let Kane take the lead. He’d earned it. The guy took to playing her sidekick like Frog and Toad. He was the perfect blend of funny and charming, her comic assistant through every messy lesson without complaint. Every kid should get their hands dirty in the act of creation, and Kane seemed just as enthusiastic as the children to follow her lead.
She’d even purposefully thrown in a few humdingers—the lessons teachers hated to use in class—to see how the handsome hunk would react. Kane had dug into those lessons with the same relish she imagined he tackled his landscape projects.
The under-the-table painting to simulate Michelangelo’s Sistine Ceiling? That had earned Kane more than a few spots of paint on his hundred-dollar designer T-shirt that wouldn’t come out in the laundry. Scouring the open fields for “found objects” for a Nevelson-inspired shadow box? They’d had some good grass stains on their knees that day. And now the Great Papier-Mache Project.
Kane resembled a half-empty bowl of oatmeal, with globs of white pasty goop on his face, his hands, even in his short hair. She wanted to run her fingers through it, to see if his hair was as velvety as it looked.
“Bye, Miss Anna. Bye, Mr. Kane. See you next week!” Jasmine waved to her and Kane, then skipped over to where her grandfather waited in the front foyer of the community center.
“Have fun, Jasmine.” She nodded to the billionaire magnate and his wife Katherine, who waited near the front. They gave her a brief smile before they acknowledged Kane’s presence. They probably weren’t used to seeing Mavericks covered in papier-mache.
“Tell your father I’ll see him on the course on Sunday, Kane.” Joseph Anderson called.
“Yes, sir.” Kane’s smile was tight, but he secretly rolled his eyes at her as they turned back toward the line of waiting campers.
Anna stifled a giggle.
Jasmine was the only kid retrieved by her grandparents. The rest of the gang had parents or au pairs, a cluster of women in various shades of yoga attire, who whispered and giggled as Kane rounded up the last of the campers. Several teased Kane about the flecks of white goop on his clothes, and he joked back with his standard good-natured charm.
“This way, David.” She put a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder and redirected him before he charged deeper into the community center. Kane tossed her an amused smirk and gave her a thumbs-up.
As they strolled back to the classroom, her throat got tight, like she had peanut butter wedged in her windpipe. She absolutely couldn’t afford to get mixed up with him. If she got into the summer show at The Mav, even her closest friends wouldn’t believe that something wasn’t going on behind the scenes. She could think of a few folks, namely Rick, her ex, who wouldn’t hesitate to take her down a notch—not that she had much further to fall.
“That’s it for today. One week down, one to go. What are we working on next?” Kane picked at a bit of white paste on his rolled up sleeves.
She stuffed the sour memories of her previous boyfriend to the back of her mind. Art lessons were far more preferable to mull over. As was Kane Maverick.
“Next week we’ll start the group project for the community center. I still haven’t quite decided how I want to bring them all together.” Anna tapped a finger against her lips, imagining of kissing him. “I was thinking of some kind of three-dimensional piece that we can hang from the foyer. Something inspired by nature.”
“Oh?” His brows rose.
“Yeah, bringing the outside in. So many of these kids are cooped up indoors for hours.” She thought some more. “Originally, I’d envisioned leaves, but they’re too flat.”
He grabbed a handful of torn newspaper strips and stuffed them into a bin for next time. “Could use wood, maybe. Something light, like balsa. They make airplane models out of it.”
“True.” She snagged the last bit of trash and tossed it into the garbage. “Still not quite right. Most of the kids would be too young to cut the parts out with a blade.”
Together, they tidied up the rest of the classroom, lost in thought.
Kane paused for a moment. “What about seed pods?”
“Hmm? Oh.” She’d forgotten how much he knew about plants and shrubs. “Yeah…that could work. We could use a stiff paper.”
“Or poster board.”
“Right.” Her excitement grew. “And oil pastels for decorating. I know a terrific scumbling technique, and the waxy finish would help prevent moisture from forming, even in Seattle.” She rubbed her hands together, itching to sketch. “A cluster hanging would definitely work. We could string them together, banana bunch style. Let them cascade down.”
“I’ve seen origami crane sculptures like that when I was taping in San Francisco. The owner’s patio had this cool Zen garden theme going,” Kane observed, stroking his chin. He picked off a bit of papier-mache goop still stuck in his stubble and laughed. “Ugh. I’m a mess.”
“You’re amazing,” she blurted without thinking.
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His hands stilled. “You think so?” His voice was cautiously neutral, but the expression on his face made her stomach tense up.
“I do.” She busied herself with stuffing her lunch sack into her oversized bag.
“Then you’re one of the few.” His voice was tinged with bitterness.
“Another blow up with your dad?” The negativity surprised her coming out of a guy who’d been well on his way to being a household name only last year.
“He’s suspicious about the car. You were right. I should’ve just told him.” He leaned back against the edge of the table. “I just…thought I could handle it.”
“I’m sorry.” She’d given in to temptation and watched some clips of Kane Is Able on the internet. While his charm and sunny nature had shone through the not-quite-reality program, the directors seemed to make an effort to shove him into situations designed to make him look like a brainless hunk—a poser who just had to take off his shirt. Is that what Carson Maverick believed, too?
She hoped not.
Kane really knew his stuff. No wonder he’d left the show. He’d been working so hard to escape the shadow of his family name, only to be tossed into a career that depicted him as nothing more than man-meat. Tasty man-meat, but still.
Appearances weren’t everything.
“Forget about it. Kane, this summer camp has been amazing. The best I’ve ever done. Next week is gonna be great.” She set her hand on his forearm, appreciating the heat of his skin under her fingers. He turned, close enough to hold. Close enough to hug. But she didn’t dare voice what she was feeling. That she was crushing really hard on him.
“Not without you, Anna.” He was looking at her with that devastating smile that had half the country clamoring for more from him, no matter how foolish the setup. “You’re the one who’s amazing.”
“You’re crazy.” She removed her hand and snatched up her oversized bag to her shoulder. “I’m just me. Plain old Anna. I live in my dad’s old bungalow and I work out of a salvage garage.”
