Once in a Blue Moon

by Amanda Ashby

  “She did. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

  “My part was easy,” he dismissed as he looked out across the hanging canopy, aglow with the afternoon sunshine streaming in through the long windows. “You’re the one who took some leaves and made them into”—he paused and rubbed his chin as if searching for the right words—“something extraordinary.”

  She blinked at the compliment and turned to him, expecting to see a teasing gleam in his eyes, but it wasn’t there. Instead, they were bright with admiration.

  “Thank you,” she said, voice breathy. “I just wanted to do a good job. It’s an honor to help people celebrate their special day.”

  “No, it’s more than that,” he said. The intensity in his voice sent delicious prickles throughout her body. “You were in a different world. I get why your business is so important to you. It’s not just a job. It’s your art.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist, suddenly unsure what to say. While she loved her work dearly, she’d long ago stopped trying to explain what she did. How connected she felt to it. Why it mattered so much to her.

  She shivered. “Not everyone understands.”

  “Not everyone creates something out of nothing,” he said in a low voice, his eyes searing into her, burning away the adrenaline that had been spiking her veins just moments earlier. “You told me that once, and I couldn’t figure out how you knew what it was like to write a book. I get it now. Because you’re doing the same thing. You tell stories with your flowers.”

  Unexpected tears stung at the corners of her eyes, and her throat tightened. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there. She took a shuddering breath and calmed herself. “Thank you.”

  “You’re the one who did all the hard work.”

  “Yes, but what you said… I appreciate it,” she whispered, still trying to steady herself. “Is it the same for you when you’re writing?”

  His mouth flickered, and then he sighed. “Sometimes. Not as often as I’d like. And I don’t look back at my writing and see—” He swept his hand out to take in the installation in front of them. “I don’t see this.”

  “That’s because you’re too close to it. Your readers see it as art,” she said, no longer surprised by his searing honesty when it came to his work.

  “Debatable. And this isn’t about me.” His light tone was betrayed by the longing in his eyes, as if this was something special that needed to be held on to. Like he wanted to support her. Her heart swelled. “We should go and celebrate. Let me take you to lunch.”

  The rising heat faded, and her throat went dry. “Adam, I’m not sure—”

  “I know. You want to keep a low profile in St. Clair, but we’re an hour away and have just finished a job. If anyone asks, you can say I was a diva author who demanded to be paid in shrimp.” He didn’t try and touch her, but heat still bounced between them, deeper than ever.

  “Shrimp? Seriously?” She raised an eyebrow and tried to steady the thumping in her chest.

  “I’m complicated,” he said, his eyes holding hers, making it impossible to look away. She should say no. But the words wouldn’t form. She was too giddy from the day and from having someone understand what it is she did. Have him understand.

  “Okay.” Her mouth was dry as they walked over to the van. “There’s a place about a mile down the road. I need to pack away my electric saw, then I’m good to go.”

  “I’m so turned on right now.” He growled, his breathing quickened, and his hand reached out to her. Her pulse flickered under his magnetic pull. There was no one else around.

  “You have no idea,” she murmured and stepped into his arms. His hands slid down her back, pulling her forward, mouth hot against hers. A hurricane swirled in her chest. Her breath was unsteady when she stepped away. “We’d better get that shrimp.”

  “Sure, but we’ll be discussing this later.”

  “I’m counting on it.” Laney managed to nod, using all her willpower to untangle herself from him.

  Ten minutes later, they reached the restaurant perched on the side of a lake. It overlooked the tranquil waters and tree-lined shore. Despite the time, the parking lot was busy. When they stepped inside, they were greeted by a harassed hostess.

  “I’ve got a table right at the back wall. No view.”

  “We’ll cope,” Adam said as they followed the woman through to the booth. Laney slid along one red vinyl-covered seat, and he sat across from her. His foot found hers under the table, and even the touch of his shoe against hers sent need skittering along her spine. A pleased smile spread out across his mouth, and he raised an eyebrow at her as if he could read her thoughts.

  So this is why my other blind dates didn’t work out.

  She pressed her lips together and reached out with her hand, grazing his arm. Desire sparked in his eyes, and she grinned. Now they were even. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, someone let out an excited gasp.

  “Adam Fitzpatrick? It’s really you!”

  Laney whipped her hand back and dragged her foot away from his, despite being hidden by the table. A woman in her mid-thirties was hovering over them, wearing a low-cut dress. Attractive.

  Her body stiffened as green vines of jealousy snaked through her. She turned to Adam. The playful glow in his eyes was now gone, replaced by a mask of polite good humor, and she relaxed her shoulders.

  The woman was a fan, and he was back in author mode. The face he showed the rest of the world. Not the private one he’d let her see.

  “I can’t believe you’re here. Hang on a moment,” the woman said, spinning around and waiving her hands wildly at another table. Moments later, two more women descended. “I told you it was him.”

  “We went to your signing in St. Clair and heard you’d stayed in the area,” the second said, giving him a lavish smile. “How’s the new book coming along?”

  “Almost done,” he said in a calm voice, though his jaw flickered and his fingers tightened around the water glass in front of him.

  “Such great news. And we were just discussing whether to fly to New York for the auction. Meeting you here is a sign that we should do it. We’re your biggest fans.”

  “And don’t worry, we will be bidding on you,” the third said with a giggle.

  New York? Auction? Laney rubbed her brow. She turned her attention back to Adam, but he merely smiled at the women.

  “Hey, I appreciate it. We’re hoping to raise lots of money. Now, I’d better not keep you from your meal. Enjoy the rest of your day.” It was polite but dismissive, and the women finally noticed Laney for the first time, their smiles fading.

  “We will. See you next week.”

  “I’ll be there,” he said as they trailed off. The food arrived as soon as they’d gone, so Laney forced herself to wait until they were alone again.

  “You’re up for auction next week?”

  In New York.

  Color uncharacteristically crawled up his neck. “Yeah. I do it each year. It’s to raise money to buy more books for schools. I forgot it was on until the other day. I’m only going to be gone one night. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it.”

  “There’s no reason to be sorry,” she quickly retorted. But her chest tightened; the warmth of the day was gone, replaced by the old familiar sense of helplessness. Like she was trapped in a dream, watching something happen. Like when her father walked out. When Adam moved to Boston.

  Simon dying.

  Of course she knew he did book tours. And auctions, apparently. That’s what had brought him here in the first place, but somehow, she’d forgotten. Forgotten he might have better things to do than stay in a tiny town on the Oregon coast. Especially if this new book did well. It shouldn’t make a difference. They’d agreed to a fling.

  His career had always been important to him. More importa
nt than her.

  Nina wasn’t the girl for me.

  “You okay?”

  “It’s nothing.” Just a reality check. A reminder that he wouldn’t always be around to help her out. To say that what she did was art.

  “Doesn’t seem like nothing.” He frowned as he turned back to where the women were still looking over. “Wait…you’re not worried that they might bid on me in the auction and that something might happen. I wouldn’t—”

  “No.” She quickly shook her head, not even wanting to consider it. “It’s none of my business.”

  Muscles tightened along his jaw, and a flash of pain crossed his face. “We’re sleeping together. I’d like to think it is your business. Laney, you know you can trust me, right?”

  She lowered her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to order her thoughts.

  “I do.” I think. “It’s…everything else. It’s too easy to forget you don’t live here,” she said truthfully, since he’d managed to ingrain himself in St. Clair, just like he’d ingrained himself into her life. “Ignore me.”

  “In that dress? Impossible.” His hard gaze held hers. “Do you want to stop this?”

  Tension sliced through the air as the words hung there.

  One word, and it could all be over. Desire raged through her. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

  “No, but I feel like I’m hiding up a tree all over again. We’re eating at a restaurant miles from town because I don’t want anyone to know. And now I’m freaked because you have a whole different life. I don’t have the right to think like that.”

  “That other life of mine isn’t so great. I’d much rather spend the day helping you at a wedding than fly off to New York,” he said in a low growl that sent curls of heat blasting through her belly.

  “Really?” she croaked.

  “Really.” His eyes turned molten and held hers. Then he abruptly stood up and extracted his wallet, putting a wad of bills down on the table. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  “What about our food. Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Starving.” His eyes swept over her as she slid out of the booth. They didn’t touch as they left the restaurant, but the heat from his body seeped into hers. She wanted to lose herself in his touch so that she couldn’t think about the unexpected connection he’d had to her work or the fact she was getting in way over her head.

  …

  “Everything up to the tree line comes with the property,” Erika said on Monday afternoon. The foundation of the original house could still be seen farther to the left, but it had burned down, and a newer brick house had been built sometime in the eighties. The red brick walls and orange-tiled roof clashed against the surrounding garden. The giant stump of what must have once been a towering pine tree sat in the next paddock, like a scar on the ground.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I know it’s an eyesore, but the house has solid bones. Luke Carmichael could easily turn it around for you. This market’s strong, Laney. It won’t last. If you want to build a future for yourself, this is a great place to do it. Look past the short-term inconvenience and think long-term.”

  Long-term. The reason she’d wanted to buy Tucker’s farm in the first place. Last month, it had been her dream.

  Last month, I wasn’t sleeping with a man who lived in L.A.

  She pressed her lips together. It shouldn’t change anything. But after they’d spent the rest of the weekend in bed, it was getting harder and harder to remember.

  You don’t have to do everything alone, Laney.

  “I need to think about it.”

  “Don’t take too long.”

  “I won’t,” she said and turned to search for Violet, who’d been sniffing at a patch of poison ivy. “Come on, girl, you need to stay away from that. It’s dangerous.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “The first time Elle said she loved me was on my birthday, in front of fifty people. She said she wanted the world to know how she felt.” Blue Moon

  Adam frowned as he studied the green wall in the airport restaurant. The strands of ivy had strange lines of yellow running through them, making them seem dead and lifeless. He reached out a hand and touched a leaf, then recoiled. Plastic. No wonder he didn’t like it. He pulled out some bills to pay for his coffee and got to his feet. A few weeks ago, he didn’t even know what a green wall was, yet now every time he saw one, all he could think of was Laney, her mouth pursed in concentration as she’d woven leaves and branches into the large metal frame.

  And she could use a chainsaw.

  So hot.

  He walked through the busy terminal to catch his flight. He’d ended up having to stay two nights in New York and spent most of the time wishing he was back in St. Clair. At least they’d raised double the money from last year’s event, and soon he’d be boarding his flight.

  Eight hours later, Adam pulled his rental car up to the Belles and climbed out. The St. Clair breeze was fresh and warm and loosened the knots in his shoulders. All he wanted to do was wrap himself around Laney, drinking in her warmth. He’d called her from the airport, but it had gone straight to her messages. He paused and frowned.

  They didn’t usually catch up until after six, but it had been two days. Besides, it must be six o’clock somewhere in the world.

  The closed sign hung on the door, but she’d given him a key last week. He climbed the stairs two at a time and reached the top as she walked past holding a tray of hot drinks. Her hair was pulled back off her face and hung over one shoulder, leaving her neck exposed. Heat seared through him, and he went to cross the threshold.

  Then she turned, and her entire body froze, knuckles turning white as she gripped the tray. Her mouth had taken on a horrified shape, as if he’d just walked across an entire garden bed of flowers. Adam stiffened in response. Not quite the homecoming he’d been expecting.

  “Where did you say the other jar of olives was?” a voice called out from somewhere in the apartment. Jessica? Oh, hell. His rising heat faded as Laney’s eyes locked with his, her gaze pleading. Begging him to stay hidden.

  “Don’t tell her. She’s already finished one jar today,” Brett’s voice chimed in from somewhere in the room.

  Laney’s hands shook as the color drained from her face, and Adam numbly took a step back down the stairs. Some of the tension in her jaw lessened, and she gave him a pained smile before hurrying into the other room, where her guests were obviously waiting. A dismissal.

  He rubbed his jaw as steel spikes jabbed at his gut. Had he been imagining that this thing they had was more than just a fling? Had he spent the last two days wanting to be with someone who didn’t want to be with him? A familiar wave of humiliation and anger swept through him. What I want doesn’t seem to matter.

  The sound of their laughing voices chased him as he stalked back to his own apartment. Nothing like a reality check to remind him that, despite how well everything seemed to be going, Simon was still there.

  I’m competing with a ghost.

  That was why she hadn’t told anyone about their previous relationship. Why she didn’t want anyone to know about this one. His legs twitched, and he considered going for a jog, but to do so he’d have to leave the apartment and risk bumping into Laney and her in-laws again. Risk seeing the horror in her eyes at almost having her secret exposed.

  Beer was the next best thing. He grabbed a can from the fridge.

  He flicked the television on and found a game, not really bothering to follow the play. He drained the beer and stood up for another one when Laney poked her head around the door.

  He leaned against the kitchen counter and folded his arms.

  “You come to tell me I’m kicked out of the secret spy club?” He raised an eyebrow, but his anger dissipated as he took in her ashen color. “Sorry I screwed up. Did they—”

 
“No.” She shook her head and walked over to him, Violet at her heels. “I’m so sorry that happened. I didn’t check my messages. I should have texted you, told you not to come over.”

  He stretched his neck and looked up at the ceiling, then let out a breath. “My fault. I just got off the plane and wanted to see you.” And I forgot it’s not a real relationship.

  “I wanted to see you, too,” she said, taking a step toward him so she was standing between his legs. His arms were still crossed, and she tentatively raised her hand and trailed it along his bicep. “I missed you.”

  “Ditto,” he managed to say as she slowly tugged his arm away from his chest, leading it down to her waist. Then she stepped into the empty space and stood on her toes to kiss him. Her lips were warm and soft, and her body pressed into his. Instinctively, his other arm snaked around her, drawing her close.

  She let out a soft gasp, and the kiss deepened. She finally pulled away, her cheeks flushed, but her eyes were clouded, and there were dark smudges sitting below them.

  “Does that mean you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said and cupped her chin. Her skin was like velvet under his touch, and her dark lashes were wet. Had she been crying? “Laney, what’s going on? Has something happened?”

  “It’s nothing.” She trembled and dipped her gaze, then stepped out of his embrace and walked over to the couch. She sat down and put her hands in her lap, like she didn’t know what to do with them. He strode after her.

  “It’s not nothing. Hell… They didn’t see me, did they?”

  “No.” She quickly shook her head and studied him. Then she let out a soft sigh. “Jessica’s been a bit…emotional the last couple of days.”

  “The baby?” He sat down next to her.

  “Not the baby, just the pregnancy. Yesterday, she stayed in bed the entire day, and then she came around for lunch and burst into tears. She cried for an hour,” she said, her own eyes filling with tears. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I’ve seen most of her moods, but this was different. I wanted to call Brett, but she just started crying harder. She finally settled, and by the time Brett arrived, it was like nothing had happened. I’m really worried.”