She pointed downstairs. “You’re there and I’m here. Works well for me.”
“‘And never the twain shall meet,’” he quoted. “I’m self-employed, Kathy. I speak with clients all day long and work on their projects. Any spare time I have is going to this dog you saddled me with. And to finding another apartment in Beantown.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you think I want to waste your time—with what? Romantic detours? You think I want to distract you from your career?” She waved at her table. “Does it look like I’m idle?”
“No!” he replied. “And that’s the point. We’re both here to accomplish the same goals. But you can be very distracting, and I can’t afford that. So, let’s make a deal: a three-month, hands-off, working arrangement. No socializing at all except for emergencies.”
He thought she wouldn’t reply. Instead, she stood, took the bottle of red, and produced a corkscrew from a kitchen drawer. She eyed him as she decanted and handed him a glass when she’d finished.
“Sounds to me like my housemate had a bad breakup. And not too, too long ago.” She raised her glass. “So here’s to new beginnings for you, and to zero distractions in a magical house.”
He almost choked on his wine. How could she have figured out about his breakup with Amber? He’d said nothing. Absolutely nothing. And his uncle hadn’t even met Kathy yet and couldn’t have mentioned it.
“Seems you’re looking for a new beginning as well,” he said. “So right back at you.” He took a sip. “But don’t tell me you buy into Quinn’s nonsense.”
She looked startled for a moment, then raised her chin. “I’m trying to keep an open mind.”
“Who are you kidding?” he asked. “You sound like you’re reciting a line in a play. Magical. Fantasyland—and you, a mathematician.”
Her sharp glance followed by another blush had guilt written all over her. “I am such a bad liar. It is a bunch of nonsense. I’m surprised, though, that you picked up on how I earn my living.”
“Bart mentioned it, and I remembered.” He pointed to his head. “Almost a photographic memory. It’s not necessary but comes in handy for a graphic artist.”
“Hmm. I bet it has its pluses and minuses.”
Smart woman. Definitely a minus. His unexpected discovery of Amber with her lover boy was seared into his brain. Every detail of the bedroom—the pillow, strewn clothes, his leg over hers… He’d always believed in a picture being worth a thousand words—that’s what his career was based on. But he never thought he’d be a victim of its awful truth.
“Brandon? Brandon? Where are you?”
Her voice brought him back to the moment, and he jumped in. “So if we’re good with this arrangement, I’ll just take Rocky and go.”
“Not yet.”
“What?”
She opened her fridge and took out a large bowl. “The wine is wasted without a meal. Despite my complaints the other day, my mom is a great cook. You won’t get better Italian anywhere.”
Tempting, but the woman hadn’t listened at all. No distractions!
She busied herself at the counter. “I know what you’re thinking. But we can start that in the morning. Everything seems better after a good meal. Just ask any of my brothers!”
He began to laugh. Perfect. No chance of entanglement with a pretty lady sporting a sunshine smile who viewed him as a brother.
♥ ♥ ♥
Although the weather didn’t improve during the next week, Kathy looked forward to her beach runs with Sheba and kept the two-a-day habit. It was often full dark by the time she returned to the house in the late afternoon. By Friday, the vision she had for her stay in the town was being realized. Two jobs, no interruptions. Excellent progress in both areas. And a paycheck from Mass Life deposited directly into her account.
As she’d explained to her mom a day earlier, “Time is flying. I’m working hard and never lonely. Sheba is the greatest gift! And when I’m writing, I’ve got lots of people to keep me company.”
Of course, her mother thought she was nuts. “You made them up, Kathy,” she insisted. “They’re make-believe!” But Kathy knew her story characters so well, she chatted to them as though they were real people and shared their frustrations as they struggled—even though she controlled the plot! It was so hard to explain. And harder for others to understand. As long as readers enjoyed her mysteries, however, she figured she was doing something right. And so did Marsha, the freelance editor she’d hired. The writing was definitely a job for one person, but shaping the story to be as perfect as possible needed the expertise of other professionals.
Now she slipped on her parka, opened the outside door, and attached Sheba’s leash for their second outing. “Ready, girl?” The dog danced around her. Born ready for an adventure, Sheba never refused an invitation to go out. They clambered down the flight to the entryway.
“We haven’t seen Brandon and Rocky in a while,” said Kathy, cracking the door open. “We must keep missing each other… I don’t even have his phone number.”
“We should rectify that.”
Kathy startled at his voice. Her downstairs neighbor stood on the other side of the door. A scruffy-faced Brandon in a fleece-lined hoodie, holding Rocky’s leash while the dog pranced around him and toward Sheba.
“You scared me.” He looked darn good. Casually sexy and comfortable with it. But scruffy beards worked on all men, Kathy told herself. But those green eyes, glinting with humor—that’s what he could claim as his own.
“Will you please teach him some manners, Sheba?” Brandon said, leaning against the doorframe. “He never stops playing.” His chuckle belied the complaint.
“You’re in a good mood today,” said Kathy. “In fact, an excellent one. You must have had as great a week as I had.”
“Two new clients—major deals,” he said with a dazzling smile that almost blinded her. “If I didn’t know better, I might think the place really is magical.”
“Congratulations twice over. That’s fabulous. I assure you that the only magic involved came from your hands, heart, and brain. You must have wowed them with your ideas.”
“Ready to walk the hounds?” He turned his head and grabbed the door knob.
“Am I embarrassing you, Brandon? I do think a nice ruddy color is creeping up your cheeks.” Turnabout was certainly fair play and fun.
“C’mon, sunshine. Rocky needs the exercise. He’s getting fat just lying around.”
“Fat? I doubt it. But whatever makes you happy…”
A minute later, they were on the sand, the dogs pulling for freedom. “Nonna said I could let Sheba loose without worrying, but I won’t do it when it’s too dark to see into the distance.” She touched his arm. “Rocky’s walking so much better. You’ve done a really good job with him.”
“Now that I have my car back, I took him to the vet today,” Brandon said. “This boy is healing fast. No more plastic bag as of tomorrow.”
She thought back in time for a moment. “I guess it’s been an entire week, huh?” Kathy asked, glancing at the new rescue. A most handsome fellow. Then she realized what Brandon might be getting at and braced herself for disappointment.
“I haven’t forgotten our deal, Brandon. Is this your way of saying you want me to take him back?”
Suddenly she was walking alone. She looked over her shoulder. Brandon had halted five steps back, but then started toward her.
“I suppose that’s a fair question,” he began when he stood in front of her. “But you darn well know I’m keeping him. Heck, you probably had that figured out from the get-go. So don’t go all innocent on me.”
“Yes!” With arms pumping, she jumped and jogged in circles on the sand. “I knew it. I knew you were a good guy right from the beginning.”
He reached for her, and suddenly, she was being held snugly against his chest. “Don’t give me too much credit, Katarina,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Rocky knew how to soften my heart. Maybe he followed your example.�
��
Surprise kept her silent.
“So now, a fair warning: I’m not a totally good guy, and I’m certainly not one of your brothers.”
His kiss was hard, demanding, and took her breath away, before it gentled to explore her lips and mouth. Before she realized how easy it would be to go along. She pushed against his chest, and his arms loosened. She took a step back.
“The-the timing’s wrong, Brandon,” she said softly, her gaze steady on him. “You’re not in a good place, relationship wise. And I? Well, I’d like to prove I can earn a living by working remotely full-time. And maybe, if I’m lucky…really lucky…one day the writing can come first.” She paused and took a breath. “I think we both have other goals right now.”
He didn’t respond immediately, simply stared at her, then at the horizon, the sky, and back toward the house. “I don’t believe in Bart Quinn’s guff,” he began, “but like Rocky, I have to put my faith in a fresh start. The beach in winter might be an unusual place to find one.” He cupped his ear. “Can you hear the whoosh of the waves against the sand? Over and over since the earth began, like a lullaby. I find that comforting.”
In the moonlight, she saw the peaceful planes of his face, the clearness of his eyes and heard the warmth in his voice.
“I’m doing just fine in all ways, Katarina, almost like a weight has been lifted. Maybe we’ll both discover what we want here. We’ve got months to find out.”
Her Roadside Rescues: Chapter 6
Underneath all his bluster, Brandon had a soft heart. As she made her bed the next morning, Kathy was still thinking about their conversation on the beach. Brandon certainly had shared another part of himself with her. He seemed to be reevaluating, musing on life. As for his thoughts about their surroundings…his descriptions, his reactions…well, she wouldn’t have taken him for a romantic. But she did now.
On the other hand, maybe winning those two new clients had something to do with recharging his life. At the very least, it had to be a confidence builder.
She opened her refrigerator for a breakfast idea. A lot of empty space met her eye. “Whoops. I think all of Mom’s care packages are gone. Today I go to the supermarket.” Petting Sheba, she apologized. “I don’t think they’ll let you in, sweetie. You’ll have to stay home.”
After grabbing her purse, she ran downstairs to her car, noticing Brandon’s was gone. She shrugged. Well, he didn’t have to report his activities to her.
She bumped into him in the market. “Great minds and all that,” she said, peering into his cart. “Lovely,” she exclaimed. “Low-salt chicken soup.” Her thoughts swirled. “Better yet, I can buy a bird and make a pot—enough for both of us.”
“Too much trouble,” he replied. “You’re not here to cook, and besides—”
“I’m not the cook my mom is,” she interrupted. “But soup is one staple I’ve learned. I can make enough for today and to freeze for later on. No problem.” She tilted her head back. “Are you in?”
She saw his regret before he spoke. “Ordinarily, I would. But today, my aunt and uncle invited me for dinner. Celebrating my first week in town. Sorry.”
She tamped down her initial enthusiasm. “No problem. Enjoy yourself.”
“Hey…why don’t you join us? I know they’ll have plenty.”
Socializing with strangers wasn’t her bailiwick. Her supply of energy and concentration would be depleted, and she couldn’t afford that. Her longed-for calm stay in this town had been challenged enough. Between the accident, the dogs, and meeting Brandon. Whew. She really needed to take back some control. “Maybe another time.”
He nodded. “See you later on the beach?”
“Sure.”
She prepared the soup anyway. Her idea had been last minute, and she couldn’t fault him for not being available. But she was disappointed. On this Sunday evening, the apartment seemed too quiet and had her pausing to find her playlist. Music would help. In Boston, she would have been frustrated with a dozen family phone calls and the expectation of her presence at dinner with a score of people. In Pilgrim Cove, she’d be enjoying a dinner for one. Was there no happy midpoint? Maybe a dinner for two?
So, who was the romantic now?
♥ ♥ ♥
As the week passed, her daily routines took shape, beginning and ending with a walk on the beach with Brandon and the canines. On a Tuesday in the middle of December, after their usual morning walk, Brandon invited her inside his apartment.
“You seem to be bringing me good luck,” he said with a grin. She followed him into the kitchen and then through to the dining room where all his normal art supplies were laid bare on the extended table.
“What a lot of stuff,” she said. “I thought you designed on a computer.”
“I do both, but often the initial idea has me grabbing charcoal, pencils, tablets and whatever. I try to translate what I see in my head to what people can see with their eyes. You should know as a writer…when an idea excites you…you jot it down.”
“I’ve got a pile of notebooks…sometimes too many ideas.”
His deep chuckle reflected true understanding. Camaraderie. “Exactly. You develop the ones that you don’t forget. It’s all exercise for the brain. Nothing’s wasted.”
He pulled out his computer, pressed a few keys. “Every Tuesday, the big book lists come out.”
“I know. New York Times, USA Today…” She’d educated herself well about the entire publishing industry. Now, her industry.
“Right,” said Brandon. “Yesterday, I received an email from one of my clients—a publisher—to check out this week’s lists.” With a few clicks, he pulled it up and pointed. “Number one spot on both lists.”
She looked, recognized the author’s name immediately. “Oh, good. I loved his last one and was waiting for the next. And now it’s here. I like the cover, too. Original. It kind of pulls you into the story yet leaves room for your imagination.”
A beat of silence before Brandon’s voice came to her. “That was my goal,” he said quietly. He pulled out a carton from under the table, produced a copy of the book, and gave it to her. “A gift. Enjoy it. And don’t protest—I have several more.” His grin rivaled the Cheshire cat’s.
“Several more?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
He pressed a few keys on his computer and produced the electronic version of the cover. “My design and execution. They jumped on it.” He whistled a happy note. “Good for the ego and helped my bank account, too.”
Her breath caught, and her hand flew to her chest. “That’s fabulous, Brandon. Congratulations. Again. Man, you’re having a successful month here.” While she was a very minor player in the big game of best-selling books.
“I agree. Things are coming together.” His phone rang to the tune of the “Stars and Stripes Forever” march. Kathy laughed. So did Brandon. “I needed something loud.”
He glanced at the readout and motioned her for quiet. But not to be gone. She sat, leaned back, and listened with curiosity as he chatted with the author, who was naturally elated and who evidently wanted Brandon to create the cover for his next book.
“Would love to do it. Have you spoken with the publisher yet?”
Brandon listened, nodded. “Yeah, I suppose they’re patting themselves on the back. Well, congratulations again. I hope you achieve this success every time.”
With another laugh, he hung up. “I’ve already been paid by his publisher, but he’s sending me a case of champagne. Nice guy. But a case?”
“Maybe you’ll find something else to celebrate,” said Kathy, again hit by a quiver of anxiety. “To tell you the truth,” she continued quietly, “I feel like I’m in an alternate universe. You rub shoulders with best-selling authors, and I’m just starting out. I-I’m a minnow in a big river.” She pivoted toward the door. “I better get back to work.”
“Hey. Hold on a sec.”
She turned around and stared into his concerned face.
&nb
sp; “Want some free advice?” he asked.
“Only if it’s worth more than that.”
“I think it is. I learned the hard way, Kat. Set your goals and stay on course. No matter what outside forces come your way.” He took a breath. “You know about that bad relationship I had last year?”
She nodded. “Sort of.”
“I almost lost my business, too, after growing it client by client for over five years. I allowed myself to get off track. And spent too much money also. But never again.”
“No more relationships?”
“No more bad choices.” He rummaged through a folder on the table. “I have something for you,” he said. “Didn’t think I’d ever hand it over. But now it’s yours. Take a look, and don’t…ever…let…me…hear the word minnow again.”
Totally confused, she took the sheet of paper and glanced at the drawing.
“Does that girl look like a minor player?” he asked.
She blinked and stared at a true caricature of…herself! With her hands on hips, a headband around her dark curls, and an outraged expression, she wore a superhero costume of some kind. A sprinkling of hearts floated around her.
“Wh-What…?”
“That was you after I hit the tree. When you were fighting so hard for Rocky’s future. I thought of you as an Avenger—with heart.”
“Oh, my. You did? I sure don’t see myself that way.” She looked at the drawing again. A bit overwhelming. She peered up at him. “And I called you Uber man back then. Sorry but no pictures from me. Not even a straight line with a ruler.”
“I can draw my own, and our walks on the beach are enough.” He paused. “Glad I was your Uber man on that messy drive.”
“That’s nice to know, Brandon. I feel the same. See you tonight.” She left him then and went upstairs, carefully taping the drawing to the kitchen wall, where she could see it as she worked. She’d felt safe following him on that “messy drive.” This gift he’d given her was more than a drawing. It reflected how he’d seen her. A Supergirl. And now he’d shared it so she would believe in herself. Which she normally did, but he didn’t know that.
Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology Page 31
