“Are you always a rebel?”
He looked truly surprised by that. “There may or may not be a rebel in this car, but it certainly isn’t me.”
“Aren’t you the one who smoked the cigarettes behind the Industrial Tech building and flew the fast plane?”
“Those were my young and stupid days. And planes are supposed to fly fast. I’ve never been called rebellious in my life.”
She turned to gawk at him.
He glanced over at her. “What?”
“Are you forgetting who you’re talking to here? Remember, I knew you when you were a teenager.”
He stared out the window for a minute, then laughed. “You probably remember more than I do. Maybe you’re right. Okay, I haven’t been called rebellious since I was twenty. How’s that?”
She sat back in her seat. “I’ll buy that. Do you miss it?”
He kept his eyes on the road for another two turns, then shook his head. “I’ve had a lot of people to take care of. My brother, Noel, got to be the rebellious one. Or the irresponsible one, I guess. And everyone loves him. So maybe I’m a little jealous of that, but I don’t miss being rebellious.”
“You wear the cloak of responsibility well anyway,” she said. “Thank you for taking care of me last night. You were very honorable.”
She thought she saw him lift his eyebrows at that, but he didn’t answer.
But she felt as if she could move on now.
“I’m glad you talked with Amanda,” she said.
His smile came back. “She gave me about ten minutes of her time. But that was ten minutes more than usual. And only because I talked about Samantha.”
Paige took a deep breath. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to know what good things he’d said about Samantha or not. But maybe she could be the better, more mature Paige. She dove in. “What did you tell her about her mom?”
“For some reason, I remembered that Samantha always painted her toenails and fingernails wild colors. Amanda was painting hers, and it triggered the memory. And then I remembered that Samantha liked horseback riding. And I told Amanda that her mom was pretty and looked like her.”
Paige nodded. That wasn’t so hard. “That sounds perfect. How did she react?”
“Like I said, she only gave me ten minutes. But she smiled once. And she looked right at me. And she shared half a dessert with me. I call that a huge success. I can’t thank you enough.”
They pulled into a dirt parking lot at the base of the mountain and readied to walk the block over from there. The lot was huge—designed to hold tourist buses and other large vehicles that were used on the back canyon roads and throughout the hilly interior. Paige glanced around as they crossed the street into the main part of town, hoping not to see Olivia’s or Natalie’s golf carts.
“She asked if Samantha had any other friends on the island,” Adam said as they shuffled along Main Street. “Would you consider yourself a friend?”
Paige blinked back her surprise. A friend? Not at all. Samantha was the source of every one of Paige’s first bouts of jealousy.
“I didn’t really know her,” she said to get out of it. “She was a lot older than me. You older kids hung out pretty separately.”
Adam nodded. “That’s true. Do you remember anything about her, though? Maybe you could say a few things to Amanda?”
“I could try.”
Damn. Insult to injury. But Paige would do it for Amanda. She felt so sorry for her.
Paige yanked her sunglasses out of her bag and shoved them onto her face, ducking once more to make sure she didn’t see anyone she knew.
Adam slid a grin down at her. “I hardly recognize you.”
“Yeah, this isn’t working. It probably wasn’t a good idea to chance this twice in one day.”
“Wanna wear my hat?”
“I didn’t think that thing ever left your head in the out of doors.”
“Special circumstances.” He plopped it onto her head, and it fell slightly over her eyes. She pushed it back a little, but—between it and the sunglasses—it did a decent job of hiding her face. Plus, her sisters would never in a million years think to look for her under a cowboy hat. Or walking alongside Adam Mason.
“So what’s this long story that’s causing you to hide from your sisters?” he asked as they arrived at the market.
“Maybe I’ll tell you at dinner.”
Adam opened the front door for her, the bell jangling their arrival. Mr. Fieldstone looked up from the counter. He seemed to be reading one of the romance novels Doris had been recommending the other day, and he marked his halfway spot with a Lavender Island postcard.
“Hey, Adam,” he said.
Adam nodded. “Mr. Fieldstone.”
“Come back for that curling iron? Oh, hey, is that the little lady who wanted it? I’ve been hearing you might have a new girlfriend up there.”
Paige dashed behind the first aisle.
“Uh, no. That’s . . .” Adam glanced up at her and pointed lamely while he let the thought trail off.
Paige made a shushing pantomime and motioned frantically with her hand to follow her.
He ducked behind the aisle with her, barely suppressing a grin. “Is this your idea of not calling attention to yourself?” he whispered.
She tugged his arm toward the hair supplies, and they landed in front of the display together, investigating the flatirons. Paige was surprised there were so many.
“Let’s go with this one,” he said.
“Why that one?”
“It’s the most expensive. It must be the best.”
“Wait. It depends on her hair. Let me read the boxes.”
Paige studied each model, then found the one that would suit Amanda’s hair texture best and shoved it at him. He asked about the magnifying mirrors, brushes, and hair bands next, so she picked out an array of items that seemed like things the teenager would want or need, then tucked them into his waiting arms and sent him to the counter.
“Wait. Gert says I need a card.”
They made their way to the other end of the store, Adam grabbing a few more things on the way, like luncheon meats and a loaf of bread. Watching his arms get more and more loaded, Paige found a basket to hold everything; then she let Adam read the cards while she selected wrapping paper.
“Do you like this?” she asked, holding out a tie-dye pattern that looked like Amanda.
He nodded absently as he kept reading.
She thought it was sweet that he took the birthday cards so seriously. After reading four or five more, he shook his head. “None of these seems right.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t even know her. These are sentiments a dad would have if he knew the slightest thing about his daughter.”
Paige reached out to put a hand on his forearm. Once she realized how intimate it seemed, though, she quickly jerked it away.
But not before he had traced all her movements.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Gert said I should write something. I’d find something plain, but I want something that doesn’t have flowers on it. That doesn’t seem like Amanda.”
“You’re right. She did have a Grateful Dead T-shirt on the other day—does she like music?”
He seemed to think that over. “She does have her earbuds in all the time.”
“You said she was painting her nails?”
“Yes.”
“How about this one, then?” Paige selected a card that had a picture of bluish-silver nail polish bottles and a pair of headphones on the front, with a simple “Happy 16th” on the inside.
“Perfect.” Adam nodded and turned toward the counter.
As they rounded the side, though, Paige spotted Olivia coming through the door with eight-year-old Lily.
“Oh no!” She flattened herself against the chip display.
Adam slid back with her. “Sister?”
She nodded.
He peered through the stems of some b
alloon bouquets. “Niece?”
Another nod. She was too afraid to speak and have her voice carry. Lily would probably notice her before Olivia did—they’d spent so many weekends playing together when Paige visited, so many evenings rubbing each other’s backs and singing songs. Lily had called her cell just yesterday expressing disappointment that Paige wasn’t visiting this weekend.
Adam leaned down toward her ear. “Slide out around the back of the aisles.” He slipped his car keys into her hand. “I’ll meet you at the car.”
His deep, whispered voice, combined with his warm breath dancing along the edge of her ear, sent a soft shiver down her arms. His hand spanning the small of her back solidified the thrill. But she felt the shove. She scurried down the aisle, toward the back, and crossed carefully past the paper plates, the canned-soup display, and an impressive sculpture made with Gatorade bottles. She tugged the cowboy-hat brim lower over her eyes and readjusted her sunglasses.
At the main aisle, she took a few more peeks around the corner and then made a dash for the glass door. Just as she barreled through—the bell bouncing chaotically against the glass—she thought she heard Lily say her name.
She moved faster down the sidewalk until she could cut across the alley behind Once Upon a Toy. She knew a shortcut back there. Once in the alleyway leading to the parking lot, she broke into a jog across the pavement as her cell phone began ringing out the chorus of “Dancing Queen.”
Damn. Olivia’s ringtone.
Adam found his little masquerader crouched in the front seat, ten-gallon hat pulled low over her eyes as she peeked over the dashboard.
“Good work, Bonnie.” He couldn’t quite contain his grin as he tossed the bags in the back.
“Not bad yourself, Clyde.”
Adam gunned the truck out of the parking lot, dust flying behind them.
“Though you were a little slow to the getaway car,” she said. “What took you so long?”
“Mr. Fieldstone decided he needed to interrogate me on my new girlfriend.”
“Ah. Yes, apparently you and your other new girlfriend are the talk of the town.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When I was down here a couple of days ago, a few of the locals were discussing you in the market. Doris and Marie, I think, and Kilner.”
“Oh God, Kilner.”
“I know. He’s the worst gossip ever.”
“What were they saying?”
“Well, Kilner had apparently glimpsed Amanda and was speculating on who she was.”
Adam looked over at her with a wince of disgust. “Do I want to know?”
“No, you don’t.”
“He’s such an idiot.”
“Agreed. I would have defended you and explained that she was your daughter, but I didn’t know what you wanted them to know.”
“And you’re trying to keep a low profile.”
“I would have defended you anyway.”
He glanced at her again and lifted an eyebrow.
“Seriously. I don’t like gossips,” she said.
“Well, that wasn’t the girlfriend Mr. Fieldstone was talking about tonight. He meant you.”
They bounced over some uneven terrain, and Paige’s heartbeat escalated—she wasn’t sure if it was the bumping tires, or the fact she was sitting so close to his thigh and forearm, or the fact that he’d just mentioned her and “girlfriend” in the same sentence, but she was enjoying herself.
“I’m sure you had a wonderful time explaining that,” she said. “You didn’t give me away, did you?”
“Nah. I said very loudly that you were my mistress.”
Paige’s pulse accelerated even more.
“Did you seriously say mistress?”
“Yeah.” He laughed.
“Who uses the word mistress these days? That doesn’t even make sense.”
“That’s your main objection? My word choice?”
“You’re going to set off a whole new slew of rumors, you know. No wonder everyone talks about you—you’re probably feeding them all kinds of stories.”
“No one needs to feed them stories, Paige.”
They stared out separate windows for a second, possibly thinking about the rumors that had spread about each of them so long ago.
“But that is kind of funny,” Paige admitted. “Mistress.”
Adam met her smile. “Your sister and your niece were both staring out the window after you left, though. I don’t think my ploy worked, and you might have been noticed.”
“I know. Olivia called my cell. She left a message that Lily thought she saw me. But then she had a good guffaw over the cowboy hat and seemed to dismiss the whole preposterous notion.”
Adam frowned. “What’s wrong with cowboy hats?”
She laughed. “Nothing, Mr. Mason.” She plucked his hat off her head and set it back on his own.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
“Reminds me of my dad.” He readjusted the hat lower toward his eyes and then glanced over and soothed his harsh tone with another playful grin that sort of melted her for a second. “So if we go back and I make you dinner, will you tell me the long story?” he asked.
“Your making me dinner was payback for my coming down here with you. We’re already even.”
“Ah. Of course. You drive a hard bargain, Bonnie.”
“I’ve been told, Clyde.”
“Name your stakes, then.”
She thought that over. “I’ll tell you the long story if you tell me the whole story with Samantha.”
“You already know it.”
“I was tipsy, remember?”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“I’m sure there’s something to tell.”
He shrugged. “You’ll be disappointed, but if you insist.”
“I insist. So have you ever seen the one with Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty?”
“Bonnie and Clyde? Sure.”
“You have?” She sat up straighter. “Do you like old movies?”
“Remember Bob? He’s a big fan. He makes me watch them.”
“Really? Do you have a favorite?”
“I’ll have to think about that.”
“What’s Bob’s favorite?”
Adam laughed. “Anything with a beautiful woman in it.”
“Did he see Bonnie and Clyde, then?”
“I’m sure he did.”
“I always loved Faye Dunaway.”
“You look like her, actually.”
Paige leaned back in her seat and inhaled the deep, masculine sandalwood scent of him that pervaded the cab, then marveled that he’d told her she looked like a young Faye Dunaway.
“I always thought she looked so sophisticated,” she said, almost as much to herself as to him.
“You’re very pretty, Paige.”
Her heart might explode. She stared out the window and waited for something terrible to happen. But when nothing did, she tempted the curse and kept talking.
“Thank you. But I really mean sophisticated. I always wanted to look sophisticated, classy, and get those meaty, serious roles, you know?”
“Oh yeah, the acting. What kind of acting do you do, exactly?”
“Mostly commercial work. My mom got me into it when I was fifteen.”
“Wow, that’s a long time.”
Paige shrugged. “It was a slow build. I’d just do one commercial a year when I was a teenager, but it saved me a nice college fund. Since then, I’ve ramped it up a little because it pays the bills.”
“What commercials have you been in?”
“Um. Recently? Well, last year I played a soccer player for a tampon commercial, and an older sister who gets bonked on the head in a Toyota commercial, and for the last three years I’ve played a recurring role as a piece of broccoli.”
Adam slid a glance her way. “Broccoli?”
“There’s money in dental commercials.” She tried to inject her
voice with as much dignity as she could muster. “Anyway, Dirk’s trying to get me a real role.”
“Oh, that’s right. Dirk—the idiot who thinks you need to lose weight.”
Paige let a grateful smile slip. “Thanks, Adam.”
“You’re welcome, Paige.”
Adam shoved the door open in his pine-paneled kitchen and motioned for Paige to take a seat. He dropped half the bags on the kitchen counter, then took Amanda’s gifts and wrapping paper to the back bedrooms.
“She’s not here,” he said when he came back out, rolling up his sleeves.
“Where does she go?”
“Sometimes she takes a walk by the pond, or sometimes to the stables.”
Paige watched him scrub his hands and forearms with some kind of industrial soap.
“Do you want me to help you wrap everything?”
“No, I’ll do it late at night when she’s asleep.”
As he rummaged in the fridge, all she could see was his behind, which filled out his Levi’s quite nicely, she couldn’t help but notice. Damn. Sixteen years later and she was still gawking at him as if she were thirteen. Would she ever stop finding him attractive? She tried to distract herself with a stack of paper napkins on the table.
“So tell me the long story.” He brought his head out of the fridge and threw a bunch of cheese selections on the table.
“You don’t really want to hear it.”
“Sure I do.”
Paige began making paper fringe. “Well, my sisters and mom and I don’t see eye to eye about what to do with Gram’s house.”
He came back with two knives, two plates, some mustard, and the three loaves of bread he’d just bought at the store. “That’s not a very long story. So you and your mom want to sell, and your sisters don’t?”
“It’s not that simple. My mom and I want to revitalize it for Dorothy first.”
“So what’s your connection to Dorothy Silver?”
“My mom and I are fangirls of the old movie stars. Dorothy Silver is someone I’ve always idolized—I, of course, watched Last Road to Nowhere a million times, with Gram’s house in it and all. And I knew Gram had been friends with Dorothy back when the filming was going on up here. So anyway, I work at the Hollywood Film Library in Beverly Hills, and—”
“Wait. I thought you were in commercials?”
Love on Lavender Island (A Lavender Island Novel Book 2) Page 14
