Needs A Little TLC (Spinning Hills Romance 2)

by Ines Saint

  Sam closed his hand over the phone she was holding in her palm, effectively covering the screen. “I heard and I’m psyched, but what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Let’s get ready to give the performance of a lifetime.” Her smile still didn’t reach her eyes, but she was trying.

  Sam studied her, wondering about everything that had happened in Cassie’s life during the last ten years. There was so much neither knew about the other. But it was finally clear they were still friends. “Do you think you’ll be able to perform? You don’t have to, you know. You can go and be with your parents. We can always get Johnny to be Dolly.”

  Cassie grinned at that. “I know, but Johnny was right. I won’t be of much use to anybody if I don’t take care of myself, too, and right now, that means honoring my commitments.” She hesitated. “I wanted to be number one to make my parents proud, to make them stop looking at me like I’m a failure. But now I know that will never happen. I now want to be number one because my associates all work hard and deserve to be number one. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go get my boobs from my car.”

  Sam shook his head and headed to Huffy’s. The place was packed. New and old faces filled the tables. A few people brought in lawn chairs and Marty laughed it off. He decided he’d throw himself into the performance, to make everyone smile, to say thank you to the people who’d protected Cassie, and to give Cassie herself a new good memory. She’d probably go home afterward to deal with her parents, and her day wouldn’t end well.

  Cassie waited for her cue. When Sam strutted onto the low stage, her eyes widened and she covered her mouth before her giggles could take over. The tux that had fit him perfectly twelve years before was now tight in all the right places. The women went wild and Sam turned hot pink behind the white beard and sideburns. The music started, he looked down, and by the time he began singing, he was a different man. One who could hide behind music. The audience began to clap along, and laughter mingled with the music.

  Cassie looked out, surprised to see the Cornerstones and the Woods. Flo and Ernesto were also there, and everyone appeared to be having a good time.

  A bright-eyed Jessica handed Cassie her mic. Cassie breathed in and out a few times and got ready to make her entrance.

  She counted out the beats and then pranced over to Sam. The crowd went nuts and she stumbled over her words a bit, trying not to laugh at the look in Sam’s eyes and the crowd’s reaction. The black-sequined thigh-high slit dress was the same one she’d worn years before, but, like Sam, she also filled hers out more now. A push-up bra stuffed with shoe gels made her look like she had way more cleavage than she’d been endowed with, and Jessica had curled her platinum blond wig with a curling iron. Copious amounts of blush and blue eye shadow completed her look.

  She and Sam held hands, looked into each other’s eyes, and twanged their hearts out. She caught Dan and Johnny’s eyes and saw they were enjoying every minute of it.

  At that moment, Cassie was in a joyous part of her past. The years disappeared and she was able to forget about her scandal-plagued family, the fact that Sam had once lost a scholarship because of her actions, and Sam’s business worries.

  Islands in the stream . . .

  The performance ended, they took their bows, and Cassie walked off the stage. Leaving the stage sobered her. Playtime was over. She wasn’t an island. Her parents weren’t laughing.

  On her way out of the tavern, a pretty woman with long, blond hair smiled at her and Cassie blinked in return, feeling as if she knew the woman from somewhere, and experiencing an unpleasant roil in her stomach at the thought. But she didn’t have time to think or analyze strange thoughts or feelings. She charged on until she was at her car and could no longer hear the music.

  It was still light out and a drizzle was coming down again. Cassie was happy it had let up long enough to let people explore the town on foot. Now it could rain.

  Her mother didn’t pick up, but Sandy texted to say they were meeting with Jim Carney at a new location, she didn’t say where. The thought of being anywhere near her parents, their public relations machine, or their crisis management team made her want to shrivel up and disappear.

  Cassie mustered her strength and searched for the days’ headlines, to know exactly what they were up against.

  An in-depth interview with Brittany was the first result. Cassie had never heard Brittany’s side. But the picture beside the headline didn’t reflect the bubbly, pretty Brittany she remembered. The picture showed an older, troubled version.

  Her heart began to beat wildly and her breath became shallow as she clicked and quickly scanned the interview.

  Sam rushed to follow Cassie out the door, but when he got to the street corner where her old Mustang had been parked, her car was no longer there.

  On his way back in, he was stopped by Heather. “You came,” he said, happy she’d seen him perform.

  She hugged him. “You were great! Hilarious and fun, but pretty talented, too.”

  “Where’s Jake?”

  “He’s at a friend’s. I heard about Cassie’s parents, though, and I just saw her rush out. Is she okay?”

  The crowd was noisy and Sam didn’t want to yell, so he lifted his shoulders to say he didn’t know.

  Heather leaned in and said, “Ten years ago, huh?” in a sad voice. “You knew something was going on with her. You finally have your answer. I’m so sorry I ever called her selfish. Seeing her today, knowing everything she’s going through . . . I know she’s anything but.”

  Chapter 13

  Cassie didn’t know how she got to her grandmother’s old house. One moment she was parked near Huffy’s, the next she was parking in the driveway, looking at all the dandelions in the backyard. The days were getting longer, and there was still enough light to see how they were taking over.

  Her grandmother had spent so much time weeding them out of her perfect garden . . .

  Cassie kneeled in front of the old flower garden, the way she had when she was a kid, helping her grandmother out. She picked one of the flowers. She’d never understood why her grandmother hated them so much. Such a jaunty, happy flower.

  But after digging a few out, she understood. It was only beautiful on the surface. The plant holding it up was coarse and ugly, and it took over yards, probably making everything around it die. It made her want to cry.

  It began to rain harder, but Cassie didn’t care, she wanted to get rid of every single deceitful dandelion in her grandmother’s yard.

  The sliding door opened, but Cassie didn’t look back. There were too many pretty-on-the-surface-but-ugly-underneath weeds left to pull. Weeds that would spread their ugliness if she didn’t uproot them all.

  The rain blurred her vision, and she could barely see what she was doing. One moment she was pulling on a weed, the next she was being carried into the house by Sam.

  He set her down on the floor and tried to pull her into his arms, but she brushed him off. “Leave me alone. I want to be alone. What’re you doing here?”

  “A neighbor called, said someone was digging up the backyard.”

  Cassie hiccupped and he reached for her again. She looked down at his hands. Strong, hardworking, comforting hands. “I’m sorry, Sam, for everything. I’ll get myself together. I just need a moment.”

  “Shhh. Forget everything for a while, okay? I’m not your business partner or your ex-boyfriend right now. I’m the guy who threw Johnny into the river ’cause he knocked you off the swings. The guy who helped you get back at Brandon for stealing your underwear and showing them at his sleepover by duct taping him to the lingerie store window. The guy who threw a baseball at your first kiss’s face, ’cause you said he ignored you afterward. I’m not just the idiot who once hurt you.”

  Cassie wiped her tears away with her sleeve and half-sobbed, half-laughed. “I’d always thought of you as cool, calm, and collected. A peace-loving kind of guy. Now I’m starting to see you were actually quite violent.” She pushed
him away, again. “But I never needed you to fight my battles or protect me. Why didn’t you tell me about losing your scholarship?”

  “When I had you in front of me I didn’t know how to get it all out. All I could think about was how messed up everything had become. By the time I found the words to explain, you were gone.” Sam’s gaze intensified. “I’m sorry about that message today, Cass. The last thing I want is to add to your burdens.”

  Cassie looked away, ashamed. “Don’t apologize, Sam, please don’t. It makes me feel worse. You have every right to protect your family and your business.”

  When she looked down at her hands, she saw she was still clutching some dandelions. “I used to think they were so pretty. I didn’t understand why my grandmother and everyone else hated them, but I get it now. They take over everything, and they don’t let anything else grow.”

  Sam peeled her fingers off the dandelions one by one, wearing his endearing, lopsided smile. “She didn’t hate them, you know. She’d have me take them to Sherry after you guys were done pulling them and Sherry would make tea.”

  “Tea? I didn’t know . . .” Cassie looked down at the clumps. How much more didn’t she know about the people she thought she was closest to? “Why didn’t she have me take them to Sherry?”

  Sam lifted her chin. “You pulled them as quickly and efficiently as you could so you could run off and play. I’d take them to Sherry so I could get a free cupcake.”

  The idea that she hadn’t known about the tea saddened her, and Cassie slowly pulled away before getting up. “I think you were right. I think we should forget everything for a while. I’m so tired of the past.” She wiped her eyes, feeling stronger. “I have a pair of old Buckeye sweats in my car. I’m going to go grab them and change so I can leave and see if my parents are still at the hotel. You don’t have to stick around.”

  “It’s still pouring. Give me your keys. I’ll grab them for you while you try to find out where your parents are.”

  Cassie wanted to point out that she was already wet, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue. “The keys are on a bench outside. The sweats are in the trunk.” Sam went outside and Cassie tried both her parents two more times, but neither answered.

  Sam came back in, handed her the sweats, and Cassie went to the gutted bathroom to change. Her wig was the hardest to take off. Bobby pins holding it in place had gotten tangled in her own hair.

  When she was done, she spotted a twelve-by-twelve sample of hexagon mosaic tile in different shades of gray leaning against the wall. It was the same pattern as the original tile, which she’d seen in old photographs, but the original tile had been white and hard to keep clean. Her grandfather had pulled it out and replaced it with vinyl sometime in the seventies, when vinyl had been the rage. She looked at the floor, imagining the new tile there, and seeing the bathroom bare no longer pained her. It would look beautiful and timeless, and it would be easier to maintain.

  She picked it up and took it to Sam, eager to find out what else he had planned for the house. “I love it,” she said, handing it to him. “Do you mind showing me around and telling me your plans while I wait? My parents aren’t picking up and I don’t know where they are. I don’t even know if my mom decided to stay at the hotel or go to their house in Columbus. I need something to take my mind off things.”

  “You’re asking me if I mind talking about my plans for a house. You’re kidding, right?”

  She hid a smile, remembering a time when his talk of support beams and hammering had turned her on.

  “Well, the bones were in good shape, but we had to upgrade to circuit breakers and we’ll be replacing the windows as soon as the new ones arrive. The walls are prepped for painting, and the floor will be refinished after that.”

  He took her hand and led her back to the bathroom, where he bent down to pick up another tile sample lying against a wall in the far corner, where the plumbing for the shower now was. “The new layout will allow us to put in a small corner shower. The powder room was too big and had unutilized space, plus there’s a guest room down here, but no shower downstairs.”

  It was getting dark, so he brought what he was holding over to the small window so she could get a better look at the soft blue glass subway tile. “It’s called ‘rainy day’ and it’ll reflect enough light to make the shower look bigger than it is. I’m carrying the floor tile into the shower and using the same dove-gray grout on everything, so it doesn’t get too busy in here. I’m thinking about a dusty blue for the walls, and a granite vanity top with enough pattern to hide soap scum.”

  Cassie smiled at that and tried to picture the completed bathroom. “I love blue, in all shades. It’s so serene. It all sounds so lovely.” She ran her hand over the glass tile and laughed softly. “Plus it looks and sounds easy to clean and maintain. It’s funny, half my clients don’t seem to mind difficult-to-clean finishes, as long as they have that wow factor, but the other half gets the heebie-jeebies when they see white grout. How do you decide when to use what?”

  “I look at the surroundings, mostly. This house backs up to a park, so I can picture kids living here and tracking in mud. I chose easier-to-clean materials and colors that hide dirt and spills. I personally like the look of classic black-and-white mosaics for bathroom floors, white subway tiles for backsplashes, and marble for the kitchen countertops, but after living with Jake, there’s no way I’d choose it for my own house. All I can picture is grape juice stains on the marble, dirty grout, and shampoo all over the white tile.”

  Cassie laughed at the picture he painted. It sounded like her apartment. Some people were just clumsy.

  She put the tile down, gently, and he led her to a makeshift table in a far corner of the kitchen. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, turned its light on, and ran it over a sample of mixed rectangular stone and frost and gloss glass tiles. “This is what I’m thinking of for the backsplash. The mix of rectangles will make this back wall appear longer and minimize grout lines, the smooth travertine will blend well with the quartz I’m eyeing, and the mix of sky blue frost and gloss glass tile will tie in the two tones I want in here, one for the regular cabinets and one for”—he paused and led her to the center of the kitchen, where he outlined a large, rectangular space with the light— “the breakfast bar.” He sent her one of his side glances, the assessing one from underneath his lashes that never failed to give her goose bumps.

  “Breakfast bar?” Cassie asked, feeling more and more at peace.

  Sam cleared his throat. “Yes. So people can sit up high enough to see the stream.”

  “That’s your best idea yet,” Cassie said, smiling her first heartfelt smile of the day. She looked down at the area he’d highlighted and noticed the floors. “I’m so glad the quarter-sawn oak floors are intact. Those are hugely expensive now. I’d stain these in a medium tone,” she added, thoughtfully. “To hide dirt and dust. You know, in case the family you see living here doesn’t have time to dust every day. You should see the espresso-stained hardwood floors at my place. They’re impossible to keep up with.”

  Sam rolled his eyes at her. “Ever heard of a dust mop?”

  “No. Oh, and you know what else you should do?” she asked, feeling motivated. She took his hand and rushed him up the stairs to the first of two bedrooms that faced the park. “These bedrooms need windows that face the park. It was the one thing I didn’t like about the house growing up.”

  Sam chuckled. “Jake said the same exact thing.”

  Cassie looked back at him. “Did he now? See? Great minds think alike.”

  Sam nodded.

  They toured the upstairs and Cassie asked, “Are you going to do something about all the awkward nooks and crannies up here?”

  “They’ll make great storage areas.”

  “Storage to throw stuff in,” she said, picturing it. She had already been in love with the house, but now she was in lust, too. She made her way to the master bedroom next, and tried to imagine what she would d
o with it, were it hers. The rose-brick fireplace in the middle of the back wall conjured up warm, cozy nights in an overstuffed chair, watching a glowing fire and relaxing.

  “I see a big California king–size bed right there,” Sam said, pointing at the opposite wall.

  “Are you an interior decorator now, too?” Cassie asked, amused.

  Sam grinned. “My mind always wanders to what I would do, were I to keep it.”

  “Are you ever tempted to keep one?”

  Sam looked around the room before settling his eyes on her. “Only one.”

  Cassie looked away, uncomfortable with the sudden knowledge that this was the one house he’d keep.

  “Have you ever been tempted to keep one of your listings for yourself?” he asked her.

  Cassie was about to say no, but the idea of buying her grandmother’s house for herself struck her then and she remained rooted to the spot a long moment, thinking about it. But all that came to mind was the dandelions. Was she ready for the commitment of a yard and a whole house?

  Cassie gulped. “Only one,” she whispered.

  “Are you okay?” Sam asked.

  Cassie slowly shook her head, not about to share the full extent of her thoughts. “I keep thinking about the dandelions. It’s dumb, but I hate that I didn’t know Sherry made tea for my grandmother out of them.” She looked at him then. “Is that the story of my life, Sam? Always running off without finding out what happens next?”

  He sighed, leaned against the wall, and tugged her to him. “Don’t beat yourself up, Cass. Whether you’re standing still or running off, you can’t know what people don’t tell you. You didn’t tell me what was happening with you, and I didn’t tell you about my scholarship. It took us ten years to find out.”