On the Market (The Ballard Brothers of Darling Bay Book 1)

by Rachael Herron

  His words were hurried. “It’s because I like you.”

  It was as though a boom mic had swung into her stomach. “Sorry?”

  “You remember in fourth grade, when the boys all started pushing girls into the bushes? And pulling their hair and stealing their backpacks?”

  Felicia nodded. “Donny Conner. I hated him.”

  “Yeah, well, he had a crush on you.”

  Instead of pain in her head, Felicia felt a peculiar lightheadedness. “He did?”

  “He did. And so do I. But instead of pushing you into the bushes, I kissed you and then leaped over a wall to get away from you. My ex—that whole situation spooked me, I guess. And call me crazy, but I’m not excited to be put into a situation where I get paid for kissing someone I already want to kiss.” He shook his head. “It’s weird. It’s Hollywood. Or maybe Vegas. Either way, I don’t like it.”

  Felicia tried not to allow her feelings to be hurt or flattered.

  He’d just said he wanted to kiss her. What if she just leaned forward? Right now? What if she tilted her head, and he…

  No. Jesus. She was working.

  She squashed the flips her stomach was doing. “I’m not your ex. I’m sorry for her dumping you, but I’d be trying to talk you into this no matter who the buyer was. That’s my job, and it’s my own damn fault I’ve made it so much more difficult by wanting to be the person buying the house my boss wants to feature on the first episode. And I’ll level with you. We do want to use you to make money for us. But if we make money, you make money. And I can assure you that I’ll keep being honest with you. I’ll tell you if I think I can get you more money, more perks, more anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “We’re still interested in the money.”

  In the money. Not in her.

  That was fine. Totally fine. Better that way. “I got the physical contact clause taken out. I’m still surprised. I didn’t think Natasha would agree to it.”

  “How did you get her to?”

  It had taken Felicia twenty minutes. In the six years she’d been working for the woman, they’d never had a conversation on one topic for twenty minutes, ever. Natasha made up her mind in seconds. She gave decrees, and they were followed. She was the brains behind every blockbuster show the network had, and she had the most power a person could have in Hollywood. No one argued with her for twenty full minutes.

  But Felicia had. “I told her that the longer we run the show without you guys falling in love, the better.” Technically, if each man fell in love right off the bat, the show might be played out in three successful episodes. The working title of the show was On the Market. It made sense to keep at least a couple of the guys on the market for as long as it took.

  “I would have thought that would be obvious.”

  “Look, you know this stuff is often pretty scripted, right?”

  “I know almost nothing about this, but yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Natasha had originally planned on having a home run on the first episode.”

  The planes of his face lengthened as his jaw dropped. “She was planning on making me fall for whatever woman they picked? Or she was just going to make it look like that?”

  Sheepish. That was what this feeling was. Felicia was used to feeling proud to be in the television industry. She wasn’t used to feeling embarrassed about it. “It’s amazing what they can do in post-production editing.”

  “Wow.” He glanced out at the street and waved at a redheaded woman pushing a stroller. “Just wow.”

  “I know.”

  “And soon you’ll have a house in Darling Bay.”

  The words—or was it his voice?—made her shiver. “Oh, my god. Yeah. I will.” A house here. In this town.

  Near this man with the light blue eyes and the mouth that was made for kissing her.

  Liam had apparently pounded his coffee. He crushed the empty cup like a beer can and perched it on the railing. “Okay, then. What next?”

  Relief washed through her body, making her knees feel loose. “We tell the camera crew to meet us at the house. And we start filming.”

  “Today? They’re here in town?”

  “Flying in right now. Should be here in an hour, which gives us just enough time.”

  “You were that sure?”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t. Natasha was.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Liam had made it a point not to regret things in his life. Their mother had regretted having children—Liam had heard her say it, just before she left. She didn’t mean for him to hear, but he had, and he’d told himself he wouldn’t regret a damn thing when he grew up. If he screwed up, he apologized. If he made a wrong choice, he just lived with it and decided differently next time.

  But Liam was already regretting saying yes to the show, and the cameras had been rolling for less than a minute.

  “So, Liam.” Felicia’s hands rested on her hips, and she gazed up at the Maupin house from the driveway below. “What can you tell me about this property?”

  They were supposed to act like they’d never been here before. Felicia was supposed to fall in love with it all over again “for the first time” while the crew filmed. And she was doing a great job. She’d said this same sentence at least seven times already.

  Every time Liam tried to get any words out, they got stuck in his throat.

  Or the sentences came out in the wrong order.

  Or his voice just didn’t plain work.

  This was hell, and they weren’t even in the house yet.

  He opened his mouth and said, “Well, Felindasha. Aw, shit.”

  The guy who’d wired their clothing mics snorted.

  “People get my name wrong all the time, but that’s a new one.”

  “I can’t do this.” He hadn’t felt this stupid since the time he bounced a check for his own mortgage because he moved money into the wrong account. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think I’m going to get this.”

  “You’ll get used to the cameras. Here’s what I suggest. We skip this part. It’s clearly making you a little nervous. Let’s head up the hill, and go into the house. Inside, they’ll be focusing on me, not you, and we can just come back and film this part later.”

  “I thought there would be more time. Like, they’d make me learn lines. Or they’d put me in new clothing, make me cut my hair or something. I’m just surprised by all this.” He gestured at the two full camera crews, the three dollies which didn’t seem to like rolling through dirt at all. “And that.” He pointed at the four trailers that had pulled up the rutted driveway. He’d been told one held the canteen, and the others housed post-production. “This is crazy.”

  “It can be overwhelming, I know.”

  No wonder Felicia was good at her job. Her smile, so warm and open, made him feel like everything was going to be okay, and Liam knew it was not. He would never be able to do this. “How is this happening so quickly? I thought it would take months.”

  “The network is known for grab-n-go. Natasha had an idea at three in the morning once and we were shooting it that afternoon.”

  “How did that go?” Come on, say that it crashed and burned.

  “That became Remaindered.”

  “Holy crap.” He didn’t watch TV, but he knew about that one, where famous authors had to hand sell their own books at flea markets. The ones who remained undercover the longest won the chance at their books being optioned for a blockbuster movie.

  “She’s good at what she does.” Felicia looked up at the house, and a pink glow lit her cheeks. “Want to go inside?”

  She couldn’t hide her excitement—she was practically radiating it like heat from the old woodstove in his house and she was cute as hell. “Sure.”

  “Oh, good. Guys?”

  Even the way the camera handlers—she’d told him what they were called, but he had only remembered their names, Tony and Gene—spoke to her told him she was respected. They wanted to please her.


  One camera went inside to film her “first reaction” to seeing the inside of the house. Another stayed behind Liam, and a woman watching a small handheld monitor trailed behind all of them.

  It would be good if Liam could say something simple on the doorstep. Something like, “You ready?” Or even, “Let’s take a look.”

  But when the wide-angle camera swung back to him, all he could do was throw a crooked smile in Felicia’s direction. He probably looked drunk. Lord knew he felt wobbly enough when she smiled at him.

  If this worked, if this actually went onto TV and they paid him and his brothers, he’d be watched by millions.

  Or rather, millions would watch him watch Felicia.

  Because that’s all he really felt like doing, after all. Her hair was doing that thing women’s hair on television did, hanging in long, heavy-looking waves down to the middle of her back. The only hair and makeup for him was a swipe of powder from a woman wearing an apron full of brushes. He’d seen her try to put more on Felicia, but after a dusting of powder, Felicia had waved the woman away, slicking on her own red lipstick instead.

  Now, behind Felicia, he regretted not being able to speak English anymore, but he was glad for the fact that he had to follow her into the house. It meant he could stare at her ass in those jeans that were snug in all the right places.

  She shot a look over her shoulder at him and then swung open the arched door. “I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be.” His first non-garbled words. “You’re going to love this.”

  Inside, the camera pulled back as she entered the kitchen.

  She looked at him, and then at the kitchen. Then back at him. “Oh, god.” She covered her mouth. “I don’t know what to say.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Felicia wasn’t kidding. She’d lost all her words, just by entering the house that made her feel so welcome she wanted to lie down and hug the floor with wide-spread arms.

  She turned into Liam, outside. “This…” The wide, dark beams overhead caught her eye. “Oh, this is just—”

  “Pretty special, isn’t it?”

  Liam sounded like a pro. He leaned on a dark wood hutch that looked as if it had been built into place. In fact, he looked like he’d come with the house. She hadn’t noticed outside, but the shirt he was wearing, light blue chambray with Western pockets, looked as vintage as the wood he leaned on. He must have shaved, but his stubble was coming in fast. All he needed was a cowboy hat, and the kitchen would turn into something from the Old West.

  “It’s…it’s, um.” Stage fright? She had no idea if she had it or not. She’d never tried being on this side of the lens. And outside, talking to Liam when he couldn’t scrape together a sensible syllable, she hadn’t been nervous at all. But in here, it mattered so much more.

  Liam’s eyes showed her mercy. “All of the wood in the house is the same as the tree that grows in the middle. Redwood is plentiful, and because of the tannins that give it its beautiful color, it actually doesn’t have to be chemically treated for insects, decay, or fire. Come on through to the parlor. I can’t wait to show you how the tree forms a wall near the stairs.”

  He was suddenly perfect. A natural.

  Felicia nodded at him so hard her neck hurt. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Tony on Camera 2 walked quietly backward, focused on Liam, and Gene followed behind her. Her heart beat so hard it felt like it was taking up all the blood in her body—her hands were numb and tingly. She had better not faint. It would do great for ratings, but she wasn’t quite ready to sacrifice her body for the network.

  Liam pulled back long curtains in the parlor to let in sunshine. “It needs a little TLC.” He patted the back of an old chaise, and she coughed as a small dust storm rose. He batted at the air, as if his hands could clear it. “It’ll take some work. And I’m no contractor—that’s the part my brothers do. But just imagine it with a new floor. Parquet, maybe?”

  She looked down. The floor’s wooden slats were old, scuffed in places, gleaming in others. It was obviously original. She didn’t want a new floor, she wanted to skate over these exact floors in socks in winter, and glide over them barefoot in summer. She wanted to feel the house.

  But what she managed to say was, “Yum.”

  Yum?

  Gene leaned his head out from behind the camera to stare at her. Liam straight up laughed.

  “I’m sorry.” She made a throat cutting motion. “Quit rolling. This isn’t working.”

  Tony pushed a button and the red lights went off. “Damn, Felicia. This is all still hand-held. What are you going to do when the rolling dollies get in here?”

  “I’m not an actress, am I?”

  Anna, the production manager standing in for Felicia, sighed. “This is supposed to be both spontaneous and unscripted. What could possibly be easier than that? You talk like normal people. Liam can’t do it outside, and you can’t do it in here. I do not get it.”

  A line of sweat dripped down the center of Felicia’s back. That would make a nice visual onscreen if the camera followed her anywhere. More of the same sweat, now cold and clammy, coated the palms of her hands. “I’m sorry, but I’m freaking out. I need five.”

  “Fine.” Anna crooked a finger at a PA who looked as nervous as Felicia felt. “Outside. We’ll work on set-up shots.” She pointed the same finger first at Liam, then at Felicia. “You two. Talk. Work it out.”

  Felicia said, “Wait. Leave me the two hand-helds.”

  Anna snorted. “Really?”

  Felicia arched an eyebrow. She was the one on screen, yes, but she was also Anna’s boss. “Come back in fifteen minutes.”

  Anna grumbled but left the Go-Pro cameras on a low coffee table and left.

  Liam picked up one of the tiny cameras and pointed it in her direction. “Say cheese.”

  Yes. Maybe this would work. “Exactly. Turn that on.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can’t hurt to try.”

  The red light glowed. “So, Felicia. I’m dying to know what you think about this place. Honestly.”

  She thumped down into a dark green couch. Dust rose in an identical storm to the first, and right on cue, she sneezed. “I love it.”

  “I knew you would. Tell me what you love?”

  She wasn’t nervous anymore. “I love this furniture.”

  Liam panned away from her, filming the large room and its ancient sofas and chairs, before coming back to her. “This stuff went out of style a million years ago. We can talk the seller down for getting rid of it.”

  Felicia kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs underneath her. “If by getting rid of it you mean making this sofa the focus piece of the room, then yes. It needs to be cleaned, but it’s the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on.”

  “Seriously?” He looked over the camera display at her in obvious surprise.

  She patted the space next to her. “You have to try it.”

  Liam sat. “Oh, man. You ain’t kidding.”

  She reached for the camera and pointed it at him. “What would it take for me to get these pieces cleaned?”

  “Talia Moorhead in town runs the antique shop. She does reupholstery. I can talk her into it.”

  Something softened in his face, and Felicia wanted to lower the phone-sized camera, but she didn’t. “You love this place. Darling Bay, I mean. Why?”

  “It’s home. It’s where I’m from.”

  “I’m from Reseda. I don’t love it.”

  “This is where my people are.”

  “Your brothers.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. The knuckleheads I share DNA with. I love those guys.”

  Felicia zoomed in to a close-up on his face. Women would die, watching him talk about his family. He was the real deal. He’d look just as good blown up poster-size as he did in the little camera screen.

  “But it’s more than just them. I love the Golden Spike and the way you can get a free song on the jukebox if you
jiggle the cord when Nate’s not looking. I love that Dot Rillo at the post office rations the new stamps when they’re first released—until Mark Wong comes in to buy his, no one else in town gets them.”

  “Why Mark Wong?”

  “He’s forty-five and has Downs Syndrome.” Liam grinned, and his smile blazed at her. “He’s the most excited philatelist you’ll ever meet in your life. He eats, breaths, and sleeps stamps. He was the first person in town to get the upside-down two-dollar reprint of the Flying Jenny, and he said in the newspaper it was the happiest day of his life.”

  “I want to meet him.”

  Liam tilted his head. “Are you serious about wanting to live here? In Darling Bay?” He took the camera and focused it back on her. Instead of making her nervous, the intensity with which he was looking at her over the lens made her feel more confident.

  “I’ve never felt like this about a place before.” Felicia knew the editors would use this, would make it look like they were having this conversation after she’d seen the whole place, which, of course, she already had. “It feels like the place I was meant to be.”

  “What else do you love about it?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “The smell. It smells like a forest, and not in a Pine-Sol kind of way. It smells like we’re in the woods, as if the house is still growing around us.”

  “In a very real way, the center of the house still is growing.”

  “The heart of it.” She turned to face him and stretched out her legs. Without asking—without really thinking anything at all—she slid her bare feet under his thigh. It felt like the right place for her to be. Right there, next to him. “The heart of the house is getting bigger every day.”

  “I love that. What else?”

  “I love these floors, the ones you want to rip up.”

  “My brother Aidan will have some fantastic ideas when we get him in here. Maybe some old-growth reclaimed lumber, sanded and smoothed to perfection?”

  “No.” She grinned. “And before you say anything else, I want to keep this rug.”