Better Love

by Daisy Prescott

“Yeah, they turned us down.”

  Cari continued her pitch. “It’s an hour shoot. If that. We’d come to you and set up. You’d have to pose for twenty, thirty minutes tops.”

  “Or bottoms,” Erik joked.

  Cari shot him a serious look. “Completely professional. I’ll gag Erik if I need to. Please say yes?”

  “Let me think about it.” Ducking my head, I swept a finger over my eyebrow. This wasn’t the conversation I’d expected to have with Erik. In fact, I’d forgotten why I needed to speak with him until then. “Oh, there’s a business council meeting on Monday night. Another presentation by someone wanting to bring a franchise to this end of the island.”

  Erik rolled his eyes. “I heard that rumor. I’ll be there. You think they’ll ever give up?”

  Switching back to business mode, we discussed our unique situation on the south end of the island. We had a Dairy Queen and that was it. No chain restaurants. No big boxed stores. No franchises other than gas stations, the tire and hardware chains, and the regional grocery stores. I usually laughed when someone asked me where the nearest Starbucks was, expecting me to say a few blocks or miles at the most. You’d have to drive almost an hour to the other end of the island to find one or take the ferry back to the mainland.

  Some might call us libertarians, or isolationists, but we liked supporting small businesses around here.

  That was one of the biggest reasons why I’d moved here. My fellow business owners felt the same way about big corporations as I did.

  While we spoke, my focus drifted back to Roslyn as she and Cari carried on their own conversation. I wondered what she thought of me being anti-big business. When she knew me before, I was Captain Corporate America, my shield emblazoned with the all-mighty dollar sign.

  I’d been a little guy who made it to the big leagues. Plucked from the grist mill, a goliath thought my business was brilliant. So brilliant they’d wanted it and were willing to pay me an astronomical sum. For my idea. My sweat and hard work, the sacrifices over years of building something from nothing paid off. It had felt like winning the lottery.

  I did the smart thing. I spent money on big time lawyers, guys who billed an hourly rate so sky high they had to be the best. We examined every detail of the contracts with microscopes and combs so fine baby hair would have slipped through them. Everyone kept telling me what an amazing deal I got, how lucky I was, and it was only the beginning of my wealth.

  Ha.

  I should’ve signed those papers in blood when I handed over my soul for commas and zeros in my bank account.

  Roslyn knew most of this history. She’d been there when the deal got made and I needed a handler.

  In my new life on Whidbey, people only knew what I told them.

  I was a guy who liked his privacy as much as he liked pizza.

  No one asked me much about my past or questioned why I lived alone.

  Being taken at face value, for my actions and deeds, meant more than anything my money could buy.

  I told Erik I’d catch up with him on Monday at the meeting before I started in on a full diatribe about big business.

  “Nice to see you again, Roslyn. Cari.” I nodded to both women. “I’ll let you know about the calendar.”

  With a wave, I skated up the street to rejoin Jeff by Rosie.

  “How’s it going?” I asked as he finished making change.

  “Last of the dough is in the oven and then we’re officially sold out. That’s every week this summer. Our record is unbroken.” He held up his hand for a high five.

  I didn’t leave him hanging. “Great job. You think you can manage closing things up and checking in with Coop back at Sal’s?”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, I can handle it. You got a hot date?” His focus shifted to down the street behind me.

  I forced out a laugh. “Right. Totally hot.”

  “That redhead you were talking to? She’s super hot.” Jeff craned his neck, attempting to see through the crowd.

  “The ‘super hot redhead’ is Erik Kelso’s publicist, Roslyn Porter.”

  “She the one you called to help him after the naked pictures?”

  “The one.” The back of my neck ached and I rubbed it with my thumb, pressing into the thick muscle.

  “Damn, she don’t look like a dragon slayer.” Nodding, Jeff spoke to himself.

  I raised an eyebrow in question.

  “I heard Erik call her that once a couple of months ago.”

  “Sometimes I think she might be the dragon.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  Roslyn Porter was that fierce.

  “Erik said she was scary.” His wide eyes told me he didn’t believe a beautiful woman could be strong and fierce.

  How wrong he was.

  I chuckled at a memory of Roslyn ripping apart a man who could bench press her and eat a sandwich at the same time. “He’s not the first, and won’t be the last, to say that about her.”

  “Is she the reason the pizza oven is named Rosie?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

  I’d never made the connection. Not consciously. “The oven is named for Rosie the Riveter. Because of the rivets.”

  Jeff’s stare pierced me, silently calling bullshit. For some reason he lowered his voice when he spoke, “They get you to agree to pose for the calendar?”

  “Did Cari ask you?”

  He nodded, still facing the coffee tent a half block away. “I said yes. What do I have to lose?”

  “Your sparkling, unblemished reputation?” I held back my laughter.

  “Cari told me it’s going to be tasteful. Like real art.”

  “Keep on telling yourself that.” I patted his shoulder.

  At the twin stone columns flanking my gate, I made the left turn to the long drive winding through the woods of my property. After I hit the button in my truck, the gate swung open and then stopped halfway. Cursing, I hit the button again, closing the gate.

  Again, the metal creaked to a stop at the halfway mark. When it jammed a third time, I put the truck in park and got out to open it manually. What was the point of having a gate when the damn thing didn’t work?

  Along with the security system, including cameras strategically hidden around the perimeter, the gate was overkill. A whim of a man who thought people were actually looking for him.

  At the time I built it, this house was going to be a weekend and summer retreat. An investment property to brag over and use to impress people I didn’t know or care about.

  Maybe I had my mid-life crisis a few years early. Carter Kelso had been right to call me middle aged, no matter how much it bristled.

  Standing in the evening dusk, using my headlights to find the override switch, I laughed at the ridiculous pretentious prick who built this place. I laughed at myself for having a gate for a house where no one came to visit.

  People always talked about community in a small town. How great it was everyone knew everyone. Complete bullshit.

  If you wanted to disappear, move to a small town. Being an outsider was like being invisible.

  Finally locating the switch, I shoved the gate open and returned to the truck. I needed to call the guy who installed it. Maybe I’d just leave the thing open. I doubted anyone would storm the castle, with pitchforks or not.

  Once parked in the garage, I closed the door behind me. The motor whirred to life and shut down as the door made a satisfying thump when it reached the floor. At least that worked properly.

  Inside, the house lights turned on when I entered my code in the alarm keypad.

  Ah, technology. Best friend to loners and modern day ogres everywhere.

  I looped my keys on their hook in the kitchen.

  A vase of flowers sitting on the counter told me my housekeeper had cleaned today. I had her come weekly, even though she complained I was too neat and didn’t give her enough work to do. I told her I’d pay her whether or not she broke a sweat.

  I liked order.


  I hated cleaning.

  Paying someone to tidy up and clean somehow made the house feel more lived in.

  Of course, I could invite people over, but I liked my solitude.

  Rilke had it right. Solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be a reason the more for us to do it.

  Despite the cool evening, I opened one of the French doors off of the kitchen. Outside, the landscape lights highlighted the deck and lawn leading to the edge of the bluff. Beyond the drop, the bay lay below in darkness. Across the water to the west, lights from a few houses brightened the colorful evening sky.

  I stepped outside and walked to the railing. Inhaling the crisp autumn air, I listened to the quiet night. Wind moved through the hemlocks and cedars around the property and a coyote yipped in the distance.

  Otherwise, there were no sounds of people, traffic, or other white noise.

  Closing my eyes, I exhaled long and slow.

  I found comfort in knowing that being alone wasn’t the same thing as being lonely.

  Opening my eyes, I caught the movement of a boat heading out of Honeymoon Bay. Its bow light sped across the black water like a falling star.

  Make a wish, I thought.

  I’d managed to block out my encounter with Roslyn until I stood on my deck pretending a boat was a falling star.

  With no witnesses, I made a wish I didn’t deserve to come true.

  I wished for a second chance.

  Seeing Roslyn today had tilted the axis of my carefully constructed simple world. Somehow I’d managed to compartmentalize her as a professional resource.

  Only my heart didn’t listen to my head.

  It recognized a missing piece.

  Once upon another lifetime, I’d loved Roslyn, and as much as I convinced myself, or tried otherwise, a part of me still did.

  Back then, when I told her I needed a change, I’d asked her if she could imagine a simpler life.

  She’d said no.

  IN THE END, I agreed to help out with the Naked Whidbey calendar.

  For a good cause. How could I say no?

  When I told myself it wasn’t to see Roslyn again, I lied.

  Most definitely wasn’t motivated by testing her reactions to me being naked.

  Not that I’d be full frontal in front of Cari or anyone else.

  Unlike a few of the other “models,” I wasn’t an exhibitionist.

  Still.

  I wanted to know if she’d show up.

  If she’d ogle or look away.

  I needed to know if I could get a reaction out of her.

  If I could crack her professional façade.

  I had to know if somewhere beneath her armor, I could still make her heart beat a little faster.

  We scheduled the shoot for early on a Sunday when the restaurant would be closed. Cari kept talking about the morning light and a golden hour. Whatever that meant. All I knew was Erik promised to bring coffee. Lots of coffee.

  Once the lighting and her camera had been set up, Cari shooed everyone from the kitchen before instructing me to disrobe. The heat from the brick oven warmed my chest and arms. I’d suggested the apron around my waist for the “more is less” approach. Plus, it felt weird to be naked in front of a friend’s girlfriend. I wasn’t sure what man wouldn’t feel that way. I’d heard rumors of swingers on the island, but thankfully didn’t know anyone who might’ve participated in the lifestyle. It was possible they were even some of my customers. Talk about awkward.When I fired up the oven, I’d made a few prop pizzas, not knowing how much of the pizza man persona Cari wanted or needed for the photo.

  I stood with the wooden peel in one hand and my back to the camera, following her commands to shift and change my position for maximum . . . something.

  I felt the cold air hit my backside when the door opened.

  “Sorry, I’m late! I missed the ferry by three cars and had to wait for the next . . . bo . . . oat.” Roslyn’s voice sputtered out on the last word, turning it into two syllables. “Ohmygod. I didn’t mean to walk in on the shoot. I—”

  A loud crash and a few soft bumps of a body hitting a chair and possibly a wall followed her words. Metal screeching from chair legs scraping across the cement floor and the soft splash of liquid hitting the ground rounded out the symphony of sounds before I turned around.

  Beyond the bright studio lights set up behind me, I couldn’t make out more than silhouettes. Shading my eyes, I blinked into the dimmer light beyond the camera.

  “Everything okay back there?”

  Cari let loose a loud cackle. “That’s what happens when you show up late.”

  Muffled words barely carried to where I stood, thankful for the apron slung low around my waist.

  I waited for a sign nothing had been broken or damaged in the tornado of Roslyn’s arrival.

  “It’s fine. We’re all fine. Everything’s okay,” Roslyn’s shaky and definitely not normal voice called out. “Carry on with what you were doing. I’m going to crawl outside and find a quiet place to die.”

  “Don’t go on my account.” I stepped away from the oven, feeling a little bit like a hospital patient whose gown didn’t close in the back.

  “No, it’s fine. I have things to discuss with Erik. Ouch.”

  “Did you walk into the wall?” I asked.

  More laughter came from Cari. “She totally did. Stop trying to walk with your hands over your eyes.”

  “Don’t hurt yourself. I’m not even naked. More like pantsless and breaking a slew of health codes.” I grabbed my zip-up hoodie from the hook in the corner of the kitchen. Putting it on seemed like a decent thing to do. From the front I looked like I wore a skirt. Maybe even a hipster utility kilt.

  Hey, don’t knock ’em until you’ve tried one.

  “Is that blood?” Cari asked, her voice rising an octave. “Maybe you should sit down.”

  I rounded the counter, concern making me forget my odd outfit. “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing. A little cut on my finger.” Roslyn held up her hand where a slim line of blood bloomed and ran down the side of her thumb.

  “I should get the first aid kit.” I turned to go back in the kitchen.

  “Are you going to faint?” Cari snapped her fingers. “Hello? Earth to Ros?”

  I peeked over my shoulder to find Roslyn’s gaze firmly centered on my ass. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed.

  Embarrassment curled her shoulders, but her eyes blazed with something else.

  Lust.

  A smug smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I walked over to the first aid kit mounted near the sink. “You should rinse the cut before we bandage it. You never know what sort of germs kids leave behind in a pizza joint.”

  Not to disparage my cleaning crew. I knew this place was as spotless as it could be, but those little buggers stuck their gum under the table and their booger fingers on the walls on a regular basis. During flu season, we used extra bleach.

  “Can you turn around?” Roslyn asked from across the room.

  Facing her, I did as she requested. “Better?”

  With a shake of her head, she walked closer to me. “No, but I’ll manage.”

  I glanced down and realized my chest and abs were exposed. While the hair on my head had begun to silver, the little bit of chest hair I had remained dark brown. Kayaking, skateboarding, and the rare run kept me in decent shape. Did I have a six pack? Probably not. I hadn’t counted. But I knew I didn’t have a pony keg paunch a lot of guys in their forties sported.

  “Quit with the smug-smirking,” she whispered as she placed her hand under the running water of the faucet.

  I twisted my mouth and flattened my smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. You know you’re the hottest guy on this island and use your looks as a weapon.”

  “I know no such nonsense.” I turned off the water before handing her a paper towel. “I think you’ll live.”

/>   “I’ve had years to grow immune to your looks.”

  “I meant from the cut.”

  She stared at her thumb and pressed the pad, bringing a fresh slice of blood to the surface.

  “Put pressure on it for a minute.” Opening the kit, I pulled out a Band-Aid.

  “I can handle it. Go back to what you were doing.” If flustered had an expression, she’d mastered it. A few strands of hair hung in her face after escaping from her messy bun. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her shallow breathing. Calm, collected Roslyn had left the building.

  “Are you sure? You look a little frazzled. Maybe you need to sit down. Are you going to faint?” Ignoring her protests, I removed the paper towel and applied the bandage after making sure the bleeding had stopped. “I’m not sure how you cut your finger, but you’re a hazard to yourself. I don’t want OSHA showing up tomorrow to investigate a dangerous work place.”

  “I’m fine.” She pouted. “I’m perfectly adept at taking care of myself.”

  “Never doubted you. Sometimes it’s nice to let others do things for us.”

  “You ever take your own advice?”

  My laughter answered her. “Hey, did you hit your head?”

  She swept a hand over her forehead. “Why?”

  “You have a mark. Right here.” I brushed the pink skin above her left eyebrow.

  She exhaled a shaky breath. “Shoot me now.”

  “It’s not fatal. Let me get you some ice so it doesn’t swell.” I left her by the sink to fill a bag with ice from the soda machine.

  I forgot I wasn’t wearing pants until she groaned.

  Finger bandaged and head iced, Roslyn decided to wait out the shoot in a booth far away from where we were shooting. After a few more shots, Cari called it a success.

  I finally put on clothes and Roslyn could meet my eyes again.

  “You ever think about modeling?” Cari asked.

  I thought Roslyn might have swallowed her tongue with the way she coughed to cover up her choking. “Clearly you don’t know Daniel very well.”

  “The camera loves him. Look.” Cari pointed on the laptop she’d set up to review pictures as she shot them. “Silver fox with tattoos and a totally ripped body?”

  I groaned.