by Amy Saunders
The dessert reminded her of walking, and walking reminded her of what happened earlier, so she summarized how she and Victoria overheard Sawyer and Mrs. Sykes arguing. She also remembered Sawyer hiding something away in his pocket.
"Doesn't that sound like they were in cahoots on something illegal?" Belinda squirted lemon into her water, shielding it to prevent hitting Jonas in the eye with lemon juice.
Bennett and Jonas exchanged amused glances. "They were involved in something," Jonas said, "but it's entirely speculation to say it's illegal. However, it does sound suspicious. We'll see what we unearth." Jonas waved a piece of bread at her.
"More to the point, what you unravel," Belinda said. Bennett just shook his head. "What? Admit it, it's kind of funny." Belinda's brown eyes glittered as Bennett just flexed one thick eyebrow.
"You've got your work cut out for you, sugar," Jonas said.
Belinda smiled at Bennett who looked back at her, somewhat puzzled by her amusement. It completely took her mind off things for about thirty seconds. Then her phone blipped again. Well, it was thirty seconds longer than before.
"More photo shoot news?" Jonas said.
"I wish. It's yet another caterer letting me know they're too booked for anything this week." Stupid cocktail party. She had one more caterer on her mother's list to try, and then she was on her own.
Jonas frowned. "I do feel bad about that. We need to hurry up and solve this thing before you feel obligated to start inviting them to move in with you."
Belinda humphed. "Not on your life. Living with my brother is enough, thank you."
That statement proved true enough when she got home after their late lunch meeting and stared through the still-uncovered hole in the main house. The workers had already left for the day and there'd been no word yet from the contractor on what they intended to do about this. And she'd gotten a voicemail from her mom wanting to know how things were going.
Things.
Meaning the house reno.
Meaning Belinda would procrastinate calling back and blame the show and her business.
She had the phone to her ear, talking to her last-ditch caterer. "You can?" she said, trying not to sound like she was about to cry. "Oh, that's fine. I understand completely.... Yes, that would be great.... I appreciate this so much...Okay...See you then. Bye." She hung up, slumping against the side of the house in relief for a moment. She had a caterer and an appointment to try samples of what they could provide so short notice. No place for the caterer to actually set up, but she had a caterer.
Oh, no.
She had no place for the caterer to set up! She had no place to hold the party!
Belinda looked through the hole into the now-stripped house. She'd just been thinking absent-mindedly that she'd have everyone here. Here. Where there were no floors, or walls, or working indoor plumbing.
Belinda fled into the carriage house to scream or panic or hide behind the cardboard box pyramid in back until it was all over.
Kyle pulled his Jeep in about a half hour later and found her on a stepladder by the pyramid trying to peek inside one of the boxes without toppling the whole thing.
She stomped down when she saw him, hands on hips. "Well?" Belinda said. She was relieved for the diversion after trying to write a blog post, assemble three outfits, and brainstorm a place to host the cocktail party all at the same time.
Kyle whipped his T-shirt off, about to toss it on the floor when he saw Belinda's eyes set on him to kill. He bunched the shirt up in his hands instead. "Well what?"
"Well, what are you going to do about the hole?"
Kyle stared at her blankly. "What do you want me to do about the hole?"
Belinda rolled her eyes. "I want you to cover it up! We can't just leave it open for several obvious reasons."
"Can't it wait a little longer?"
"Actually, it can't wait."
"Why not?"
"Because the last time I was nice and said it could wait, I wound up having to move all of our stuff into the carriage house by myself."
"What are you talking about? I helped move our stuff."
"You moved one box, Kyle. One lousy box!"
"I swear I'll fix up the hole after we eat."
"You swear on what?"
Kyle shifted his eyes from side-to-side. "I swear on...my life?"
Belinda narrowed her eyes. "Fine. But if I come home tonight and that hole is still gaping open for every squirrel in the neighborhood to climb through, you're sleeping outside."
"You're going out tonight?" Having appeased Belinda for the moment, Kyle removed his sneakers and headed toward the bathroom to shower though he wasn't quite sure it was safe to do so. He thought all the butcher knives were out of reach in a box in the Pyramid, but Belinda might have fished them out when he was gone.
"I have to see one of the designers to get some party planning help, which is good," she explained. "But it's bad because I threw all of my clothes either into my suitcases or boxes, and I can't find anything that goes together that's even remotely appropriate. I'm positive a lot of the pieces I can't find are stuck at the bottom of that pile." She pointed at the stacks of boxes behind her.
"Before you point the finger at me, I just want to say that I had absolutely nothing to do with that."
Belinda smirked. "Believe me, I'm perfectly aware of that." Kyle frowned. "I had planned to make sure everything was stacked according to need, but between your issues and mine, my organizational plan got shredded and now I only have whatever clothes made it into the suitcases."
"Why can't you wear what you have on now?"
Belinda started to answer him, but just shook her head. "Just go take your shower while I figure this out, okay?" Fortunately, the designers weren't meeting at The Blue Room until later in the evening. "I met Bennett and Jonas this afternoon and I didn't have time to worry about this until now."
"Now I understand." Kyle turned around, leaning back on the kitchen island. She shooed him off it, making a mental note to bleach it later. He was clammy and grimy and not in an approved condition to touch her kitchen. "Are you sure Bennett didn't use his mind control powers to make you think that?" Belinda laughed. "Come on. The staring, the eyebrows. I can't be the only one who thinks he has some sort of crazy abilities."
"What would his eyebrows have to do with it?"
"I don't know. Maybe that's how he shifts things in your brain after he locks onto you with his eyes." Kyle straightened his expression, glaring at her, and wiggled one of his eyebrows. "Did it work? I was telling you that you don't care if I trail paint dust throughout the house and you won't force me to clean it up when I do."
"Um...no. And for the record, that's not what Bennett looks like. His brows don't arch as much as yours."
Kyle snorted. "Excuse me. So what were you doing if not just flirting with Bennett?"
"I was helping." Belinda put her hands on her hips and struck a model pose.
"I like how idle chitchat with you becomes a Covert Ops situation. You get backup and everything."
"Hey, Jonas likes me. And it's kind of fun. I feel a little bit like a secret agent."
"I do have to say, you would make the most bubbly secret agent in history."
"Bubbly like champagne?"
"I was thinking more like gum."
"Either way, I'm delicious." She struck another model pose and tiptoed her way to the stairs as if she was walking in high heels.
"Since I'm your brother, my official statement on that comment is, 'Ew.'" He balled up his shirt and forced it into the bulging hamper in the bathroom. "But since I'm also pretty relaxed about these sorts of conversations, I'm assuming you must be for Bennett Tate to keep reappearing out of his cave to come back for more. Also as your brother, I'm oddly okay with that."
"Well, you should be with all the nonsense that I put up with from you. Tracking paint dust all over the house, eating all of my chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream–"
"Protecting you
from stalkers."
Belinda leaned on one hip. "I do love you, big brother."
"Big? Ha! I'm one minute ahead of you, woman. One minute!"
"The best minute of my life!" Belinda dashed upstairs to her loft bedroom.
"You know what, I'm gonna just bathe in paint dust tomorrow and then roll my slimy, dirty, naked body all over your room!"
Belinda laughed, then stopped short as she held up a halter top as a possible for that night. She should probably keep on guard for the next week or so.
A little while later, the microwave beeped as Belinda sauntered back downstairs in Outfit #4 of the day with a pair of heels dangling from her fingers.
"Before you start yelling at me again," Kyle said with a fork hanging from his mouth, "I want to tell you that I officially have a mooring at the Portside Marina."
"Really?" Belinda's eyes lit up. "The return of Sea Stud is official?"
"The return of Sea Stud is official."
Belinda skittered across the floor on her toes and hugged him. "How'd you manage it so late?"
Kyle shrugged. "It wasn't really me. I...I bumped into Mark's dad."
Belinda nodded, bending her knee to squeeze one foot into a shoe.
"I wasn't going to, but I finally told him what I was doing." Kyle shook grated Parmesan onto his pasta. "I thought he might be upset, but he was excited I'm fixing her up and pulled some strings so I'd have a spot this summer."
Belinda smiled. "You'll need it. You have a lot of catching up to do."
"Yeah...I do."
She leaned on the counter to tackle the other shoe. "I didn't know his parents hung around Portside much anymore."
"I guess this is their first summer back too." He smiled. "They've been all over the place with their yacht from the sounds of it, but they wanted to come home."
Guess they were all moving forward.
"Anyway, you fix that hole after you eat." She smacked him on the top of his head with her clutch. "Or I will make good on my promise to evict you."
Chapter 6
Belinda waited by the bar of The Blue Room, close to the entrance. So named, she figured, because of the blue light glowing around her in the darkness. A jazz band played, making it tough to hear even the bartender right next to her.
She'd been standing there for about ten minutes and hadn't seen Sawyer yet, and was seriously considering slinking back out, when a hand grabbed hers, leading her around the tables and out on the dance floor. At first, she thought some random guy had picked her as his date for the night, until she focused and made out the back of a blonde head and a dark blazer. Sawyer. He spun her around to meet him, pulling her in a little closer than necessary.
He was back in his red zone charm level. Belinda wondered if he just put his off-moods in a drawer, or if his confrontation with Mrs. Sykes was really settled.
"I don't know what you heard this afternoon, Belinda." Sawyer leaned in closer, a mix of mint and alcohol wafting her direction. It was the opposite of how Bennett always smelled—spicy and warm like a sunset. Maybe that sounded weird, but it was how she felt. "But I want you to know that it's nothing to be concerned about. Mrs. Sykes is going through a lot right now, and I'm trying to help her. That's all."
Belinda tilted her head. This was an interesting turn in the evening's events. She had convinced herself that Sawyer would act like that never happened. And certainly wouldn't bring up the private conversation he was having with Mrs. Sykes. "Are you in the habit of helping females in distress?"
Sawyer smiled, his eyes skimming below her chin.
"It's gutted," she blurted and started stammering. "My house...it's under renovation. So I thought you might have suggestions for an alternate location for the party. Because I'd use my house...but it's–"
"Gutted?" Sawyer arched his brows, a twinkle of amusement on his face. "Are you living out of a suitcase currently?"
She cursed her inability to keep it together. One little thing and she unwound like a ball of yarn. "Sort of." Belinda shrugged. "My brother and I are sharing the guest house."
"Sounds crowded." He leaned even closer. "You can come escape with me if you need some air."
Belinda flushed. She doubted that would be any less crowded. "So you have ideas for how I can put together a cocktail party this short notice?" Belinda tried to discreetly put a gap between them, resisting the urge to just push away. She needed Sawyer's help and that might end it. "Thanks to my mother, I have a caterer who will squeeze me in, but that's as far as I've gotten."
He respected the space she put between them, but Belinda knew she'd need to keep an eye on him—and his hands. "I would think untraditional for the location," Sawyer said. "This crowd will love that."
So far, not so helpful. But they'd just gotten talking. "What constitutes untraditional to you? A VFW?"
Sawyer grinned. "I was thinking a shop or something. You've got plenty of small places around here that would probably be willing to earn some extra money to lend you the space for a party."
That got Belinda's head turning. Maybe not a shop, but with her family's connections, she could think of another possible venue. "How about an art gallery?" She knew most, if not all, the gallery owners in Portside. Several were close family friends.
Sawyer looked impressed. "Fashion designers plus art equals perfect cocktail party in my book."
Check. She mentally listed, in order, the people to call tomorrow. "Food then. I was going to let the caterer give us what she thought best based on the circumstances—and what they can handle so short notice." Sawyer nodded approval while they circled around. "Well, besides food, drinks of course, and a location, am I missing anything?"
"You do need guests, I believe." His eyes twinkled as he caught her off guard and squeezed in tighter.
Belinda flushed again. Hadn't she just told herself to keep an eye on him? "Right. Invites."
"I wouldn't worry about formality. Phone calls will do."
From the looks of him, decked out in a blazer and dress pants, Belinda had trouble picturing he did anything informally. Of course, he'd left out the vest and tie tonight and undone the first couple of buttons on his shirt, which probably was informal for him.
She decided Brooke could handle the inviting. She could feel her phone's outline as she gripped her clutch and wondered on a scale of one to unforgivable how rude it would be to text her while they danced.
While she calculated how much longer she had to stay before it was polite to excuse herself, Sawyer's blue eyes widened when he caught sight of something—or someone—across the room.
He turned back to her, less gleaming than before. Something had ruffled his pinstripes. Well, Belinda figured he couldn't keep up the perfect polish and charisma all the time. It had to be exhausting.
"Something wrong?" She tried to see around him, but he swiveled her away in the opposite direction.
"Business," he said brusquely. "I forgot about something I had to do." Sawyer seemed to check himself in a mental mirror, realized he hadn't properly adjusted his personality before speaking, and quickly set things right with a commercial-worthy smile. "I'm a creative, so business is never my favorite aspect. But it's a necessary evil."
"Don't you have a line coming out?" Of course she knew about his scheme with April, but he didn't know that.
"We'll see." His face lost some of its shine. Maybe business was falling through the cracks now that April had died. "I've heard you're opening up your own business. A cupcake shop, er, truck." He was good at turning the tables back on her.
"Oh. How did you know about that?"
Sawyer shrugged. "Someone mentioned it. Maybe Mrs. Sykes."
Belinda nodded. Strange, but all right. She explained a little about the idea and the opening that weekend, panic trickling down into her belly as she thought of the million things she still had to do. "Do you dance?"
Sawyer paused, quirking his eyebrows. "I'm not sure how we got from buttercream frosting to do I dance, but the answer
is clearly no if you're asking me now."
Belinda turned red yet again. What was it with this guy embarrassing her? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean–"
"I'm joking." His face was right up against hers. Belinda swallowed. He'd done it again! And she kept telling herself to stay on guard. "Are you planning to ask me to go dancing?"
"Uh...no. I am planning a flash mob dance for my opening and I was going to ask if anyone wants to join. For something to do." Except for three of them, all the other participants were actual dancers. She wanted it to look cool and together, but a few more amateurs wouldn't hurt...probably.
"Well, I think you can count me out for that, but I will be first in line for the cupcakes." He gazed at her as if casting a charm spell. And she was convinced he wasn't referring to those cupcakes.
The song finally wound down. She was tiring of Sawyer's veneer, even if it was powerful, and he was clearly tiring of keeping it on. It was time to figure out a way to see Sawyer as he really was, and not just who he played in his public life.
~ * ~
"If I asked you to skip everything," Bennett said, "and come scope out an event site with me and count it as a date, you'd wrinkle your nose and tell me to try again."
The next day, Bennett and Belinda tasted samples set out on a stainless counter in the deserted kitchen in the back of the caterer's place. Belinda was finalizing arrangements for the cocktail party. Then in a few hours, guests would be gobbling up the food she'd just approved.
"How can you say that?" Belinda said in mock surprise, picking up a mini meatball to try. It was some fancy thing with veal and sage and she wanted to devour the whole plate.
"Because a couple weeks ago, I asked you to come scope out the runway show site with me as a date, and you wrinkled your nose and told me to try again."
Belinda grinned, tossing the toothpick from the meatball into a nearby trashcan. "I never promised to be easy to please."
