by Beth Ciotta
I shimmied between two patrons and flagged down Dad. My smile broadened. I was used to seeing him juggle papers and cash, not bottles of liquor. He leaned over the bar and shouted over the cacophony. “Can you believe this crowd?”
“After tonight, I bet you can expect more of the same. The renovations and the band are a hit, Dad.”
“You’re a hit! You rocked the house, Evelyn.”
I laughed. “Where’d you hear talk like that?”
“The musicians.”
Now a lump clogged my throat. All my life I’d felt like the black sheep. Now suddenly, at forty-one, I felt like an accepted member of the Parish flock. Even Christopher had shown up for support.
In the past few weeks the dynamics of the relationships in my life had altered drastically. Needless to say, I was overwhelmed and discombobulated. “Where’s Arch?”
“He had a phone call. Too loud in here. I told him to take it in my office.”
I ignored a flicker of jealousy, told myself he was talking to Woody or Tabasco, not the mysterious Kate. Not wanting to dwell, I pushed off the bar. “Gotta talk to someone, Dad. If Arch asks, I’ll be in the alley.” I sort of hoped he didn’t ask, because I didn’t want him to deter Beckett from giving me a play-by-play. At the same time, I didn’t want him wondering where Beckett and I were and thinking the worst.
The tavern was loud, crowded and hot. I was flustered and sweaty by the time I stepped outside. I found Beckett leaning against the banana-yellow exterior, just out of the wash of a security lamp, looking cool and collected.
My ears welcomed the relative quiet. My body welcomed the cool evening air. A breeze ruffled my hair, lifting damp strands from my neck. I sighed. “Feels great out here. I don’t know about you, but I’m hot.”
“Definitely hot.”
Something in his tone caused my cheeks to burn. Self-conscious, I smoothed my damp palms over the seat of my jeans. Surely he didn’t mean…I’d traded my sneakers for wedge sandals, and instead of a T-shirt I’d worn a paisley red-and-yellow halter top, but I was still relatively dressed down. And sweaty. “About Gish—” I said, wanting to home in on business.
“He’s in the hands of the proper authorities. By tomorrow morning he’ll be in Washington state. With any luck, there’ll be a speedy trial and his crooked ass will soon be in prison.”
“That’s good. That’s great, but I was wondering…hoping you’d fill me in on the particulars. How did you get Gish to cooperate?”
“Manipulation. Intimidation. Didn’t take much to convince him to pack a bag.”
“Guess you and Arch can be pretty scary when you want to be.”
“Let’s just say we’re good at what we do.”
My pulse accelerated as I imagined Chameleon’s brightest tangling with shady criminals. I’d seen Arch in action during the Fish fiasco. “Sorry I missed the excitement.” The admission boomeranged and winged my sensibilities. What if Nic was right? Was I a thrill-seeking junkie?
“So are you.”
I focused back on Beckett. “Sorry?”
“You’re good, Evie. I know you wanted to play a bigger part in the takedown, but you played your part perfectly. You didn’t let ambition get in the way.”
I smiled a little, basking in his compliments. “I didn’t crack out of turn.”
“No, you didn’t.” He stepped away from the wall, into my personal space. “Heard from Gina a few minutes ago,” he said in a low voice. “She’s positive Turner’s cheating but isn’t sure how. We’ve got our work cut out for us. Means hanging around this area awhile longer, perpetuating the baron ruse. Right now you’re part of that, and your role could get more intense. If you’re uncomfortable in any way, we could alter—”
“I’m not uncomfortable.” Okay, that’s a lie. Personally and professionally, I felt like I was on the edge of something scary. But I didn’t blush. I didn’t scratch. “I’m up to this, Beckett.”
He studied me hard. “I think you are.”
“I just want you to know straight out, Arch and I…”
“I know. Complicates matters.”
“You don’t like complications.”
“I’m a man of my word. You passed the audition, so to speak.”
My heart danced in my chest. “I’m in?”
“Don’t get too excited. I’m not sure about the future of Chameleon.”
“But for now?”
“For now.”
I squealed and hugged him tight. “Thank you.” Overjoyed, I kissed him on the mouth. It was quick, innocent, but when I stepped away, he pulled me into his arms and…holy cow. There was nothing innocent about the way his mouth conquered mine.
I was stunned.
I was curious.
I needed to know that Arch was wrong. That Beckett wasn’t a threat. I didn’t encourage the kiss exactly, but I didn’t refuse when his tongue teased open my lips. I waited for it. The white-hot zing-zap. No zap but definite zing.
Crap.
Panicked, I pushed out of his arms…and saw Arch.
Double crap.
Arms crossed over his chest, he raised one brow. “Feeling your way, yeah?”
“It’s not what you think,” I blurted.
He glanced at Beckett. “I’m thinking the better man made his play.”
“He didn’t…we didn’t…I was excited.”
“Just what I wanted to hear.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Flustered, my thoughts tripped over one another. I turned pleading eyes on Beckett. “Would you please explain? Tell him he’s wrong. Tell him you didn’t—”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I did.”
I blinked, speechless.
“I knew this would happen sooner or later,” Arch said in an eerily calm voice. “I was just hoping on later.” He uncrossed his arms, clenched his fists.
“Go ahead,” Beckett said. “Take your best shot. I would.”
Instead Arch raised his hands in surrender. “Fuck it. It’s as it should be, yeah?”
“Just like that you’re giving up on me? On us?” My words came out in a croaked whisper. Stunned and crushed, I went toe to toe with the man. “I can’t believe you just passed me off to your best friend.”
“Beckett isn’t my—”
“Yes, he is. You don’t want to admit it because friendship is an actual relationship. Now you’re getting cold feet because we’re in a relationship. At least I thought we were. Never attach yourself to anyone you can’t walk away from. Wow. Beckett was right. When the going gets tough…” I choked back a sob.
Arch glared at me, hurt, angry. “I thought it was all about me, Evie.”
“It is.”
He got in my face. “Now who’s being dishonest? You didn’t look unwilling.”
I sensed more than heard Beckett approach. “Arch.”
“Shut up.”
I felt Arch draw away from me. As the seconds ticked by, his heat disappeared before my eyes, cooled into something scary. Quiet. Resolved. And I understood it because—oh, God—he was right. I could’ve pushed Beckett away sooner, but I didn’t. Guilt settled in my stomach like a ton of bricks. My heart and mind jammed. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
I backed away, eyes tearing, heart cracking. I thought about what Dad had said. If Arch and I fizzled, I’d always have the Corner Tavern. It was a comfort, as were my parents, but it’s not where I wanted to be. “I’m going to stay at my folks’ house tonight. Don’t worry—I won’t blow our cover. I’ll come up with some…lie. Smoke and mirrors, right? I’ll be back on the job tomorrow.”
I willed him to reach for me, but he didn’t. He showed only the coldness I’d always feared, the detachment that would allow him to walk away. I wouldn’t let him do it to me. I knew I’d crumple into a heap. I couldn’t let that happen twice in my life.
I turned and walked away first.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
&
nbsp; I WOKE UP IN MY childhood bed, exhausted and sad. What little sleep I’d managed had been fitful. I stared at the ceiling, replaying last night’s fallout over and over. Arch haunted me. The hurt in his eyes. The disappointment in his voice. I thought it was all about me.
I ached for my journal, but it was at the B and B. I bolted upright. What if Arch read it? What if he wanted to know how I really felt about him? About Beckett? I cursed that damn list of pros and cons.
“He won’t read it,” I told myself. “He respects my privacy.” Another pro. “Why didn’t he fight for me?” Con.
Dammit.
Massaging the ache in my chest, I moved to the desk where I used to do my homework, where I journaled late at night. I searched the drawers and came up with a Scooby Doo notepad and a number-two pencil. Good enough.
Dear…Scooby Doo, Why didn’t Arch fight for me? Because he thinks you’re better off with Beckett. The safe guy, the nice guy. The better man. He told you the bad boy never gets the good girl. You told him it was all about him. Then you let the nice boy kiss you. Can you blame Arch for walking away? He’s just giving in to what he thought would happen anyway.
“What should I do?”
He doesn’t think he deserves you. Convince him otherwise. That’s if you really want to be with him. If you honestly love him.
“I do.”
I set aside the pencil, tore the page out of the notepad, then located my purse. I folded and stuffed my musings inside, then flopped down on the bed. Head lighter, I plotted my strategy, which basically consisted of the truth.
I heard a tentative knock. “Come in.” I expected Mom, but it was Nic who pushed through the door. Dressed in sleek black pants and blood-red blouse, her dark hair combed into a sophisticated ponytail, she looked like a runway model. But instead of a designer purse, she carried a brown paper bag. I pointed, quirked a weak smile. “The latest trend?”
She rolled her eyes. “I stopped by the B and B this morning to grab my things and to say goodbye. Beckett told me you were here.” She placed the bag on my vanity chair. “Couldn’t manage that monster suitcase of yours, so I just chucked a change of clothes and a few essentials in here.”
“Don’t suppose my journal’s in there.”
“No. Why? Do you need it?”
“No. It’s just…Never mind. I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
She sat next to me on the bed. “Beckett didn’t tell me why you were here, but I assume it’s because you and Arch fought. And I’m thinking maybe Beckett was the cause.”
I pushed myself into a sitting position, tucked my tangled hair behind my ears. “Why would you think that?”
She smiled. “Because I have eyes. Because I’ve had more experience with men than you.”
My cheeks heated. “I think Beckett likes me.”
“I’m thinking it’s a little more serious than like.”
“He kissed me.”
She arched a brow.
“I sort of kissed him first.”
“Sort of?”
“An automatic response to great news.”
“What news?”
I shrugged, the thrill dampened because of the fight. “Beckett offered me an official position with Chameleon. Fieldwork, Nic.”
“Whoopee.”
I tugged at the sleeve of her blouse. “Hey. You said you’d try to be happy for me.”
“I am trying. It’s just…Arch, Beckett, Chameleon—I can’t see you thriving in that world.”
“I’m tougher than you think.”
“I don’t want you to be tough. I want you to be you.”
I frowned. “You sound like Arch. Speaking of…”
“I didn’t see him.”
My heart sank. “Oh.”
Nic frowned. “You’re in love with that guy, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Beckett?”
“I’m a little confused about Beckett.”
“Terrific.”
“I don’t love him. How can I? I love Arch.”
“Christ, Evie. It’s possible to be infatuated with two different people for entirely different reasons.”
My stomach churned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
She shrugged, a worldly been-there-done-that shrug. “It can be thrilling. It can be ugly. Depends on the personalities. With you, I predict ugly.”
I frowned. “Terrific.”
She squeezed my hand. “Fly home with me.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to. Chameleon business.”
“Are you sure—”
“No. But I want to try.”
“Okay.”
My heart swelled. “Really?”
“Of course. Just know Jayne and I are here for you if—”
“I know.” I reached out and hugged her even though she wasn’t the huggy type.
“I have to go,” she said, but not before hugging me back. “My plane.”
She was halfway to the door when a thought occurred. “Nic.”
“Yeah?”
“I have to ask. When you first arrived, I thought I sensed…I thought you were interested in Beckett.”
“Slick?” She grunted. “Please. No.”
“You’re sure?”
“The man’s a control freak.”
“I noticed.”
“Do me a favor,” she said, pausing on the threshold. “Don’t keep us—Jayne and me—in the dark. We love you, Evie.”
Tears burned my eyes. I was leaving one world and entering another, but I didn’t want to lose past ties. “I love you, too.”
In her wake, I scooted from beneath the covers, dredging up my inner bad girl. The tough girl. The girl who’d know how to fix things with Arch.
Mom walked in.
“Of course I’m happy that Nicole secured a commercial shoot, but it’s a shame she had to leave before she and Northbrook kissed and made up. Such a handsome couple.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I spoke a truth. “Nic’s never been very lucky in love.”
“They’ll come around. In time,” Mom said. “Mark my words.”
“Spoken like a true romantic,” I said, tongue in cheek. “When did that happen?”
She averted her gaze. “Don’t be flip.”
I smothered a smile.
“I have something to say, Evelyn.”
I curled my fingers into the sheets, braced myself.
“You were wonderful last night. On stage. I’m ashamed I never encouraged that talent.”
“You did what you thought was right.” I could see that now and I didn’t want her to feel guilty. “You wanted a secure future for your daughter. The entertainment industry is fickle.”
“Still…I was impressed with your voice and presence. So much energy. Your dad and I, we’re so proud. We understand that your home is in Atlantic City. That you want to stand on your own two feet. And, not that you need our approval, but we very much approve of Archibald. Perhaps you’ll soon be calling Broxley home? Whatever happens, we just want you to know that you’re welcome here anytime. For as long as you like.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Arch and I had a fight.”
She quirked a sympathetic smile. “I had a feeling.”
“We’ll work it out,” I said, though I worried we wouldn’t.
“I’m sure you will.” She patted my leg. “Speaking of, Archibald called here a few minutes ago. Said he couldn’t reach you on your cell.”
I crossed my arms over my queasy middle. “I shut it off.”
“He wants you to meet him behind the civic center in a half hour. He said you’d know the place.”
I knew it, and the memory of our sweet moment in the tree made me hurt. What would he say? I only hoped he’d listen to my heart.
Thirty-five minutes later, dressed in the contents of the paper bag—gauzy red sundress and wedge sandals—I crossed the civic center grounds, determined to set things right.
Dressed in a suit, looking handsome and regal and dangerous as hell, Arch stood with his back against Big Love. My heart raced when I thought about the way he’d climbed to my rescue.
“’Morning, Sunshine.”
“Good morning.”
My pulse skipped and paused when he produced a bouquet of wild daisies. “The florist was closed,” he said. Nicked these from the backyard of the B and B. Not as romantic as roses, but—”
“They’re beautiful.” I clutched the long stems and inhaled the petals’ simple fragrance, willing my nerves steady. Were the flowers a preface for a kiss-and-makeup or goodbye?
“Last night…you were right. Cold feet. Actually, more like scared shiteless. Seeing you in Beckett’s arms…I’m not keen on the way it made me feel.”
I swallowed. “About me?”
“About myself. Beckett’s a good man, Sunshine.”
“So are you,” I said. “I feel it in my heart, Arch. Otherwise I don’t believe for one second I would’ve fallen in love with you.”
His lips curved into a soft smile as he caressed my cheek. “Let me finish. I spent a sleepless night assessing my asinine behavior.” His eyes glittered with sincerity, making me weak in the knees. “I worry I’m not the right man for you, but then I think I’m the only man for you.”
My pulse raced, but I held my tongue, grounded my imagination.
“I’ve spent a lifetime walking away from people, detaching from relationships. That’s the way of it in my world, yeah?”
“And now?”
“Now you’re in my world and things are different.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “I want to trust you, Arch.”
“Then I guess I have to earn it.”
“I want you to trust me, too. Beckett…I allowed him to kiss me because I wanted to prove to myself that I’m not attracted to him.”
“And?”
I swallowed hard. The truth will set me free. “I felt a little something, but nothing near what I feel for you.”
“I appreciate your honesty, Sunshine.” He brushed my bangs from my eyes, smiled.
Zing. Zap.
“I’ve been staying a step ahead of Beckett for years. More than ever, I have a reason to ootmaneuver him, yeah?”
