The Remake

by Noelle Adams

  Skye cheered, and Madeline nodded, and Ria reached over to squeeze Belinda’s arm. “It’s a deal. Let’s find a night this week when we can all get together, and we’ll make a plan.”

  BELINDA LEFT THE SHOP a few minutes later, feeling more positive about the world than when she’d entered. She didn’t mind getting help with something she was clearly not much good at. She trusted her sister, and she’d always liked Skye and Madeline. If they could help her, then she wasn’t going to turn it down.

  She still lived in her parents’ old house. It was a few blocks away in a residential neighborhood close to downtown. She was walking in that direction when she saw Fitz again.

  He was standing on a street corner, chatting with Ken Harley—the county’s sheriff and Madeline’s husband.

  That was the thing about Fitz. Since he didn’t have a real job, he was always just hanging around, and he seemed to show up everywhere.

  She waved at Ken but didn’t stop since she didn’t want to have another conversation with Fitz and ruin her newly good mood.

  “Did something happen?” Fitz asked as she passed by.

  She told herself not to stop. He wasn’t owed a response to the intrusive question. But she ended up halting her stride anyway. “What?” she asked with a frown. “Why do you ask that?”

  “Because you look like you’re on a mission.” His blue eyes were searching her face again in the same way they had earlier. “And that always means you’re in a good mood.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I’m not on a mission.” She turned to Ken with a smile. “How are you doing today, Ken?”

  “Not bad. Not bad. So you’re not on a mission?”

  She made a frustrated noise. “Don’t you start too. I’m not on a mission!” It felt like this was a ridiculous argument, so she waved and kept walking.

  “You shouldn’t lie to the sheriff,” Fitz called after her.

  Belinda grumbled wordlessly—loud enough for him to hear her—as she kept walking away. Part of her kind of wanted to smile, but that was a part of her she didn’t indulge.

  Two

  THE BEST PART OF FITZ’S days in Azalea was when he ran into Belinda Phillips.

  He usually saw her at least once a day since Fitz tended to hang around in the areas of Azalea where Belinda worked and lived, but he never let himself go out of his way to make it happen. Sure, he’d love to see her more often, but he was also well aware of the potential for his interest to be seen as creepy or stalker-ish. So, like everything else, he left it to chance, which made every brief encounter with her an exciting surprise.

  It wasn’t like the rest of his life was bad. His days here and now were a lot better than his pre-Azalea days. He had no burdensome schedule since he only did what he wanted at any given moment. No overflowing inbox (no email at all, in fact). No family or social pressure, as he was anonymous and entirely alone. He paid his minimal rent and utilities with cash. He drove a thirty-year-old car. And he did only as many odd jobs as he needed to pay his expenses.

  Otherwise, he hung out, wandered around town, and talked to people.

  As far as lives went, it was a perfectly good one, free of any stress or responsibility. But seeing Belinda was his favorite thing.

  On Saturday morning, Fitz was sitting on a bench in the town park, drinking coffee out of his old travel mug and wondering what she’d been up to this week. She’d seemed distracted the few times he’d run into her, and yesterday she’d been in Richmond most of the day. He’d hinted around with Ria and Jacob, hoping they’d clue him in about what she was doing there, but they hadn’t.

  It was frustrating.

  He usually knew what was going on in this town—and especially with Belinda—but he didn’t know right now.

  She sometimes worked in Anna’s Diner in the mornings, but she hadn’t been there today when he’d stopped by. Since he had his own mug, they gave him a cup of coffee for a quarter. He’d chatted with a couple of people and waited around, but she hadn’t made an appearance. He didn’t have any jobs lined up today, so he’d left eventually, not wanting to wear out his welcome at the restaurant.

  Now he was here at the park, and he still had no idea what was going on.

  He told himself it didn’t matter. The point of his life in Azalea was to avoid worry, grief, or pressure. It was working for him, and he wasn’t going blow it with an irrational attachment to a woman who would never dream of seeing him as anything but an obnoxious pest. For now Fitz was allowed to enjoy watching her go through life with her focus, organization, seriousness, and generosity. And he was allowed to tease and argue with her as long as he made sure not to go too far. But eventually she’d take a new step in life. She’d move, or she’d fall in love and get married. And the best part of his days would be over.

  It was fine. It was life. Change was the only thing the world would inevitably offer. He’d never expect anything else.

  But he still wanted to know what had been going on with Belinda this week.

  When the joyful barking of a dog distracted him, he looked over to see Matthew Jenkins, throwing a ball to his dog, Theodore. The dog was a mix—more Shepherd than anything else—and Matthew had rescued and adopted him last year. He was happy, healthy, and well-groomed now, and Fitz chuckled as he watched the animal gallop wildly after the ball, managing to catch the ball but then do a couple of awkward flips as he came to an overly abrupt stop.

  “Hey!” Matthew called when he saw Fitz. He headed over to the bench.

  Fitz waved back. He liked the other man and was always happy to talk to him. Plus Matthew was Madeline’s brother and Skye’s fiancé. Maybe he’d have a clue about what was going on with Belinda.

  “Kind of cold to be hanging out here this morning,” Matthew said as he approached and sat beside Fitz on the bench.

  “It’s not that bad. I don’t mind.” Fitz reached out to pet an ecstatic Theodore, who had collected his ball and his limbs after his tumble and then recognized Fitz as an old friend and came racing over. “Hey, buddy. You’re a really good boy, aren’t you?”

  Theodore panted blissfully in what was clearly an affirmative.

  Matthew reached over to scratch behind the dog’s ears before he threw the ball again.

  “Where’s Skye this morning?” Fitz asked.

  “Oh, she and Madeline and Ria are over at Belinda’s. It’s all I’ve heard about all week.”

  “What is?” It bothered Fitz that Matthew had evidently heard a lot about something he was completely unaware.

  “The big makeover.”

  “Makeover?” Fitz was frowning now.

  “Yeah. They’re giving Belinda a big makeover or something. I don’t know.” Matthew shrugged, obviously both amused and clueless on the topic. “Anyway, that’s what they’re all doing this morning.”

  “A makeover? Why are they giving Belinda a makeover?” Fitz was only vaguely aware of what a makeover consisted of, but it sounded unnecessary and intrusive.

  “She wanted one, I guess.”

  “For what?”

  Matthew suddenly looked uncomfortable, as if he knew the answer but didn’t want to tell Fitz.

  Fitz might act laid-back and disinterested in the world, but he’d never been stupid. He was still as quick and observant as he’d been when he’d been a powerhouse businessman ten years ago. It only took a few seconds of witnessing Matthew’s suppressed discomfort for him to understand what was going on.

  It was Charles Kensington. The new man in town. The one he’d caught Belinda eyeing more than once.

  She was interested in him. So much so that she was going through some kind of entirely unwarranted makeover to impress him.

  The clench in his chest hurt. It hurt a lot. For obvious reasons, he’d done his best to avoid any hopes in her direction. As far as he could tell, he’d never entertained even the faintest dream of her having feelings for him. But it still hurt. This proof that she was already slipping away.

 
Fitz stared down at the sidewalk, took a couple of long breaths, and came to terms with it.

  It was fine.

  Just fine.

  Probably good. Good for Belinda anyway. She deserved a happy life with someone she loved. And it was better for Fitz not to have anything that he wanted to hold on to.

  “You okay?” Matthew asked. Very softly.

  Fitz glanced over and saw the other man was giving him a look of reluctant concern. As if he was worried but wasn’t sure what to do about it. Matthew had always been a good guy but was also one who didn’t express emotion easily.

  With a huff of dry amusement, Fitz shook his head. Then realized the gesture might be misinterpreted, so he said, “Of course. What else?”

  “I think she likes... someone.”

  “Of course she does. I don’t know Charles very well, but he seems like a decent sort.” Fitz was relieved that his tone was casual. Uninflected.

  “Yeah.” Matthew winced slightly. “Sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for? It makes sense. They’d fit.”

  “Yeah,” Matthew said again, this time sounding almost tired.

  “She really thinks she needs a makeover?” Fitz hadn’t intended to say that, but the idea really bugged him. Belinda was beautiful and intelligent and sexy and amazing exactly as she was. Why would she need to change for some guy?

  “I don’t know. Women do that kind of thing, don’t they?”

  “Maybe.”

  Fitz wanted to say more—wanted to make sure he’d convinced Matthew that he wasn’t stupid or pitiful or needy or disappointed about something he’d never been fool enough to hope for—but he didn’t have the chance.

  Matthew’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. He frowned as he read a text.

  “Something wrong?” Fitz asked.

  “I don’t know. Skye says there’s a flood at Belinda’s house.”

  Fitz stood up. “What?”

  “I don’t know. She says they can use some help.”

  “Well, let’s go.” Fitz didn’t care if he wasn’t invited. If Belinda needed help, then he was going.

  Matthew didn’t argue. He rounded up Theodore and then gave Fitz a ride in his SUV for the few blocks over to Belinda’s house.

  She still lived in the old Victorian where she and Ria had grown up. Everything looked fine about the small picket-fence-lined front yard, big porch, and white paint on the wide-plank siding. Jacob and a very pregnant Ria were walking down the porch stairs.

  “What’s going on?” Matthew asked, getting out of the SUV.

  Fitz forced himself not to hurry. Not to push past the others to get his eyes on Belinda and make sure she was all right. How the hell could there be flooding? There wasn’t a river or creek or even a stream anywhere nearby.

  “The hot-water heater died,” Ria explained, “and it exploded all over the hallway.”

  “Leaked,” Jacob added with a fond smile at his wife.

  She made a face at him. “With the amount of water that ended up everywhere, it was more of an explosion than a leak.”

  “It is a mess.” Jacob shook his head. “But Belinda has already ordered and paid for a new water heater. She’s pretty amazing. We’re heading out to pick it up for her now.”

  Fitz really wanted to get inside to where Belinda was, but he could hardly shove the others aside when he hadn’t even been invited to go in.

  “You need some help?” Matthew asked. “I don’t think Ria is in any shape to help you handle a water heater.”

  Ria was softer and gentler than Belinda, but she had her share of the same spirit. She scowled. “I’m in very good shape. I’m just pregnant.” She paused. “But I’m definitely not going to haul a water heater. Maybe one of you guys could go with us so Jacob doesn’t have to wrestle with the thing alone.”

  Fitz should probably volunteer, but he didn’t want to. He waited to see what Matthew would do.

  “I’ll go,” Matthew said, glancing over at Fitz. “Unless you’d rather go, in which case I can help with the cleanup.”

  “I can help clean up,” Fitz said mildly. “No problem.”

  “Thanks,” Jacob said, giving Matthew a light punch on the shoulder.

  They started toward Jacob’s pickup truck, so Fitz turned toward the house, finally able to escape and get to Belinda, but Ria put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Hey.”

  He paused, his eyebrows pulling together in an unspoken question.

  “She’s upset,” Ria murmured. “Don’t tease her.”

  Fitz’s heart gave a little clench. “I won’t. Promise.”

  “Thanks.” Ria smiled at him, looking momentarily just like her sister. Then she put her hands on her rounded belly and hurried to the truck to join Jacob and Matthew.

  Fitz went inside.

  The living room looked normal—perfectly clean and well furnished with comfortable pieces in earth tones and dark wood. Open french doors led into the dining room, and from there a wide opening led into the kitchen. There wasn’t a basement in this house, so the water heater was in a closet in the hallway near the downstairs bedroom and bathroom.

  Fitz turned the corner into the hall and saw it was covered with soaked towels. Since there was still no Belinda in sight, he walked over the towels so he could see into the bedroom.

  She was in there, mopping up more water. She must have run out of towels because there was still pooled water on the hardwood floor.

  Fitz took in the details quickly before his eyes lingered on Belinda’s body. Her back was to him, and she was leaning over. She wore a short bathrobe in some sort of thin, soft material that clung to her body. Her legs were bare—long and toned and gorgeous. Her ass was tight and rounded deliciously, all of it displayed through the thin fabric. Her long dark brown hair was loose and wavy. She normally pulled it back, so it was strangely stunning as it hung down over her shoulders.

  Fitz’s whole body came alive as he experienced the most intense wave of pure want he could remember.

  She turned around just then. Of course she did. Right when he was stunned. Frozen. Pulsing with feeling. And staring like a teenage boy.

  “Why did they send you?” she asked, rolling her eyes in that way she always did around him.

  He opened his mouth to answer but couldn’t get a word out immediately. He was never like this, even back in his old life when he used to care about the impression he made on other people. He’d never had the wind knocked out of him by the sight of a woman before, even as disheveled and half-dressed as Belinda was right now.

  But now that she’d turned around, he could see that something was different about her. Something that didn’t look quite right. Her skin was polished. Her cheeks were pink. Her eyelids were shadowed. And her dark eyelashes were much longer than normal. The makeup wasn’t overdone in that fake way he’d sometimes seen, but Belinda didn’t normally wear it.

  She looked beautiful but not quite like herself.

  “Well?” she demanded, still holding the wet mop as she stepped into the hallway where he was standing. “Are you planning to just stand there all day, or are you going to actually help?”

  Of course he was going to help her. He’d do anything he could to help her fix this mess. He tried to tell her that in a way that was light and natural and wouldn’t provoke a negative reaction. He remembered what Ria had said. Belinda didn’t look upset right now. She looked tired and vaguely annoyed. But Ria wouldn’t have told him that unless it was true.

  Instead of what he intended, Fitz asked, “What’s all this?”

  “What the hell do you think all this is? The water heater—”

  “Oh, I know. I meant all this.” He gestured in the general vicinity of her face before he realized what he was saying.

  Fuck it all. He couldn’t have said anything worse if he’d been trying.

  And that time, he hadn’t been trying.

  “What do you think it is?” Belinda snapped with a scowl. “It’s makeup.
Women have been known to wear it on occasion, you know.”

  “I know, but you usually don’t.” He needed to fix this quick. Her shoulders had stiffened in the way they did when she was more than annoyed by him. “Sorry. I was just surprised. You always look fine.”

  “Well, believe it or not, I might occasionally want to look better than fine. Maybe once in a while I want to look a little bit pretty. Sorry it comes as such a shock to you.”

  One thing was clear, he’d distracted her from the mess in the hallway. Her dark eyes were shooting sparks at him, and her tone was dripping with bitterness.

  “But you always look pretty!” he burst out. “You’re always beautiful.”

  Okay. That was definitely not what he should have said. It might have been true, but she’d never want to hear it from him.

  Her cheeks were suddenly pinker. She dropped her hair so the long fall of dark hair on either side of her face momentarily hid her expression. “What?” She sounded utterly bewildered.

  “You always look fine, is all I mean,” he said hurriedly, retreating to his initial adjective since it had been far safer. “You don’t need all that stuff on your face.”

  All. That. Stuff. On. Your. Face.

  He’d actually used those words.

  He knew exactly how she’d respond. Her head snapped up, and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think anyone asked you. Believe it or not, I don’t dress for your approval. Now, are you planning to help, or did you just come here to make me feel worse?”

  “I’m here to help,” he said after a quick, inner lecture about getting control of his riotous response—both physical and emotional. “I’m sorry I’m being a jerk. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

  That evidently surprised her and mollified her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a long sigh. “I ran out of towels. These are all the ones I have in the house. Madeline and Skye went to get more from Madeline’s house, so they should be back soon, but in the meantime, could you help me try to save the hardwood floor? The water is all into my bedroom. The floors are original, and I don’t know how they’re going to stand up to this much water.” Her voice wobbled slightly at the end.