Fakers (7 page)

“No, I’m
vegan
,” Kyra repeated,
grinning. “How about a veggie pizza?”

Stevie was quiet for a long moment, studying
her carefully. “As in vegetables?”

“As in vegetables,” Kyra confirmed.

“Dear God.”

six

K
yra didn’t know
what to expect the next morning with Hale; the note had said he
would try harder today. Kyra groaned and sat up in bed. What was
she doing? Her first thought this morning had been about Hale
Cooper.

“Really, Kyra?
Really
?”

She swung her legs over her bed, scowling at
her bedraggled reflection in the chevron-painted mirror propped on
the floor.

“Get it together.”

To punish herself, she threw her hair up in
a ponytail and grabbed her running gear. She was out the door in
five minutes, taking off down the beach in her bare feet. She set a
grueling pace right from the start with her legs churning over the
sand. Her hair bounced against her back as the rising sun began to
warm her skin.

She ran for an hour just because she could.
By the time she got back to the house, she was grinning and
sweating like crazy. She’d thought of the run as punishment, but
it’d been just what she needed. Her mind was clear and free of Hale
Cooper.

Except the freedom didn’t last long, because
he stood on her back porch, watching her walk up the garden’s path.
He had a thermos in his hand and a grumpy look on his face. “You
run too?”

She climbed the porch steps and cocked her
head at him. “Well, yeah. You don’t?”

“Uh, no. Running sucks,” he said. He stuck
the paper thermos out at her. “Here.”

Kyra took the cup, her eyebrow arching.
“What’s this?”

Hale cleared his throat. “I thought you
might like some coffee this morning. I didn’t know what you like,
so I got you what I normally get.”

She took a sip, her eyes widening as the
coffee hit her tongue. It was a wonderful blend that tasted
amazing. She’d never had coffee so good. “Holy cow! Where did you
get this?”

He seemed slightly surprised that she liked
it, but one side of his mouth quirked into a grin. It was the
closest to a smile she’d ever gotten from him, and it made her beam
with happiness. That flutter from last night was back, and
annoyingly enough, she realized she wanted him to like her, to
approve of her. “There’s a coffee shop called Sweet Roasts in town.
They have the best coffee. It’s, uh, organic or whatever.”

“Even better!” She took another sip,
savoring the aroma. “This is just what I needed this morning. I
really appreciate this, Hale.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets like he
was suddenly uncomfortable. His eyes scanned the length of her
body, landing on the scabby remains of her accident yesterday. She
felt exposed in her spandex shorts and tank top with him looking at
her. Never before had a man made her feel so vulnerable under his
gaze.

She kind of liked it.

He brought his eyes back up, and Kyra sensed
him linger at her exceptionally short shorts. He seemed to shake
himself out of whatever he was thinking and forced his eyes back up
to hers. He cupped the back of his neck with his hand. “Look, I
really do feel bad about yesterday. I know I can be kind of…”

“A douche?” she volunteered.

He cocked a brow, which did tantalizing
things to his dermal piercing. “Sure. All I’m saying is that I’m
sorry. Maybe we can start over or something.”

Kyra grinned. “I would like that.”

“Okay. Well, good.” Hale shuffled his feet
as if he was extremely uncomfortable, which she liked; it felt good
to make him nervous for once. “Well, your water will be back on
tomorrow.”

Kyra smacked her forehead. “Oh, man. I
totally forgot. And I’m all stinky and gross.” She sniffed her pit,
confirming her fears. She needed a shower.

She looked back at Hale just in time to see
his eyes widen at her. He shook his head, this time smiling
completely. It was a beautiful, shy kind of smile that completely
changed his hard face. It softened his piercings and tattoos,
instantly warming him up, and she found herself leaning toward
him.

“You’re not that gross,” he said before he
turned and left, which made her laugh. She watched him go back
inside her house, thinking this was the kind of Hale that she could
like.

Since she didn’t have to bother with a bath
this morning, she turned back and went to the beach. She settled in
the sand to watch the waves as she drank her delicious coffee. All
in all, it was turning out to be a good morning.

When she’d finished her cup, Kyra rose and
went back inside. The sound of construction was already at a
deafening level. From somewhere in the front of the house, she
heard the strains of Hale’s angry rock music. She waved at Chevy
and the crew as she headed for the stairs, and they all waved back,
following Chevy’s lead and calling out greetings, which made her
smile again.

When she was inside her room, she changed
her clothes and stared at her hair in the mirror. Hale had been
kind; she was gross. Between surfing yesterday and running this
morning, she looked awful, but it gave her a great idea for a video
on styling dirty hair.

She closed her bedroom door and set up her
video equipment. It took her longer than normal because she had to
find the right lightning and adjust her lamps. Finally, she settled
down in front of the computer and started recording.

It took her most of the morning. It wouldn’t
be a perfect video, because the construction noise would make for
awful background music, but her viewers would understand. Besides,
she thought the video had turned out to be pretty funny.

After she’d answered more emails and caught
up on her social media sites, it was well past noon and the
construction sounds had disappeared. Kyra grabbed a banana from her
stash of groceries and headed out of her room to stretch her
legs.

The house felt empty without all the men
inside, but she took the opportunity to walk the rooms and admire
the house’s old beauty. She started upstairs, weaving her way
through the bedrooms, none of which would need as much work as
downstairs. When she reached the room in the front of the house,
she paused. A huge bay window looked out onto the street. It was
painted in a warm yellow—bright and happy. She smiled just being
inside it.

She settled on the window seat and chewed
her banana. For once, she was the nosy neighbor watching from her
windows. She snickered at the thought of the old women on the
street catching her throwing cookies at Hale. Today the street was
pretty quiet. Mrs. Harrison pruned her shrubs, which reminded Kyra
she needed to start work on her own garden.

“Maybe today,” she murmured to herself.

She was about to leave when Hale’s black
lifted Dodge parked appeared in front of her house. Kyra watched as
Hale started toward the house, letting herself appreciate his good
looks and taking her time to soak him in. His muscles were out of
this world. No matter what he said about running, he took care of
his body. His tattoos were carefully done, most in black and gray.
He looked like a hard guy, and Kyra would never appreciate his
awful attitude toward her in the beginning, but she started to
think that Cade might possibly have been right about his brother
just being harder to understand than most. Sure, they’d gotten off
to a rough start this week, but he’d made the effort today. She
could appreciate that.

Heat spread across the back of her neck, and
she felt a tingle deep in her belly. She didn’t know why, but she
was developing a crush on Hale. Maybe it was because he always
spoke his mind or the way he didn’t let Mrs. Harrison or Mrs.
Walker run over her. He was so different from her, and she liked
it.

She sighed and rose from the seat, taking
her banana peel with her. As she stood, the cushion she’d been
sitting on rattled. Turning, Kyra pulled up the cushion, which she
discovered was actually a lid.

Surprised, she adjusted her grip and sank
down onto her knees to look inside. To her delight, it was filled
with old photo albums and books. She began sorting through them
after she propped open the lid. The books were dusty and she
sneezed a lot, but Kyra eventually had the contents spread out onto
the floor.

She sat cross-legged on the floor and
reached for the first photo book. She opened the creaking stiff
binding and stared at the first picture, her breath catching in her
throat. It was her grandmother and mother, standing together in
front of this very house.

Her mother was a little girl, fresh faced
and smiling, with one of her front teeth missing. Even Florence
looked happy, her face much younger and sweeter, without the
contemptuous look she had now. Below the picture, in careful
script, read “Florence & Lila.”

Kyra struggled to breathe. It was possible
all these books contained the life of her mother, or at least
tidbits into her past. She knew nothing about her mother, Lila.
Even her aunt and uncle hadn’t told her much about her, but she
knew her mother had a privileged youth. She and Thomas grew up in
big houses and private schools. Thomas had been a typical older
brother: aloof but protective. When rumors started circulating that
his little sister was dabbling in drugs and boys, he’d ignored
them, thinking it was just a phase for Lila, but she didn’t get
much better. Eventually, because of the drugs, Thomas and his
parents turned their backs on Lila, disowning her and cutting off
her trust fund. Things had gone too far, they’d said. It was tough
love.

Their tough love drove Lila further away.
Thomas told Kyra they’d rarely spoken to Lila after high school.
Sometimes she would call, asking for money or just to yell at them
when she was high. Though she liked her cocaine, they knew she was
falling into harder drugs. And then she’d been arrested.

Kyra turned the page in the photo book,
revealing a picture of a baby splashing in a sink. She instantly
knew it was her mother, because the pain in her heart was sharp and
unexpected. She slapped the book closed.

“Hey.”

Kyra gasped. Hale stood in the door, looking
uncomfortable without his usual scowl.

“You surprised me,” she said, pressing her
hand to her heart. She set the book down gently and stood.

“What’s all this?”

She looked down at the books and back at the
window seat where they’d come from. She opened her mouth to tell
him, but she didn’t know what to say. “Um…I don’t really know,” she
managed.

He didn’t seem bothered by her answer.
Instead, he said, “I need you to start picking out some stuff for
the house. I brought samples.”

Kyra pressed her lips up into a smile. “Oh,
great!” She tried for excitement, but it fell flat. She picked her
way over the books. As she tried to pass through the door, Hale’s
hand settled on her arm. Her skin twitched at his touch, her heart
dipping. She looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“You really okay? No faking,” he said, and
she glimpsed the compassion in his green eyes. He could smile and
be kind; she’d found that out today. He could apologize when he was
wrong and bring her coffee. And he could see past her bullshit.

Choosing not to fake it, she said, “No, I’m
not. But if I look at some pretty colors, I’ll feel better.”

He studied her for a minute, seemingly
seeing inside her to the very confines of her soul. She trembled
beneath his gaze. Feeling her reaction, his body stiffened, his
eyes darkening, but he removed his arm. “Well, let’s get you some
pretty colors.”

They spent the next couple hours going over
counter choices and fixtures. She picked out wall colors and then
changed her mind. She decided on new ones then doubted herself, but
her excitement built as she finally began to imagine her new
home.

Hale stayed patient with her, walking her
through her options and telling her the pros and cons of quartz
countertops versus granite, but Kyra liked soapstone. He sighed and
leaned around her to gather up new soapstone options.

The press of his body sent a feverish set of
chills through her; she liked the feel of him sitting next to her.
His rough voice right beside her ear made her throat close. Her
body came alive, quiet shivers cascading down her spine just from
being close to him.

She really hoped he couldn’t tell.

“Oh, that one!” she exclaimed over a
beautiful mint green color. “I want that for the outside of the
house.”

“No,” Hale said, his voice flat.

“What?” Kyra asked, surprised. “What’s wrong
with it?”

“It looks like explosive diarrhea.” Hale
raised his eyebrows at her, like she was crazy for even picking
it.

“It does not!” Kyra laughed. “It’s really
cute!”

“It’s disgustingly ugly. I can’t paint a
house I’ve worked on that color. It’s bad for business.”

“Do we need to go over who hired who?” Kyra
asked, smiling sweetly. Somehow, he’d made her feel better, and
he’d made her laugh. “I want that color.”

Hale rubbed his eyes like she was
insufferable. “Fine,” he said reluctantly. Kyra whooped with joy.
She jumped up and danced a little.

“I’m going to have the prettiest house on
the street!” She fist-pumped.

Hale watched her without speaking, staring
inside her again and seeing past the prettiness and long legs and
good body. He was seeing
her
, dancing like an idiot in her
demolished kitchen. And he seemed to like what he saw.

Kyra stopped, every cell in her body hushing
under his gaze. She couldn’t help the smile creeping across her
face as they watched each other unabashed. His green eyes sparkled
as he drank her in.

This wasn’t faking it.

Not even close.

seven