Ten Beach Road (39 page)

The video ended, and she scrolled down to read some of the comments. They now had eighty-five thousand views and a surprisingly large number of viewers who posted regularly. The odds that her clients and friends in New York and L.A. didn’t know she was slaving away on this house out of desperation were small to no-way-in-hell. If she ever saw Malcolm again, she’d have to be sure to thank him for it.

After a week of almost cloudless skies, it rained during the night. In the morning, they treated themselves to breakfast at the Seahorse, then walked in a light drizzle back to the house, where everyone but Avery climbed into Maddie’s van for a trip down to a Sarasota design center. Avery noticed that Nicole no longer quibbled about accepting a ride in what she’d dubbed the mother-mobile, but seemed perfectly happy to give up the shotgun seat to Deirdre.

As they backed down the drive and disappeared around the corner, it hit Avery that these onetime strangers were now among the handful of people she knew best. Alone, Avery walked around the house to the backyard. On the loggia she stared out over the repaired but still empty pool. Despite the raindrops that still fell, sweat pooled between her breasts and slid down the small of her back; her T-shirt clung like a damp rag. She would have liked to take a shower and stretch out on the couch in the pool house with the air-conditioning set on “igloo”; having the space to herself for a few hours would be completely heavenly. But she had work to do.

“Onward,” she muttered, throwing open the French doors to the salon, whose wood floor needed its final coat, and inhaled a face full of chemicals. Sputtering and gasping for breath, Avery turned her back on the room that had been shut tightly against the rain, hoping that at least some of the pent-up fumes would escape.

After drawing in a few deep breaths of fresh, if humid, air she eased out of her sneakers and stepped into the room in her white socks. The wood, laid inside a basket-woven brick border, already gleamed brightly. Just one more coat, she told herself, trying to keep her breathing shallow. One more coat and a day to dry and Bella Flora would be ready for humans again, as long as they wore white socks those first few days.

Carefully, she poured the polyurethane into the pan, which she’d set in the rectangular room’s far corner, and dipped the mop head into it. Gently she began to spread the protective layer, smoothing it on with the grain of the wood, spreading it as evenly as she could, as she worked her way back to the French doors.

The smell seeped into her nose with each breath, making her throat burn and her eyes water. As she squinted against the assault, she wished she’d thought to bring goggles and a mask. For a moment she imagined tears squeezing their way out and landing on the floor, possibly causing the wood to bubble. Would she be able to catch them before they landed? The thought made her smile.

She worked steadily, trying to concentrate on each stroke and each backward step, but the thoughts flitting around in her head began to flit more quickly and then began to border on the bizarre. She stumbled and used the mop handle to keep herself from falling into the still-wet polyurethane.

Outside a truck rattled onto the brick driveway. A single door opened and slammed shut. Chase materialized in her mind, contributing to an odd light-headedness. A cartoon heart drew itself before her eyes and thumped wildly, which struck her as hugely entertaining. She laughed out loud.

Still smiling, Avery took two steps back and pulled the pan of poly with her. Her lips felt larger than usual, her tongue too thick for her mouth. It slid out to smooth her dry lips, and she realized they’d automatically twisted up into a kind of loopy smile.

Chase’s footsteps crunched on the gritty concrete around the pool, and she stole a peek out the window. He stood contemplating the pass as she had earlier, his expression reflective. Then he walked to where the pipes for the steam heat system still lay exposed and crouched down to inspect them. Avery giggled.

Although he couldn’t have heard her, something made Chase turn toward the salon. His brow furrowed as he stood and looked her way. Avery pushed the mop back and forth a few times and giggled harder.

“Avery?” Chase’s voice sounded behind her.

Startled, she turned and teetered precariously, almost falling into the section she’d just finished. His hand shot out and wrapped around her upper arm to steady her. It was warm and firm, just as his lips had been. She glanced down at the patch of floor she’d just finished and knew she was lucky her socks weren’t now stuck to it. Then she turned and looked at him.

He smiled, and she burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” He leaned close to peer directly into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, which made her head spin wildly. This, too, made her laugh. Chase looked at her as if she’d gone batty.

“Avery?” His hold on her upper arm tightened, and he reached across her to take the mop. “How long have you been in here breathing these fumes?”

She felt her eyes get big as he put the mop down and used both arms to lift her off the floor and cradle her against his chest.

“Don’t know,” she said, surprised when the laughter turned to tears, unable to make sense of what was happening. “But I can’t cry on the floor.” She looked up urgently. “It’s not good to let it get wet.”

The tears slid down her cheeks, but Chase carried her out of the room and onto the loggia before they could land. There he dropped onto the wicker sofa, still holding her against his chest with her bottom cushioned in his lap.

“Tha’s nice,” she said.

His chest rumbled beneath her ear, and she raised her head to look into his laughing eyes. “’S not funny,” she said as the tears continued to slide down her cheeks, dampening both of their shirts. “Don’t want to have to start over. Have to kill myself first.” She buried her face in his dampened T-shirt, her thoughts still swirling. “Hey,” she said in amazement. “You smell good.”

“You are completely blotto,” he said, setting his chest humming again against her ear. “That’s what happens when you try to seal a floor without proper ventilation.”

She wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but she liked the way his arms felt around her. She especially liked the feel of his chest rumbling beneath her ear, the safe feeling that enveloped her.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked but then went ahead without waiting for an answer. His lips felt even better than she remembered. And so did his tongue when she managed to locate it.

“Avery.” He pulled his mouth free but didn’t let go of her. “I don’t think . . .”

“Good.” She breathed him in and felt him all around her. “Don’t think.” She brought their lips together again and kissed him more fully, pressing her bottom into his lap. He hardened underneath her. “I’m not.” She moved her tongue to his ear while the rhythm of her blood whooshed in her own. “Can’t think right now. Don’t want to.” Her mouth formed the loopy smile that it apparently preferred. For fun, she nibbled on his earlobe and repositioned herself slightly so she could rub her chest against his. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

He groaned and shifted beneath her. “Jesus, Avery. You’re not going to like it when you wake up and realize . . .”

She stopped the words, which made no sense to her at all, with her mouth, kissing him until he finally shut up and kissed her back like she wanted him to. Thoroughly. Deeply. Completely.

Then, although she hadn’t realized it was possible to kiss all the way into oblivion, she must have figured out how to do it. Because all of a sudden, everything went dark.

 

 

“Avery?” There was that rumble under her ear again. “Ave?”

She tried to burrow into the sound. “Hmmmm?”

“Avery, you’ve been sleeping on my arm so long it’s gone numb. Put your arms up around my neck. I’m going to carry you into the pool house and put you to bed.” Her arms slid up as directed. There was movement. “That’s it. Hold on.”

Her arms clung to his neck as he rose, taking her with him. Her mind was a lovely blank except for the strong arms and solid wall of chest. The world had stopped spinning, but she held on anyway. The word “bed” made her feel all warm and tingly. Her nipples strained against the thin fabric of her T-shirt and there was a deep tug between her legs. If this was a dream, she wasn’t anywhere near ready to wake up.

Then there was another voice. One that she knew. But it wasn’t at all warm or rumbly.

In fact, it was the tone of shock in it that roused her.

“Avery?” the voice said. “Avery, what’s wrong?” And then, “What in the hell are you doing to her, Hardin?”

Avery’s eyes flew open. It took them a moment to adjust to the sunlight and bring the person standing in front of them into focus. Recognition hit her like a pail of ice water. The voice belonged to Trent. Trent Lawson, her ex-husband.

 

 

“Where’s Trent?” Deirdre asked that evening over sunset drinks. “Is he going to join us for dinner?” She looked closely at Avery as if she knew her well enough to glean the answer just from studying her face.

The rain was finally gone, and while Avery wouldn’t have called the air refreshing, it had cooled things off a bit. Except for the flush of heat she felt each time she remembered her behavior that day.

“I can’t believe we missed all the excitement,” Madeline said. “Did you really get high from the polyurethane?”

Avery winced. The details were mercifully sketchy, except for the fact that she’d been clinging to Chase like a second skin when Trent showed up out of nowhere.

“We could have saved a ton on alcohol this summer if we’d known,” Nicole added, handing her version of mango daiquiris around. “I’m pretty sure a gallon of poly is less expensive than a gallon of good rum.”

“And apparently faster acting,” Avery said as she declined the drink to stare out over the Gulf. It was difficult to decide which part of today she didn’t want to think about most.

“It’s a lucky thing Chase was here. If you’d been exposed to the fumes any longer, there could have been serious consequences,” Deirdre said.

As opposed to abject humiliation. “Yes,” Avery said. “I certainly feel lucky.”

“So where is Trent?” Deirdre asked again. “And what did he want?”

Avery continued to stare out over the water. The sky had lightened to a pale gray shot through with even paler pink streaks. As hazy as her memory of all that had come before still was, the conversation with Trent was excruciatingly sharp.

“He asked me to come back to
Hammer and Nail
.”

There was a brief silence as they all processed this bit of information.

“Well, I hope he apologized first for letting them treat you the way they did on that show.” The comment was from Deirdre again. Her tone was fierce.

Avery looked at her in surprise. “I thought you were such a big fan of Trent’s. As I recall you sent me a letter of congratulations after we announced our engagement, telling me how lucky I was to ‘land him.’ ” She’d torn the letter up, furious that Deirdre had presumed to comment, but had secretly agreed.

“We all make mistakes,” Deirdre said. “On paper, he seemed perfect for you. But he didn’t love you anywhere near as much as he seemed to love himself. I’ve been in Hollywood long enough to know that what you see is often not what you get. And I got Trent all wrong.”

“It happens,” Nicole said quietly. “Even the people you think you know the best can shit all over you. If you ever find anyone who puts you first, you need to hold on to them.”

“Your father put me first, but I was too young to understand how rare that was. Or that it might never happen again.” Deirdre was looking at the sunset now, too.

Avery considered the women around her. All of them looked solemn. Maddie’s eyes glistened with tears. Kyra just looked wistful, but she didn’t chime in with her usual comment about Daniel and their love for each other. Maybe she’d run out of excuses for why he hadn’t shown up yet. Not that having your past materialize unexpectedly before your eyes felt like such a good thing at the moment.

“So?” Nicole asked. “Are you going to do it? What did you tell him?”

All of their gazes fixed on her, but she knew it was out of concern and not just idle curiosity. It was odd how important they’d become to her, how reassuring it was to know she wasn’t slogging through everything alone. Well, everyone but Deirdre anyway.

She hesitated for a few moments, remembering how reluctant Chase had been to put her down and leave her with Trent. He’d bristled like a guard dog, practically growling at Trent, until she’d convinced him she was capable of talking for herself.

She smiled at them all, still surprised by how urgently Trent had tried to convince her to come back; she wished she’d had a tape recorder to play back all the things he’d promised.

“Oh, he apologized all right,” Avery said. “But then he told me he knew just how bad things were for me, how he’d heard I had pretty much nothing left, and that the show was doing great, but he really wanted to help me.” She grimaced at the memory. He’d been so certain of himself. And of her.

“And?” Nicole asked the question Avery saw in all of their eyes.

Avery’s smile turned even grimmer as she remembered how thick Trent had poured it on: how much he missed her; what an unappreciated asset she’d been to the show; how different it would be if she came back. His feigned sympathy had made her want to puke.

“And if I were as big an airhead as Trent and the producers of the show seem to think I am, I’d be on my way back to Nashville right now,” she said.

Deirdre’s eyebrow went up. She smiled. “They always underestimate us blondes.”

“But I saw a recent blurb in the trades about how Victoria Crosshaven, Trent’s biggest admirer, has lost interest in the show. And that there’s some question about whether it’ll be picked up for another season.” She looked up and smiled. “And, of course, he made the mistake of mentioning the following we have on YouTube. How there’s been chatter all over the Internet about Ten Beach Road. Apparently someone’s even set up a fan site for us.”