No One Like You (14 page)
He wasn’t sure she could afford it. “How do you think it would look in my living room?”
“Fabulous.” She was excited. “You could add pieces of furniture to pick up the colors in the painting.”
That he could. Perhaps it was time to select a new couch and a couple chairs. He would no longer have to fight Atlas for a place to sit. The big dog preferred the sofa to his dog bed.
Beth leaned her shoulder against Rylan’s. An unconscious move, but he liked the feel of her against him. She tilted her head and took in the texture and colors of the painting. Her wild curls brushed his jaw. Pear shampoo scented her hair.
She flexed her ankles, wiggled her feet. “I can feel the wet sand between my toes with the incoming tide.”
Ry wasn’t quite there, but the overall impression was appealing. The fact that Evelyn had chosen the painting for him pleased him greatly. Even better, Beth liked it, too. Somehow that cemented his purchase.
He had never shopped with a woman. No female opinion had mattered, not until hers. She could help him set up his living room, then share it with him for a short time. Eight weeks would fly by. He barely knew her, but the thought of them eventually going their separate ways bothered him. More than it should.
Atlas would miss her.
Evelyn gave them plenty of time to view the painting. She returned, smiling, looking hopeful. “What do you think?” she asked Ry.
“When can it be delivered?” He hoped soon.
“Tomorrow,” she assured him. “My assistant will call ahead. I’ll send experts to mount the painting.”
“Make it after three, if possible,” he requested. “We have an early afternoon engagement.” He would be speaking at the retirement village. Beth would accompany him. He didn’t want Atlas meeting the delivery truck.
He stood then, and Beth rose, too. He slipped his wallet from his back pocket, removed his American Express black card, and handed it to Evelyn. She hadn’t quoted him a price, but he had faith it would be fair. “Add a donation as well. You help starving artists. Let’s offer an art scholarship for a year. Make it anonymous.”
Evelyn got tears in her eyes. “You are a good man, Rylan Cates. I have someone in mind who could use your assistance.”
“Do you frame in-house?” he asked the gallery owner.
Evelyn nodded.
He went on to say, “It’s a black and white photograph, not a painting.”
Evelyn was accommodating. “Still something we could do.”
He turned to Beth. “I’d like to frame your wedding photo.”
She started. “Whatever for?”
“To be nice.”
“You bought the picture, and I thank-you. That’s enough. There’s no need to spend more money on me.”
“Can I see the photo?” Evelyn inquired.
Beth had a white-knuckle grip on the protective cardboard envelope.
Ry wasn’t sure she would give it up. Her hand shook when she passed it to Evelyn. She made a nervous fist afterward.
Evelyn carefully unwrapped the photograph, held it up by one corner, and took it in. “A deVasi,” she said admiringly. “I’ve met Gerald. He’s made quite a name for himself.” She glanced at Beth, went on to ask, “Do you know these unhappy people?”
Beth didn’t give her a direct answer. “I was fascinated by the storm.”
“Weather can be controversial,” Evelyn agreed. She smiled at Beth. A small, almost secretive smile as if something private passed between the women that didn’t involve Ry.
That made him curious. He didn’t like being out of the loop.
Evelyn was contemplative. “Should you allow me to frame your photo,” she said to Beth, “I would suggest a border in mauve or pale turquoise to soften the subject matter.”
“It is rather.... harsh,” Beth agreed.
“Thunderstorms devour. Sunshine nourishes,” said Evelyn.
“Florida is the Sunshine State.”
The women exchanged a further look that went deeper than their words. Rylan had no idea what was going on.
However Beth understood perfectly. She released a soft breath. Visibly relaxed. Decided on the color. “Let’s go with turquoise.”
“Good choice.” Evelyn inserted the photograph back into the cardboard envelope. “Give me two days on the frame.”
“I’ll pick it up,” Beth said. “There’s no need to deliver.”
“I look forward to seeing you again.” Evelyn went to ring up Rylan’s sale and returned for his signature.
Ry took Beth’s hand as they left the gallery. He was happy with his painting. He felt good about the night ahead, too. He wanted to show Beth the boardwalk and the pier. This was his home. He never got tired of the carnival rides and arcade. Amusements where he could let his inner child out to play.
People collected on the sidewalk, talking, showing off their purchases. Lots of smiles and laughter. Shadows played between the pole lights. Stars patterned the sky.
They stopped at the corner of Center Street and the boardwalk and Beth asked, “I wonder what happened to Halo and Landon.” She sounded concerned.
Ry wasn’t the least bit worried. “They create their own fun.” Wherever they landed. “Anything in particular you’d like to do?” He left the decision to her.
“Am I too old to ride the merry-go-round?”
She’d typed
thirty
on her résumé, but age didn’t matter. “The ride is timeless. Grandparents ride with their grandkids.”
thirty
on her résumé, but age didn’t matter. “The ride is timeless. Grandparents ride with their grandkids.”
Big kids
rode the carousel, too, Ry was soon to find out. Halo and Landon were jockeying for the brass ring. Great. Just great. His teammates waved to them.
rode the carousel, too, Ry was soon to find out. Halo and Landon were jockeying for the brass ring. Great. Just great. His teammates waved to them.
“Yee-ha,” howled Halo.
The ride slowed, came to a stop, and the men dismounted. They headed for the ticket booth and purchased four passes. Landon motioned to Beth. “Ride with us, sweetheart. The old man can come, too.”
Beth noticed their dates were missing. “Where are Ava and Gia?”
Ry was wondering the same thing.
Landon shrugged. “We got ditched.”
“They chose shopping over us,” added Halo. “Go figure.”
Neither man seemed to care. They had a way of springing back.
Ry wasn’t about to let Beth ride without him. Not with his teammates on board. He led her beneath the orange scalloped top and across the polished wooden platform. He caught their reflections in the mirrored center panels. Beth was wide-eyed as she took in the purple and white horses standing three abreast. Each mount had jeweled amber eyes and a gold saddle. Their legs were bent, ready to race.
Halo thought he was the Lone Ranger. He chose a white horse, showed off. “Hi-ho, Silver.” He faced the rear of the horse, his hands on its rump, and jumped—but not high enough. He didn’t clear the wooden tail. Profanity colored the air. A guttural groan followed. He dropped like a bag of sand. Sucked air. Was down for the count.
That count lasted several minutes. Rylan felt his pain and signaled to Oliver Ray, who managed the carousel, to hold off starting the ride. Only two other adults were on the carousel. Both young women. They sat horses diagonally across the platform, their expressions concerned.
Beth released Ry’s hand and took a step toward Halo. Rylan held her back. A man needed time alone after he’d slammed his groin into a horse’s tail. He’d be sore and bruising. Her sympathy wouldn’t be welcome. However well-intentioned.
Halo slowly crawled to his feet. Took several deep breaths. He wasn’t about to let the horse get the better of him. His face was pale and his lips were pinched when he stepped into the leather stirrup. He grunted, tugged himself up. Once mounted, he stood stiff-legged in both stirrups, unable to sit on the saddle. He looked like he was
posting
. Rising to a trot.
posting
. Rising to a trot.
Landon eyed Halo from the platform. “Dude?”
“I’m no fuckin’ cowboy,” Halo ground out.
“You’ve lost your giddy-up.”
“And my sex drive.”
“Let’s cut,” Landon gave him an out.
Halo gritted his teeth. “I’m riding the beast.”
Beth picked her horse next. She was short, yet chose the tallest lavender steed. She couldn’t reach the stirrup and needed a boost. Landon came to her rescue, but Rylan glared him off. Land took two giant steps back and swung onto a deep purple racer.
Beth was small boned and a lightweight. Ry wrapped his hands about her waist, and his fingertips touched over her navel. He had her up and settled before she was aware her feet had left the ground. She straddled her mount, clutched the pole. She was ready to ride.
Rylan’s horse was the color of a dark plum. Its amber eyes sparkled. Calliope music set the carousel in motion. The horses went up, down, and all around. They picked up speed.
Beth smiled at him. “This is fun.” Her voice rose above the Beer Barrel Polka. “I haven’t been on a merry-go-round since I was eight, when my parents took me to the state fair.”
“I’ll get you a monthly amusement pass. You can ride to your heart’s content in your free time.”
“My free time?” She seemed surprised.
“I don’t expect you to work twenty-four-seven. Although Atlas might,” he teased her. “My only weekend obligation is the picnic. After that, give me a head’s up when you want a day off.”
She looked thoughtful. “I have nowhere to go,” she slowly admitted. “I like your cottage. Your dogs.”
How did she feel about him? he wondered. Strange that he would even care. He liked being around her. He hoped she felt the same way. He didn’t have many women friends. Most wanted to date his brains out.
A thought crossed his mind, and he asked her a question that hadn’t come up in her interview. “Do you even like baseball?”
She nodded as her horse went up and his went down.
“My grandfather does too. I’ll need you to drive him to my games when Shaye’s not available to do so. Frank is my biggest fan.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting your granddad.”
“You will tomorrow.”
“I’ll set up a schedule with him then, so we can meet and play cards.”
“He aims to win. Prepare to get beaten.”
“I’m a good loser.”
The carousel slowed, stopped. The music continued, but on a softer note. Landon hopped off his horse.
Halo was slow to dismount. He struggled. His face screwed in pain. “No rootin’ tootin’ tonight,” he told Rylan. “I need to ice.” He walked bowlegged to the exit.
“Halo’s my ride. I’m gone.” Landon followed him out.
The two women on the carousel disappeared, too.
Rylan was off his horse and ready to assist Beth. She swung her right leg over the pommel and slid off quicker than he expected. He wasn’t ready for her. She landed against him, and he caught her. Tucked her close.
She was warm and curvy.
Her breasts flattened against his chest.
Her belly softened against his six-pack.
Her hip bones rubbed his groin.
Her thighs parted over his sex.
One of her ankles curved the back of his knee. Hooking him to her.
Their breathing slowed. He breathed in. She, out.
Her lips parted.
His throat tightened.
She looked into his eyes and her expression reflected his own. Awareness. Apprehension, too.
Affection was not in their forecast. Beth was nice. Cute, even. Getting involved with her went against his work ethic. He needed a PA more than a lover. She wasn’t his type. But his body had a mind of its own.
A man couldn’t hide his erection. He’d held her too long.
He eased her down. Then stepped back. Forced a smile. “Cotton candy, funnel cake, fried Oreos? What’s next?”
Her eyes brightened. “Pop Goes the Corn.”
He took her hand, held it loosely, and they left the carousel behind. He led her through the crowd toward the popcorn shop.
They entered the buttery yellow door. The old-fashioned popper produced as fast as people ordered. One line was to buy boxes of theater butter, the all-time favorite. The second line formed before a glass counter, displaying a dozen other flavors. Beth chose caramel-macadamia nut. Ry preferred cheddar cheese.
All the café tables were filled. People lounged in no particular hurry so they took their popcorn outside and located a bench near the boardwalk railing. They faced the Gulf. The moon’s reflection was captured in the mirror-smooth surface.
High tide grabbed the ankles of beachcombers. Seagulls did their night fishing, plunge-diving into schools of small redfish. A yacht cruised off-shore. The running lights were white to the stern of the boat, red to port, and green to starboard. They looked like Christmas.
The Gallery Walk had thinned considerably. The early burst of buyers took their artwork home. Ry hunched his shoulders, discouraging conversation or requests for autographs. He wanted to get to know his PA. Without interruption.
“What’s your story, Beth?” he initiated. “Something that wasn’t on your résumé.”
She slowly ate her popcorn, hesitant to talk about herself. She wasn’t going to be in town long. She wasn’t there to make friends. While Rylan Cates was an attractive man, she wouldn’t act on his appeal. But neither would she be rude to him. She’d been brought up better.
Her mouth was dry when she said, “There’s not much to tell.”
“I’ve learned your taste in photography. Downpours and drenched brides.”
“I prefer happier endings.”
“What was the attraction then?”
“The photo is a reminder of how quickly life can change.” For the worse, in this case. She saw no reason to explain her involvement in the wedding. It was her past. “I know now that you like abstract art.”
“I like to interpret my paintings in my own way.”
She liked his imagination. He looked beyond his eyes. They munched their popcorn. Listened to the conversations around them. The laughter. The night seemed to smile.
“Ever played One or the Other?” Rylan asked her.
She shook her head.
He offered her a choice. “Pick one—Great Dane or Chihuahua?”
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