Suddenly in Love (Lake Haven#1) (14 page)

This was a smart girl. “I promise—gourmet sandwiches and maybe a slice of pie.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “Pie! Why didn’t you say so? I’ll do circus tricks for pie.”

“Then pie it is,” he said, and kissed the top of her head like they were lovers and walked with her back to the house.

Fourteen

This was a bad idea, a very bad idea, Mia thought, for all the reasons it was
always
a bad idea to get mixed up with summer people. Especially if you were working for one of the golden people.

Mia hated how easily persuaded she was by one searing kiss . . . but oh, how she’d been persuaded. That kiss had jolted her, had tingled and swelled and heated her blood and she was
still
feeling it.

She was definitely intrigued by him, more than she would have thought even possible several days ago. Maybe intrigued wasn’t the right word. Enthralled? For Chrissakes, how could she not be? He’d taken her down to the bluff and shown her baby owls. If that wasn’t the sum of all romantic movies rolled into one act, she didn’t know what was.

So Brennan Yates was very sexy, very attractive . . . but Mia wasn’t completely stupid. This was dangerous territory, and she told herself that when he dropped off her bike at her apartment, she would thank him and say good night.
Been a great day, but lots of work to do
, she’d say. Or,
thanks, but so tired.

Only she said nothing as she watched him strap her bike precariously into the front compartment of his expensive sports car for the short trip down the hill. She remained stupidly silent when he drove to her apartment and deposited her bike next to the steps going up to her apartment. She didn’t even get out of that cockpit of a car. She uttered nothing but a squeal as he peeled out onto Juneberry Road.

And then she surreptitiously admired him for the rest of the drive.

Coward.

This was pie. That was it, nothing more. Just pie.
Yeah, right.

Brennan drove her up a county road, about twenty miles out of town, and pulled into the parking lot of EZ’s Diner. That definitely was not what Mia was expecting. She leaned forward and looked up at the blinking light, then at Brennan.

“Think pie,” he said, and donned a ballcap that he pulled low over his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Mia laughed. “What’s with the hat?” she asked. “What are you, a rock star?”

“Maybe.”

Summer people. They all thought they were rock stars.

Inside, Brennan asked for a booth and sat with his back to the door. As they settled in, a waitress wearing a grimy black apron walked over with her pad to take their order. “What are you folks having tonight?”

“A burger and a beer,” Brennan said without looking at a menu. He grinned at Mia. “And we’ll follow that up with pie.”

Mia suppressed a giggle of delight. She looked up at the waitress—and was struck momentarily speechless. She knew the waitress. Becky Sorenson had been a year ahead of Mia in school.

The waitress did not seem to recognize Mia and looked at her expectantly, her little pencil poised. “Ah . . . me too,” Mia said. “Burger. Fries. A beer, too.”

The waitress jotted it down, then glanced at Brennan. She hesitated. And for one surreal moment, Mia thought she was going to tell Brennan that Mia was a freak, or that something happened on the beach nine years ago. But she didn’t say that. She frowned and said to Brennan, “Do I know you?”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Brennan said. He kept his gaze on Mia, but his smile seemed a little thinner.

“You really look
so
familiar.”

“I’m not from around here,” Brennan said, and turned slightly away from her and appeared to be studying the condiments. “We’ll need some ketchup with the fries.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be right back with the beers.”

It was a relief that Becky didn’t seem to notice her over her interest in Brennan. When she left, Mia said, “I think she may have the hots for you.” Of course she did. A sexy man driving an expensive sports car walked into this diner and all the girls’ heads turned.

“Nah,” he said, with a dismissive flick of his wrist. He settled his arms on the table between them. “So tell me more about yourself. What kind of love life do you have?”

Mia blinked. Then burst out laughing. “Talk about cutting to the chase!”

He shrugged. “Can you blame me? An attractive woman like you wandering around this village? I would think there’d be any number of guys following you around.”

She blushed furiously at the compliment. “Thanks. I think.”

“I’m assuming, after that moment on the bluff, that there is no boy
friend,” he said easily.

Mia groaned. She pressed her hands against the table and leaned back,
glancing about. “Honestly? I’m not that good at meeting guys,” she said.

“No?”

“No. A lot of guys don’t get my aesthetic.”

“Your
what
?”

Mia giggled. “My aesthetic. My artistic outlook,” she said, gesturing to her dress.

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Well, I think it’s hot.”

Mia smiled curiously at him. “I’m going to be honest—I’m not sure what to make of the shiny new you.”

“Simple. The shiny new me likes you.” He leaned back, stretched his arms across the back of the booth. “And when I like someone, I’m curious.”

Men who looked like Brennan never liked girls like her, at least not in Mia’s experience. That kiss had been . . . well, it had been fantastic, but it was one of those times the moment had been right. As flattered as Mia was, she was skeptical. “You don’t really know me enough to like me.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I may not know everything, obviously, because you’re clearly not cooperating with my interrogation. But what I know about you is this—you’re real.”

Mia laughed. “What else would I be? It’s not like I catfished you.”

“You might be surprised,” he said, and fidgeted with the cheap utensils on the paper napkin before him. “So . . . we were talking about your last serious boyfriend or lover or whatever you artists call them.”

“We were?” she asked, still grinning.

“You were about to tell me what happened.”

“Gee, I wonder how I forgot that. Well okay, let’s see, my last boyfriend . . .” She paused. Micah hadn’t exactly been a boyfriend, had he? “Lover,” she amended shyly, “got a job in Philadelphia.”

Brennan waited for her to go on. “And?”

“And, that was it. We weren’t that into each other, to be honest. He was in accounting and I was in art.”

“So what were you doing together?” Brennan asked curiously.

Mia smiled shyly. She fidgeted with the napkin. “The, ah . . . the usual,” she said with a slight shrug.

“Ah.” He smiled, amused by her. “So what about around here? Surely you’ve dated some of the East Beach’s more illustrious characters, right?”

Where to begin? Mia glanced absently out the window as a history of boys and disasters flitted through her head.

“Here are your beers.”

Startled, Mia jerked her gaze around to the waitress. Becky was looking directly at her, and Mia’s blood began to drain from her face. But Becky said nothing. She put the beers down and walked on.

“What’s that about?” Brennan asked, gesturing to the waitress’s departing back.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“It’s not nothing,” he said. “You looked like you were ready to crawl under a table.”

Funny how something as simple as seeing a vaguely familiar face could bring so many unpleasant memories streaming back to her. “It’s a long story,” Mia said. “The bottom line with her and the boyfriends is that I never really fit in around here.”

She expected a look of concern, maybe even some reassurance. But Brennan chuckled and picked up his beer. “No shit,” he said, and touched his beer bottle to hers.

Mia was grateful for that. She smiled a little. “Okay, so it’s obvious,” she conceded. “But back in the day, people weren’t so nice about it.”

“Like her?” Brennan asked, indicating Becky with his chin.

“Not her, exactly, but people she knew.” Mia shook her head, preferring not to think about it. “It’s just easier to cut a wide berth around anyone I knew then.”

He frowned a little as he took a swig from his beer. “Seems like there’s more to it than people not liking your look.”

He was a perceptive hunk, she’d have to admit. But the last thing she wanted to talk about was a drug-fueled night on the beach, of the pictures and everything that happened later. She’d had a good time today. She wanted to keep it that way. “Nope. That’s all.” She began to peel the label from her beer bottle.

Brennan watched her do that for a moment. He finally sighed and said, “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you.”

How did he
know
? “It’s water under the bridge,” she said with a fleeting smile. “I told you something about me. Your turn.”

He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Will you tell me about the friend you lost?”

Brennan blinked. He seemed to consider it a moment. “There’s not much to say, really. He could never kick the habit. Trey always did walk a different path than the rest of us. But that’s what I loved about him—he was unique. He had a cool vibe.” He took another drink of beer and said, “Like you.”

Mia blushed again. “I’m sorry about your friend. I can’t imagine it, really.”

“Tends to dull one’s creativity, that’s for sure,” he said, frowning now. “And makes me question things more than I ever have.”

“Like what?” she asked, curious.

“Like . . .” He suddenly leaned forward and planted his arms on the table and looked her in the eyes. “Like I don’t know what the universe wants from me. I don’t know what the fuck anyone wants from me.”

Mia was startled. She didn’t know what he meant, really, other than whatever he’d just said seemed really important to him. He winced almost immediately, as if he regretted saying anything at all. He eased back, shifting his gaze across the room.

“What do
you
want?” she asked.

“That’s easy,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “To write music that fulfills me. It’s that easy, and yet it’s not easy at all.”

“No kidding,” she muttered.

Becky returned then with the burgers and set them down. She smiled at Mia this time, her gaze flicking over Mia’s dress before walking away.

When she’d gone, Mia said, “I know what you mean,” and tucked a fry into her mouth. “I may not be a good artist, but I’m still an artist, and I know how hard it is to stand in front of a blank canvas and wonder what professors or art critics would like. But I also know when I try to paint to those visions, the paintings never turn out right. The idea, the vision, has to come from me. And yet, I’ve lost all this confidence,” she said, gesturing to herself.

Brennan tilted his head to one side. “You know, you’re pretty smart for someone who has a career telling people to pick up their trash. That’s very astute of you.”

Mia smiled and picked up another fry. “Of course it’s astute, Brennan,” she said, pointing the fry at him. “You don’t just show up and get a plum job like directing trash pickup without having learned a few things.” She popped the fry into her mouth. “And we both know what I said is true. It’s just that sometimes we forget.”

“Yep. I feel like I’ve been trying to please others for so long and meet all of these unwritten expectations that somewhere along the way I forgot why or how my music evolved in the first place. It’s been stifling.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She looked down at her plate.

“I bet you didn’t find burgers this good in the city,” he said.

Mia told him about a diner down the street from her apartment with the greasiest burgers, perfect for a hangover. He asked what she did in the city, and Mia ended up telling him about her textile design job. And then about how she was laid off and looked for work.

When they finished the burgers, Becky brought around a tray with slices of pie on it.

“Pie?” Brennan asked Mia.

“I’m so
stuffed
,” Mia said, putting her hand on her belly. “I really shouldn’t . . . at least not without ice cream.”

Brennan laughed and asked for two orders of hot apple pie à la mode.

When the pie came, Mia regaled Brennan with the story of her final search for an apartment in Brooklyn she could afford. “Everything is so insanely expensive,” she said. “But I knew I had finally hit rock bottom when I answered an ad for a small room with kitchen privileges.” She licked her spoon. “I mean, I knew it would be small, but at least I could afford it with the money I had in savings.”

“So what happened?”

“It was a closet,” she said, and put her spoon down. “I don’t mean the size of a closet, I mean an actual
closet
,” she said, sketching that out with her hands.

Brennan laughed.

“And I wasn’t getting any interviews. Not a single one! A friend of mine told me to dress in something less colorful.”

“No,”
Brennan said, sounding shocked.

“I know, right?” Mia said laughing. “Here I was, finally feeling comfortable being who I am. I mean, hell, I’d gone to Pratt so I’d fit in. And I was very defiant with my friend,” she said, without rancor. “I said, ‘This is who I am, Kelsey, and I’m not backing down.
’
” She had to laugh at the memory of that morning now, standing in Kelsey’s apartment, acting as if she were an ar-
teest
. “But Kelsey explained to me that while she totally got it, some people, like employers, might think I was expressing full-blown schizophrenia, and no one wanted to hire that.” She grinned. “I saw her point,” she said, holding up a finger. “Probably because I’d just come back from an interview at a bookstore, and the guy couldn’t even look me in the eye. So I tried it Kelsey’s way. I borrowed this suit she bought at some store—
ugh
, I still remember it,” she said with a shiver of revulsion. “It was square and cheap and
gray
. Who wants to wear gray? But I put it on, and I tromped all over Brooklyn putting in applications, and guess what?”

“You got a job.” Brennan was smiling, his gaze moving over her face as she told her tale, his amusement evident in his eyes.

“An interview! It was at a bath and kitchen fixtures shop, but it was an interview, and a job is a job, right?” Mia laughed again. “I had dressed for success to sell
faucets
. So I go for the interview, and the woman said, ‘We can offer you part-time work,
’
” she said, mimicking the manager’s voice.