“Probably not,” Blue said. “But nobody has a better idea, and miracles do happen, so I think we should give it a shot.”
“I don’t know. Let me talk to Penny and Monica.”
Half an hour later, Syl called back. “We’ll do it,” she said with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “You just make sure she’s there. It would be exactly like her to get wind of this and refuse to show up.”
“She’ll be there if I have to shoot her first and drag the body.”
After half a dozen more interruptions, several of them from Nita, Blue hung over the dining room’s two doorways some of the heavy blue plastic the builders had left. When it was secure, she added a NO ADMITTANCE ON PAIN OF DEATH sign. She was nervous enough without having them looking over her shoulder the whole time she worked.
At the end of the day, she made everyone in the house swear on their iPods, guitars, Tango, Puffy, and a certain pair of Dolce & Gabbana boots to stay out of the dining room until the murals were done.
That evening, she wandered into Nita’s bedroom just as the old lady was taking off her wig, revealing a flat cap of thin gray hair. “I had an interesting phone call today,” Blue said as she settled on the side of her bed. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you’ll somehow get wind of it and then you’ll start bitching at me for keeping things from you.”
Nita took a brush to her scalp. She hadn’t fastened her kimono, and Blue saw she was wearing her favorite red satin nightgown. “What kind of phone call?”
Blue threw up her hands. “A bunch of idiots were planning to throw you a surprise birthday party. But don’t worry. I put a stop to it.” She picked up the latest issue of Star from the foot of the bed and pretended to thumb through it. “I guess some of the younger people in town heard the old stories and decided you got a raw deal when you first came here. They wanted to make up for it—like that could ever happen—with a party in the park, a big cake, balloons, and some asinine speeches made by people you hate. I made it more than clear. No party.”
For once, Nita seemed to have been struck speechless. Blue perused the pages innocently. Nita set down her brush and tugged on the sash of her kimono. “It might be…interesting.”
Blue hid a smile. “It’d be creepy, and you’re not doing it.” She tossed down the magazine. “Just because they’ve finally figured out they treated you like dirt doesn’t mean you can’t keep ignoring them.”
“I thought you were on their side,” Nita retorted. “You’re always telling me how many people I’m hurting. I’m supposed to let them add stores where nobody’s going to shop. Open up a bed-and-breakfast where nobody will ever stay.”
“That’s just good business, but you’re obviously too old to understand modern economics.”
Nita took one long suck on her teeth, then charged toward Blue. “You call them back right now and tell them to throw their big party. The bigger the better! I deserve it, and it’s about time they realized it.”
“I can’t do that now. It’s supposed to be a surprise party.”
“You think I can’t act surprised?”
Blue stomped around for a while arguing, and the more she argued, the more Nita dug in. All in all, a job well done.
Her work on the murals, however, was another matter. As one day gave way to the next, she deviated more and more from her drawings until she finally tore them off the walls.
Dean suggested the two of them celebrate the Fourth of July by hiking in the Smokies. With his long legs and endless stamina, he had to keep doubling back on the strenuous trail to wait, but he never tried to rush her. Instead, he said he liked the slower pace because it kept him from sweating through his hair gel. She couldn’t see even a dab of gel in that crisp hair, but he was being too nice for her to call him on it. She hated it when he was nice, so while they ate their trail lunch, she tried to pick a fight. He dragged her into a shady area near a waterfall and kissed her until she was too breathless to think straight. Then he took cruel advantage.
“You,” he said gruffly. “Against the tree.”
The silvered lenses of his latest pair of zillion-dollar sunglasses kept her from seeing his eyes, but the deliciously menacing set of his mouth made her shiver. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve pushed me far enough, lady. It’s time to play a kinky game of Prison Break.”
She licked her lips. “It, uh, sounds scary.”
“Oh, it is. For you, anyway. And you won’t like what happens if you try to run. Now turn around and face the tree.”
She was tempted to run just to test him, but the tree idea was too enticing. They’d been playing various forms of domination and submission games from the beginning. It kept things light, just the way she wanted it. “Which tree?”
“Prisoner’s choice. Your last choice before I take over.”
She lingered too long admiring the swell of muscles under his T-shirt. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“I want to call my lawyer.”
“Out here I’m the law.”
He could still manage to surprise her. She was alone with 180-odd pounds of alpha male, and she’d never felt safer or more aroused. “Don’t hurt me.”
He pulled off his sunglasses and slowly folded in the stems. “That depends on how good you are at following orders.”
Wobbly kneed from sexual overload, she moved toward a sturdy red maple surrounded by a mossy carpet. Even the splash from the nearby waterfall couldn’t cool her off. When this was over, she’d have to repay him in kind, but for now, she’d simply enjoy.
He tossed aside his sunglasses and gave her a nudge so she was facing the tree. “Put your hands on the trunk and don’t drop them unless I tell you to.”
She slowly extended her arms over her head. The rough scrape of bark against her skin heightened the sense of erotic danger. “Uh…what’s this all about, sir?”
“The recent prison break at the maximum security women’s prison on the other side of the ridge.”
“Oh, that.” How could a superstar jock have so much imagination? “But I’m nothing more than an innocent hiker.”
“Then you won’t mind if I search you.”
“Well…only to prove how innocent I am.”
“Sensible. Now spread ’em.”
She inched her bare legs open. He knelt behind her and shoved them farther apart. His stubbly jaw abraded her inner thigh as he pushed down her socks and bracketed her ankles with his fingers. He rubbed his thumb in the hollow just beneath the anklebone, igniting an erogenous zone she hadn’t even known existed. He took his time running his hands up her bare legs and along the backs of her thighs. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. She waited for him to reach the hem of her shorts, only to be disappointed when he bypassed those convenient leg openings and pushed up the back of her T-shirt instead.
“A prison tattoo,” he growled. “Just as I thought.”
“I got drunk at a Sunday school picnic, and when I woke up…”
His fingers settled in the smooth curve of her spine, just above the waistband of her shorts. “Save your breath. You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No more Sunday school picnics?”
“A strip search.”
“Oh, please, not that.”
“Don’t fight me or I’ll have to get rough.” He slipped his hands under her T-shirt, pushed up the front of her bra, and dragged his thumbs over her nipples. She moaned and her arms fell.
He pinched her nipples. “Did I say you could move?”
“S-sorry.” She was going to die from sexual ecstasy. Somehow she managed to get her rubbery arms back to their former position. He drew down her zipper and pushed her shorts and panties to her ankles. The cool air brushed her bare skin. She pressed the side of her face against the rough tree bark as he played with her bottom, kneading it, skimming the crack with his thumbs, testing to see how far she’d let him go with this wicked game.
Very far, as
it turned out.
Finally, when she was so crazy with need, she could barely stand, she heard the slide of his zipper. “One last place to look,” he said huskily.
And then he turned her to face him, kicking away her panties and shorts. His eyes were half-lidded, opaque with desire. As though she weighed nothing, he picked her up and set her spine against the tree trunk. Splaying her legs, he stepped between them. She wrapped her calves around his hips and entwined her arms around the strong column of his neck. He opened her with his fingers, tested her arousal, and finally claimed what was, at that moment, indisputably his.
He was so strong that, even as he drove deep inside her, he made sure the rough bark didn’t abrade her skin. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathed him in, and climaxed long before she wanted to. He expected more from her. After letting her rest for a moment, he began to move inside her again, filling her, luring her, commanding her to join him.
The waterfall streamed beside them. Its crystalline gush mingled with her rough breathing, with his hoarse commands and husky endearments. Their mouths fused, swallowing the words. He dug his fingers into her bottom. A surge…a rush…and they, too, joined the flood.
Afterward they said nothing. As they headed back down the trail, he moved ahead of her, and she shocked herself by starting to cry. Those old feelings of wanting to belong had once again taken root inside her.
Dean walked faster, increasing the distance between them. She understood him too well. He slid in and out of relationships like other people changed clothes. Friends, lovers…It was all so easy. When one relationship ended, he had a long line of people waiting to step into the void.
He turned and called back to her—something about having worked up another appetite. She faked a laugh, but her pleasure in their encounter was gone. What had started out as nothing more than a silly sex game had left her feeling as fragile and defenseless as the child she’d once been.
A letter that had been forwarded from Seattle arrived from Virginia the next day. When Blue opened it, a photo slipped out. Six schoolgirls wearing filthy clothes and teary smiles posed in front of a simple wooden building in the jungle. Her mother stood in the middle, looking exhausted and triumphant. Across the bottom, Virginia had written a simple message. They’re safe. Thank you. Blue gazed at the picture for a long time. As she took in the face of each girl her money had saved, she let go of her resentment.
On Thursday afternoon, four days after the hike in the Smokies and two days before Nita’s party, Blue put the finishing touches to the walls. The murals no longer bore more than a surface resemblance to the original drawings, nor did they resemble the gooey landscapes of her college years. They were something else entirely—all wrong—but she couldn’t make herself fix them.
Everyone had honored her demand to stay out of the dining room, and she’d scheduled the grand unveiling for tomorrow morning. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. The air-conditioning in the farmhouse had broken down that morning, and even with a portable fan and the dining room windows open, she felt hot, nauseated, and more than a little panicked. What if—But she wouldn’t think about that until after Nita’s party. She pulled her damp T-shirt away from her body and stood back to observe her disastrous, misguided work. She’d never done anything she loved more.
She’d finished her last bit of scumbling—using a piece of cheesecloth to blend some shadows for a softer edge—and begun cleaning up when she heard cars approaching. Peering through the open window, she saw two white stretch limos pull up. The doors opened and an assortment of gorgeous people spilled out. The men were all huge, with big necks, bulging biceps, and massive trunks. Despite the differences in the women’s skin color and hairstyles, they could have come from a cloning factory for the young and luscious. Pricey sunglasses perched on their heads, designer purses dangled from their wrists, and revealing clothes draped their lithe bodies. Dean Robillard’s real life had just come calling.
Dean had gone off to the neighboring horse farm again, April and Riley were running errands, Jack was holed up at the cottage working on a song, and Nita had stayed home for once. Blue pulled out what was left of her ponytail, combed through her sweaty hair with her fingers, and refastened it into a somewhat neater arrangement. As she pushed aside the plastic and stepped out into the foyer, she heard the women’s voices drifting through the screen.
“I didn’t think it would be so…rural.”
“There’s a barn and everything.”
“Be careful where you walk, girlfriend. I don’t see any cows, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t hangin’ around someplace.”
“The Boo knows how to live,” one of the men said. “I should get myself a place like this.”
As Blue stepped out on the porch, the women took in her bedraggled appearance: dirty T-shirt, threadbare shorts, and paint-splattered work boots. A man with a tree trunk neck and mile-wide shoulders approached. “Dean around?”
“He’s out riding, but he should be back in an hour or so.” She wiped her dirty palms on her shorts. “I’m afraid the air-conditioning is temporarily on the fritz, but you can sit on the porch in back and wait for him.”
They followed her through the house. The porch, with its new gray slate floor, freshly painted white walls, and high ceiling, felt cool and spacious after the hot dining room. Three graceful Palladian windows set in the walls above the screening sent shade-dappled light over the wicker chaises and the black wrought-iron table that had arrived a few days earlier. Colorful cushions in soft greens punched with black lent elegance to the homey space.
There were four men but five women. None of them bothered with introductions, but she picked up a name here and there: Larry, Tyrell, Tamika…and Courtney, a tall, very striking brunette who didn’t appear to be with any of the men. Blue quickly figured out why.
“As soon as T-camp is over, I’m going to make Dean take me to San Fran for the weekend,” Courtney said with a swish of her gleaming hair. “We had such a great time there last Valentine’s Day, and I deserve a little fun before I have to face another class of fourth graders.”
Great. Courtney wasn’t even a bimbo.
The women began complaining about the heat, despite the breeze stirred up by the newly installed overhead fans. They all assumed Blue was the hired help and started asking for beer, iced tea, diet soda, and cold water bottles. Before long, Blue was making hot dogs, slicing cheese, setting out cold cuts along with every snack food in the house. One of the men wanted the television schedule; another wanted Tylenol. She broke the news to a gorgeous redhead that Thai food hadn’t yet come to Garrison.
April called while Blue was poking around in the pantry, trying to find some potato chips. “I saw Dean had company, so I detoured to the cottage. Riley’s with me. We’ll stay here until the coast is clear.”
“It’s not right for you to go into hiding,” Blue replied.
“It’s reality. Besides, Jack wants me to listen to his new song.”
Blue wished she could be at the cottage listening to a new Jack Patriot song instead of waiting on Dean’s friends.
When Dean finally appeared, everyone on the porch jumped up to greet him. Even though he smelled of horse and sweat, Courtney, who’d been complaining about the faint scent of manure, threw herself at him. “Dean, baby! Surprise! We thought you’d never get here.”
“Hey, Boo. Nice place you got.”
Dean didn’t even glance in Blue’s direction. She retreated to the kitchen, where she began stowing the perishables in the refrigerator. A few minutes later he popped in. “Hey, thanks for helping out. I’ll grab a quick shower and be right back down.”
As he disappeared, she wondered if he meant that she was supposed to keep waiting on his friends, or that he expected her to join the party. She shoved the refrigerator closed. Screw this. She was going back to work.
But before she could get away, Roshaun popped up at the door asking for ice cream. She fetched more dishes an
d cleared others away. As she loaded the dishwasher, a freshly showered Dean walked past her. “Thanks again, Blue. You’re the best.” Moments later, she heard him on the porch, laughing with his friends.
She stood there, taking in the kitchen that she loved so much. This was it, then. Or was it? She had to know for sure. Hands shaking, she set a couple of cans of warm diet soda on a tray, added the last bottle of cold beer, and carried it all out to the porch.
Courtney stood next to Dean, her arm curled around his waist, a strand of her shiny hair caught on the sleeve of his gray polo shirt. In her wedged heels, she was nearly his height. “But, Boo, you have to be back in time for Andy and Sherilyn’s party. I promised we’d be there.”
He’s mine! Blue wanted to say. But he wasn’t. Nobody belonged to her, and nobody ever had. She carried the tray over to him. Their eyes met—those familiar blue eyes that had laughed into her own so often. She started to say she’d saved the last cold beer for him, but before she could open her mouth, he looked away, as if she were invisible.
A giant lump grew in her throat. She set the tray gently on the table, went inside, and blindly made her way back to the dining room.
More laughter drifted her way. She grabbed her brushes and began cleaning them out. She worked mechanically, tightening paint lids, storing her tools, folding drop cloths, determined to clean everything up so she wouldn’t have to come back here. The plastic over the doorway rustled and Courtney poked her head into the dining room. For all her claims of being a teacher, she apparently couldn’t read a NO ADMITTANCE sign.
“I have a tiny emergency,” she said without even glancing at the murals. “Our drivers went to get lunch, and I’m getting a giant zit. I don’t have my cover-up stick with me. Would you mind driving into town and getting some Erace or something? And maybe pick up some mineral water while you’re there?” Courtney turned away. “Let me see if the others want anything.”
Blue shoved the paint cart out of her way and told herself to give him a chance. But it was Courtney who returned, a hundred-dollar bill pressed between her fingers. “Cover-up stick, mineral water, and three bags of Cheetos. Keep the change.” She pushed the money into Blue’s hand. “Thanks, hon.”