Rusty Nailed (Cocktail, #2)(34)

And from her own stories, she taught me how to barter and how to haggle, how to get the best discounts, how to school a contractor who thought he was going to get one over on a female project lead, and how to deal with clients who were complete and total *s. And there were a lot of them.

She’d made a name for herself, scratching and clawing her way to a highly successful business while looking like she’d just rolled off a runway in Milan.

She did it all.

Was I doing it all? I knew I was a good designer, but I’d never be a Jillian. I could wear her shoes for a little while, though.

I took my pictures, made my notes, and hiked back up the hill to the house. It was close enough to the main drag that I’d taken to walking into town when the mood struck. I usually walked most nights that I was there, sometimes to look at the hotel, yes, but sometimes to just explore the neighborhoods. Hidden pathways, rounded garden doors, high hedges and last summer’s hollyhocks . . . It was a little magical.

When I rounded the street corner, I was thrilled by the sight of a black Range Rover parked outside. Simon was awake and on this side of the bay. With a secret smile, I hurried inside.

? ? ?

As I brushed out my hair that night, I realized that it was the first time in almost two weeks that it wasn’t piled on top of my head in a bun held together with colored pencils. Simon was now working at the dining room table, checking all of his shots on his laptop. I passed by on my way to the kitchen, and was stopped by a hand on my ass.

“Hi?”

“Hi,” he answered, his eyes still on the computer.

“You need something?”

“Always,” he answered, maneuvering my ass so it was on his lap.

“Not always; you were sleeping earlier,” I pouted.

“I’m not sleeping now.”

“I’ve got turnovers.”

“I already like where this is going,” he murmured, his hands tightening around my waist.

“No no, I mean I have turnovers that I need to put in the oven.”

“Wait, those are like tiny pies, right?”

“Yes, Simon, they’re like tiny pies.”

“Apple?”

“Cherry.”

“Have mercy.”

“You know what it does to me when you go Uncle Jesse on me.”

His eyes widened, and something else hardened. “I do indeed.”

Kissed me fierce, he did, and while I did my best to remind him of my turnovers, he did his best to make me forget. And I did, until the doorbell rang.

“Dammit,” he muttered, releasing me.

“Saved by the bell,” I sang out, rising off his lap.

“You know what it does to me when you go Kelly Kapowski on me.”

“I do indeed. And if you’re a good boy tonight, I’ll give you my own special Bayside cheer later on.” I winked and danced away from his grabby hands. “Now go do something with that,” I instructed, pointing at his enthusiasm.

He strutted away, and I headed to the front door. I could see Ryan through the glass, but no Mimi.

“Hey, where’s your girl?” I asked, but then heard a wheeeeee coming from up above.

“She’s ridden it twice already,” he replied, rolling his eyes but smiling at his girlfriend as she came down the hill in the hillevator, peeking over the side.

“That will never get old. I love this thing,” she announced when she got to the bottom, opening the door and climbing out. She had a basket full of treats and an armful of board games, which Ryan hurried to assist with. “See, this thing is actually useful.”

“Well, it’s not just a carnival ride, no.” I laughed, grabbing a bag as well. “Good lord, how many games did you bring?”

“I thought it would be best to plan for any and all hiccups tonight. And speaking of hiccups, I brought plenty of booze,” she stated, nodding to the box from the liquor store.

“Sure, because what goes better with tension than alcohol?” I snorted, catching Ryan’s eye.

“I tried to tell her,” he said under his breath.

“I heard that,” she sang out as she trotted into the house.

“I meant you to,” he sang back. “?’Sup?” He nodded to Simon, who had parked himself behind a wing chair.

I chuckled to myself at his technique for hiding his enthusiasm. I winked at him, feeling a thrill rumble through me when he looked at me with those heavy lidded eyes. Damn, that man got to me.

I led Mimi into the kitchen, letting her set up the bar while I finally got the turnovers into the oven.

We chatted while we put together snacks for the evening. Since I didn’t have the time I used to, it nearly killed me to get the turnovers together in time. But taking a page from the Barefoot Contessa, I managed to put together a respectable spread. I arranged several cheeses from a local shop, including a runny Brie and a stinky Stilton, some French bread, and little bowls of spicy almonds and salty olives. Slices of salami, capicola, pepperoni, and mortadella covered another wooden board, along with bowls of marinated artichoke hearts and roasted red peppers. A few containers of garlicky hummus and pillowy pita completed the nosh. I finished up just as Mimi was putting the final touches on her drink stations.

“Whiskey sours, martinis, and look! Wallbangers!” she cried, setting out a bottle of Galliano just as Simon and Ryan came in to join us.