Bungalow Nights(51)

It just happened, his brother had said, referring to falling in love with Blythe. And Vance remembered saying similar words to Layla, too, explaining their instant combustible chemistry. Sometimes things just happened.

“What now?” Layla asked, coming up beside him at the railing to peer curiously over the side.

He glanced over at her, and it brought to mind her uncle Phil and his Buddha voodoo. He’d talked to Vance about grief. You could use it for the positive, the aging hippie had said. It could give you an understanding of how quickly life passes. Then you’d appreciate the world more. Then you’d be kinder to your fellow man.

To your brother.

“Now?” he said to Layla on a sigh. “Now I guess I better get ol’ Fitz off the sand. Offer him a beer.”

His brother still looked a little dazed as Vance stood on the beach, staring down on him. “You breathing?” he asked, his voice a bit gruff.

It was Fitz’s turn to sigh. “I’ve got enough air for another crack at that apology I owe you.”

Vance reached out a hand to help Fitz up.

“I think I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind. You might just knock me down again.”

Without a word, Vance kept his palm outstretched.

After another moment, Fitz met it with his own. His grip was strong and even after he was on his feet, his fingers stayed folded around Vance’s. “I’m sorry.” Fitz swallowed. “What makes it worse was that you were going through a bad time and my involvement as part of it meant I couldn’t be there for you.”

“Yeah,” Vance replied, his voice still gruff. Losing his brother had been much worse than losing Blythe.

“Like I said from the beginning,” Layla interjected cheerfully. “He’s not so f*cking perfect, after all.”

Vance had to grin. “Hey, the lady’s right. And that puts me in a much more forgiving mood.”

“Do that,” Fitz said, serious. “Forgive me. Please.”

“Okay.” Vance nodded, then clapped his brother on the shoulder. “We’re okay.”

Then he got out the beer. And pretty soon he and his brother were shooting the shit in the sunshine with cold brews at hand and a pretty girl who just looked at them with an enigmatic smile in her eyes. Before the sun went down, Fitz had grabbed up the clippers and turned his perfectionism toward Vance’s hair.

Look, Vance thought, in sudden surprise. His damn happy day was back.

* * *

IT WON’T HURT TO SAY GOODBYE, Addy reminded herself as she made her way to the door of Baxter’s high-rise condo. She tugged on her light cotton tunic, then flicked a piece of lint from her jeans. It won’t hurt to say goodbye.

Of course, she’d already thought she’d said goodbye—wasn’t it twice now?—but here she was, on Baxter’s turf. That damn carton of ledgers, she thought. She should never have let him carry it away. But when he’d called about getting the stuff back to her, it had seemed smarter for her to make the collection herself rather than suggesting he come to Crescent Cove.

This way, she’d control the situation.

Leave when she wanted. As in, immediately upon receipt of the box.

Baxter answered the door dressed in a pair of jeans and a Superman T-shirt. She stared, surprised by the casual attire. He’d been in similarly relaxed gear the other night at Captain Crow’s, she now remembered. It had seemed somewhat out-of-character then, but still, it had been after work hours. It was noon now, though. A weekday. Why wasn’t he in one of his elegant suits?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think when I said I’d meet you at home. You could have brought the box to your office and I would have picked it up there.”

He shrugged. “Come in.”

Still, Addy hesitated. At his workplace, the handover could have been totally businesslike. But now she was going to have to walk into his living space, raising the memory of the last time they’d been together in these rooms. The bed. The tie. His body. Oh, God.

Better to avoid that, she decided hastily. “I’ll wait right here while you get the box.”

“Addy—”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

Baxter gave her a wry smile. “You’ve been bothering me for six years.”

What to say to that? “Really, if you’ll just give me the box, I’ll get out of your hair. I’m sure you’re eager to return to work.”

An odd expression crossed his face.

I hate my job. He’d uttered those words that night in the darkness that he’d said was safe for secrets. She hadn’t gotten the chance to delve into the statement—he’d run as if he’d found the sentiment as startling as she did. But now wasn’t the time to discuss it with him, either. It was none of her affair, after all, even though she felt a pang of sympathy for Golden Boy Baxter for the first time in her life.

If it was true, he had to be suffering. Where did job dissatisfaction fit on the Baxter Smith Life Schedule? It wasn’t as if he could just up and leave the family business.

And now guilt stabbed her, as well. He might be in distress and she wasn’t even gracious enough to walk into his home. With a grimace, she took a step forward. “Okay, I’ll come in,” she told him. “Just for a minute. Just long enough to collect the ledgers.”

He followed her into the living room. “Don’t you want to discuss what I found?”

She turned, eyebrows rising. “You looked them over?”

“I told you I would. I’ll keep all my promises to you from now on, Addy.”

Oh, she wished he wouldn’t say things like that. And she wished that the navy T-shirt didn’t turn his remarkable eyes an even darker blue and that when she saw the S emblazoned on the cotton covering his broad chest, she didn’t think of Sexy and So Good in Bed.

She curled her fingers into her palms, hoping the bite of her nails would get her mind back on track. “Could you glean anything about the state of Sunrise Pictures’ financials? When Max Sunstrum closed the doors, could you tell if it was in the red or black?”

Before Baxter could answer, she lifted her shoulders in a self-deprecating little shrug. “And please, make it simple. Because I’m going to confess I don’t actually remember which one is better, even though I took an accounting elective in high school. Mr. Finney was a complete tool. The only thing I actually know about red and black is that I don’t look good in either one.”

His mouth twitched. “No?”

“No. Too harsh for the pale hair and the pale complexion. I once tried cherry-red, which is supposed to be okay on blondes...” She subsided, realizing she was chattering about nothing. “Sorry, I’m on full babble. Used to be that I’d eat when I was nervous. Potato chips are good nervous-eating food. Or cookies. Now I talk.”

He smiled.

Had she just confessed she used to gorge on junk food? “Oh, God, I’m still doing it, aren’t I?”

“Why are you nervous, Addy?”

I’m worried it’s going to hurt to say goodbye. She looked away from his gorgeous face and bit her lip. “Please put me out of my misery. What did you learn?”

He took her hand and led her to the sofa. His fingers were warm and sure, and she remembered them playing with her hair. She remembered being curled against him the other night in his bedroom. Then, she’d closed her eyes for just a moment and had let herself pretend again, pretend that he was hers.

Which was no way to prevent the hurt when she said goodbye.

So she slipped from his hold and perched on the edge of the cushions. The box of ledgers sat in their carton on the coffee table in front of her and she gestured with the hand that was missing his touch. “So...?”

“I’m no forensic accountant, but I’m pretty good at reading a balance sheet. From what I can tell, the company was in solid shape.”

“Oh.” Addy slumped back on the cushions. “So...so Max shut it down in order to shut Edith down.”

“Well—”

“Are you sure?” Addy asked. It was silly of her to feel such disappointment—thanks to her mother and father, she knew firsthand about lousy marriages. But...poor Edith. “Maybe you misread them. I imagine you went through them late at night, after a long day at work—”

“I’ve been a part-timer since two days ago, Addy.” Baxter was focused on her face. “I quit my job.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I... Well... Wow.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums up the response of everyone in the office and in the family. I went to work there out of expectation, not any interest of my own and I’d never given myself enough time off to realize that until...until you.”

“Me?”

“Until you made me start thinking with my heart, I didn’t look inside of it.” Then he scooted down the sofa and picked up her hand. His head bent, he idly played with her fingers.