Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(80)



Bev froze. She’d never rebelled as a teenager, too afraid to risk what little family she had.

Well, better late than never.

“Who do you think is sick of putting up with all your patronizing shit?” she said softly.

Gail’s mouth fell open. She collapsed onto the sofa next to Kate. “Here I was feeling guilty about giving Ellen’s son the house, and now I don’t have to.” She bit her lip, frowning through tears. “You don’t want me, you can find somewhere else to live. Today.”

Bev was too angry to give a damn about her mother’s feelings. Later she might, but right then all she could think of was every dismissive comment her mother had ever made, a montage of put-downs that ran through her thoughts like a low-budget music video. “You’re kicking me out,” she said flatly.

“Not if you’re reasonable.”

“Which means having you, Ellen, and Kate take over?” Bev snorted. “What do I do—run the daycare center?”

Gail shrugged. “That’s an intriguing idea. Perhaps, down the line, if there’s a need,” she said. “But no. I figured you’d enjoy a little more time up here, enjoy some time off, travel and go home. Andy told me he could find you a temp job at the studio while you apply for teaching positions for next year.”

Bev looked over at Kate, who was frowning but silent. “And how about you, Kate? That sounds like a good plan?”

Kate shrugged and took another sip from her water bottle. “Oh, sure. Now you want my support. As soon as you need something from me.”

Bev glanced around the house then at her mother and sister’s hostile faces. “I don’t need anything from either one of you.” She strode away from them to her bedroom and slammed the door.

She lifted her cat off the end of the bed and nuzzled her neck, fighting tears. “Change of plans, Ball,” she said softly. “We’re moving to San Francisco.”



When Liam heard the door swing open in the neighboring office, he jerked his head up from the sketches on his desk. Usually, he liked having his Saturdays to himself, but—

His pulse reacted to her presence even before she poked her pretty head into his office, offered a wave and a pinched smile, then disappeared, hauling a large plastic box.

He looked back down at the sketches and tried to regain his concentration. Running after her wouldn’t look good. The first holiday delivery should have crops over the knee, almost to the ankles. Shorts would come back for the last November delivery, in basic colors to survive Christmas—

He pushed himself up from his desk and walked over to Bev’s office, pausing in the doorway and leaning his hip on the jamb. She was using a piece of red reflective piping as a headband and had resurrected the green sweater he’d vowed to destroy. He licked his lips, feeling hot. “Are you still angry at me?”

She continued flipping through the binder in front of her on the desk, chewing her lips. The motion caught his attention, and he lost himself in the vision of white teeth pressing up against pink, swollen flesh.

She finally glanced up. “And why would I be angry?”

He came into the room. “I broke the cardinal rule.”

“Being an *?”

“No, you seem to like that.”

She sighed and rested her cheek in her palm. “True enough.”

“The rule I broke,” he said, coming over and sitting across from her, out of groping distance, “was to mention my mother.”

“I like your mother.”

“So do I, actually. But at that moment I was making an unflattering comparison, and I’m sorry.”

“You are?”

Liam fought the urge to pull her into his lap. “Yes.”

“All right, then. I accept,” she said. “I’m sorry too.”

He didn’t know why she would be but didn’t want to argue, because then she might not let him touch her again, so he avoided her eyes and imagined her naked. Then clenched his jaw. That was not going to get them the account at Target.

He noticed a plastic box at her feet. “You brought your cat to work?”

She opened and closed her mouth, glanced at the carrier, and nodded. “She was lonely.” The little door was open and tufts of fur stuck out through the slots.

“Spry little lady, isn’t she?”

Bev leaned over to pet her cat, and the neckline of the baggy sweater flopped open, exposing hills of delicate, round, flesh and—black lace. His mouth went dry.

“She’s old. Ancient, really.” Then she sighed and went back to the papers on her desk. “There’s so much to do. I don’t know how I can pull it off. Between this Target deal and the financial nightmare that keeps getting worse, not to mention family squabbles, I’m beginning to wonder if they’re right.”

“Your mother after you again?”

“She got me, actually. She often does.”

Liam hated to see her beaten down. “We could work together if you think that might help you fight off the demons,” he said. “Pool our resources. Take over the lobby conference room.”

Her eyes lit up. “Together?”

“We haven’t tried that yet. Maybe we should.”

“I thought you’d be mad,” she said. “About me sneaking projects to Jennifer.”

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