That brought him up short. She was too damned softhearted. If he really talked to her, she might start thinking about his well-being instead of her own. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
BREE HEADED BACK TO THE cottage from the farm stand. Lucy had disappeared, and Toby was on duty. He complained bitterly about being overworked, but Bree had turned mean lately, and she’d told him she liked making kids suffer.
“Make sure you don’t get shortchanged,” she’d reminded him.
He’d given her one of his looks, since they both knew he was quicker with numbers, and she was far more likely to have that happen to her.
She’d been halfway down the drive when something had made her stop and call back to him. “Hey, punk!”
“What do you want now?”
“Your mom was really good at math, too,” she’d said.
He’d stood completely still before he turned away. “Whatever.”
Despite his phony nonchalance, Bree knew he loved hearing about his parents, and she’d been dredging up every story she could remember.
She couldn’t recall exactly when she’d stopped wanting to reach for her cigarettes whenever she thought about David. The pain and that aching sense of regret had faded so gradually she’d barely noticed.
Just before she reached the honey house, she heard a rustle. Branches moved in one of the clump maples that bordered the woods. There was no breeze this afternoon, so it could have been a squirrel, but—
The branches swayed again, and she caught a glimpse of a woman—a tourist who’d lost her way? She went to investigate.
A particularly foul stream of curses assailed her ears as she pushed through the weeds. She came upon a dark-haired woman trying to disentangle her purple yoga pants from the blackberry brambles. As soon as the woman looked up, Bree experienced a jolt of recognition. First Lucy Jorik had popped up and now Temple Renshaw? What was going on? She hurried over to help.
The woman tugged at the knit fabric of her pants. “Why would you keep something this vicious around?”
Bree descended to teen-speak. “Uh, like for the blackberries?”
Renshaw snorted, then cursed again and sucked a scratch on the back of her hand.
Bree knew her from Fat Island, a show she hated but that Scott had loved. He’d taken pleasure in the way Temple tormented the contestants, boasted about his own fitness, and drooled over the vapid, bikini-clad psychiatrist who supposedly counseled them. “That is one hot shrink,” he’d said more than once. “If you had tits like hers, I’d be a happy man.”
Instead of telling him that if he had a shred of decency, she’d be a happy woman, she’d nursed her hurt in silence.
Finally free of the brambles, Temple gazed past Bree toward the cottage. “I’m looking for a friend.”
Bree was immediately on guard. “Friend?”
“Black hair. Tattoos. Chubby thighs.”
Temple could only be talking about Lucy—although Lucy had great legs—but Bree wasn’t giving out any information. “Chubby thighs?”
Temple climbed through the weeds toward the cottage, not waiting for an invitation. “A lot of women carry weight there. It’s so unnecessary.”
Bree followed her, both put off by her high-handed manner and curious. As Temple reached the yard, she took in the hives and the ripening tomatoes in the garden. She wore no makeup to hide the hollows under her eyes, and her hair, long and lustrous on-screen, was pulled into a haphazard ponytail. The muscles and tendons in her upper torso were too gristly for Bree’s taste, and her tight-fitting workout clothes clung to an unnaturally rippled abdomen. She looked better on television.
Temple examined the scratch on her hand. “She left a note at the house saying she was coming here. I have to talk to her.”
Lucy had mentioned a friend who was staying at the house, but she hadn’t offered any details, and Bree had forgotten about it. She’d certainly never imagined Lucy’s friend was Temple Renshaw.
Temple looked her square in the eye. “Is she around?”
Bree wasn’t good at standing up to assertive people, but she didn’t know whether Lucy wanted to see this woman or not. “There’s nobody here now but me.”
Temple shoved back a lock of dark hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Fine. I’ll wait.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Temple ignored her. She crossed the yard and dropped down on the back step—the same place where Bree used to spend so much time.
Bree couldn’t throw her off the property physically, so she shrugged and echoed Toby. “Whatever.”
TOBY WAS WORRIED. THE GLASS ornaments Bree had hand-painted with scenes from the island and sold for thirty-five dollars each were all gone, but instead of saving the money, she’d bought more to paint. It was stupid. Labor Day was three weeks away, and the tourists would be gone after that. She didn’t have time to sell more, and then what were they going to do for money? This had been the worst summer of his life. He was never going to see Eli and Ethan again. Even Mike hadn’t been around much lately. He was too busy with clients.
A gray SUV stopped. As the door opened, he saw the driver was Panda. Now that he’d gotten to know him better, Toby wasn’t so scared of him. Panda let Toby take a kayak out, and the two of them had paddled around the cove and even into the lake. Panda also let Toby help chop down a dead tree. Toby hoped he’d be as cool as Panda when he grew up. He liked the way Panda walked, like he was real tough and never had to worry about anything. He liked his shades. Nobody would ever mess with a guy liked Panda.
“How you doing, pal?” Panda said as he approached. “Made any money?”
“Sixty-eight dollars this afternoon.”
“That’s good.” He looked around. “I thought Lucy might be working here today.”
Toby shrugged. “I don’t know where she is.”
Panda nodded like he was thinking that over, although Toby couldn’t really see what there was to think about. “How is she?” he asked.
“Okay, I guess.” The scab on Toby’s knee was itching. He scratched around it.
“Is she walking okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, is she limping or anything like that?”
“I don’t know. I guess not.”
Panda shoved his hand through his hair, like he might be getting a little upset. He was acting weird. “But she’s talking to you?”
“Sure.”
“So … Did she say anything to you about … anything?”
“Lots of stuff.”
“Like what?”
Toby thought about it. “She said she didn’t think anybody should go around saying the n-word, not even if they’re black like me. Her brother, Andre, is black. Did you know that?”
“I did.”
“She doesn’t think a lot of hip-hop artists are good role models for kids, but I think they are. They make a lot of money and everything.” Panda kept looking at him, like he expected Toby to say more, but Toby didn’t know what else he was supposed to say. “She put a mashed-up sweet potato in some bread she made, but it still tasted good.”
Panda kept staring at him. Toby was starting to wish he’d go away. “She told Bree that she likes to ride horses.”
Panda wandered over to the honey and stared at it, like he was really interested in honey. “Did she say anything about me?”
His scab was itching again. “I don’t know. I guess not.”
Panda nodded, stared at the honey some more, then grabbed a bottle. Only after he was back in his car did Toby see that he’d paid for it with a twenty-dollar bill. “Hey!”
But Panda was pulling away.
LUCY HEARD THEIR VOICES BEFORE she reached the cottage. She’d hoped to write another few pages this afternoon, but an overpowering urge to eat something sweet had driven her back to the house. She was finding it more difficult to adjust to her former healthy eating habits than she’d ever imagined possible. In the old days, she seldom ate when
she wasn’t hungry, but two months of “dieting” had made her obsess about food. Now, when she was uncomfortable, tired, or unhappy, all she wanted to do was stuff her mouth. No wonder most people gained their weight back after they dieted.
As the voices grew louder, she readjusted the beach towel she’d bunched under her arm and stopped to listen.
“You should leave now,” she heard Bree say.
“Not until I see Lucy,” Temple retorted.
“She’s gone.”
“I don’t believe you. Her things are still in her bedroom at the house.”
Bree hesitated. “Only because she doesn’t want them anymore.”
“Tell me another one. Where is she?”
“I’m not her keeper. How am I supposed to know?”
Lucy listened in bemusement as the timid field mouse stood up to the Evil Queen. What had happened to the insecure woman Lucy had first met? Lucy reluctantly stepped out of the trees. Temple slammed her hands on her hips. “There you are! I’m furious with you.”
“Leave her alone,” the field mouse said.
Temple stalked toward Lucy. “It was bad enough for you to walk out on Panda, but I didn’t do anything, and you had no right to walk out on me. Did you stop for one second to think how I’d feel when I heard you’d run away without a word? I’m so furious with you that I don’t care if I ever speak to you again.”
“Then why are you here?” Bree’s jaw set in a newly stubborn line.
Temple spun on her. “Stay out of this. It has nothing to do with you.”
“This is my house, and Lucy’s my guest. That makes it my business.”
Lucy forced herself to step in. “Have the two of you been properly introduced? Bree West, this is Temple Renshaw. Temple, Bree.”
“I know who she is,” Bree said tightly.
Lucy regarded her ruefully. “Believe it or not, Temple really isn’t quite as rude as she seems.”
“Don’t you dare apologize for me,” Temple retorted, taking in Lucy’s chin-length and much neater hairdo—compliments of Bree and her scissors. “I’m still infuriated with you.”
“I understand,” Lucy conceded. “And you’re right. I’m sorry. I should at least have left you a note.”
Temple sniffed. “You deserve to be sorry. When are you coming home?”
“She’s not,” Bree said firmly. “She’s staying here.”
“That’s what you think.”
Listening to the two of them argue over her made Lucy feel better than she had in days. Temple turned her back to Bree. Some of her aggression faded, and her brow knit with concern. “What did he do to you? He told me what happened at that dive you went to, but I know he didn’t tell me everything.” And then, to Bree, with forced politeness, “Would you mind going away so Lucy and I can talk?”
Lucy reluctantly put a halt to their tiff. “Stop glowering at her, Temple. She has every right to be here. I was planning to talk to you. I just didn’t want to go back to the house to do it.”
Wrong thing to say. Temple’s brow shot up in righteous anger. “Then obviously our friendship isn’t important to you.”
“That’s not true.” Lucy dropped her beach towel in a patch of shade and sat on it. As the spicy scent of basil drifted toward her, she filled Temple in on more of the details of what had happened at The Compass. When she was done, she hugged her knees to her chest. “I thought I was so tough.”
“You’re not seriously blaming yourself for not being able to fight off those gangsters,” Temple said.
“Other women do it.”
“In the movies.”
Her indignation was comforting, but Lucy couldn’t give herself a free pass.
In a single graceful movement, Temple dropped beside her on the beach towel. “I don’t understand why Panda was so stingy with the details.”
“Client privilege, I’m sure.” Lucy swallowed her bitterness. “Basically, that’s how he still sees me. As his responsibility.”
“He protected you,” Temple said adamantly. “So why are you so pissed with him?”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m pissed with myself.”
“Sure. Blame the victim,” Bree interjected.
“It’s not that,” Lucy said. “All summer I pretended I was so tough. Joke’s on me, right?”
Temple brushed that away. “What about Panda? Why did you walk out on him?”
“Because our relationship was as phony as my tattoos.”
“It didn’t seem phony to me.” Temple looked over at Bree. “Anybody who sees them together can tell how hot they are for each other.”
Lucy didn’t like that. “I dumped my fiancé at the altar, and two weeks later, I jumped in bed with another man. Nice, right?”
“Normally, no,” Temple said. “But when the man is Panda …”
Lucy wasn’t letting anybody make excuses for her. “It’s time for me to deal with what’s real in my life and what isn’t. Panda’s not.”
“He seems real to me. And you’re in love with him.”
“Stop saying that!” she cried. “Believe me, love isn’t what I feel for Panda.” That word belonged to Ted. She’d worshipped him, and she definitely didn’t worship Panda. How could you worship someone when all you wanted to do was rip his clothes off? Or laugh with him, or snarl at him, or exchange those looks of perfect understanding? With Panda, she felt like bad Lucy, good Lucy, and Viper all rolled into one. Who needed that kind of confusion?
Bree loomed over the beach towel, rescuing her from further explanation. “Lucy is staying here,” she told Temple.
“No, she’s not.” Temple jumped to her feet. “I want her back.”
“Too bad. I need her.”
“You think I don’t?”
“Tough. You can visit her here whenever you like.”
Lucy’s eyes stung. “As much as I love watching the two of you fight over me, you really shouldn’t.”
Bree moved toward the side of the house. “I have to check on Toby. There’s iced tea in the refrigerator.” She spun back to Lucy. “You stay here. Don’t let her bully you.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Temple’s mouth as Bree disappeared. “I like her.” Her smile quickly faded. “What do you hope to accomplish by running away? You keep telling me I need to face my problems, but what do you do when things get tough? Big talker runs away.”
“Be nice.”
“Fine,” Temple said in a huff. “If that’s your attitude, I won’t tell you about the phone call I made.”
“Tell me,” Lucy said, because she knew Temple wanted her to ask.
“You don’t deserve to know.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She did, and Lucy sprang up off the towel. “Are you sure about this?”
Temple glowered. “I thought you’d be happy. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Not exactly. But Lucy kept that thought to herself.
PANDA SLAPPED DOWN THE SCREWDRIVER as the doorbell rang. The only person he wanted to see right now was Lucy, and she wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell. He’d just finished wrestling with the kitchen table, and removing the bulky legs wasn’t going well.
On his way to the front door, he frowned at a cheap seascape hanging on the wall. He’d grown used to paintings disappearing and furniture mysteriously transporting itself from one room to another. Why hadn’t Lucy gotten rid of this? Worst of all was his pig. It still wore the same clown nose she’d stuck on it last week.
He reached the door and glanced through the sidelight. A bombshell blonde stood on the other side.
There was something familiar about her, although he knew they’d never met. Maybe it was her figure. Hard to forget a body like this. Big breasts, tiny waist, narrow hips. And spectacular legs, what he could see of them.
He tried to place her as he opened the door, but something about her appearance was throwing him off. Her long blond hair shouldn’t be pinned up so neatly, and she wore too many clothes.
&n
bsp; Then he recognized her. His stomach sank.
She held out her hand. “You must be Mr. Shade. I’m Kristina Chapman.” She cocked her head to the side and smiled, as though they were sharing a private joke. “Dr. Kristi.”
Chapter Twenty-two
WOMEN EVERYWHERE, AND EACH ONE of them was a nightmare. Temple, with her dark moods; Dr. Kristi, who’d probably earned her counseling license over the Internet, although she insisted she was legit; Lucy, the biggest pain of all, living on the other side of the woods with Sabrina Remington, the daughter of the man he hated.
Nine days and not a word from her. Telling himself it had to end anyway didn’t help.
Temple came downstairs. She was red-eyed and passed him in the hallway without speaking. He didn’t like seeing her like this. “Let’s go for a run,” he said brusquely.
“Later.” She sagged into the living room chair and reached for the television remote.
Not long after, while he contemplated where he was going to find a table to fill the newly empty spot in the kitchen, he saw Dr. Kristi in the backyard with a book. She’d been swimming earlier, but instead of wearing her infamous red bikini, which would have provided him with at least some small compensation for putting up with her intrusion, she was wearing an unimpressive green-and-white one-piece.
Temple appeared in the kitchen on her way outside. He jerked his head toward the backyard. “You could have told me you were inviting her here. To my house.”
“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” Before he could disabuse her of that notion, she swept past him. “I’m going to the cottage.”
“Make yourself useful this time.”
“Bring her back yourself,” she retorted, just before she slammed the door.
He’d like nothing better than to do that, but then what? Lucy needed a happily-ever-after, something he wasn’t capable of delivering. Still, he had to see her before he left the island, although he had no idea what he’d say.
Through the window, he saw Temple approach Dr. Kristi, who closed her book and rose. He couldn’t hear what Temple said to her. He didn’t really care. He didn’t care about much these days.