Take a Bow, page 8
“Good to see you, man.” Jay gave him a rib-crushing hug once the alcohol was brought in and set up on the patio.
“You, too, Jay.” His friend looked rested despite his jet lag. He had a few new laugh lines around his mouth, but they looked good on him. His brown skin was clear, and his dark eyes bright. “Seems like Paris agreed with you.”
“It was surprisingly fun,” Jay said.
“I’m assuming you guys actually saw some of the sights and didn’t stay in the hotel room the entire time?”
Jay coughed and threw Nash a dirty look. “We went out,” he insisted. “Um. Museums. Restaurants. It was great. It was Paris.”
“Paris has great museums and restaurants,” Nash agreed, laughing. “But seriously, it’s amazing you and Cami reconnected. I always thought the two of you made the best couple.”
“I haven’t screwed it up yet,” Jay said. “And happily, I don’t think she’s going to let me.”
“That’s great.” There was a beat of silence as Nash tried to come up with a segue from Jay’s love life to his own. He was saved from his own indecision by the sound of a car pulling up to the front. He heard the horn blare once and lifted his eyebrows at Jay.
“It might be Cami. She’s still getting used to driving.”
They walked the path around the house to find a mud-spattered sky blue Fiat 500 parked at an angle behind the Land Rover. Cami slammed the driver’s door noisily. The petite blonde had fire in her eyes when she rounded the hood, her arms waving.
“What kind of a road is that? My baby barely made it!”
Nash winced. “Sorry. It rained last night, and it’s a little muddy.”
“The owner should think about paving it,” Jay put in.
“It’s perfectly passable in my truck,” Nash said.
“My Land Rover didn’t have issues,” Jay added.
“Well, good for your boy vehicles.” Cami glowered. She then sighed and broke into a wide smile. “Let me start over. Nash. Hi. How the hell are you?”
Nash grinned and wrapped his arms around his friend. He hadn’t kept in as close touch with Cami as he had with Jay over the years since Sawyer’s Cove ended, but they saw each other from time to time when they were both in L.A. He lifted her off her feet and planted a smacking kiss on her cheek, grinning even harder at Jay when he gave them an unamused look.
“Camille, you look fantastic. All those museums and restaurants really did you good, huh?” He winked at her.
Her lightly tanned skin was already flushed from the summer sun, but her cheeks grew even pinker. “Paris is always restorative,” she said, a little primly.
“I’ll bet,” he said. “Well, you’re the early birds, so you can help me finish setting up.” He put his famous friends to work setting out plates and cutlery and chips and dips and all sorts of party goodies while he adjusted the temperature of the grill. The first chicken thighs were hitting the heat when the next guest arrived.
Warner trudged around the house carrying a bottle filled with dark amber liquid. He was dressed in baggy, faded jeans and a wrinkled blue and white striped button-down shirt. With his messy sandy blond hair going gray at the temples, he looked rumpled, to say the least.
Jay greeted him with surprise. “Hey, Warner.”
“Orlando.” Warner nodded stiffly. “Hello, Speedwell.” He handed Nash the bottle of booze. “I’d love a snort if you’ve got a glass.”
Jay blinked at the man. “I think I’ve only seen you outside The Cove, like, three times. How did you possibly hook up with Nash?”
Nash glanced between them as he cracked the seal of the top-shelf bourbon. “He’s the one Cami should petition for the road paving.”
“Why?” Jay’s expression remained blank.
“He owns this place,” Nash said, waving at the house. “He’s the landlord.”
“Guilty as charged,” Warner said. Nash had cottoned onto the fact that Warner liked to talk as if he were a character in a 1940s noir. “And I’m not paving anything. The dirt road keeps people away.”
“It does make the place feel nice and secluded,” Nash said. “I haven’t seen a single soul up here, not even on the beach. Except—” He was about to say when Mimi stopped by.
Speaking of which, where was she? It was well after six.
Nash poured Warner a couple of fingers into a lowball glass from the bottle he’d brought, then allowed Jay to lead him to the side of the patio for conversation while he checked on the chicken. Pauline and Colin showed up next—together, Nash noted with a smile. Deb arrived a minute after them, and he lifted her up in a big hug, much the same way he’d greeted Cami.
“You look wonderful,” she said. “Mimi said you were settling in here. You need anything? I brought some eclairs from the Inn’s kitchen.”
Nash thought he saw Jay shoot them a look at the mention of Mimi’s name.
“Here, let’s put those in the fridge. They’ll melt out here.” He led her into the house through the French doors.
“At least the storm drove out the humidity,” Deb said. “I can’t wait for fall. I like the crisper air.”
“Oh, I don’t mind the heat,” Nash said. He opened the fridge door, and Deb found a spot for the eclairs. “How’s everything at the Inn?”
“Busy. The television show will keep us busy until the holidays. I had to extend all my summer hires. It’s good.”
“Excellent.” Deb had worked at the Inn so long, she felt responsible for the entire place. “When are they going to put you in charge already?”
She smiled. “My boss is never going to retire. And if he did, the company that owns the Inn would probably bring in some young transplant from one of their New York hotels.”
“Seriously? But you’re the heart and soul of the place.”
“Sweet of you to say. I can see why Mimi likes you.”
“Does she?” He smelled gossip. And who better to mine for clues to Mimi’s heart than her own mother? He wasn’t above it.
“Well, we all do,” Deb said, backtracking. “You’re an honorary Orlando, you know that, right?”
If he was an honorary Orlando, did that make pursuing Mimi less awkward, or more?
“I’m grateful, Deb,” he said simply. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Something fizzy and cold.”
They went outside, and as he showed her the soft drink cooler he smelled charred barbecue sauce.
“Shit!” He ran to the grill, turned the thighs just before they started burning.
Meat back under control, he checked his watch. Where was Mimi? He was about to grab his phone when a tall, curly-haired figure came stomping around the side of the house. His relief at seeing her mixed with perplexity—why was she covered in mud?
Her jeans were splattered with brown sludge from thigh to ankle, and the Dr. Seuss characters printed on her T-shirt were obscured by the muck. There was even a streak down the side of her face. Her mouth was set in a grim line.
Her mother was closest. “What on Earth happened to you?” Deb asked.
Cami and Jay crowded around her, followed by Pauline and Colin. Nash hovered on the outskirts of the group, not truly family, not co-worker.
What was he to Mimi, again? Simply a friend.
“The road was so soft after the rain. I was trying to get up the hill, skidded and overcorrected, and got my car stuck in some mud on the side of the road. Which wouldn’t have been terrible, except I slipped as soon as I got out of the car to start walking. So here I am! The party can start!” Mimi said, with false brightness.
“You poor thing.” Deb clucked—or was she chuckling at her daughter’s bedraggled state? The Orlandos had a healthy habit of making fun of each other out of love.
“I’ll call Ravi to give it a tow. Unless you think we could push it out ourselves?” Jay asked.
“You probably could,” Mimi said doubtfully. “But your clothes wouldn’t survive. Better let Ravi deal with it. Thanks, Jay.”
“You’re a mess,” Cami said, grimacing.
“I’ll stay outside,” Mimi volunteered.
“No.”
All eyes turned to Nash. He hadn’t meant to sound quite so forceful. “I mean, you can clean up inside. I’ll show you. Deb, can you watch the chicken?”
He waited to make sure Mimi was following him, then went back through the patio doors and directly upstairs. He heard her pause to remove her muddy sneakers, then continue behind him. He waited at the door to his room.
“You can borrow something of mine to wear,” he said. “And you can wash up in my bathroom. None of the others have soap.”
She looked at him, her eyes dancing. “You want me to wear your clothes?”
Yes. “Better than getting dirt everywhere.”
She shrugged. “Not sure anything will fit, but thanks.”
He opened the dresser drawer and pulled out a muscle tee that wouldn’t be much baggier on her than her own. He frowned. The pants would be a problem. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist.
“These might be okay.” He handed her the items and nodded at the door in the corner of the room. “Shower’s in there.”
She let her fingers brush his as she took the bundle of clothes. “You sure you don’t want to join me?”
She was utterly unkempt and completely kissable. He couldn’t spend any more time in private with her without giving in. He was close to losing this game.
“I have to turn the chicken.” His voice was hoarse.
She took the rejection in stride. “Of course. You do that.”
With effort, he backed out of the room without touching her.
How much longer could this go on?
Chapter Thirteen
Tip your head back, watch the sky catch fire.
If you’re not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, call me a liar.
“Fourth,” The Nash Speedwell Experience
Mimi couldn’t help smiling as she washed the sweat and mud off in Nash’s shower. She opened the cap of his body wash and sniffed experimentally. She couldn’t identify the different spicy notes, but it smelled expensive. She poured a small amount on her palm and lathered up, the tingling on her skin having more to do with feeling like she was being surrounded by Nash’s masculine warmth than the suds themselves.
She felt her hair and decided washing it would be more trouble than it was worth. She didn’t think she’d gotten too much mud in it anyway. She rinsed the fragrant suds off regretfully, but she couldn’t stand in his shower indefinitely while he hosted her entire family and some of her friends.
She toweled off and opened the door to the bedroom, shivering when the air-conditioned air hit her damp skin. Now for the problem of clothes. She eyed her underwear dubiously. She hated the sensation of putting on dirty underwear after a shower, but the alternative was wearing Nash’s clothes commando. She shivered at the implied intimacy and wondered if he’d imagined her slipping into his clothes, naked in his bedroom.
At first glance, the space seemed as impersonal as a hotel room, but she noticed an old-fashioned iPod sitting on the table next to the king-sized bed. A pair of running shorts was slung over a straight-backed chair, and a silver laptop peeked out of a utilitarian gray backpack. He’d chosen a room with a stellar view of the ocean.
She was learning things about him this summer. For one, Nash Speedwell didn’t do excess. He liked things well-made and simple, and she admired how straightforward he was about everything—even his failings.
But he was too hard on himself. He stretched himself too thin. She knew it was dangerous to do things only because you thought you should.
Was that partly what this whole restraint thing was about? Not giving in to something that had no purpose other than pleasure? Wasn’t he allowed simply to enjoy her, for enjoyment’s sake? Wasn’t she?
She made it her mission then and there to make sure Nash enjoyed this party, if nothing else. And if she had her way, she’d see he enjoyed the afterparty as well.
She slipped into the sweats sans underwear. They fit pretty well once she cinched the waist tight. Her bra was fine, a simple wireless bralette in light blue. She put that back on, then the shirt, which looked like a normal white cotton tee but was soft as cashmere and probably cost as much as the dress Mimi had ordered for the fundraiser.
Barefoot, she went back downstairs, her dirty clothes balled up in her hand. She hunted around the deserted kitchen until she found a paper bag. She stuffed her clothes inside, stashed the bag by the door, then detoured to the fridge to grab a beer before heading out to the patio. The food was being served, the partygoers sitting down at the large round table.
Nash was at the grill. The air smelled of charred meat and spices and salt air from the beach just over the hill. She smiled at him and felt his eyes on her as she went to get a plate.
“You find everything you need?” he asked as he selected a juicy thigh for her. His voice was low and sweet.
“Just about, thanks.”
She winked and sauntered over to sit next to her mother and fill the rest of her plate with green salad. She opened her beer, pleased with herself, and life, and the beautiful late summer evening in good company. All that would make it perfect was if Nash was sitting next to her instead of across the table.
Deb, Warner, Pauline, and Colin were gossiping about the latest rumor about the old movie theater on Spring Street, just off Main. It had been vacant for years, and there had been rumblings that some out-of-town developer was going to turn it into condos.
Jay was usually the first one to obsess over the possibility of development in Misty Harbor, but instead he asked, “How are ticket sales coming on the fundraiser?”
“Getting there. Over half sold,” Mimi said. She was still nervous about pulling it off, even though every year since she’d taken over as head librarian, the event had raised more money than the last. She’d been up early going over their rental order, hemming and hawing about numbers.
“Awesome. I got my tickets,” her brother said.
“Tickets for what?” Cami asked from her seat next to him. “You taking me on a hot date?”
“Hottest ticket in town—the annual library fundraiser,” Jay said. “It’s at the Inn, of course. But it’s always really fun. There’s a silent auction and music. Who’s playing this year?”
“Alabaster Poppy,” Mimi said. “They’re doing it practically for free, which is great for the budget. I hope they aren’t too much for the older crowd.”
“What should I donate to the auction?” Jay asked. “Is a Sawyer’s Cove script too boring?”
“That would be great,” Mimi said. “Or how about a gift card to The Cove?”
“I want to donate something,” Cami said around a bite of salad. “What about a day as an extra on the set?”
“Seriously?”
Cami nodded. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Just put me as the contact person, and I’ll set it up for whoever wins the item.”
“That would be incredible, thank you so much, Cami. I’ll give the auction coordinator a heads-up.” Mimi shouldn’t have been surprised by Cami’s generosity, but she was still getting to know her future sister-in-law. Not that Cami and Jay were officially engaged, having just gotten back together after twelve years apart, but Mimi could see the writing on the wall. Her brother was more than smitten—he was head over heels for the love of his life, and Mimi was beyond happy for him.
“I’m feeling left out here,” Nash said. “Fundraisers are my specialty. Let me donate something, too.”
She gave him a gracious nod. “The Arthur Russell Scholarship Fund thanks you in advance.”
“Who’s Arthur Russell?” Nash asked.
“He was the head librarian when I was growing up,” Mimi said. “He’s the reason I wanted to become a librarian.”
Nash leaned forward on crossed arms. The position made his muscles flex and strain the sleeves of his T-shirt, but Mimi valiantly kept her gaze on Nash’s butterscotch eyes. “Tell me about him.”
“He was wonderful. The epitome of an old New England geezer—wild white hair, big fan of cable-knit sweaters. Everyone called him Art, but I called him Mr. Russell. He really believed in the library as a community resource. He made it a safe space for people who didn’t have anywhere else to go. I learned a lot from him.”
Nash gave her a funny look, as if he was figuring something out. “I see.”
“He died about three years ago. I wanted to set up the scholarship fund right away, but his daughter didn’t sign off on it until recently. She’s had a hard time. I think she didn’t want to consider his legacy until she’d come to terms with his death. I get it. I cried for a month.”
“You were close.”
“Yeah.” She still missed him, his reassuring presence, the way he got excited over little things, but also saw the big picture and knew things generally worked out in the long run.
“So, this fundraiser is a big deal,” Nash said.
“I’m trying to set up the scholarship right. Shooting for fifty thousand to start. Then we can afford to award it to more than one kid per year. It’s for Misty Harbor residents who want to study library science or education.”
“That’s amazing,” Nash said. “And you’re doing a hell of a job, Mimi.”
“Thanks.” His frank praise meant a lot. Sometimes she worked so hard and felt like only a handful of people noticed. But then she’d see the folks who used the library for all kinds of things and knew even if they didn’t have a clue who she was, she’d helped make their experience possible with her leadership, and that felt good.
“What do you think your crowd would like?” he asked. “Show swag? Signed photos?”
“You know what people would really love is for you to sing some songs from your album.”
Mimi twisted her head sharply to look at her brother, who she’d kind of forgotten was there. The rest of the table had occupied itself with other subjects while she was telling Nash about Mr. Russell.
