All of Me (5 page)

“But . . .”

“I was writing, thanks to you, but I seem to have stopped.” He leaned forward and turned the laptop around for her to see. That got her to move deeper into the room.

She didn’t look long enough to read the whole paragraph, which was just as well. She’d have to be an idiot not to see the similarities between her and his character. Most people would’ve chopped off an appendage to read his work before publication. Not her.

“That’s good. You’re writing again.”

“You missed the part where I said I stopped.”

“I’ll go.”

“I didn’t stop because of you.” He’d
started
because of her. “Have a brownie.” He held the plate out, wiggling it like a taunt.

“I shouldn’t. I’m not supposed to.”

Huh. “You a diabetic?”

“Er, no.”

“Allergic?”

She sighed. “No.”

“Then have a brownie.” She was so damn thin. Angular bones and soft skin. At least it looked soft.

She hesitated a moment and then took one off the plate, cupping her hand under it to catch the crumbs. It felt like a small victory when she took a bite.

“So, you don’t usually eat brownies, don’t stay awake past ten, and you’ve never seen the ocean until recently. What is it you
do
like to do, Faith?”

She stilled, swallowed the last bite, and avoided his gaze. “Why did you stop writing?”

“Answer my question.”

“Answer mine first.”

Ooh
. A spark of challenge. “I guess because I can’t.”

“I can’t either. Do those things.” Her gaze lifted to his.

His question was what she liked to do, not what she couldn’t, but now he was interested. “Why can’t you?”

She took a page from his book and avoided answering. “Maybe you should try meditating.”

Alec set the plate aside. “You mean like chanting ‘ohm’ while closing my eyes and going to a happy place?” He hadn’t had a happy place in nine years.

This earned him a smile. “Something like that.”

“You’re one of those people.” He fixed his expression to one of mock horror.

“What people?”

“The tree-hugging, holistic, all-natural types.” He looked at her calves just below her capris. “At least you shave.”

She sighed, but the smile remained. “You’re very tense. Meditating might help you relax and clear your head.”

He
was tense? “
I’m
tense?”

Hello, pot, meet kettle.

Her smile widened, and there was something close to a
twinkle in her eye. She didn’t wear any makeup, not even a swipe of lip gloss, but he found himself liking her face. It was fresh. Clean. He didn’t know any women who didn’t hide behind cosmetics. Or seduction. And yet Faith did neither. In fact, she always had one foot out of the room.

She stood. “Enjoy the brownies. Have a good night.”

Like that. One foot out the door.

And just like she had the other night on the beach, she just up and walked away.

Faith was sitting on the couch in the guesthouse, staring at her cell for what had to be at least the past twenty minutes. It was Saturday, thus she was off for the weekend and left to her own devices.

It was also late morning, which meant her mother would be back from her garden club and her father would be done working in the yard. Right about now they’d be discussing what to make for lunch and if they should plan any activities for the afternoon.

A week and neither had called.

Her hands shook. She pinched her eyes closed and breathed deep, centering herself. It was just a phone call. She could do this. They were probably giving her space to settle in, not wanting to hover over her. She’d convinced herself what had happened when she’d left was just them having a hard time parting, and not wanting to be emotional in front of her. They were likely just waiting for her to reach out first.

Finding the number in her short list of contacts, she pressed Call before she could chicken out again. It rang and rang. Faith counted until eight rings went unanswered before she debated leaving a message. The answering machine kicked in and she froze. An automated greeting directed her to leave a message after the beep.

Her stomach rolled. Her hands grew clammy. Closing her eyes, she cleared her throat.

“Hi, Mom, Dad. It’s . . . me. I just wanted to say hello. Nothing important. My accommodations are really nice and the ocean is beautiful.” She shook her head. “I hope everything there is well. Please call if you get a chance. Thanks.” She hesitated. “I love you.”

She stared at the screen after disconnecting as it rang in her hand. It was them.

Dad’s voice sounded distracted as usual. “So, the job is good?”

“Yes. I worked with Ginny before at St. Ambrose, so it was a smooth transition.”

“Oh. Didn’t know that.”

She had told them before, after she accepted the position, but the knowledge obviously hadn’t stuck. A lengthy, awkward silence followed and Faith hated it. Hope had been the conversationalist in the family. She’d brought out all the natural parental instincts in them. They never ran out of things to say with Hope around. But, wow. She’d been gone ten years now. Had it been that long since they had a real conversation? It was one thing to sit in the same room with them and not talk, but to sit on the phone . . .

“So, uh . . . how’s the weather?”

Faith shook her head, her heart hurting. “Warm. Humid. There always seems to be a breeze off the ocean, though, so that’s nice.”

“Right. Right,” he mumbled again after a second. “Well, don’t go swimming alone. We’ll talk again soon.”

She dropped the phone on the couch after disconnecting.
The picture of her and Hope stared at her from the mantel, but she couldn’t bring herself to look. Tears were already clogging her throat, dampening her eyes. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she bent over and forced herself to breathe through the looming panic attack. Why did her father even bother calling her back? Had he no interest in her life beyond the weather?

A knock sounded on her front door, making her jump.

Staring at the door, she wondered who it could possibly be. She was off for the weekend and had no friends in town. Not that she had friends in Charlotte either. Swallowing hard, she blinked rapidly to clear the signs of distress and went to get the door.

Lacey stood on her doorstep, looking bright and fresh in a blue sundress. Her long blond hair was down around her shoulders, half clipped up on one side. She smiled. “Hey, do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure.” Faith waved her inside. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes.” Lacey sat on the edge of the wicker sofa and folded her hands in her lap. “We just didn’t get to know each other very well the other day at lunch, so I thought I’d come by.”

Well, how . . . unexpected. Nice. “Can I get you something to drink?” Except she didn’t have much because she hadn’t gone shopping yet. That was on the agenda for later.

“No, thank you. Sit with me?” She patted the cushion beside her. “I thought we could talk about Ginny’s art class.”

Relaxing a bit, Faith sat on the other side of the sofa and waited.

“I was thinking Ginny could come to my studio on Tuesdays and Fridays for a couple hours. I’d go over techniques and colors and so on. Maybe work with her on a few mediums until I figure out what she’s best at.”

Faith didn’t want to deter Lacey, but it was entirely possible Ginny might not excel past basic fundamentals. Ginny loved art and was excited about working with Lacey, though. “If that schedule is okay with Mia, it’s okay with me.”

“I already talked with Mia, but wanted to run it by you. I don’t want to mess with your lesson plans.”

The nerves in her belly quieted. “That’s very thoughtful. I can work around that.”

She was actually thinking of dropping Wednesday afternoon lesson plans altogether and incorporating something like home economics. Teach Ginny laundry, cooking, cleaning. Ginny was very open to learning new things and Faith hoped to encourage more independence.

“Great.” Lacey beamed. “Now, for the other reason I dropped by. Mia and I are checking out a new spa tomorrow and we wanted to invite you to come along.”

“Why?” Dang it. She hadn’t meant for that to come out so fast, but Lacey had surprised her. People didn’t just invite her to things like that. Or to anything, really.

“It’ll be fun. With the wedding coming up, I’m trying out a few salons to see who I like best. And while we’re at it, we can get a mani-pedi.”

Oh boy. This was so far out of her league it might as well be Saturn. “I’m not really good at that sort of thing.”

“What thing?” Lacey tilted her head. Realization dawned in her eyes. “You mean the girly stuff? Don’t worry about that. All you have to do is relax and have fun. They do all the work.” Lacey straightened. “Do you ever wear makeup?”

“Only on special occasions. I never learned how to apply cosmetics.”

“Your mom never showed you?”

She shook her head. Mom would be the last person to do such a thing, and by the time Faith was old enough for Hope to teach her, she’d been too sick. Faith’s gym teacher had been the one to educate her on menstruation and sex ed.

“Well, you’re pretty just as you are. I could show you a few things to bring out your natural beauty, stuff that wouldn’t take a long time. And we could get our hair done, too. Maybe shape yours up a bit. You have such beautiful, thick waves.”

Stunned into silence, Faith just stared. Compliments
weren’t tossed her way very often, so she never knew what to do with them. She cleared her throat. “Thank you. That would be nice.” And before she knew what she was saying, out came, “I’m used to being in the background. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not comfortable with a lot of attention.”

Her face flamed. She turned away to stare at her hands, hoping Lacey didn’t notice.

“Noted,” Lacey said with a nod. She rose as if ready to leave. “I’d like us to be friends.”

Friends. Another foreign concept. Perhaps this
was
Saturn. Or maybe Neptune? “Okay.”

“I have a confession,” Lacey said. “I don’t have many friends.”

Faith may have no life, she may be a plain homebody, but she didn’t deserve to be made fun of. Irritation surged, until she looked into Lacey’s eyes and realized she was genuine. Forget another planet. She’d entered an alternate reality.

Lacey walked over to the fireplace and fiddled with the seashells. “I spent most of my life in my mother’s social circles being the belle of the ball and striving for perfection. Cole gave me the courage to break away from that and be myself. I’m still learning. Mia and I just grew close again these last few months. I’d like to get to know you better, too.”

Faith had somehow found the courage to leave home and accept this job offer when everything inside her screamed for the holding pattern she was used to. Why not embrace the choice and take a chance? Otherwise she’d just
exist
here, like she did in Charlotte.

“Friends.” Not a question, a statement. Something swelled in her chest as she said the word. Not altogether unpleasant.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Lacey’s fingers found the photo of her and Hope. “Who’s this?”

A pang flicked her chest. Friends talk, right? “That’s my sister, Hope.”

“I thought you were an only child.”

“She died just before my seventeenth birthday.” Actually,
it was late into the eve of the night before that Hope’s body finally gave out. Twelve-thirty-three a.m.

“Oh, how terrible. So young. Was it cancer?”

In the picture Lacey held, Hope didn’t have any hair. It wasn’t a far leap to assume. Faith nodded.

“I lost my oldest brother in a car accident years ago. It still hurts.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and in her tone Faith heard every ache she herself had been living with.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Lacey replaced the picture on the mantel. “I’m sorry for yours, too. She was very pretty.”

Yes, she was. Everything, in fact, Faith could never be. “I spent a lot of time with her between treatments and other things. She was my whole life, so when she died, I didn’t know how to make friends or be around people. I guess you and I are a lot alike in that regard.” She glanced away from the avid interest in Lacey’s eyes. “What time should I be ready tomorrow?”

Lacey smiled, picked up her purse off the table, and headed to the door. “Our appointment is at ten. We’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

Grateful Lacey didn’t press the conversation, Faith nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

*   *   *

Alec climbed the few steps to Faith’s guesthouse and lifted his hand to knock. But before he could make contact, the door swung wide and Faith stepped out. She startled and placed a hand over her heart.

“You scared me. I wasn’t expecting you.” Obviously. She was holding a small purse in one hand and car keys in the other. “What are you doing here?”

That question from any other person would sound accusatory. “Brought back your plate. The brownies were good.”

She stared at the plate and then him. “That’s a paper plate.”

“Yes.”

“Implying you don’t need to return it.”

He shrugged.

A wisp of a smile graced her lips. Her golden eyes were bright in the natural light and quite fascinating. “Still not writing?”

Busted. “It would seem so. You going somewhere?”

“Er, yes. Grocery shopping. I need a few things.”

“Perfect. I’ll come, too.” Her brows lifted, so he elaborated. “I need to get out. I’m going crazy staring at my computer monitor.”

“And you want to go shopping with me?”

Just take his Man Card now. At least it wasn’t clothes shopping. “I’ll drive.”

She peered over his shoulder. “But my car is right there.”

“Mine’s more fun.”

Her bow-shaped mouth opened and closed. Pouted. “Well, okay.” She shut the door behind her and they stepped off the porch. “Define ‘fun.’”

Alec grinned. “You’ll see.”

They headed through the grove in silence and crossed Lacey’s yard to where he’d parked his car, in front of the guesthouse.

Faith drew up short. “You have a convertible?”

“It’s a—”

“Mustang. I know.” She stared at the car like she stared at the brownies—with longing. “I always wanted one.”

A girl after his own heart. Most women wondered why he didn’t drive a Ferrari with the money he made. He liked the American classic better, even though this was last year’s remake. “Get in.”

Once they were settled, he pulled the car through the security gate and onto the road. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her tip her head back and smile. Her carefree expression made him grin. Her reddish-brown hair swirled
around her face, but she made no attempt to bind it. No whining about how she’d have to fix it. She was such a contradiction from the rest of the female species.

On their way out of the subdivision, they passed a few of the other mansions nestled in the cove. The houses sat on a lot of land and were spaced pretty far apart, offering a great deal of privacy. The one closest to Lacey’s property was in foreclosure. Alec remembered that house. His dad had tended the gardens there for an eccentric old broad who used to model back in the forties.

He pulled out and onto the main road, reorienting himself with where things were. Most of the shops around here were for tourists, complete with inflated prices, and not the full-on grocery store Faith was seeking. He quickly got off the main drag and weaved his way through traffic until he hit the northwestern edge of the city.

Faith didn’t say a word on the drive. Just kept her head tipped toward the sun and eyes either closed or wide open and scanning her surroundings. She’d never been to the beach, he remembered. He’d have to take her around, show her some of the hot spots and happenings. Except he hadn’t been in Wilmington long term in years. Perhaps he’d get Jake and Lacey, along with Cole and Mia, and they’d go out as a group.

He parked the car at a chain grocery and turned to face her, expecting a comment on his driving. She didn’t offer one. Ever since Laura’s accident, people—the ones who knew about Laura, anyhow—found it necessary to point out his recklessness when he got behind the wheel. He wasn’t driving the car Laura crashed any more than he was an inattentive driver. Alec just craved the speed.

Faith’s hair was all crazy around her head, her cheeks flushed. Without thinking, he pushed the strands off her face and smoothed them down. Then he got a whiff of her sweet scent and instead of pulling back, he let his hand settle into the softness.

Apparently it wasn’t the brownies that he’d smelled the other night. It was her. Like a sugar cookie, or vanilla, or something wholesome to that effect. It made him want to bury his face in her hair and nibble his way up her neck.

“You okay?”

He blinked and dropped his hand. Cleared his throat. “Sure. You just . . . had your hair in your face. Ready?”

If possible, her cheeks grew even more pink. “Yes. Ready.”

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, he followed her around the store as she added items to her cart. Wheat bread. Skim milk. Greek yogurt. Skinless chicken breasts. Broccoli, carrots, apples . . . Christ. Didn’t she eat?