Fakers (3 page)

The sun had sunk lower in the sky when she
checked out and put the groceries in her car. As she drove home,
she admired the darkening sky, filling with reds and oranges.
Already, the streets felt familiar, and she easily made her way
back to her new house.

She dumped the groceries in the kitchen
before she grabbed a plum and headed back outside. Standing on her
front porch, she bit into the fruit, juice running down her chin,
and regarded the queen-sized mattress and box springs she’d
purchased.

The salesman had given her a deal, but it
hadn’t included home delivery. Kyra hadn’t thought it was a problem
until now. She really wasn’t looking forward to hauling it up the
stairs. She finished her plum and tossed it into the overgrown
weeds.

“I saw that.”

Kyra jumped and pivoted. A woman was walking
through her front gate carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.
She was tall, even taller than Kyra, who was five foot ten. The
woman’s legs were pale and long, stretching for miles beneath her
shorts. Flaming red hair hung in frizzled waves around her freckled
face. Her green eyes glinted with mischief at Kyra.

“Alert the litter police,” Kyra said,
laughing.

“I would, but I think it actually helped
improve this dump. If a discarded plum can have such powers.” The
woman stopped at the base of Kyra’s steps. “My name’s Stevie
Andrews, and I hail from there.” She pointed with a wine glass to
the house next door.

“Wow. That’s a beautiful house,” Kyra said,
admiring the bold navy color and white shutters. She pulled her
gaze away and stuck out her hand to Stevie. “I’m Kyra Aberdeen.
Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stevie waved off the chitchat.
“I brought you wine. I figured I’d share a glass with my new
neighbor, because I’m friendly and
not
crazy.”

Kyra cocked her head. “I wouldn’t think
you’re crazy.”

Stevie rolled her eyes. “You might after all
these old, stuffy women told lies about me.” She motioned to the
other houses on the block. “When Cade told me a young woman was
moving in next door, I knew I had to snatch you up before the
neighborhood gossip tainted your opinion of me.”

“Cade mentioned you to me as well,” Kyra
said, remembering the obvious crush he had on Stevie, and she
understood why now. Stevie was gorgeous and clearly quirky. “And,
well…I don’t drink.”

Stevie threw up her hands in despair.
“Great! The first young, pre-Medicare-aged person to move into the
neighborhood doesn’t drink.”

Kyra couldn’t resist laughing again. She
liked Stevie already. “Are you drunk now?”

“I’m an artist. Being drunk inspires
me.”

Kyra looked around on her porch for a place
to sit. “I would invite you inside, but I don’t have any chairs in
there either.”

Stevie grimaced in sympathy. “Well, follow
me then.” She looked at her wine bottle sadly. “I guess I can swap
this out for some iced green tea.”

Kyra followed her down the path out of her
garden and onto the sidewalk, feeling like she’d hit the jackpot
today. “On the bright side, you get to keep it for yourself,” she
said cheerily.

Stevie paused at her garden gate. “You’re
one of those ‘well, on the bright side’ kind of people, aren’t
you?”

“Is that bad?”

Stevie opened her gate. “I’m more
doom-and-gloom myself. So if you catch me scowling at you a lot,
you’ll know why.”

Grinning and shaking her head, Kyra followed
Stevie onto her porch, waiting as she opened the door. Aunt Carol
had tried so hard to keep Kyra in California by telling her it was
a bad idea to move to Canaan, but Kyra knew in her heart it was
what she needed to do. And things were turning out so well
already.

“Oh, wow,” she marveled, breathless, when
Stevie opened the front door and motioned Kyra through. The entry
was grand with a modern chandelier hanging from the vaulted
ceilings and a bold coral paint on the walls. “Is this the original
flooring?”

The wood floors were an amazing gray color
with a silky finish. The stairs were perfectly restored to their
former glory. Natural light spilled in from the sheer quantity of
windows throughout the house.

“Eh, who knows,” Stevie said, dropping a
quick glance at the floors. “Here’s the kitchen. I’ll grab some
tea, and we can sit out back.”

Kyra soaked in the modern kitchen with
glass-faced cabinets and floating shelves. The appliances looked
like they’d never been used, which didn’t surprise her. Stevie
didn’t seem like the cooking type from what little Kyra knew about
her.

The back porch was just as magnificent as
the rest of the house, because it had the best view. Stevie handed
Kyra a sweating glass of tea before they both sat down in the plush
wicker seats. The ocean was magnificent under the last remnants of
the sunset. Kyra took a sip of her tea and sighed with
contentment.

“So what do you do?”

Kyra took a deep breath. She was used to the
skepticism she often received when she told people what she did. “I
upload health and beauty videos to Youtube and run a blog.” She
shrugged. “It started as an assignment for college, but it kind of
took off. I’m lucky to do what I enjoy for a living.”

“Cheers to that,” Stevie said, toasting
Kyra. They clicked their tea glasses together.

“What kind of art do you make?” Kyra settled
back in her chair and enjoyed the breeze from the sea.

“Photography. I do all that artsy-fartsy
stuff for magazines and journals. Like you said, I’m lucky to do
what I enjoy and not be stuck in some office all day.” Stevie
shivered like it was an awful thought. She propped her feet up on
an ottoman. “What brings you to Canaan Island?”

“Um, well, my mom grew up in that house, and
I have some family who lives on the island.”

“Oh, really? Who?”

“The Aberdeens…”

Stevie spewed her tea, making Kyra’s brows
raise. “Holy shit! Florence Aberdeen is such a bitch.” She must
have registered Kyra’s shock, because she added, “Bless her
heart.”

In the South, everything becomes instantly
nice if that phrase is added to the end of an insult. In this case,
it wasn’t needed. Kyra knew firsthand how awful her grandmother
was. It was a testament to her grandmother’s reputation that the
second person Kyra had met today wasn’t a fan of the older woman.
“Yeah, I know.”

“I can sympathize with having bad relatives.
My parents are Rory and Edith Andrews.”

Kyra couldn’t help the little gasp of
surprise that escaped her mouth. “The reality show stars?”

“More like the reality show train wrecks,
but I appreciate your politeness,” Stevie said with a long swallow
from her drink.

Kyra didn’t watch a lot of television, but
she’d seen her share of the Andrews. They did anything for
attention, and apparently had no dignity left to save. Without
thinking about it, she instantly felt bad for Stevie. She couldn’t
imagine what it would be like to have parents like that. But then
she didn’t know what it felt like to have parents period.

Stevie didn’t let the conversation dip into
awkward silence. Instead, she changed the subject, which warmed
Kyra to her even more. “Who’s doing the construction work on your
house? Please say Jesus ‘cause that place needs a miracle.”

Kyra burst out laughing, forgetting the
earlier, uneasy conversation. “It really does. I hired the Cooper
brothers. Have you heard of them?”

Luckily, Stevie didn’t have tea in her mouth
this time. She fanned her face with her hand. “Oh girl, you’re in
for a real treat.”

“A treat?” Kyra asked, feeling worried at
Stevie’s reaction.

“The best kind of treat:
man candy
.”
Stevie looked at her knowingly and waggled her eyebrows.

Kyra leaned forward in her seat.
“Really?”

“Yes, really. Cade may be a total dork, but
he is yummy in that nerdy sexy kind of way. Come on, you didn’t
notice?”

Kyra wasn’t surprised Stevie knew Cade had
stopped by. Between her poor parking and Cade’s large truck, they’d
practically taken up the entire street. She shrugged. “I don’t
really notice stuff like that.”

“Stuff like what?” Stevie looked
confused.

“Attractiveness.” Stevie blinked slowly,
like Kyra was speaking a foreign language, so she went on, feeling
heat spread along the back of her neck. “I try not to see a
person’s physical features when I first meet them. I believe we all
deserve to be seen beyond just the skin level.”

Stevie blinked a few more times before she
sank her head into her hand. “Oh, fuck me. You’re a hippie aren’t
you?”

Kyra found herself belly laughing again.
“No,” she managed. “Although I do recycle and maintain a vegan
diet. Is that a hippie?”

Stevie sighed heavily, shaking her head at
Kyra. “Close enough. Let me guess, you have a bike that you take
everywhere instead of driving?”

“You got me. I like to ride it every time I
can.”

“We’re either going to be best friends,”
Stevie mused, “or I’m going to burn your house down cause you’re so
annoying. It’s a tossup right now.”

Kyra took another sip of her drink,
regarding Stevie. “I think we’re going to best friends.”

Stevie nodded thoughtfully, looking out over
the ocean. “Okay. I’ll get the application when you leave.”

“So,” Kyra started, feeling uncertain, “Cade
kind of warned me that his brother, Hale, was a little different.
Do you know anything about that?”

If Kyra didn’t know any better,
doom-and-gloom Stevie just sighed dreamily. “Hale is…smoking hot.
Like sex on a lollipop that you want to lick all night long.” She
cut a glance at Kyra. “And that’s a pure judgment of his physical
features or whatever you said.”

Kyra felt that odd tickle in her stomach
again. She hadn’t even met this guy, but she was already intrigued.
She had a problem, a creeper problem. “Cade said he was kind of
different.”

Stevie frowned. “I’m not big for gossip.
Shocking, I know. Hale does good work. They are the best at what
they do here on the island, but there’s a reason Cade handles the
people work. Hale prefers to keep his distance. Before he moved
back here to be with his brother and sick mother, I heard he got
into some trouble back on the mainland. Now, he mostly stays to
himself. From what I’ve heard, he can be a bit of a bear, but he’s
not dangerous or anything.”

“Sick mother?” Kyra asked, feeling sorry for
Hale and Cade.

Stevie shrugged. “I don’t know the details
or anything, but I think she has cancer. Anyways, most of the
people on the island keep their distance from him. Of course, I
would be all over him if I could.”

Kyra smiled. “Well…I think Cade had a crush
on you.”

Stevie rolled her eyes as she took another
sip of tea. “He’s such a dork.”

“But a cute dork.”

“Maybe, but I go for more of the smoldering,
brooding type,” Stevie said, but Kyra saw her shift uncomfortably
in her seat a bit. Maybe she’d noticed Cade Cooper more than she’d
let on.

She spent another half hour on Stevie’s
porch before they called it a night. Stevie would be out of town
for the rest of the week, but they made plans for supper at her
house when she got back from her trip in Friday. Stevie promised it
would be take-out and not her own cooking.

Kyra walked back to her house with a smile
on her face. She’d been worried when she moved here, because she
hadn’t told her grandparents she bought the house. But after
meeting Stevie, this island that had scared Kyra so badly didn’t
seem so intimidating after all.

three

K
yra woke with a
start. Her heart still raced from her dream, where blood had rolled
down her wrist, bumping over raised scars like speed bumps,
trickling down her pinky. The sight had made her mouth water, made
her crave for the jolt of awareness that came with the pain.
Rubbing her pounding head, she blinked to clear her vision of the
dream.

But it wasn’t her head that pounded, she
realized. It was her house filled with smashing, wrecking sounds.
She surged out of her bed, adrenaline jerking her away from the
remnants of her dream, and grabbed her baseball bat before she
started down the stairs at a breakneck run.

She skidded around the corner into the
kitchen and came to a screeching stop. Hard rock blasted from a
stereo on the counter. A man—a shirtless, very muscular and
tattooed man—wielded a large mallet and was obliterating the cheap
kitchen laminate floors with heavy, grunting swings that vibrated
the floor beneath her feet. He reached down and ripped up a section
nearly three feet wide, making the muscles in his inked shoulders
stretch and strain.

Clearly Hale Cooper had started work on her
house this morning without bothering to knock and introduce
himself. Just as he stopped swinging and looked up to see her
standing in the doorway, Kyra realized she was only wearing panties
and a baggy tank top with no bra. There were worse things she could
be wearing though, she figured. Like
nothing
.

Hale cocked a brow at her, and she noticed
the dermal studs above it. He had a line of tattoos down his neck
and across his chest. More ink lined both of his arms in an
assorted mixture of words and images. He cleared his throat and
turned down the radio.

“Morning,” he said gruffly.

“I’m sorry for rushing down here, but I
didn’t expect you to start so early.” She swung the bat up and over
her shoulder without bothering to cover herself up. She was certain
Hale had seen it all before, and maybe she was giving him a little
show anyway.

Her overly cheerful laughter fell flat. He
just stared at her a minute before he said, “I wanted to get a feel
for things before the crew gets here.”

Kyra noticed he didn’t bother to apologize.
“Oh, okay.” She smiled, sticking out her hand. “I’m Kyra. And you
must be Hale.”