Love, Lies and Texas Dips (12 page)

Laura dug through the box, hoping to find more, wanting to see a name on the invoice to tell her exactly who her mysterious admirer was. But there was nothing.

“Who’s it from?” Mac asked, impatiently snatching the card from her hand and murmuring, “Don’t you find this kind of creepy?”

“No, it’s romantic,” Ginger piped up, and reached over to the box to inspect Laura’s gifts. “You still think Avery’s the one who’s been sending stuff?”

“It has to be him,” she said, knowing she’d racked her brains to come up with someone else who’d want to secretly court her and coming up empty.

“Avery Dorman?” Tincy said shrilly, reminding Laura she was there. Her bracelets jangled as she fingered her tousled hair. “If
that boy
is sending these things, what the devil’s wrong with him? Doesn’t he know it’s deb season and you’re watching your weight?”

Laura sighed, wanting to snap, “No, Mother,
you’re
the one watching my weight.” But Tincy did have a point.

Tincy crossed her arms snugly over her chest, half obscuring the green and bright pink pattern on the bodice of her sundress. “I’d hate to see what happens if the GSC selection committee decides you’re too
stocky
to come out. And that’s just what’s gonna happen if you keep wolfin’ down all this chocolate sabotage. You won’t even fit in the Vera Wang gown we’ve commissioned!”

Mac and Ginger stood silently, eyes downcast, saying nothing.

Laura couldn’t blame them. Even she wasn’t sure how to react to her mother’s outburst. Like ninety-nine percent of the super-skinny socialite moms in the Villages, Tincy lived by the motto “You can never be too rich or too thin,” even if being too thin meant looking like a Tootsie Pop.
I am who I am
, Laura reminded herself, taking in a deep breath.
And I will never be Tincy
.

She gathered up the box of brownies and said, “Don’t worry about me, Mother. I know what I’m doing. C’mon,
amigas”—she jerked her chin at her two BFFs—“let’s go upstairs.”

“Laura.”
Her mother made a tsk-tsk noise. “Please don’t be like that. I’m only trying to help. I wouldn’t say these things except that I love you so much. Sami always told me I was too overprotective, and maybe she was right.”

Ya think?

“Whatev,” Laura murmured, and strode purposefully upstairs, holding her door open for Mac and Ginger before shutting them all in her bedroom. “Who wants a brownie?” she asked as she dropped onto her bed with the tub of treats.

“I’ll have one!” Mac volunteered, adding with a grumble, “Since I didn’t exactly eat much for lunch.”

“Are they organic?” Ginger asked, bending over the box and trying to read the list of ingredients.

“Organic-schmanic. They smell amazing!” Laura declared. “I worked out this morning with Mac, so one won’t kill me in spite of what Tincy thinks.” That said, she grabbed a chocolate-mint brownie, ripping off the wrapper and biting in. She rolled her eyes dreamily as she chewed.
Ah, heaven!

She was tempted to try another until she remembered that her favorite True Religion jeans felt kind of snug yesterday—the housekeeper had probably washed them on hot and put them in the dryer—but instead, feeling emboldened, she reached for her BlackBerry and started to text. Thanx 4 the brownies, she thumbed at warp speed. But U don’t have 2 keep sending stuff. U know how I feel abt U.

“What are you doing?” Mac grabbed her arm, trying to look at the tiny screen. “Please, don’t be texting Avery.”

“What if I am?” Laura said, and snatched her arm back.
Who was Mac to give her advice on her love life? She couldn’t even acknowledge that she had a thing for Alex Bishop.

“Laura.” Ginger looked at her quizzically with those big green eyes, and Laura wondered if even Ginger understood, what with the way she was always crushing on someone who ended up treating her like crap. Not that Avery had done everything right—because he hadn’t—but Laura had no doubt he was her one true love. Had Ginger ever truly felt that way about anyone yet?

“Okay, so it’s totally uncool,” Laura admitted, because she knew it’s what they wanted to hear. “But I know it’s him. I just wish he’d admit it.”

“You’re hopeless,” Mac muttered, and Ginger just bit her lip, which Laura figured was as good as her agreeing.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Laura lied, walking off with her BlackBerry in hand and enclosing herself in her granite-tiled bath. She turned the fan on just to drown out any sounds, and she sat down on the toilet lid. When it came to Avery, she wasn’t good at holding back, or playing the well-mannered debutante. She couldn’t help herself: she
ached
to talk to him.

She’d barely waited half a minute before her cell began purring. Her breathing quickened as she read the return text from Avery. It read: Brownies???

Laura wrinkled her brow, about to reply that he knew
exactly
what brownies, when she realized this was the “secret” part of his being her secret admirer. C’mon. He wasn’t exactly going to confess.

Nevermind she wrote back. Where R U?

Leaving Big D’s BBQ Heading 2 the cave Need 2 work out.

So Avery was heading to the weight room at the club. Laura’s house was only five minutes from the Villages Country Club. Not that she wanted to go back to the fitness center—twice in one day seemed
way
over the top—but she really wanted to see him. Besides, what harm would it do if she bumped into him accidentally on purpose?

Maybe I’ll C U, she typed. On my way 2 club spa.

OK. Kewl.

Her heart beat double time. So she’d told a little white lie. Like people didn’t do it all the time.

“Laura, are you all right in there?” Ginger gently rapped on the door.
“Laura?”

“I’m fine,” she called out. “I’ll be out in a sec.” Her mind raced, already thinking that if she left now, she could beat Avery to the club and could intercept him. She’d pretend she had a massage scheduled. That was certainly believable enough. But she had to hurry, unless she wanted to hunt him down in the weight room (and she definitely didn’t).

Laura took off her headband, ran a brush through her straight blond hair, and stuck the band back on again. With one hand, she dabbed on extra lip gloss and with the other, she brushed brownie crumbs off her white Alexander Wang T-shirt.

She nearly ran smack into Ginger and Mac both as she flew out of the bathroom and into her walk-in closet, where she slipped on a pair of gladiator sandals and snagged her white Betsey Johnson bowling bag (well, no white bags or shoes after Labor Day anyway, so she might as well give it a final fling, right?).

“I’ve gotta go,” she told her friends as she emerged from the closet, stuffing her BlackBerry into her purse and pulling
out her keys. “Hey, take as many brownies as you’d like!” she told them, hurrying out of the room before they could stop her.

Once downstairs, she raced past Tincy in the kitchen, murmuring, “I’ll be back in a bit,” before she escaped to the garage.

Two minutes later, she was in her Mercedes Roadster, heading to the Villages CC, retracing the route she and Mac had taken just that morning. When she pulled onto the grounds, she noticed the parking lot was definitely more crowded than before. But she saw no sign of Avery’s burnt-orange ’Vette with the GR8HANZ plates.

Whew
, she thought as she scrambled out of the car. She hurried toward the clubhouse, knowing Avery would have to walk through it to get to the fitness center and the weight room. The pro shop was open for business, as was the Grill, judging from the hum of conversation drifting from the restaurant.

Laura made a beeline for the spa doors, trying to decide what to do, how best to wait for Avery to appear and make it seem coincidental.

Should she go in and peer through the glass until she spotted him, then leap out into the hallway? Should she linger outside, fumbling in her purse as if she couldn’t find … something?

“Hey, Laura,” she heard over her shoulder, and her knees threatened to buckle. “Lucky me, I guess I caught you just before your appointment.”

She turned so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Avery? For heaven’s sake,” she said, acting surprised to see him, though the blush in her cheeks was a hundred percent
real. “I wasn’t sure if I’d run into you or not. This place is so big,” she rambled on. “But I’m glad I did. I wanted to tell you something, in person if I could.”

“Oh, yeah?” He crossed his arms so that his biceps bulged. “What’s that?”

“Um, it’s just that I—well, how do I put this?” She clutched her oversized bag, wishing her pulse wasn’t galloping like a Derby pony on its final lap.
Why does he always have to look so damned good?
Yummier than any gourmet brownie. He had an American Eagle tee pulled over his Ed Hardy shorts, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. His pale brown hair curled around his ears and neck, where it was damp.

“Laura?” he prodded when she didn’t explain herself right off the bat. But she was so distracted, being so close to him.

“You smell like chlorine,” she said, then leaned closer, breathing him in. “And Hawaiian Tropic.”

He smiled, his dimples carved into his cheeks. “And you smell clean and soft, like flowers. You always do.”

Wow
, Laura thought, and blinked at him dumbly.

Avery had this way about him that sucked her in, no matter how she tried to resist it, only she never tried very hard. He made her feel completely at ease and nervous all at once. She hugged her purse more tightly when she wanted so badly to drop it and throw her arms around him. They hadn’t kissed since that awful night at Jo Lynn Bidwell’s guesthouse when the Queen Bimbo had reamed Laura out before shoving her into the pool, and Laura was dying for another smooch.

“You wanted to tell me something,” Avery reminded her, and uncrossed his arms, reaching out to tuck a thumb beneath her chin.

“Oh, yeah, that,” Laura said, hoping she sounded casual even when his mere touch made her want to throw herself on top of him right then and there. “I figured we could be honest with each other, right?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“So you don’t have to pretend anymore. I really appreciate all the things you’ve been sending me, not just for the brownies and the cupcakes and the candy, but also for the flowers you sent on D-day when invitations to the Rosebud dinner were delivered.” She paused to take a breath. “It’s very sweet and all, but I’ve got to watch my figure or else I’ll screw up the measurements for my deb gown, and Tincy will strangle me with her French manicure,” she rambled on, blurting out before she could stop herself, “I’m tryin’ hard to get in shape so I can do the Dip without seriously embarrassing myself. I even begged Dillon Masters to train me.…”

“Whoa, hold on there, babe.” He deposited his gym bag on the floor and caught her by the arms. “All right, you got me. I’ll confess that I did send the flowers as an apology for hurting you again, and because I was happy you got your deb invitation. You deserved it.”

“Thank you for that. Very much,” she whispered, unable to resist leaning forward and rolling up on her toes to kiss him firmly on the lips.

As soon as their lips touched, Laura felt herself melt into him, pressing against his chest so his heartbeat and hers seemed one and the same. His hands slipped to her waist, fingers spanning her lower back, holding on to her tightly, and the rest of the world completely faded away, as if there were only the two of them, as though nothing had ever come between them.

Avery made no move to draw apart, not until a white-haired clubber with tennis racquet in hand cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me, please.” They quickly separated, allowing him to pass.

“Laura, look at me,” Avery demanded.

She sagged against the wall beside him, still light-headed from their kiss. They were so close their shoulders touched. Somehow, she managed to turn her head so she could gaze right into his puppy-dog eyes.

“Like I said before, I gave you the flowers, but I didn’t send brownies or anything else.” His forehead wrinkled. “And what’s that about Masters training you? You sure that’s a good thing?”

“Yes … no … oh, God, are you serious?” Laura stopped smiling. “You’re not my secret admirer? Who then?”

“I wish it were me,” Avery said softly, and shifted in his Converse high-tops.

“Oh?”

“Because I do admire you, Laura, a lot,” he whispered, tipping his head toward hers so they were nose to nose. “Maybe more than I should.” His brown eyes clouded. “It’s just really … complicated.”

Why?
she wondered, when it didn’t have to be.

“Avery,” she sighed his name and placed her hand on his heart, wanting to ask him,
Why are we doing this? We should be together. Why can’t you break free of Jo Lynn and her toadies and just BE with me? What does she have on you?

But she didn’t get the chance to say anything at all.

Across from where they stood, the doors to the spa burst wide open. A ponytailed brunette and a flat-ironed strawberry blonde in micro-mini-shorts shuffled out in postpedicure
flip-flops, tissues tucked between their toes, and stumbled right into Laura and Avery.

“Hey, get your sleazy hands off my boyfriend!” Camie Lindell shouted first, before Trisha Hunt exclaimed with a wave of glossy manicured fingers,
“Omigod!”

Camie’s hard sea green gaze bounced from Laura to Avery. “What the hell is going on here? And don’t even tell me you took her to Dillon’s barbecue instead of me?”

“Yeah, don’t even tell her that,” Trisha repeated the threat.

“Is there an echo in here?” Laura was not about to let herself become roadkill again like the last time she encountered the Bimbo Cartel. “Oh, wait, it must be your brainless skulls doing that Grand Canyon thing.” Then she turned to Avery and said, “I’ve got to go.”

“But don’t you have a spa appointment?” he asked as Laura edged around him.

“Hey!” Camie grabbed her shoulder and growled, “Don’t you walk away from me, bitch.”

But Laura yanked her arm free and kept going, her heart slamming hard against her ribs. She didn’t even stop to take a breath until she was outside the clubhouse, stabbing the key into her Mercedes. For a minute, she thought they might follow her and continue the scream-fest outside, but when she glanced back, no one was there.