The Art of Appreciation (10 page)

She turned her face back toward the statue, pretending to study it as she denied a wild urge to smooth her hands over Matt’s shoulders. “Hmm. Well, to the best of my incomplete knowledge, your sculpture seems to be correct,” she said.

“Incomplete is good,” Matt said, tugging Abby’s arm so she looked at him once again. “So my guesswork…”

“Would be guesswork for me as well,” Abby finished, flushing as the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. She chuckled and stepped back, giving herself some much needed distance from his body. “Though I’m sure I’ll have a better idea in a few minutes. Bike shorts don’t leave much to the imagination.”
And neither do wetsuits or wet board shorts
, her brain teased, flashing images of Matt walking out of the surf.

“No, they surely do not,” Matt said softly. A gentle finger traced the curve of her Lycra-encased hip. His eyes met hers, and he dropped his hand, clearing his throat. “I take it you’re having a day out with the man himself?”

“Yep. He asked me yesterday, and I didn’t see any way out of it. I haven’t seen much of him since he got back from Indiana, so…”

“Sorry about that. I’m probably wearing him out.”

“On purpose?” Abby teased. Her heart stuttered when Matt cocked his head and answered.

“Maybe.” He grinned at what Abby knew had to have been a stunned stupid look on her face, and then he asked about Sarah.

Abby answered him in a shaky voice that grew stronger as she explained the situation with Tyler. By the time Jason walked in, they were leaning next to each other against a low table, cracking up at Sarah’s dilemma.

Jason’s eyes went from one to the other, wary, though a smile crept across his face when Abby explained what she and Matt were laughing about.

Walking over to the table, Jason helped her to her feet and dipped his head to drop a firm kiss on her mouth. She glanced toward Matt and found him regarding her, a smile on his face though a muscle jumped at the side of his jaw. “Sorry I’m late,” Jason said, wrapping his arm around Abby’s waist. “I had a flat, and it took a while to fix it. Ready?”

She nodded, avoiding Matt’s eyes, and headed for the door. After a second, she realized that Jason wasn’t behind her, so she turned to see the men having a low-voiced conversation. Tension showed in the set of Jason’s shoulders, but Matt was relaxed. He glanced at her and smiled. Jason turned his head and smiled too, though it was tight. He walked toward Abby, enveloping her hand in one of his as he pulled her sunglasses out of a pocket of his jersey and handed them to her.

“You left these at my apartment the other night,” he said, louder than necessary. “You’ll need them today.” He stepped out of the studio and into the vestibule ahead of Abby; she turned to wave at Matt uncertainly. He offered a mock salute back.

Jason was quiet as they started their ride, but he gradually returned to his normal, voluble self, breaking a cardinal rule of biking by riding alongside Abby instead of in a pace line and pointing out interesting or unusual things along the way. His natural enthusiasm carried the conversation even when she was quiet. Chelsie’s picnic, packed in panniers on Jason’s bike, proved to be delicious, and they ate fruit, crackers, and salami in a small beach cove, washing it all down with a split of Gewürztraminer and bottles of water.

When the last dark chocolate was finished, Jason packed away the lunch remains, and they headed home, moving more slowly and talking less than on the trip out. At his apartment, he got off his bike and crossed to Abby as she straddled her own bike with feet on the ground. He unclipped her helmet with one hand, tossing it to the side as he cupped the back of her head in his other broad palm, pulling her face to his for a lingering kiss. He explored her mouth thoroughly and well, his hands roaming over her back and resting against her bum as he tried to get closer.

“Stay,” he murmured. “I want you right now.”

Abby rested her hands on his chest. “Chelsie—”

“—will understand and go to a movie,” he finished. Abby felt him smile against her skin as he kissed her jaw. “It’s how we work.”

“Jason.” Abby grasped his wrists and held his hands still. “It’s not how
I
work. I don’t catch quickies while the roommate is out.” She smiled at him, trying to lighten the sudden tension. “Hazard of dating an older woman, I’m afraid. I outgrew relishing that kind of thing a while ago.”

Jason chuckled. “Message received. Can we try this again when there’s time to enjoy?”

Abby felt guilty; the possibility of an audience wasn’t the only reason she was going home. “When do you leave again?”

“Day after tomorrow. New York, this time, I think. Chelsie keeps track of that stuff. Don’t suppose you’d like to come?”

She shook her head. “Can’t afford the trip, not on two days’ notice. I have the tiny artist crew too.” His face fell, and Abby rubbed his arm. “Tell you what. How about we have a victory party on the beach behind my house after you get back? Beer, food, music.”

The smile returned to his eyes, and he swept Abby’s helmet off the ground, put it back on her head, and buckled it before starting for his own bike.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” she said. “You’ve been on the damned thing all day. Give your seat a rest. I can make it home all right by myself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, relief evident.

“I was riding a bike before you were born, sonny,” she joked. Jason chuckled and picked his bike up, resting the top bar on his shoulder. “It’s not even dark.”

“Call me when you get home, so I won’t worry?” he asked, walking backward toward his door.

Grinning and nodding, Abby clicked one shoe into its pedal and started down the road with a wave before setting the other shoe in place. The ride home was relaxing, and she started to understand the high Sarah and Jason seemed to get from riding.

The sight of a faded Jeep at the curb in front of her house made her wobble and nearly tip over. Finally remembering how to get her foot off the pedal, she caught herself and extracted her other foot, pushing the bike up the driveway as she listened to the sound of a drill.

Matt put a final screw into the shiny new brass hinge of the front screen door and turned the drill off, smoothing his hand over the fresh redwood into which it was now firmly anchored.

“Hey, Handy Manny, what’s up?” Abby called from the foot of the stairs. Matt smiled down at her, his eyes narrowing as the lines around them deepened.

“You said this needed fixed, and I had a free afternoon.” Matt descended to stand in front of Abby. “Your wood was rotting, so I replaced the jamb and reattached the screen. No biggie.” He’d put on a shirt since she’d seen him last, though it was only half-buttoned. The urge to straighten the placket and maybe brush his skin was strong.

Matt sat on the bottom step. “Have fun today?”

Unbuckling her helmet, Abby set it beside her as she sat next to Matt, their shoulders brushing. “The view was nice. I could do without the brain bucket and the funny shoes.” She yanked them off and glared at them before dropping them beside the helmet.

Matt took one of her hands, sweeping his thumb back and forth across her knuckles. “I have an idea,” he said. “I have to work with—what did you call her? Biker Barbie?” He snorted laughter, and Abby joined in. “I have to work with Zoe tomorrow, but how about you come surfing with me the next day? No helmets, no shoes…” Abby hesitated. “Come on, Pretty. You let Jason demonstrate his sport. Let me show you mine.” They both laughed at Matt’s unintended innuendo, and he squeezed her hand. “What do you say?”

Rising to her feet, she tugged Matt until he stood too. It was time to fish or cut bait, as her dad would have said.

“I say okay. What do you say to dinner?”

Matt grinned and followed her into the house.

S
LIDING
I
NTO
T
HE
D
RIVER’S
S
EAT
, Matt smiled again as a denser darkness appeared in the shadowed porch. Though the evening couldn’t have been less like his normal routine, it had felt comfortable to spend time with Abby and Sarah. He waved, and Abby waved back. Driving away this time was far more satisfying than it had been a day before, when he’d almost hit a parked car while watching Jason pull Pretty into his arms. Who could blame Matt for tooting the Jeep’s horn? Their PDA was a hazard to unsuspecting drivers.

He hurried into his house a few minutes later, eager to transfer his latest impressions of Abby to the raw clay that lay under a damp cloth in the studio. The sculpture’s left arm, upraised to hold her mass of hair atop her head, was essentially finished, though Matt made a few refinements based on the way Abby had brushed her hair off her neck at dinner. Her right arm, reaching out before her, was just emerging from the clay. He used his mental picture of Abby’s arm as she pulled the refrigerator door open as a guide, and soon lost himself in his work. He ended up dropping into bed just as the sun was rising, and he didn’t move until Chris knocked on his door to let him know Zoe was in the studio and already stripped down.

Matt sat up, scratching his head with both hands and trying to remember if he’d covered the statue of Pretty before he’d left the studio. The momentary conviction that he hadn’t drove him out of bed and into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

Zoe quirked an eyebrow and looked up as he rushed into the room. “Did you miss me that much?”

He ignored the question. After a check of the covered statue, Matt set up the screens he needed and got his camera in order. Zoe was her normal vapid self, and he found himself gritting his teeth as the day dragged on.

“All right…just a couple more shots. Don’t move.” He adjusted the lens.

Zoe deliberately took a deep breath, swelling her already impressive chest and putting the shot off again. Matt closed his eyes and counted to ten before dropping the camera to his side. Zoe laughed. “What? Everyone has to breathe.”

“Zoe, do you want this job?”

Her eyes snapped with a burst of outrage. “No, Matt. I’m standing here bucky-assed naked and in a fucking awkward position because I don’t want this job. Don’t be an ass.”

“Then don’t move.” He snapped a shot, admiring the flow of her hair toward the floor as she arched backward.

Zoe huffed, but she stayed as Matt had positioned her for once. “So, where’s tall, dimpled, and studly today?” she asked. “This was a hell of a lot easier with him holding me up.”

“Race. He’ll be back in a couple of days.” Matt adjusted the curve of her arm, and then took another picture. “If I can see you without Jason in the way, we can skip an extended session later.” Pictures weren’t his preferred method of dealing with detail in an almost finished human sculpture, but he’d had it with the both of them. Between Zoe’s blatant flirting and Jason’s…existing…Matt was on a knife’s edge of tension most days.

Zoe eyed Matt and started to turn toward him. “Damn it, Zoe!” he snapped, pushing her none too gently into the right position.

A slow smile spread across her face, and he cursed under his breath, realizing that getting a rise out of him had been her goal. “What are you gonna do, Mattie? Fire me like you did Tyler?” Her brain seemed to shift into another gear. “And what is up with him and that old woman? He’s following her around like a puppy.”

Matt grunted noncommittally and moved in for the last shot, aiming at the sweep of her thigh as her foot rested on a chair. The finished statue would have her leg wrapped around Jason’s thigh, but this was close enough. “What does Tyler see in her bony ass? Tiny tits would be a deal breaker for most guys I know.” She ran her hands over her breasts fondly as Matt carried the camera to a table and started shutting off the lights. Zoe lowered her foot and closed the gap between them.

Matt ignored her, stepping to the side to shut off another light and then looking down at his notes to see for how many more days he would have to endure her. “Sarah is a nice woman,” he said, grinning as he remembered how entertaining she had been at dinner the night before. Every story about Abby had been one more thing to add to his scanty store of information.

“Since when are you on a first name basis with the tourists?” When Matt didn’t answer right away, Zoe finished buttoning her top and yanked on a pair of cut-offs. “I suppose you were playing patty-cake with her friend too, huh?” She snorted and took a brush out of her bag and attacked her hair. “At least she has some kind of a figure.”

Thinking of Abby’s shape took Matt’s mind to the corner of the room where the clandestine statue stood. He’d given up even pretending to himself that it was merely an exercise to relax him from the stress of working faster on a sculpture than he had ever worked before. The Pretty sculpture was his favorite project in a very long time, and Matt couldn’t imagine leaving it unfinished. He’d worked diligently to get the hair and arms correct, the hips were perfect, and he had the legs roughed in. He hoped the surfing lesson would fill in some blanks when it came to her upper body and thighs.

He forgot Zoe was still standing there until she tapped him on the chest. She stood with a hand on her hip, glaring. “What the hell’s up with you, Matt? You’re grinning like a goob, and you haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you?”

“Guilty as charged. I have a lot on my mind.” He consulted his calendar. “I won’t need you again for quite a while, I don’t think. I’ll call you.”

“If I’m available,” she said with a snort, stalking to the vestibule. The outer door slammed.

Chris peeked into the studio. “Did I hear Madam Tata’s dulcet tones?”

“Yeah. Lord, I wish I hadn’t used her for the test shots. The buyer’s husband has become attached. Otherwise I’d find someone else tomorrow.”

Chris looked around the studio. “Speaking of tomorrow, are you interested in running over to Monterey? I feel like a day off from the boardwalk.”

“I’ll bet.” Matt grinned. “Exhausting work, guessing people’s deepest secrets.” He finished shutting down the equipment. He expected a joking comeback, and when it didn’t come he glanced at Chris. He was gazing at the floor, a tiny frown between his eyebrows.

“What?” Matt asked.

Chris sank down on a kitchen chair. “There was this girl, you know? Yesterday?” Matt nodded. “She was the saddest person I’ve ever met. I almost didn’t have to guess at anything, because her eyes told the whole story.” Chris let out a huge breath of air and scratched at his head with both hands. “I have to admit, it threw me a little. This fortune-telling thing is usually just a laugh. People tell so much with their faces that I don’t feel guilty for taking their money so they can hear it out loud, but I need a break. So, you up for it?”

Matt shook his head. “Sorry, I have plans. Teaching a nice lady how to surf.”

Chris stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his bare chest, leaning against the wall. “That nice lady wouldn’t be named Abby, would she?” Matt nodded, and Chris laughed. “Teaching, my ass. Showing off is what you mean, cuz. Isn’t she dating Jason The Tank?” Chris tsk-tsked. “Shame on you.”

“Purely platonic,” Matt said. “She’s interested, and what kind of representative of our sport would I be if I didn’t give her a chance to try it herself?”

“A living representative, ’cause Jason is going to pound you when he hears about this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s surfing, not sex. Everyone will be fully clothed the entire time.”

Chris stood up. “Riiight. If you call bathing suits or wetsuits fully clothed.” He smirked. “Don’t even try to tell me that you wouldn’t hit that if you’d gotten there first, because I hate calling a family member a liar. I saw the way you guys were circling each other at your party. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tomorrow night.”

“No need.” Matt put his glass in the sink and opened the refrigerator, hoping something would jump out at him as a dinner choice. “Even if you were right, and I’m definitely not saying that you are, I told you that I don’t bring drama home. My Fortress of Solitude remains inviolate—that’s a personal rule.”

Chris shook his head in disbelief. “You’re a stronger man than I am. I likes my comfort, and you never know what kind of crappy-ass bed you’re gonna find in someone else’s house. Plus, you have to get up and get dressed right when you’re most comfortable. If you want them to leave your house, you just snore really loud and that usually does it. Or play sleep coma.” He pointed out some fish on the bottom shelf.

When dinner was over, Chris slipped off to his room, leaving his cousin to stretch out on the couch with a beer. Though it was Matt’s norm, the silence that night seemed oppressive. Grabbing the remote, he put on some music and leaned his head against the back of the couch. With his eyes closed, he replayed the moment when he’d cupped Abby’s warm hip in his hand as he was leaving. He recalled the feeling of her fingers on his back when he’d pecked her cheek. Pleasantly occupied, he eventually dropped off, only blearily staggering into his room when Chris shook him and told him to go to bed.

A tap at his bedroom door as the first rays of light peeked around his blinds interrupted the lingering sound of Dream Abby’s tiny gasp when Dream Matt traced the lower curve of her breast with his thumb. Damn if that didn’t make it difficult to contemplate leaving bed right then.

“You awake?” Chris asked as he poked his head in the door. “I checked Surfline, and you’ll want to take Miss Abby out early this morning. The swells are supposed to get wicked this afternoon.” He paused. “Where you taking her? Capitola or Cowell’s?” Chris named two of the local beaches known for being beginner-friendly.

Matt rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the roughness of stubble and wondering if he should bother shaving. Wondering what Abby liked. “Cowell’s, most likely. It’s close, and it shouldn’t be too bad on a weekday.”

“And close enough to Steamer Lane that you can get in a good ride when she gets tired.” Chris grinned.

“That, too,” Matt admitted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and snagging a pair of shorts with his big toe. Chris looked away as Matt stood and pulled them up, letting them hang loose on his hips.

“Underwear, man,” he said as he looked back around. “You could at least wear underwear.”

“Can’t sleep in clothes,” Matt answered, mentally running over what he had to get done before he picked up Abby. Deciding to forgo the razor, he changed into board shorts and a T-shirt. He crammed a wetsuit and towels into a bag before loading that and a couple of surfboards into his Jeep.

Chris toted a cooler down to the car, saying nothing even as he smiled at Matt’s impatience to get going. “See you tomorrow!” he yelled as Matt drove off.

“Tonight!” Matt shouted back, waving.

Abby answered the door immediately, gesturing for Matt to come in. “Coffee?” she asked, and he nodded, following her into the kitchen. She poured another mug, offering cream and sugar, before settling against the counter. They sipped for a minute before he thought to ask about Sarah.

“Biking with another kiddie,” Abby said. “Apparently she hasn’t learned her lesson about younger men.”

“I’ve heard they’re pretty irresistible,” Matt said, sipping his coffee and raising an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Abby yawned and shook her head. “Sorry. I was up late last night with Jason. He left this morning for New York.” She dropped her eyes to her cup. “We had some things to talk about.”

“Hmm.” Matt said noncommittally.

“Listen…” Abby fiddled with her spoon. “What were you talking about with Jason the other day?” She looked at him intently.

Matt wondered if the truth was what she really wanted. “He wanted to know if I was planning on moving in on you.”

“Are you?”

Matt brushed the side of her free hand, from palm to the tip of her pinky, with his finger. “Not while you’re dating Jason. I don’t poach either.”

Abby nodded, but her small finger wrapped around Matt’s, anchoring his hand with hers. “What if I wasn’t seeing Jason?”

Smiling, Matt stepped forward until he could rest his free hand on the side of Abby’s neck, where it curved into her shoulder. “That, Pretty…that would be a very different story.” He ran his hand down her arm, squeezing her fingers before he stepped back. “Ready to go?”

“Uh…yeah,” Abby answered, shaking her head and smiling.

“What?” Matt asked.

She grinned again. “Never mind.” For a minute, he thought she had changed her mind about going along, but she nodded. “I don’t have a wetsuit,” she warned.

“Don’t need one. A bathing suit is fine. I won’t take you out to the really cold water, I promise.”

“Baby-pool surfing,” she joked, and Matt chuckled and nodded. Abby took a deep breath and let it out in a gust. “Sounds like fun. A nice change after the brain bucket and those damned lock-in shoes. Shall we?” She scooped up a bag that Matt hadn’t noticed at first and headed out the door, waiting for his exit before she closed and locked it.

They were walking down the stairs at Cowell’s beach within minutes, talking easily about their differing beach experiences on each coast. Matt was surprised to hear that she wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with surfing, having seen it done during visits to her grandmother’s house on the Washington coast. She had also done some research in the last day and asked a thousand questions about the differences between various beaches, shortboards and longboards, tides, and marine life. Matt finally covered her mouth, laughing, and asked if she ever wanted to try it.

Abby flushed. “Sorry. Endlessly curious here. Plus, I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be.” He stripped off his shirt and started applying sunscreen to his shoulders, tossing Abby the bottle when he had a handful of lotion. “You’re with a pro. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Abby almost missed the bottle. “Thanks,” she said, pulling her own T-shirt off and revealing a deep plum bikini top that accented the paleness of her skin. She rubbed lotion onto her arms and legs. Matt eyed the curve of breast that Dream Matt had traced with his thumb, wondering how it would feel when he was awake.