The Art of Appreciation (13 page)

As they left the restaurant, Matt tried Abby’s cell and found out that she and Sarah were in Carmel, celebrity-watching and having a great time. They talked for a few minutes, and then her table reservation for lunch was ready and she had to go.

Matt pocketed his phone as he and Claire drove back toward Santa Cruz. He looked over and caught Claire smirking at him.

“What?” he asked in exasperation.

“There’s that smile,” Claire sing-songed. “If I didn’t have to be back in SC in a few minutes, I’d take you to Carmel right now.” She shifted gears smoothly, roaring down the road at close to ninety miles per hour. “Of course, you could always get in your truck and—”

“Act like a crazy stalker? No thanks.” Matt pulled the knot of the tie down until he could slip the silk from under his collar and toss it onto the backseat. Unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt, he yawned. “Besides, I have a lot of work to do. Some slave driver just committed me to six statues. And I need a nap.”

“Six easy sculptures in a friendly medium. For an assload of money, don’t forget. And you wouldn’t need a nap if you didn’t stay up all night thinking about your girlfriend.” Matt’s head whipped around, and Claire started to laugh. “I was right! Holy shit! How old did you say you were again?”

Matt slouched in his seat and pushed his hand through his hair. “Shut up,” he muttered, and Claire giggled again.

When she dropped him at home, Matt found the house blessedly empty. Taking advantage of that fact, he exchanged his slacks and jacket for a pair of shorts and buckled down on his first sculpture, a solo of Jason. By the time he was ready to quit, arms and shoulders stiff from the big motions needed to rough in a large sculpture, it was late afternoon. Chris still wasn’t home from what Matt supposed was another busy day tending to the tourists on the boardwalk, so Matt decided to go for a run and then maybe catch his cousin for dinner.

Slipping on shoes and a tee, he set off, trying to outrun the weariness of his body and his tension about Abby having dinner with Jason the next evening. He fought the little whisper of uncertainty in the back of his mind that kept asking what would happen if Jason convinced her to change her mind. No, that wasn’t fair. A woman like Abby wouldn’t let someone else make decisions for her. The real question: what if
she
changed her mind? Would Matt push the issue or walk away? For the first time, the answer to that question wasn’t obvious, and it pissed him off.

Veering to run past Abby’s house happened without conscious thought. Maybe that was his answer. Unfortunately, the chairs behind the beach cottage were empty and the windows dark, so it was with a sense of disappointment that Matt looped around and headed for the boardwalk. Even having dinner with Chris and listening to funny stories about the tourists he’d “read” weren’t enough to bring Matt out of his funk. Abby’s text, describing the “asinine idiots” who were behind her and Sarah in a movie theater in Monterey didn’t help, either, because it was obvious to him that the idiots were trying to pick them up. It irritated the crap out of him that that irritated the crap out of him.

By the time he walked home, Matt was ready to shower and fall into bed. He dropped into restless dreams that he couldn’t remember the next morning. He awoke feeling surly, and so he spent a quiet morning finishing the Zoe mock-up. Luckily, Jason seemed to feel just as crabby when he got to the studio that afternoon. They used minimal language to set up the shots Matt wanted, working through the different poses with alacrity.

As an artist, Matt had to admire the form Jason had accomplished—a nearly perfect development of all the muscle groups, proportional and quite beautiful. As a…what the hell was he? A rival? The word made Matt cringe, but…yes, as a rival, Matt wanted to force feed him Ho Hos and tie him in front of Sports Center for a month or two. Or jump back in time a decade and a half, and…never mind. Matt had never looked like that at twenty-three. Completely different build. He wondered what Abby had preferred at that age.

It startled him when Jason said goodbye. Matt followed him to the outer door of the studio, outlining the schedule he had in mind. Jason agreed absently, a frown marring his forehead.

“Big date?” Matt asked casually.

Jason shrugged. “Pretty sure I’m getting dumped.” He sighed. “I knew it was coming, but Abby tried to be nice by waiting until after the race. I won.”

Matt felt a little sorry for the guy, but not sorry enough to step back. “Congratulations on the race, anyway.”

Jason laughed ruefully. “I suppose.” He glanced at his watch. “I suppose it’s bad form to be late to be kicked to the curb. Today is not my freaking day.” He walked to his bike and climbed on. Pulling his helmet on, he waved Matt over.

“Listen, thanks,” he said. “For the congrats. You’re a good guy.”

Matt felt like guilt should be written large across his face. He evidently hid it better than he thought, because Jason just flipped him a salute and rode away.

Then there was just the waiting.

Through cleaning up his sculpting tools.

Through the dinner he picked at.

Through a stretch of mindless comedies on TV, during which he laughed when Chris chuckled but didn’t remember a word two minutes after each show ended.

Afterward, he scanned sculpting materials sites on the Net, pricing the clay that he’d need for the next few months. Matt tried to keep his head together for that one but didn’t make the mistake of ordering when his mind wasn’t fully engaged.

When his phone rang, hours after Jason had left, he snatched it from the table and stalked into the kitchen.

“Hey.” Abby sounded weary.

“Hey.” Matt tried to keep his voice pleasantly neutral as he opened the refrigerator and got a Coke. They were silent for a minute, and Matt sipped his soda, recognizing the ridiculousness of the situation. He’d barely known Abby for a month and had only spoken to her maybe a dozen times before spending the day with her. Oh, and he’d kissed her. But to be feeling this anxious about her was absurd. It would be better to avoid the potential drama and slide back into his easygoing life, right? The smartest thing to do would be to laugh the whole thing off and let the contact die.

“How did it go? Are you okay?” Apparently, Matt’s mouth was not taking advice from his brain.

“Yeah.” Abby paused, and Matt heard a door open before the susurration of surf started playing background to her words. “Jason didn’t seem surprised, though he wasn’t thrilled.” Matt heard her swallowing, and envisioned the smooth motion of her throat. That led to memories of kissing her on the beach, the way she’d tilted her head back to allow him better access. After a moment, Matt realized that she had paused expectantly.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

Abby chuckled. “Tired?”

“Yeah,” he evaded.

“I said I’d like to stay low-key for a while, but I think we can get away with lunch. Can you take a few minutes tomorrow, maybe come over here?”

“Hey, for you, I can take a whole half-hour.” Matt finished his soda and tossed the can into the recycle bin. “I’m glad that it went well, Abby. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but it had to be done.”

“Oh…um…yeah.” Abby sounded surprised, then wary. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Unless you find that you have other plans.”

After awkward goodbyes, Matt dropped his phone on the counter and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, wondering where she got the idea that he’d cancel on her. He replayed the exchange in his head. Losing track of the conversation was probably the first strike. Sure, he’d been imagining Abby in his bed, but had he told her that?

Then the stupid, stiff congratulations on ending things with Jason…

He thumped the bottle on the counter.
No wonder I’m alone
, Matt thought.
I’m a moron
.

Striding into the living room, Matt grabbed his car keys out of the basket and headed for the door. Chris kept his eyes on the television screen, but a smile twitched across his lips. “Going somewhere, cuz?”

“Yep. Messed up already.”

Chris tapped his temple. “I kind of thought you would. Bottle of Riesling and a couple of glasses in the cooler by the door.”

“How—”

Chris let out a full-fledged laugh. “Never mind. Just try not to blow it again when I’m not around to save your ass. ‘It had to be done.’” He shook his head.

Matt flushed. “Give me a break. Abby’s not some random piece. She’s…” Matt couldn’t think of a word that adequately described what he thought of her. “Our time is just so damned limited.”

“Then why are you wasting it? Enjoy the time you do have, and let the rest take care of itself.”

Matt stared at him for a moment before scooping up the cooler and heading out the door. When he pulled up in front of Abby’s house, the windows were dark, but he took a chance that she was still out back. He crept around the side of the house, hoping that neither of the women living there was trigger happy. In the faint glow of the moon off the water, he could make out the chairs that Sarah and Abby lounged in while scoping the ocean. An errant breeze lifted a hank of bright hair from the back of one of the chairs and waved it gently.

Walking down the beach, Matt didn’t make any special effort to be quiet, so he was surprised when Abby didn’t look around.

“I thought you were coming over tomorrow,” she said, still looking toward the sea.

“I thought I wouldn’t wait,” Matt replied. He leaned over from behind her chair and cupped her face between his palms, gently tipping her head back so he could see her face. “How did you know it was me? It could have been anyone walking up behind you. You should be more careful.”

Abby smiled. “I knew.”

The warmth of her gaze stilled Matt’s breath. He looked away long enough to pull the other chair close and eased into it as he reached over to twine his fingers with hers. Abby squeezed gently, looking out over the water again. Tracing her profile with his eyes and admiring the soft curves of her body under the dark, silky robe she wore, he visualized how her shoulders would glow in the moonlight if the material was pushed back and off of them. If they were bare. Which his mind insisted must be the case, probably because he wanted them that way.

Abby shifted her leg to the side and linked her foot around Matt’s ankle. “So…” she began, and then let it hang in the air, a question implied but not asked.

“So.”

Abby waited when he stopped speaking, her head resting against the back of her chair.

He cleared his throat and started again. “Abby, I don’t know what I’m doing here. Not
here
here,” he added hastily as her expression started to close up. “I’m
here
because I want to be with you.” He chuckled nervously. “I feel like I’m fifteen again and at camp.”

Abby’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Me, too! I’m the queen of over-thinking things. Boring, remember?”

Matt raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Boring is nowhere near how I think of you,” he said, relaxing his head against the back of his chair.

Abby took an uneven breath and looked down at their joined hands. “This is new to me, too. New as an adult, anyway. But I want it. This.” Her eyes flashed to Matt’s face. “You. And I don’t want to over-think.”

“Enjoy the time you have, and let the rest take care of itself.” Matt repeated Chris’s advice, and Abby smiled.

“Exactly,” she said, snuggling her head against Matt’s shoulder. She inhaled deeply.

“Did you just smell me?” He laughed.

“Yep. I told you I was a sensual person. I’ll be petting you next. Just a warning.”

Matt tried to ignore the vision her words implanted in his brain. He snagged the cooler. Abby sat up, watching him uncork the wine and lift two glasses from the bag.

“Nice.”

“You like that?” Matt smiled and handed her a glass after he’d half-filled it. “My in-home relationship advisor provided this.” He poured himself some Riesling and settled back in his chair again.

“I think I need a Chris. Does he do house calls?” Abby laid her head on Matt’s shoulder again and linked her hand through his arm. Her fingers began twisting through the hair on his forearm, and he smiled. Nothing like a woman who knew herself.

He stretched his legs out and rested his cheek on her hair. “Nope. I can’t possibly spare him. How else am I going to impress you?”

“I can think of a thing or two.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, and she smiled.

“So,” she said.

“So.”

Abby tipped her glass toward Matt’s. “To beginnings?”

He clinked the edge of his glass on hers; the crystal chimed in promise.

“To beginnings.”

S
ARAH’S
B
ACK
W
AS
T
O
A
BBY
as she assembled a sandwich. She filled a cup with the caffeinated nectar of the gods and handed it to Abby. “Busy night.”

Abby leaned one hip on the counter and blew on her coffee. “Mmm hmm.”

Sarah took a large bite of her sandwich. She chewed for a minute, looking toward the door that opened to the beach. She swallowed. “Late night.”

“Yep.” Abby sipped.

“Want me to get another cup down?”

“Want some coffee?”

Sarah slammed her sandwich on the counter. “Fuck’s sake, Abby! You’re going to make me ask which guy is upstairs? Give me a hint. Will there be brownish hair or curls in the shower?”

Abby laughed and snagged a bit of Sarah’s ponytail and a lock of her own hair. “Whatever you’d call these. Sarah, there’s no one upstairs. Unless Tyler has figured out a way to shimmy up the side of the house, which I wouldn’t put past him.”

Sarah grabbed her sandwich and tore into it. She forced down a large bite, glaring at Abby. “I’m trying not to strangle you right now. Are you out of your mind? The boy toy appears and disappears—don’t even think he’s given up, by the way—and then Mr. Sexy-chuckle-that-tormented-Sarah-as-she-had-to-listen-to-it-in-her-lonely-spinster-bed shows up and stays until the ass crack of dawn…and no one is upstairs?” She kicked the cabinet next to Abby. Opening the refrigerator, she grabbed a bottle of beer and swallowed a quarter of it before slamming it down on the counter. “I hate you.”

Abby slung her arm around Sarah’s shoulders and squeezed. “What’s the matter, baby? Things with Scotty not working out? I thought you’d be over the moon to have finally snagged him.”

Sarah snorted. “Peachy, if you don’t mind wrestling an octopus from hell who gazes adoringly at his own mug in every reflective surface. And the tongue? Please. Someone needs to teach this younger generation that a little goes a long way. I feel like I need a lobster bib when we go out.” She held up a hand as Abby started to speak. “Don’t even suggest it. I’m unwilling to train up a newbie. Even the pesty child was a better kisser. My God, that’s something I never imagined saying. My mother would be so proud.” She started to chuckle, and Abby gladly joined in.

Sarah slapped Abby’s shoulder. “So, what’s the deal? Jason didn’t look happy when he left last night. Did Matt?” She took a swallow from her bottle.

Abby opened the door of the fridge and grabbed her own beer. “Yum. Great breakfast.” Sarah’s gaze was level. Abby started peeling the label from the bottle, watching her hands. “I think Jason and I are better as friends. He’s a great guy. Funny, smart, no lobster bibs necessary, but…” She shrugged.

“And Matt?”

A smile tugged at Abby’s lips. “All that, and then some.” Snuggling in the beach chairs had turned into cuddling on the couch when it had gotten too cool for her to sit out by the water in just a thin robe, and cuddling on the couch had turned into…something more. Just thinking about the creamy texture of the skin on his neck, the rasp of scruff against her shoulder, the springy-soft feel of his chest hair against her palms…Abby gulped her beer, feeling heat race through her body.

Sarah watched her with narrowed eyes. “Tell me that you did not sex it up on my aunt’s Ralph Lauren couch. Or that you had a towel under you if you did. That old bat has eyes like a hawk, and I can’t afford to replace it.”

Abby laughed and rolled her eyes. “No, we did not sex it up on your aunt’s loveseat. Do I look seventeen? I’m a comfort girl.” Sarah nodded. “Besides, it wasn’t good timing last night. Jason had just left, and it would have been…weird.” Abby remembered the sure way Matt’s hands had moved over her skin, how he seemed to know just how and where to place a palm or trace a finger to make her gasp for air. She had an instant of real regret that she hadn’t invited him upstairs. The summer wouldn’t last forever…

“Abby, do you really have time for niceness?” Abby was startled when Sarah echoed her thoughts. “Jason’s a big boy, and he’ll have to suck it up and deal.” She sighed. “Like the opinion of a man-repeller counts.”

“What about Tyler?”

“That’s not a man. That is a fetus.”

Abby snickered. “Okay, then, how about David?”

Sarah looked startled. “David? My David?” She flushed. “I mean, my boss David? What about him?”

Abby kicked her in the ankle. “Come on. I overheard you talking to him the other night.”

“We’re just friends.” Sarah stared into space. Abby had a feeling she was keeping something to herself. As much as Sarah craved real caring, she also feared it. Tyler might be her most embarrassing oops, but he wasn’t the first.

“Call David and tell him about your man problem. I dare you. See what he thinks.” Abby rummaged in the fridge and came up with a peach.

Sarah settled into a chair with one leg folded under her. “Oh, to have your problem. ‘What’s the right time to jump on the hot guy that wants me?’ It’s been so long, that if I got excited, dust would poof out.”

Abby giggled and took a bite of peach.

“You think I’m kidding. Cougar, puma…who the hell cares? If you take kissing off the table, I’d do the grocery delivery boy right now.”

“If such things existed outside
Leave It To Beaver
,” Abby pointed out.

“Touché.”

The shrill of Abby’s phone made them both jump. They wrestled over it briefly until Sarah could be sure that it wasn’t the museum calling again. When she saw that it was Matt, she handed the phone over, then flopped back in her chair and made lewd gestures until Abby hung up and sighed.

“Well, so much for lunch. Matt says that he overslept and has to work through. Do you want to go out? To the boardwalk?” Apparently, he’d had a hard time getting to sleep when he got home; Abby was glad that she’d had some effect on him, because Lord knew he affected her.

“Did you mention we might be at the boardwalk, maybe?” Sarah asked. Abby grinned. “Okay, you little floozy. Let’s go make over-aged menaces of ourselves.”

An hour later found them sprawled in the chairs of a boardwalk café while they watched tourists and locals mix in a wash of color and sound.

“He’s doable,” Sarah observed, staring at the back of a surfer who passed close by her chair.

“Nope. Men with thin lips leave me—” Abby grimaced to demonstrate her distaste. She took a bite of her delayed lunch. “So, let’s get back to the subject at hand: what do you think I should do about the museum?”

“What do you want to do, Abby? You fought like hell to get that job, I get that, but if it leaves you—” she aped Abby’s expression from moments before “—why do it?”

“Because I need to make a living!” Abby dropped her sandwich to the table, appetite gone, and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “It’s not like there’s a knight in shining armor out there just waiting to sweep me off my feet and solve all my problems.” She stretched her legs out into the sun, daring it to burn them. “All I can depend on having is a scheming intern and an incontinent cat.” She thought for a minute. “Scratch the cat—when my mother called yesterday, she said Salvador Dali was thriving with her and ‘Grandpa.’” She laid her head on the table. “It’s sobering when you realize your parents are so sure that you’ll never procreate that they’re willing to change cat diapers. At least Eric was—”

She jumped when Sarah slammed her hand on the table.

“Do not start with that again, sister. Eric was a two-year-long mistake sundae with idiot sauce. Dali is cute but replaceable. And as for Clint…if he wants the damn job so much, let him have it. You’ve told me yourself that your boss is insufferable. Honey, you haven’t even looked anywhere else—like here. You’ve made a connection with that gallery owner, right? Not to mention the connection with Wetsuit Wonder.”

Abby slipped her sunglasses back over her eyes to hide her expression. “Be realistic, Sarah. This is an—an idyll. This isn’t real life. Sexy men and beaches are summer things. Grown-ups realize that. And if we’re going to visit la-la land, I wouldn’t want Matt to take care of me.” She held up a hand to stay Sarah’s protest. “I worked too hard to get to where I am to give it up. Claire is a nice woman with a nice gallery, but she doesn’t even have a full-time staff. Umpteen years of education and experience can’t be tossed out for a summer hookup.”

“Change.”

“Work—” Abby’s sharp reply was cut off by the shrilling of her cell phone. Sarah spun it around on the table so she could see the displayed name. She grimaced. Gretchen.

She pointed at Abby’s face. “You touch that phone, and so help me God, I’ll shank you.”

“Do I need to stage an intervention, ladies?”

Abby tipped her head back and saw Jason standing behind her, his smile hopeful.

Her heart sank. Maybe Sarah had been right about him not giving up. She looked at her friend with mute pleading, willing her to restrain the smirk she knew had to be right below the surface.

Instead, Sarah gestured to an empty seat. “Nah. This is the way we’ve rolled for years—don’t worry about it. What are you up to today?”

Jason balanced his frame on the bistro chair. “Wandering around with Scotty.” He pointed at Sarah’s latest conquest, who waved without coming over. Abby wondered if Sarah would be upset. To her amusement, she just looked relieved.

“He wants me to talk about bike racing to his touring group. It might be fun—aren’t you in that?” Jason leaned his elbows on the table and focused on Sarah.

Abby let their conversation wash over her and settled into pleasant memories of the way Matt’s arms had felt around her the night before. Less pleasant was the guilt she was feeling with Jason sitting across from her. She’d never actually verbally ended a relationship before—it always seemed easier to just withdraw and let them die a natural death. Now she knew why she’d chosen the easy road: the direct route sucked. Still, as Sarah had noted earlier, the summer wouldn’t last forever, and for the first time, Abby felt an urgency to end a relationship sharply.

She realized that Jason was looking at her, a question in his eyes.

“I’m sorry—woolgathering. What was that?” she asked.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come on a ride with us today. As friends—” he held up his hands “—I promise, no expectations.”

Abby considered different answers. “Yes” wasn’t even a vague possibility, but she wasn’t sure whether she had the guts to get into a detailed “no” in public. Cowardice won out. “I’m sorry. Sarah and I already have plans to go to the movies this afternoon.” She named the latest chick flick, praying that it was playing in town. She also prayed that Sarah’s disgust with all such movies wouldn’t show on her face.

Jason shuddered. “Not my thing.” He stood. “Let me tell Scotty where I’m going, and I’ll walk you to your car.” He caressed Abby’s shoulder and strode off.

She grimaced. She’d thought that she was clear about being uninterested, but maybe she needed to be harsher. Had it been this difficult for Eric to end whatever it was they’d had? Had he been dropping hints forever, waiting for her to catch on?

“Well, that was gutless,” Sarah observed, tossing a twenty on the table for payment and tip. “Was that your version of ‘I am woman, hear me roar…oh look! Shiny things!’” She rose from her seat with a twisted grin.

“Smart ass.” Abby laughed along with Sarah as they walked onto the boardwalk. Blinded by the angle of the sun, Abby stumbled over a tilted board and squawked.

She was startled when rough hands gripped her upper arms, though she could immediately identify their owner. Abby had felt those hands run over her shoulders and up her neck just the night before.

“Imagine meeting you here,” Matt said with gentle humor, his hands clasping Abby’s arms longer than was strictly necessary to keep her upright. He slid them toward her hands as Jason returned to stand next to Sarah.

“Imagine,” Abby said dryly.

Matt smiled at Sarah and Jason. “Hello again, Jason. Thought you’d take advantage of this day off to get out of town.”

“Sticking around.” Jason’s eyes locked with suspicion on Matt’s hands as they lingered at Abby’s wrists. “I thought I had a few things to clear up today. Maybe not.”

Hoping to relieve the awkward pause, Abby said brightly, “Sarah and I were just on our way to see a chick flick. Not Jason’s kind of movie, unfortunately.” She smiled at the big man, hoping to get away without more hurt feelings.

“Nothing wrong with a little afternoon lovin’.” Matt grinned and crossed his arms across his chest. Abby wondered why that reference made Jason’s eyes snap.

He darted a look at her face. “I never said there was. I just—”

Sarah interrupted him with a snort of disgust. “—appreciate something with a little more balls and a little less shoe shopping? Me, too.” She slid her hand around his arm. “Did you see that badass bike shop, Jason?” She started down the boardwalk after sending Abby a death glare. Soon they were ambling along, talking, with Matt and Abby trailing behind.

“So what happened to work?” Abby asked.

“Oh, it’s still there,” Matt answered wryly. “But it can wait for a bit.” A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I hated being in Monterey at the same time as you were the other day and not being able to see you. I wanted to see you today, and I could. So I did.”