The Art of Appreciation (20 page)

“Matt?” Abby’s fingers were soothing on the back of his neck.

“I just…” Matt stopped speaking as he pulled his face back and his eyes met hers. He traced the curve of her cheek with the back of a forefinger. Abby smiled, and he let his fingers drift to press against the back of her neck while his thumb caressed her cheek. He leaned in for a hesitant kiss.

Five days.

Matt kept his eyes locked on Abby’s except for the brief instant when her sweater went over her head. He wanted to remember her exactly as she was at that moment, hair wild from his hands and her sweater, face flushed and lips parted.

Five days.

His gaze trailed down her body, followed by his hands. He laid her back on the bed, tracing her lower lip with his tongue before taking it into his own mouth and sucking gently. His hands caressed her skin, pebbled with gooseflesh in the cool room, and he tried to memorize each individual texture of her body. His breathing sped as he kissed her shoulders and her stomach and her thigh. “Abby,” he whispered, his voice rough and almost unrecognizable as he tossed her jeans toward the chair.

Five days.

Abby whimpered when he left her to shed his own clothes, but he was soon back. He needed to feel her hands on him, tracing the muscles in his arms and chest, traveling lower to grasp his hips and pull him tight against her, stroking the insides of his thighs and the small of his back. He needed to feel the softness of her belly against his, the grip of her calf as she drew him deep inside her. He needed to hear her indrawn breath when he drew her leg higher, kissing the inside of her knee. To hear her whispered endearments, to call her his Pretty. To feel the tension ratcheting up in his body and hear her panting his name as her heart raced along with his.

Five.

Abby’s cries of pleasure mixed with his own gasps when their mouths parted and Matt buried his face in her neck, seeking solace in her scent, the salt-taste of her skin, the feeling of the blood pumping just under the surface. He refused to lose himself this time, trying desperately to store up all the sensations against the day they’d be gone.

Days.

He failed miserably. Long before Abby’s low moan of release, even longer before his own body froze in orgasm, he was lost again, feeling rather than thinking, knowing nothing but here and now and yes. Abby stroked his hair and murmured low words of comfort and care. He needed that, too.

But most of all, he needed to fall asleep with Abby curled up warm against him and to know he would wake up and she would still be there.

Deep inhale.

Slow exhale.

A vague outline of Matt’s face appeared as the moon shone through his bedroom window. Abby traced his features, the same way she’d tried to catalog each sleeping breath and the warmth of his skin against hers since she’d awakened.

She barely restrained herself from reaching out and touching the curve of his lower lip, not willing to wake him before she had a chance to finish her study. Looking at his features objectively, Matt wasn’t perfect. His eyebrows were thick and untamed, creating a visual sign of his determination that belied his laid-back façade. Nose slightly crooked, mouth wide, jaw strong…in pieces, he was ordinary. But when his mouth stretched into a slow smile, Abby couldn’t breathe.

A tear pooled at the corner of her eye and spilled over the bridge of her nose. Moving gently, she adjusted her hand so it wetted her skin rather than Matt’s.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Abby?
she thought.
You’d think twenty years of dating would have taught you to not get attached, especially to a vacation romance.
She opened her mouth, trying to breathe in and out evenly so she wouldn’t sob. She’d been doing so well, too, enjoying each day as it came and not living in any moment but the present.

Then Matt had looked at her, those eyes that always twinkled were suddenly intense and not laughing at all. And he’d touched her, loved her, like there was no one else in the world. Now all her careful barriers lay in pieces around her feet.

Matt’s hand came up to cover hers before she had a chance to covertly wipe it on the sheet. He raised her chin. “Abby?” he asked softly, his eyes troubled. He stroked the side of her face, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“Our time’s almost over,” she whispered, her voice wobbly. “Ready to run away from the crazy lady yet?” Her arm snaked around his chest, and she clung to him.

Matt lifted her arm, and Abby had a moment of panic that he’d ask her to leave. No man like Matt remained unattached unless it was by choice.

Instead of sliding out of the bed, he moved closer. “You’re not crazy, Pretty. We’ll just have to make this the best part and worry about after summer later. If you want.”

The unsure tone of his voice caused a pang in Abby’s chest. She touched his cheek and smiled. “I want.”

Matt’s eyes scanned her face, and then he kissed her, hard and deep and hungrily, moving onto his back and bringing Abby with him until her body lay over his. She settled against him and listened to his breathing become deep and even.

A
FTER
N
EARLY
K
ILLING
H
IMSELF
roughing in the new statue, Matt was grateful when Abby appeared in the doorway of his studio he next morning. Dropping his tools on the worktable, he was across the room in four steps. He stopped her laughter with a hard press of lips that morphed into a searching kiss. She relaxed in his arms, and Matt gathered her even closer.

“I’m getting you dirty,” he murmured.

“I don’t care,” she said, smiling. “Sarah called. She got an invitation for a last bike trip, and Claire had an extra day scheduled off from art camp, so I’m yours today. I thought maybe we could surf a little?” She laughed self-consciously. “Play in the water, anyway. What do you think?”

“I can’t think of anything better,” Matt answered with a wide grin. “Let me clean up.” With a last kiss, he led her out of the studio. He stopped in his bedroom to grab a swimsuit. “I’m glad you came over last night. I’d never have slept if you hadn’t.”

Abby laughed. “You would have just worked on your sculpture. I know your methods now.”

Matt tugged a shirt over his head before he answered. “No good anymore. I tried that. I need you.”

“Abby, the human sleeping pill.” There was an undertone of sadness to her voice.

“No. I know you’re thinking about that idiot in Boston, and just…no.” He smoothed his hands up and down her arms. “I can’t lie, Abby. I do like your body. But more than that, I like you.”

“Okay,” Abby said.

“No, not okay. Really. I don’t want to miss one more minute.”

Abby’s arms locked fiercely around him. “Neither do I.” They rested that way for a moment, with Matt’s cheek pillowed on Abby’s head as it lay against his shoulder.

“We good?” Matt asked. Abby nodded.

She stepped back and smirked. “Well, if that wasn’t a trip back to junior high summer camp. All we need to do now is exchange notes with ‘Do you like me? Check yes or no’ written on them.”

Matt snorted. “You are a wicked woman, Abby Reynolds. Maybe that’s why I l…ike you.”

His slight hesitance didn’t seem to register with Abby. She ran her finger up his side, and he let go of her, laughing. “Come and give me another surfing lesson.”

After a stop at Abby’s house to grab her suit, they hit the beach. Taking Abby out into deeper water than they’d entered last time made it prudent to ride a single board. Matt smiled at her enthusiasm as she called out each wave, and he obediently got to his feet at her command, if only to have an excuse to stand close behind her.

Coming in after yet another ride, he was surprised to see Chris standing at the tide line, tossing a football from hand to hand and grinning. “Hey, cuz,” Chris said. “Two days in a row? The old ladies will go into shock.”

Abby laughed. “I’m in the mood for ice cream. There’s usually a guy over that way. Anybody else want something?”

Matt shook his head, and Chris said, “I’ll take one of whatever you’re having.” As Abby headed up the beach, the guys began tossing the football.

“I’m not really riding today, just playing with Abby.” Matt watched her walk away. “Thanks for yesterday, by the way. I needed it.”

Chris laughed. “No argument here. And you owe me another one. I cleaned up your tools and covered the new clay.” He snorted. “I’m starting to feel like a maid. You mess it; I clean it.”

“Holy shit.” Matt hadn’t thought for a minute about the sculpture he was working on in his haste to be with Abby. “Thanks again.”

Chris nodded. “So…speaking of serious…” he said, raising an eyebrow at Matt.

“Guys, remember? We don’t talk about these things.” Matt threw the ball harder than he had before.

“I claim a relative exemption,” Chris said placidly, tossing it back. “Are you just playing with Abby? She’s a nice lady. I gotta say it.”

“I know that, I promise.” Matt caught the ball and exaggeratedly crossed his heart.

“Good to know. Have you talked about after? Will there be an after?”

His cousin’s questions were hitting too close to home, probing sores that Matt wasn’t ready to tend. “Chris…” he warned.

“I’m just saying. I know it’s not my beeswax, but damn…you’re looser than I’ve ever seen you. Happier. She lives a long way away, and neither of you is getting any younger. This isn’t the time to be timid with the words.”

That stung. “That’s my business. And you’re not the one to talk about hiding and being scared. Do something with your life, then come talk to me about being timid.” He fired the ball hard, and Chris leaped up to catch it with a quiet “oof.”

He lowered the ball to his side, and they stared at each other. “You may be right, cuz. Maybe I am hiding. But at least I’m not hurting anyone else by doing it.”

A soft hand ran up Matt’s back. Abby was looking between the obviously tense men, a wrinkle between her eyebrows. “The ice cream guy wasn’t there, and it’s time to get ready for Claire’s. Everything all right?”

Chris smiled at her. “Peachy. I probably need to lay off the ice cream anyway.” He rubbed his solid middle like he was stroking a fat roll. “Don’t wait up for me, Dad. It’s all good.”

“Yeah?” Matt asked. He relaxed when Chris nodded.

“Yeah. Y’all better not be late for Claire. She’ll kill ya.” He waved and walked up the beach.

“What was that all about?” Abby asked, gathering up the cooler and folding the blanket as Matt slipped on his shirt. “And don’t say
nothing
, ’cause I’m not buying it.”

Matt sighed. “Just me being assy again. Seems to be a trend.” He flipped the blanket over his shoulder and took her hand. “Sure you don’t want to run away right now?”

“Very sure.”

Abby declined Matt’s invitation to join him in the shower, claiming that would definitely make them late. She handed him a towel when he opened the shower door, telling him about the way Tyler now avoided Sarah on the street, even when she said a pleasant hello.

Matt snorted, drying his chest and arms before toweling his head roughly. Dropping the towel to his waist, he saw Abby smiling at him in pleasure, appreciative but not coy, and he realized that he’d never been so comfortable in this position, not even during his brief marriage. Thinking back, he didn’t remember ever having a conversation with a woman while he was in the shower without a pre- or post-coital undertone. He liked it. He grinned back and flipped the towel up teasingly before going to work on his legs and feet. Abby laughed and headed to the living room to wait while he dressed.

After another stop at the cottage so Abby could change, they pulled up in front of the Eastmans’ house. “This place is huge.” Abby got out of the Jeep, taking in the brilliant white front of the sprawling manor house, anachronistic in its beach setting.

Matt walked around the car to take her hand. “Just think, this is the summer house. Charles’s family is horrified that he lives here year-round.”

The front door flew open, and Claire strolled out, holding out two drinks and smiling. “C started about a half-hour ago, so his stories should reach the level of unbearable in the time it takes you to drink these and two more.”

Abby smiled as she crested the three steps up to the sweeping, colonnaded porch. She took the proffered drink. “And what’s different if we drink these?”

Claire laughed. “Why, then he’ll just seem charming, dear.” She looped her arm through Abby’s and led her into the house.

Abby zoned in on a painting tucked in a niche in the wall. “Oh my…Claire…”

“Rather good, isn’t it?”

“That’s a Dali that I’ve never seen before! Ever.” She walked over to the painting and almost touched it with trembling fingers. “Has this ever been cataloged?”

Claire took Abby’s arm. “You’ll see many things here that are priceless, Abby, but may I ask you for a favor? Treat them like something you’d have in your home. They’re pretties, nothing more, a normal part of Charles’s life.” She snickered. “He thinks he’s just an average guy. And that’s part of why I love him.”

She opened a pair of French doors and led the way onto a covered patio so vast that it probably had the same square footage as Sarah’s aunt’s entire cottage.

“Abby, watch!” Charles called. He flipped a burger high in the air and laughed when it landed beside the enormous stainless steel grill.

Claire handed Abby another drink. “See? Incorrigible. You’ll need this.” She led Abby and Matt to a set of comfortable chaise lounges near the grill.

The conversation flowed easily over dinner as they devoured an astonishing amount of food, washing it down with glasses of iced tea and Claire’s drink concoctions. By the time Charles had a fire going to his satisfaction, they had eschewed the chairs in favor of sprawling on cushions around the fire pit. Eventually, conversation got around to the show. Matt exchanged a secret smile with Abby, wondering if her mind had jumped to later that night as quickly as his. He was startled when Claire tugged at his sleeve.

“I asked if you took Abby to that old café in Sausalito for lunch before the show. The one with the green tables and chairs? Remember the rhapsodies Kate went into over those tables?”

Abby raised an eyebrow in query, and Matt smiled at her. “Ex-wife. Very ex. Like,” he counted in his head, “eighteen years ex. Wow, almost a lifetime for your boy toy.”

Abby rolled her eyes and asked, “Artist?”

“Kate could talk about paintings for hours. She just never got around to creating one.”

Claire laughed. “That poor girl. Follows Matt out here from Philly, thinking she was ready to live like a Bohemian student. It lasted, what—eighteen months?—before she was back on a plane to Philadelphia. She was always a banker at heart. Do you ever hear from her, Matt?”

He shook his head. “She was doing something for my mother’s company and stationed in Paris the last time I heard anything, but that was probably ten years ago.”

“As I remember, she claimed she was coming back out until she met that guy, right? Long-distance romance.” Claire snorted disdainfully, then looked at Abby in the sudden silence.

“We were kids.” Matt swallowed the last of his drink. “And it was kind of a relief when she left. Not much of a romance.” He glared at Claire, and she had the good grace to look abashed.

Charles cleared his throat in the awkward silence and then asked how Claire was doing on the sales. She gave him a grateful smile.

“Well, I’ve had one back out. Baker’s pocket-monkey-yes-man. To be honest, Matt, you are very lucky that Peery has pull in that crowd. It could have gone either way.”

Matt grunted. “Did I make enough at the show to tell Baker to kiss my ass, give him his completed statues, and move on?”

Claire glared at him. “Weren’t you listening just now? Sure, you made a nice bit of cash, but Baker has influence. Call this your cushion…escape fund…whatever. He holds the big money. Finish this, and, with the Peerys’ help…well, you’ll be set up for a good, long time. Like maybe forever.” She got to her feet and extended her hand to Abby. “Let’s go get the ice cream. Mary made it just this morning, to C’s exact specifications.”

Abby looked at Matt hesitantly and then took Claire’s hand. The women headed toward the house, talking quietly.

After a few minutes of silence between the men, Charles spoke. “Pissed her off again.”

“Yep.”

“Why do you do these things?”

Matt sat up. “It’s a curse, I’m beginning to suspect. I’ve been cursed with assyness.”

“True enough,” Charles agreed. Another moment passed before it was his turn to sigh. “Do you think you can go in there and tell her to put it out, since you started all this? Ashtray breath is…” He shuddered. “I have no desire to argue with my hot wife tonight, so it’s up to you.”

Matt laughed, heaving himself to his feet and walking through the open doorway. He wandered toward the kitchen, touching a couple of his sculptures fondly and smiling at a few of Charles’s unfortunate mistakes, which were tucked into hidden niches. As he neared the kitchen doorway, he heard the telltale whir of the exhaust fan and knew Claire was using it to suck her cigarette smoke away before it could permeate the room. Hearing his own name, he paused, feeling like a creeper but unable to resist listening.

“…Worried about dealing with another of the walking wounded, boobing about how his family has screwed him up and left him unable to commit?” Claire laughed. “Nope. Not Matt at all. His dad’s a lovely guy. Moved to France a couple of years ago, following the surf, but I think he might be in Australia now. His mom—he’s told you about her, right?”

“A banker of some sort?”

Matt heard Claire hum her approval as she took a deep drag. “She’s a nice lady, too. Came down here on vacay, fell for the hot surfer, and was amazed that the feeling was mutual. She tried, I think, but they were too different. Moved back to Philly when Matt was two or three, but she brought him out here for every vacation until he was old enough to travel alone. He came to Cali for college and stayed. No big drama. They both love Matt to distraction.”

Hearing his family dynamics described so succinctly left Matt feeling conflicted. Every word Claire said was true…but was it right? It seemed to him that a lifetime of niceness, of avoiding drama, might not have been such a good thing after all, because it was leaving him paralyzed when it came deciding what to do about Abby. Not to mention in figuring out what part a surf jockey could play in her life.

He shifted to step out of the shadow, but he stopped when Claire continued. “You haven’t asked, but Kate isn’t an issue either. Like I said, she was here and gone quickly—I don’t think he found her very interesting, and she had no idea how to reach him. The split was mutual, and they were pleasant while they stayed in touch.” Matt heard her bracelet jingle tellingly against crystal. “There. Done. I swear, that man of yours is giving me lung cancer by millimeters.” She paused, and Matt heard her set the ashtray down. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you two? Something’s not right.”

Matt could hear the thread of sadness underneath Abby’s voice as she delivered Sarah’s news. “Silly to ask this stuff now, right? I’m leaving in less than a week. It’s just been on my mind…” Her voice trailed off.