The Art of Appreciation (24 page)

Getting the loveseat out of the cramped hatchback when she got back to Matt’s wasn’t easy. Abby leaned as far into the back of the car as she could and prayed that her shorts weren’t crawling up her ass. Cursing, she tugged at it. “Come on, you stupid mother—” She ended on a shriek as a snagged nail popped free, and she toppled backward.

Visions of a cracked skull flashed through her mind an instant before strong hands caught her under the arms. Abby looked up and saw Jason’s deep dimples. “If I’d had a camera, I might have let you fall. Hello, YouTube,” he joked. Setting Abby on her feet, Jason easily extracted the loveseat and held it up with one hand. “Where do you want this?” Brushing off her declarations that she could handle it, he headed for the front porch. He set it at one end of the empty porch and sat down. “Got some iced tea for a hard-working man?”

After getting them both a glass and bringing a chair out from inside, Abby sat down. They chatted awkwardly about the weather, dancing around the elephant of what they’d been to each other at the beginning of the summer. Abby was a little sad that the camaraderie they’d shared since the first night in the bar seemed impossible.

Jason finished his glass of tea. “Anyway, Abby, I just came by to tell you goodbye. The gloss has sort of worn off of Santa Cruz for me.”

A sense of creeping guilt filled her. “Jason—”

He held up his hand. “I’m not finished. I also wanted to apologize for acting like a dick right after…well, you know. What happens, happens, I guess, and sometimes we don’t have a choice in what we want, right?” A slow smile spread across his face. “We did have fun for a while there, didn’t we?”

Smiling back, Abby grasped his hand. “Yes, we did.”

After squeezing her fingers, he stood. “I really did just stop to clear things up and say ’bye. I have a long way to go, and I’d like to get a start tonight.”

Abby walked him to his bike, watching as he picked up his helmet.

“Be glad you have a level head, Abby. Experience counts, I guess.” He pressed a kiss on her cheek and swung a leg over the seat. The roar of the engine would have drowned out any attempt at more goodbyes, so Abby just waved as she watched him speed away.

She put the cushion on the seat and sank down, thinking about what Jason had said.
Level head.
Abby barked a harsh laugh. Experience was breaking her heart. Leaning her head against the arm of the loveseat, she felt the first salty drop slide down her nose and drip onto the rough wicker.

“Abby? Sweetheart?”

A rough, warm hand gently brushed the hair back from her cheek. Raising her head from the thin cushion, Abby was grateful for the dimness of the deep porch and the setting sun. The fewer questions about the puffy eyes she was sure she was sporting, the better. “Time’s it?” she rasped out, swinging her feet to the cool floor as she sat up.

“A lot later than I was supposed to be home.” Matt sighed as he sat down beside her. He tugged his tie down wearily and took Abby’s hand. “Lunch turned into drinks and drinks into dinner. Claire was wheeling and dealing, and I couldn’t get her out of there.” He leaned his head back on the seat after urging Abby’s head onto his shoulder. “Swear to God, this is not what I imagined would come out of one deal for some stock statues. It’s crazy.”

“Nothing you do is stock, Matt.”

“Whatever. They’re certainly not inspired. It’s a job.” Tension rolled off Matt in waves. He glanced over at Abby and smiled. “Why am I wasting what’s left of our day on this crap? How about you? How did you spend your day?”

Genuine interest and affection showed in his eyes, even in the dimness, and that was Abby’s undoing. She hugged him tightly and tried to absorb this moment: the smell and feel and taste of him. “Nothing even remotely as good as right now. I’m so glad you’re home.”

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, drawing her face up for a lingering kiss.

Feeling a desperation born of her long day of running circles in her mind, Abby deepened the kiss, urging Matt to lie back on the seat as her fingers worked at his buttons.

Matt chuckled and complied, leaning his head back so Abby could reach under the shelf of his jaw. “I think I’ll stay away all day again if this is the welcome home I get. I love you, Abby.”

Tears rose in Abby’s eyes again, from a well that she was surprised wasn’t empty yet. She nodded and hiccupped back a sob as a hot tear trailed down her cheek.

“Hey, hey…” Matt said, shifting so he could hold her trembling form. “Not exactly the reaction I expected. I’m sorry, Pretty—I know you asked me not to—”

“Just shut up.” Abby’s voice trembled. “I love you too. I just—” She clung to him wordlessly. Matt waited, stroking her hair.

When her personal storm passed, he led her into the house and into bed. When they were settled, he curved around her, whether to reassure her or himself Abby wasn’t sure.

“What happened today?”

Abby’s first urge was to downplay her misery, but she resisted. If she couldn’t share what was on her mind, how could she ever share her heart? “I missed you. I talked to Sarah, and it just…it hit me that it’s almost time to go home.”

Matt brushed her hair out of her face. “Three months isn’t so long, right? We can do this.” His eyes were serious, and his hands shook.

“Matt, does this ever work? For anyone?”

“We’re not anyone. We’re us. Kiss me, Pretty.”

Abby complied, and then she stroked his stubble-roughened cheek. She felt him smile before he turned his head to kiss her palm. Resting their linked hands against his chest, he twined his feet with Abby’s and snuggled her head under his chin. Abby drifted off with the music of his heart soothing her ache.

M
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and let his arms rest, watching the sun begin to sink. The water around him was peaceful, a marvel in summer when surfers of all shapes and abilities swarmed the beaches he loved. The season was ending for all but the serious surfers; the tourists were going home.

He jumped when something brushed against his leg, and then laughed at himself. Hadn’t he told Abby that the local sea life would come right up to her if she was out far enough and quiet…in fact, hadn’t he promised to bring her out to see them? Matt felt a sudden twist in his chest. It wasn’t going to happen this summer. She hadn’t had the time to gain the experience she’d need to come out this far.

Damn.
I came out here to forget that
, he thought. Restlessness had built as he’d watched Abby put away groceries and listened to her chatter about her day. She’d joked about dazzling him with the last dinner she’d cook in his kitchen, and it hit him: this domestic ballet was nearly over. The feeling of being trapped by circumstance was new to him, and he dealt with it like he did most other sorrows—retreated to his element.

Lying down again, Matt started paddling at a punishingly fast rhythm, pushing his body so hard that he couldn’t think through the strain. He was so intent on getting as far out as he possibly could that he narrowly avoided a deceptively calm patch of water. He cursed himself for his inattention and thanked God that he saw it in enough time to avoid the riptide that lay beneath, waiting to whisk the unwary out to sea.

He caught the swell, letting movements that had become instinctive guide his board into but not on top of the wave. The water rose over him, creating a tube of jade green. He could hear nothing but the crash of the water and the thunder of his own heart. Time seemed suspended as he used all of his skill and strength, his years of finesse, to ride the water without letting it pull him down.

Good exhaustion and a peace that he’d been lacking lately settled on him as he walked up the beach afterward. Abby met him at the water’s edge, quiet as she took his hand and walked with him to the blanket she’d laid out. She hadn’t resisted when he’d asked if they could change dinner plans to come out here instead. He lowered himself and closed his eyes.

“That was beautiful,” Abby said. Matt chuckled, watching the tiny crimson veins in his eyelids get less vivid as the sun lowered in the sky. After a few minutes of silence, he opened one eye and looked at Pretty. She was studying him with a wistful look.

“What?” he mumbled.

Abby shoved a bag at him. “Eat.”

Matt watched the sea, content to feel the warmth of Pretty’s thigh inches from his own, and he remembered how many times he’d done this same thing all by himself.

Nudging her thigh with his knee, he got her attention. “Sorry about dinner.”

Abby licked peach juice off her fingers. “Dazzling in the kitchen was never my forte anyway.”

“Your talents lie in other directions?” Matt slid his hand from her knee to a spot high on her inner thigh. She slapped it sharply, and he laughed. “Seriously, Abby, thanks for this. I started thinking about that ‘last dinner’ thing, and…” He looked toward the water and sifted sand through his fingers, trying to sort his tangled emotions. Before this summer, people had drifted in and out of his life like the tides that measured his days and left just about as much of a mark. A warm hand entwined with his. Abby rested her head against his shoulder, and he remembered watching the sun rise over the water, his arms wrapped around her as he told her he’d never regret any of this. He smiled grimly. Who needed ocean tides to yank a guy out to sea? He’d already hit his own personal riptide months ago.

“You could never leave this.” Abby’s voice broke into his rumination.

Disengaging his hand from hers, he leaned back on his elbows, trying to gauge the seriousness of her statement. “Of course I could. This is just a place.” He thought about living in a city, as he had most of his youth, and his gaze returned to the sea.

“That was convincing.” Abby nudged his shoulder. “You’d be miserable anywhere else. Admit it.”

“‘Miserable’ is such a subjective term…” A smile twitched his lips. Lunging to the side, he grabbed her by the waist and wrestled her onto his body, regretting the wetsuit that separated them. No matter the emotional cost, he wouldn’t give up this feeling for anything. “Don’t make fun of me, missy,” he ordered, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and rubbing his scratchy chin against her. She shrieked laughter.

Grateful for the lightened mood, he snuggled her against his chest and stroked her hair. “Pretty…I have an idea. Why don’t we take tomorrow off and come back here?”

“Claire would kill us. Show, remember?”

“Fuck the show. I’d rather spend that time with you.”

Abby stopped him with her mouth against his. She adjusted her position until she straddled him. Matt held her, enjoying the moment. “Mmm…nice. But you’re not going to distract me.”

Abby sat up. “Well, damn. Losing my touch.” She grasped the zipper of his wetsuit and started pulling it down. “Sure I can’t distract you?”

Matt grabbed her hand. “I’m sure you can. But what’s up?”

She traced the shape of his cheek and the fan of lines around his eyes before she answered. “Changing our plans tomorrow…” She stared at him for a minute. “Can’t we pretend it’s a normal day, and that good night is just good night? December will feel closer.”

Pretending went against Matt’s grain, but he thought he understood what she was saying. Keeping things normal did feel more hopeful than the cocoon he craved.

“Okay,” Matt allowed. “Give me today though? This Naked Sunday has to last me awhile.”

Matt lost track of Abby almost as soon as they reached the show. Claire was waiting in the parking lot. Her huge glasses reflected the sun as she muttered into her phone. After a dismissive glance at Matt, she led Abby away to consult on issues that had already cropped up that morning.

With nothing else to do, Matt wandered the displays. Long before the show’s official opening, the area was crowded with the people he’d known for most of his adult life, some showing their talent, some exploring, but all having a good time. Street performers vied with food vendors for the space remaining between the displays, creating a carnival atmosphere that was enhanced when the show opened and bands began playing half-hour sets. Matt eventually caught sight of Abby at the edge of the bandstand, camera pointed at musicians of many shapes and sizes as one group after another took the stage. She smiled at him and waved before turning back to her duties.

Sighing, Matt tried to find Claire. He located her at the center of the roughly concentric circle of displays. “Does Abby get a break today or are you going to work her to death?”

“Death, probably.” She looked around at the happy crowd. “I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without her.”

Abby’s voice came from behind him. “Hey, surferboy. Ready for a break?”

Matt smiled and arched back in an exaggerated stretch, lacing his fingers behind his head, and groaned as his back popped from neck to ass.

“Such a show off,” Abby teased.

“The body’s what got your attention, remember?”

“Maybe…but it was the ass shake that sealed the deal. I have a weakness for smart alecks.”

“Good thing for me. I can keep smart-assyness and eat ice cream after every meal.”

“Sickening.” Matt had almost forgotten Claire was watching them until she spoke up, her voice amused. She addressed her husband as he sauntered up. “We were never like that, were we?”

He swept her into a passionate kiss, to the amusement of those watching. “Worse,” Charles said. He set Claire back on her feet. “I distinctly remember groping you on the Golden Gate while singing ‘I Melt With You’ at the top of my lungs.” He thought for a minute. “Was that the one that made the news? I think so. Grandmother still hasn’t forgiven me.” He turned to Abby. “If you’re going for food, you’d better do it quick. Didn’t you say you wanted to record Tyler’s group? They’re up next.”

“This should be deliciously horrible,” Abby said, moving away from Matt to check her camera before taking his hand. “Let’s go.”

“They’re leading off with a little ditty called ‘Riding the Cougar,’” Charles informed Abby mildly, though his eyes were shining with laughter. “Still want to record it?”

“Hell, yes,” Abby crowed, pulling Matt toward the stage. “This will be good for a lifetime of torment. Sarah’s, of course. Food can wait.”

She was still giggling when the set ended. Claiming a need to change her SD card, Abby rose on tiptoe to kiss Matt before shooing him toward Claire, who was collapsed in a shady lawn chair.

“I do think we have a success.” Claire swept her hand around her. “We should do this again next year, when you have some new things to show. I imagine we can leverage the Baker deal into big money by then. You’re set for life, kid.”

Wanting to stop her before she went any further, Matt crouched in front of her. “I want to talk to you about Baker. I want to hand over what I’ve already finished and be done.”

Claire took off her glasses and dropped them in her lap. “Matt, you can’t be serious.”

“I am. I’ve been thinking about this. I don’t want to have to wait until December to be with Abby.”

“Oh, honey.” Claire’s eyes softened as she laid a hand on his arm. “Baker will sue you, you know.”

“I know. I don’t care. The third sculpture is almost done, and as soon as it’s finished, I’m leaving. I can go and Abby can’t stay, so that’s how it has to be.” He willed his friend to understand.

“Understood. If you think she’s a woman worth giving up a bundle of money for, I support you.”

Matt rose to his feet, his heart feeling lighter than it had for days, now that the decision was spoken aloud. “Thanks for not thinking I’m crazy, Claire.”

She laughed. “Oh, I know you’re crazy. But I also know you’re not stupid.”

“Some people might disagree.” Matt smiled wryly. “Would you mind not saying anything to Abby? I want to talk to her about it first.”

Claire waved her hand. “Of course. Speaking of your muse, she’s over there with my husband.”

Matt spotted Abby sitting on the grass by Charles and idly pulling up tufts by the roots. She smiled as he approached and rose gracefully to her feet.

Enfolding her hand in his, Matt was concerned by its coolness. The evening breeze off the water often had a bite that surprised people who expected balmy weather in summertime California. He wrapped his arms around her bare shoulders. “Charles, I think we’re going to head out,” he said, glancing down at Abby to see if she agreed. She nodded.

“No problem. I’m sure this will be raging until dawn.” Charles took his hands out of his pockets to shake with Matt before holding his arms out to Abby. Matt saw him murmur something in her ear and was curious when she shook her head with a wry grin. He caught Charles’s question, “You sure?” as Abby drew back, nodding as she squeezed Charles’s hand. “I’ll tell Claire you’ve gone if I ever catch up with her again. Me and my big ideas.” With a final wave, he jammed his hands back in his pockets and wandered into the crowd.

Hands linked, Abby and Matt walked toward the parking lot. Matt tried to keep his curiosity in check, but he had to know. “What was that all about?”

Abby smiled and scuffed her toe in a pile of ever-present sand. “Charles has discovered a sudden need for a personal assistant.”

Matt laughed. “Nice one.” He let go of her hand only long enough to wrap his arm around her. “They love you, Pretty.” He dipped his head until his mouth was against the shell of her ear. “So do I.”

Abby shrugged, barely missing his chin. “Matt.”

“What?” he teased. “You don’t want to hear that I love—”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “Nope.”

“I do. Not saying it doesn’t make it go away.”

“I know,” she whispered. A veil of sadness fell into her eyes.

Wanting to get the teasing lightness back, Matt dropped her hand and started walking backward, grinning. “I love Abby Reynolds!”

“Matt!” She looked around in embarrassment and trotted toward him.

He backed up faster, shrugging and holding out his hands in a “what can you do?” gesture. “It’s out there now. Can’t take it back. At least ten people heard it. Wait, there’s another bunch—I love Abby!”

Laughter came from the small group of older women. “Those are the surf birds. They’ll tell anyone who isn’t here. I’m officially off the market now.” Matt grinned.

“You are such a dork.” Abby lunged forward, her fingers skating over the fabric of his shirt as he jumped back.

Turning, he jogged toward home, intermittently shouting his feelings as he ran, ignoring Abby’s pleas for him to be quiet and staying just out of her reach until she put on a burst of speed and caught him at the porch. Pulling her arms around his waist and holding them there with one hand, he laughed as he fumbled with the key and shoved the door open.

As he closed it behind him, he let Abby shake her arms loose and heard her plop on the couch with a huff. “Well, that was embarrassing,” she grumbled.