The West Wind (10 page)

“If you could have Hero’s birthday party here. You just assumed it
would be ok,” he began.

She interrupted again. “Fine. Can we have the party here?”

Xander sighed. “I have to talk to my dad. But probably, yes.”

“Good. Are we done?”

He blinked several times, off balance. “Uh, sure,” he said
uncertainly.

“Then it’s settled. Call me after you talk to your dad.” She turned
around and left, leaving him standing half-dressed in the dim hallway. Halfway
down the hall she stopped. “Oh, one more thing, Adonis,” she said without
looking back.

Were they still calling him that? “What’s that?” he asked.

“Nice towel.”

A week later, Xander once again stood on the dock of La Hacienda
Noblé, this time with his father. Their tiny rowboat bumped gently against the
side. Jared DiBenedetto had offered to pick them up in his boat, but they had
declined. Jared didn’t really understand why, the wooden craft they used looked
like it was about to capsize at any moment. Hero watched from her window. She
could see them talking, but her mother adamantly refused to let her go down
with her father. Xander caught her eye and smiled up at her. He patted his
pocket, which contained her reply to his letter. She blew him a kiss.

“Zachariah McConnell,” Xander’s father said, shaking hands with
Jared. “You can call me Zach.”

“Jared DiBenedetto. Thanks for coming. I’ve always felt business
is better handled in person than over the phone.”

Zach nodded. He was the same kind of man. “So, Jaimie, I believe
it was, said something about having Hero’s birthday party at the Brighton
House.” Much to Zach’s amusement, Jaimie had shown up to the house again the
morning after the exchange Xander had related to him, impatient for an answer.

“Yes,” Jared said. “Normally we just rent out Hellespont for the
evening, but apparently the two of you have built your own ballroom and the
girls are convinced there’s no better place. I’m sure it has nothing to do with
your son’s presence.” He winked at Xander, who shrugged innocently, then
grinned.

“Of course,” Zach laughed. “I appreciate your being so
understanding about that little mishap. I assure you I’m working it out of his
hide.”

“It’s practically slavery,” Xander assured Jared humorously.

“No harm, no foul. We appreciated your son’s maturity about it as
well. Not many men his age are so well mannered.”

“He gets it from his mother,” Zach said with a smile that didn’t
quite reach his eyes.

Jared noticed the hint of sadness that flashed through his face
and nodded in sympathy. He changed the topic back to the business at hand.

“So this party. You’re certain that you’re comfortable with the
idea?”

“We weren’t planning to have an open house quite so soon, but we
definitely want to show the people of Vista Bay what we’ve been doing with
their historical monument.”

“You understand that you will likely have several hundred people
wandering through your home? Caterers, decorators, the DJ, guests.”

“That’s not a problem. We’re eventually planning to open the main
rooms to the public anyway. We’d like the place to be sort of like a museum,
you know.”

Jared looked thoughtful. “That’s generous of you. Perhaps another
day we could talk about how you would run that. I know some people in the area
with experience in curation and museum administration who might be able to help
you with the accuracy of it.”

“That would be great, as long as they’re willing to work with your
daughter.”

“With Hero?” Jared was confused.

“Yes. We’ve agree to let her do the interior design, with veto
privileges.”

“You truly are a generous man. Are you sure you want to entrust a
teenager with a project like that?”

“I’d trust my son, I’m willing to give your daughter a chance.”

Jared thought about it. If nothing else, it would certainly look
good on a college application or a resume. “Perhaps, then, under her mother’s
supervision, she might begin in advance of her birthday. I would have to run it
by my wife, Anna, of course.”

“Of course, I’m fine with that.” Zach shrugged. “The rooms we’ve
finished that won’t be open to the public could use some attention.”

Xander interrupted. “Dad, we should get going.” Beyond looking
longingly at Hero’s window, he had been watching the sky and for the first time
since they moved in, it was becoming grey very quickly. A light wind had picked
up and the waters of the bay were rougher than usual. Zach checked out the
conditions and nodded. Xander waved goodbye to Hero and prepared the boat.

“Sorry, Jared. I’m certain we can hammer out the details of the
party later, but you are definitely welcome to celebrate in our home. Do you
have a card so I can contact you directly?”

“Certainly,” Jared replied, pulling one of his business cards out
of his wallet and handing it over. “I look forward to discussing our mutual
interests further.”

“As do I,” Zach said as they shook hands again.

“Goodbye, Mr. DiBenedetto,” Xander said as his father boarded the
boat.

“Have a good day, Xander.” Jared replied as the two men rowed
away. As well muscled as they were from all the hands-on construction work they
did, rowing still proved an effort for them. It used different muscles than it
took to swing a hammer. Still, they seemed to be making good time as they pulled
away across the bay. Hero’s father went back up to the house.

Unsurprisingly, Hero was waiting for him as the top of the stairs.
He shook his head at her and made her wait as she followed him into the house.
Anna DiBenedetto was waiting in the living room. She wasn’t too certain she
really wanted to allow the party to take place at the Brighton House, but it
was Hero’s 18th birthday and her baby girl would only have one.

“What was decided?” she asked her husband in a haughty voice.

“Hero’s future,” Jared returned, knowing the vague answer would
drive both his wife and child crazy.

“What do you mean?” mother and daughter asked in chorus. Their
suspicious tones were almost identical and Jared laughed.

“Well, if it’s okay with you, Anna, the McConnell’s have invited
Hero to oversee the interior design of the Brighton House. Not just for the
party, either. They want her to design their living space and the restoration
that they intend to open to the public as well. Starting immediately.” Before
his wife could protest, he continued. “She will, of course, only be allowed to
be there, or anywhere else in town, under your supervision.” Privately he
thought that it might mean both his wife and daughter would spend someone
else’s money instead of his for a while. It was win-win for him.

“Absolutely not,” Xander argued as he looked at a curtain sample
Hero had picked out. The two young lovers, his father, and her mother had been
working together for a week and a half.

“I don’t see why not,” Hero replied, fingering the material. The
curtains were muted gold, a color she thought would go well with the cherry
wood trim in his room. Not to mention how they’d glow in the light of sunset.

“They’re paisley,” he stated, as if it explained everything.

“You should see them hanging. They’re beautiful,” she answered a
little absentmindedly, imagining the same curtains hanging in her own room. She
continued to run her fingers over the cloth.

“They’re still paisley. We’re not putting them in my room.”

“I thought you wanted me to choose your curtains?” Hero asked him
pointedly, letting her voice sound a little irritated.

Her mother and Zach looked up from across the room, where they
were discussing how to best acquire furniture that matched the pieces in old
photos of the Brighton House that lay on the table in front of them. Neither
Xander nor Hero noticed their audience.

“I do,” Xander began. “But I veto the gold and paisley.”

“I suppose you want boring black curtains,” Hero accused. “You’re
such a boy.”

“How about burgundy?” he asked, trying to mollify her a little.

“Not if you ever want me to go up there again,” she said. Her eyes
flashed stubbornly.

Xander fought back his frustration. He was trying to compromise
and just getting confused. “Fine. Why not?”

“I am not going to hang out in the Best Little Whorehouse in
Texas,” Hero informed him matter of factly.

“What?” Xander was startled.

Anna smirked. Zach fought down a laugh. They returned to their
conversation, planning out what Hero and Anna would be doing that day. So far
they had decided the two women would meet with a talented local carpenter to
commission a few hand crafted replicas of the original Brighton House
furniture. They had also identified a few local antique shops that might have a
few original pieces of furniture from the estate, sold when the last owner
died.

“It’s a musical. You’re not the only one who can make obscure
references,” she pointed out.

“No, I know that. I mean, I’ve heard of it. But I don’t get what
it has to do with curtains. Are you saying burgundy would make my room look
like a bordello?”

The way Hero raised her eyebrows was answer enough. Xander sighed,
and tried a different tack.

“So, what are my other options?”

“How about one of these?” she asked, showing him a few more
options she had picked out, knowing full well they were more likely. One of her
hands rested on the table and Xander happened to put his over hers as he leaned
down to look. She smiled to herself, but didn’t let him see it. Zach coughed
across the room, something that sounded suspiciously like “propriety” and
Xander sighed and took one of the samples from her with both hands. After a few
minutes of further discussion he chose a dark grey cotton velvet curtain that
she thought suited his personality as well as the decor she had in mind.

Xander was feeling pretty good about successfully maneuvering the
conversation from a burgeoning argument to a conclusion that satisfied them
both. He had to admit that Hero had pretty good taste, but the gold paisley was
simply far too girly in his estimation. Particularly in his bedroom. A grin
worked its way across his face. Working with her was almost as fun as dancing
with her, though very different. He liked that she had her own opinions, spoke
her mind clearly, but was willing to listen to reason. It seemed promising for
the future. The feeling of pride in his chest for having successfully navigated
what he considered their first fight surprised him. It made him want to kiss
her. The inability to do so under the watchful eyes of their chaperones was
irritating. A quiet growl earned him a startled look from Hero, but he
reassured her with a smile and a subtle kiss into the air. She returned the
smile and nodded toward their parents. He looked up to discover they were being
observed. Anna was tapping her lips with one finger and his dad grinned at him.

The doorbell rang. Hero immediately perked up.

“That must be the delivery guy!” she exclaimed and hurried for the
door. Anna followed her out of the room.

Xander was confused. They weren’t expecting any deliveries he knew
of. “Did someone order pizza?” he asked. Zach laughed.

“Come on, we’ll probably have to carry the pieces upstairs.”

“Carry what?” Xander asked suspiciously. It couldn’t have been the
curtains. They’d just chosen them and it’d be a silly thing to deliver.

“Your bed,” his father answered.

“Umm. . . I haven’t ordered a bed yet,” he pointed out.

“Hero picked it out for you last week. She wanted to surprise
you.”

Xander thought about making a comment about paisley curtains and
decided he could afford to be generous, since he’d won that particular
argument.

“Alright, let’s go see what she got me,” he said.

By the time they made it to the foyer, Hero and Anna were posing
with one of the boxes. On the front was a picture of the bed, a queen sized red
mahogany four poster. Hero presented the image Vanna White style while Anna’s
face looked strained. Xander wasn’t certain whether it was because she didn’t
share her daughter’s excitement or if the weight of the box was too heavy. He
took a deep breath and looked closely at the picture before he spoke. His first
impression was to say no outright, but he thought he owed her more than that
after vetoing her curtain choice. Somewhere in the back of his mind a quiet
voice wondered if he’d been set up.

“What do you think? Hero asked, her eyes twinkling merrily.

He paused, still taking in the picture. The posts, while tall,
ended in rounded spheres and didn’t have a complete frame at the top, so no
drapes hung down the sides. The headboard and footboard were thick and looked
polished to a fine finish. Though the bedding in the picture wasn’t to his
taste, that wasn’t an issue. After all, it didn’t come with the bedding.

He nodded. “Alright, you win. I like it,” he admitted. It was
true.

The magnificent smile Hero flashed him was the best part.

The next day Anna went out on her own to meet a planner for Hero’s
birthday party and left her daughter and Xander under Zach’s supervision. Zach
supervised from his work in the hallway while the two teenagers, dressed in old
clothes, were alone in the living room applying the first coat of new paint to
the walls. Plastic sheets carpeted the floor and blue masking tape protected
the natural wood of window and door frames.

They had been working for a couple of hours and dots of white
paint made tiny starfields on their skin and clothes. Xander was in old pyjama
pants and one of his quintessential tight, black tees and Hero thought he
looked somehow gorgeous and adorable all at once. She was wearing cut-off jeans
short enough that Xander whistled at her playfully every time he went back for
more paint, and a tank top. During one of these trips when she happened to be
getting paint as well, an idea came to him. He stole a quick kiss from her as
she stood from setting down the paint can. She smiled, checked to make sure no
one could see them, then took another. Xander grinned with a twinkle in his eye
and as she turned, painted a white stripe across the back of her shorts. He
quickly danced back a couple of feet.

“You ass!” Hero complained playfully.

“It is a nice one,” he laughed, leaning as if to oogle hers. “You
might want to tan a little more though, looking a little white.” He winked.

Her face fell into an unamused expression with her lips pursed to
one side. “Really?” she asked.

He grinned in response. She lunged forward and swiped her roller
across his chest, leaving a broad swatch of paint bright against the dark
cloth.

“Take that!” she exclaimed.

“I yield, I yield,” Xander said, backing up with his hands high in
the air in a gesture of submission. His brush was a much more insignificant
weapon than her paint roller. “Truce?” he asked.

“No truce,” she stated coldly, brandishing the roller at him. “But
you’re safe for the moment. I’ll get you when you least expect it.”

As the day wore on, minor wounds appeared on clothes and skin as
the surreptitious battle continued. Once Zach stuck his head in to check on
them while Hero was about to roll paint up Xander’s back. She grinned
innocently as he met her eyes. He raised one eyebrow, shook his head in
amusement, and went back to whatever he was doing. The interruption saved
Xander, as he managed to notice the exchange and escape before Hero could make
a mural of his back.

About 3 o’clock Xander finished the portion of the room he was
working on, while Hero had traded her roller for a brush and stood on a ladder
painting the bare places where the wall met the ceiling. He started to clean
up, putting the paint trays and rollers that would be used again into plastic
grocery bags for the night and sealing the lids of opened paint cans. When he
finished, he left to wash out his brush. When he came back, Hero was waiting
for him with an evil grin.

“Hey,” Xander greeted her as he came close, thinking to steal
another kiss. “Are you done?”

“Almost,” she said, her eyes glinting wickedly.

He looked at her suspiciously. “Umm, I just washed out my brush.
I’m unarmed,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she said, gloating.

She came after him, wielding fresh paint on the brush.

“Hero. . .” Xander said, his voice wary as he backed away.

“I told you I’d get my revenge when you least expected it,” she
reminded him. She attacked. The brush came high and Xander grabbed her wrist,
holding her back like someone attacked by a knife in a movie. They struggled
for a moment and her eyes grew bright with an idea, and she grabbed the
paintbrush with her left hand. Before she could make contact, his left hand
claimed that wrist and locked their arms in a wide circle that left a few feet between
them as she tried to pull free and attack.

For a moment, Xander was certain they were going to be stuck in a
stalemate. He wasn’t going to let her get him, and if he tried to wrestle the
brush from her, there was sure to be some kind of collateral damage. His arms
strained a little as he held her off. She was stronger than he expected. He
looked around desperately for anything he might use to level the playing field,
but found nothing. He had done too good of a job cleaning up. It was not
something he had ever expected to regret. Seconds passed as Hero tried to
wrestle herself free, determined to finish what Xander had started. Suddenly,
his eyes widened as he had an epiphany. Wet paint wasn’t in short supply. Not
at all.

Xander’s eyes glinted and his grip on her wrists tightened gently,
changing from just enough pressure to protect himself to a firm intent to take
control. Hero scanned his face, trying to figure out what had changed. When he
started to push her backward, it dawned on her.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Hero protested loudly, resisting as hard as
she could without much success. Slowly but surely he backed her closer and
closer to the wall. Hero struggled. Xander was too strong, which she found
irritating and attractive at the same time.

“Please,” she begged one more time, inches away from leaving her
silhouette in the fresh paint.

Xander shook his head with a playful, but evil, grin, and pressed
every inch of her he could into the wall, trapping her there with his weight.
Hero squealed and squirmed. Her wrists were still locked in his hands and
starting to get raw where she had twisted as they wrestled. She bucked against
him in frustration and mild anger. The thought briefly crossed her mind that it
was strange that she was so angry and enjoying herself so much at the same
time, but she shrugged it off. So be it. She struggled again, and then his
mouth was on hers, hot and hard out of nowhere and she melted against the wall,
paint momentarily forgotten.

It was the kiss she had been waiting for all this time, and from
the hunger and passion of his lips against hers, he felt the same way. She sank
into it as though into the waves that had lapped against her when they kissed
for the first time. It seemed like ages ago. She parted her lips to open up to
him.

A cough interrupted them from the doorway. They separated quickly
to find Zach leaning against the door frame.

“Your mom just pulled up,” Zach told Hero. “Propriety,” he told
his son.

“Thank you,” Hero said, embarrassed to be caught and witnessed.