Beautifully Decadent (Beautifully Damaged Book 3) Page 7

  And by people I suspected he meant his girlfriend. “She offered to wash my linens. I loathe doing laundry, so rough around the edges or not, she’s okay in my book.”

  He offered a smile so slight I’d have missed it if I hadn’t been staring at his mouth. “I understand why this is taking you so long. Your work is exquisite.”

  “I’m trying to stay as close to the original as possible.”

  “Are there any photos of the house during its heyday? I’d love to see the landscaping.”

  “Nothing that has good views of the yard and unlike the house, I haven’t a clue where to start.”

  Excitement burned through me because I adored gardening and getting a chance to work some magic on this property, I’d love that. “I could help. I’d love to, actually. I love gardening, haven’t had a canvas since perfecting my mom’s yard.”

  His focus hadn’t left me, but it changed slightly. “If you have ideas, I’d like to hear them.”

  “Okay. I’ll draw some up and show you.” As much as I wanted to linger, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, so I added as I started from the room. “Creating time. I’ll stop by later with a sweet. Be honest, I need honesty.”

  “I’ll be honest.” I had just reached the door when Rafe called to me. “Hey, Avery.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I probably should have mentioned this before. My dad is being released from prison soon.”

  Shock hit me first; Rafe’s dad was in jail? Shock was quickly followed with curiosity. “Your dad is in prison?”

  “Yeah.”

  “For what?”

  “Armed robbery.”

  Alarm rippled down my spine, but so did interest since this was a first for me. Knowing someone who knew someone in prison. “How long has he been in jail?”

  He hesitated, even looked a bit uncomfortable, before saying, “Twenty-five years.”

  “Twenty-five years?” I sounded like a parrot but Jesus that was a long time.

  “A guard died, someone had to go to jail. They made an example out of him.”

  My heart twisted for the boy he had been. I knew all too well about an absentee father, but to have your father taken from you had to be tough. “How old were you when he was sent away?”

  “Nine.”

  He’d been old enough to understand and still young enough to miss out on so much. “That must have been hard on you and your mom.”

  “It was just me.”

  My heart dropped. “You had no other family?”

  “No. I ended up in Foster care.”

  Tears burned the back of my eyes thinking of a young Rafe having his world turned upside down. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say because he’d been dealt a crappy hand.

  The creases around his eyes softened a bit before he said, “He wasn’t the one to shoot the guard, in case you were wondering.”

  “It hadn’t crossed my mind that he had been, but why did he get twenty-five years?”

  “Like I said, someone had to do the time.”

  “Why not the one who actually shot the guard?”

  “The other two who did the job with him were found dead a few days later. Dad turned himself in or he likely would have...”

  “Oh my God.”

  “If you’d rather not stay here, I’ll understand.”

  “Why wouldn’t I want to stay here?”

  “He’s an ex-con, some people would have a problem with that.”

  That was nonsense; the man did his time, but before I could say as much, we were interrupted by the sound of the back door opening and closing, followed shortly after with a “Rafe, babe.” Rafe’s expression in response was a bit terrifying before he hissed so softly I almost didn’t hear him, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  His girlfriend came breezing into the living room, but she stopped short at the sight of Rafe and me. Her expression, before she wiped it, was annoyance or maybe anger.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.” She didn’t sound sorry, quite the opposite actually. And with the way she studied me, scrutinized was a better word, I had a suspicion she knew very well that Rafe had company.

  The room went quiet; the dark energy coming from Rafe was like a living being. There was clearly more going on here than I knew, but the fact that his girlfriend was oblivious to Rafe’s mood bewildered me. For my part, I couldn’t tear my eyes from him. He looked as if he wanted to commit murder, so the fact that he kept his temper in check to offer the introductions was a testament to the man’s self-control. “Melody, this is Avery. She’s renting the carriage house.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Melody.”

  Her eyes darted to me. “And you, Avery.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before I was completely forgotten. And I knew this because she moved into Rafe, her fingers curling at the waistband of his jeans. “I thought we could go to dinner tonight and after you could stay at my place. I know there’s Loki, but Avery’s here now, she can check in on him.”

  That was presumptuous of her offering my services when she literally just met me, even though I’d be delighted to have Loki for company.

  Rafe clearly was of the same mindset. “That’s fucking rude, asking for a favor when you’ve only just met Avery.”

  “It’s not a favor. She’s here, why can’t she walk across the yard and check on your dog?”

  Melody certainly wasn’t named for her personality.

  A glance at Rafe and he was as incredulous as me, but how exactly did you follow logic like that? As much as I wanted to stay, curious as to where this conversation was heading, manners dictated that I leave, so I smiled and hurried out. The screen door had barely closed when I heard Rafe’s very loud and succinct question. “What the fuck was that?”

  The oatmeal cake felt moist, the spring back was good. Once it cooled, I added the maple icing: butter, confectioner sugar, maple syrup, a touch of vanilla. It looked good, but did it taste good? Cutting into it, the cake was surprisingly light considering the oatmeal. Plating a slice, I went in search of Rafe. His delightful girlfriend had pulled down the drive not long after I exited stage left. The way the stones kicked up in her wake, she’d been in a hurry to leave. I’d love to know what Rafe said to her. Power tools had been going on and off since. Standing at the open barn door, I waited for him to finish with the cut he was making on the table saw. Sensing me, his head turned in my direction, his gaze falling to the cake.

  “Is that for me?”

  “It is.”

  He wiped his hands on his jeans as he started over to me. “New recipe?”

  “Yes. Oatmeal cake with maple icing.”

  His brow arched slightly. “Oatmeal?”

  It was so easy to read him; he didn’t think he was going to like it. The cake would no doubt be dense and heavy, an odd consistency. He eyed the cake warily.

  “I suppose I did offer to be a taster.”

  “You did.”

  Before he reached for the cake he said, “I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “No reason for you to be sorry.”

  “She was in my house, you’re my tenant, and she was rude to you. That shit is not cool.”

  He was right, it wasn’t, but he handled it. So there really wasn’t much more for me to say but “Thanks.”

  “Oatmeal cake.” He said as he took the cake, holding it like it might reach out and bite him. The ease in which the fork cut into the cake had him looking up at me through his ridiculously long lashes. “It’s very light.”

  “Not what you were expecting.”

  “No.”

  Watching as the fork slipped into his mouth, between those lips, for just a moment I wished it was me he tasted.

  “This is incredible. Have you tried it?” he asked.

  “No, not yet.”

  He lifted the fork to my mouth, the same fork that had just been in his mouth, and I had to consciously bite down on the moan. As soon as my l
ips closed over the cake, my drooling over Rafe took a backseat. The cake was light and extremely moist. The sweetness of the icing was cut by the earthiness of the cake.

  “Oh, it is good.”

  He laughed, his eyes sparkling from it; the sound was glorious. “You thought I was just being nice.”

  “I did.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought oatmeal would make a good cake, thought it’d be heavy, but it’s not at all. And the icing complements it perfectly: smooth, rich and sweet.”

  “You’re good at this.”

  “It’s not hard, knowing what tastes you like and don’t.”

  I’d like his taste; I had no doubt about that.

  Moving the conversation onto something safe, I asked, “Do you have a leash and those bags for Loki? He’s been outside the carriage house in the mornings, so I thought it’d be nice to walk him. It’d been good exercise for me too.”

  “Yeah, there’s a leash on the hook in the coat closet in the carriage house. There’s a plastic bone on the leash that has the bags. Are you sure you want to walk him? He’ll probably go about five hundred feet before dropping on his stomach.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Five.”

  “Why is he so—”

  “Lazy? I don’t know. It’s a recent development. When he was younger, I couldn’t keep him still.”

  “Well, I’ll try taking him for a walk and see what happens.”

  “If you’re up to it, that would be great. He isn’t fat, but he’s going to get so if he doesn’t move around more.”

  “We’ll go tomorrow and see how he does.” Taking the dish back from him, I added, “I never had a dog, but I always wanted one. It’ll be fun for me too. Anyway, thanks for being my guinea pig.”

  “Any time, seriously. That was unreal.”

  Stocking up on chef jackets and pants from the restaurant supply store in town, since I really did hate doing laundry, I dumped my purchases in my car and headed to Starbucks. My first day of work was in a few days and I was ready—nervous, like biting my fingernails to the quick, but I had fine-tuned my dishes and they were as good as they were going to get. Lost in thought, I didn’t see Dolly, my stepmother, until after she had noticed me. She wasn’t happy about seeing me, the scowl on her face was proof of that, but still she moved through the bodies toward me on her four-inch heels.

  “What are you doing here, Avery?”

  How hard was it to say hello? Seriously, it was a pet peeve of mine when someone didn’t greet you and considering this woman was married to my father, a simple hello was not asking too much. And then her question registered, which only pissed me off more. Accusation dripped from her words, as if she had staked her claim for all of Manhattan so my presence was in violation of some unseen boundaries. I could have answered her question, which would have moved her along and away from me quicker, but I was feeling belligerent.

  “Dolly, what a lovely surprise. How are you? You’re looking well. Manhattan clearly agrees with you.”

  I almost laughed out loud because she hadn’t been expecting that, had a retort on her tongue that she had to swallow.

  “I’m fine, but you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Are you just getting here? Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee and catch up?” I’d rather have rats eat my face, but since I knew she’d like the idea even less, I enjoyed watching the expression that rolled over her face—like a deer in the headlights, blinking her fake lashes as her brain desperately tried to understand the dynamic. Why hadn’t I thought to do this before?

  “Your father and I have dinner plans. I need to get home to get ready. Why are you so far from home?”

  “I live here now. Well, not here but close to here. I got a job, pastry chef for a restaurant right here in Manhattan.”

  “Pastry chef? For what restaurant?”

  I hadn’t expected her to congratulate me and still it annoyed me that she hadn’t offered one. And because of her rudeness, I was rude in return by hesitating in answering her. The pink that infused her cheeks as her temper simmered was a joy to see. Right when she looked about ready to shout at me, I said, “Clover. Have you heard of it?” I had no doubt she’d heard of it, she probably kept a folder of all the hot and trendy places to see and be seen and demanded visiting those places frequently. My dad would hate that, but I felt no sympathy. He’d made his bed.

  “You’re working at Clover?”

  The genuine disbelief shouldn’t have grated—I knew it was coming—and yet it still did. “Why do you sound so surprised by that?”

  “I just thought they’d want someone with a bit more…” she gestured to my overall appearance, the implication clear—a person with more style—before saying, “experience.”

  Dolly Collins, previously Dolly Tucker, prior to meeting my dad was cutting hair at the local barber. What the hell did she know about style?

  “Well, experience or not, Trace Montgomery adored my desserts. Offered me the job personally, even helped me with securing a place to live nearby.”

  She didn’t believe me; I could see that very easily from her expression. Not that I cared.

  “Really? And where are you living?”

  “Riverdale in the Bronx.”

  As far as zip codes went, mine totally kicked her zip codes ass and she knew it.

  “Riverdale? That’s an exceedingly expensive neighborhood.”

  “I know; you should see the place where I’m staying. Unbelievable. Well, this has been fun but like you said, you have to get home to dress for dinner and I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. See you later. Give Dad my love.”

  I turned my back on her and walked out, without my coffee, but the sight of her doing her impression of a guppy had my smile going from ear-to-ear.

  Whenever I was conflicted, I baked and seeing Dolly had me feeling all kinds of things, so, as soon as I returned home, I whipped up some peanut butter cookies. But not your ordinary peanut butter cookies, I added a dash of curry; the smell was divine. If they tasted half as good as they smelled, I was in for a treat. The nerve of that woman, but what was worse was my dad being oblivious to her treatment of Nat and me or uninterested. As much as I wanted a relationship with him, he was making it very hard.

  The sound of a powerful engine thankfully pulled me from my unpleasant thoughts and I walked to window to see as the sexiest black muscle car pulled into the drive—parking next to my buttercup-yellow station wagon. In the next minute, a man climbed from the car.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” My face was pressed up against the glass but honest to God, what was it with Rafe and his friends? It was like the fairy godmother that worked this area had gone overboard, hitting them a few extra times with her beauty wand. The newcomer shared a similar look with Rafe, though Rafe edged him out in my opinion. This man’s long hair was brown with hints of auburn and he too was built as if he was compiled from every woman’s wildest dream. And then Rafe appeared and it was almost too much male beauty for a mere mortal to take.

  The man studied my car; I could see the look of disgust even from my distance. And then his face turned in the direction of the carriage house, and what a face. I ducked out of sight. And then I did something completely mental, I ran to the bedroom for my binoculars, at the same time I grabbed the house phone and called Nat.

  “Hey little sis.”

  “There’s another one.”

  “What?”

  “Trace and Rafe, there’s a third. He just pulled up in some sexy, black muscle car.”

  “No way. Get a picture.”

  “That’s a little hard with the binoculars in my hand.”

  I heard the humor and the unspoken, I told you so. “You weren’t going to use them, huh?”

  “What is it with the air here?” I said, not wishing to hear Nat gloating.

  “I don’t know, but I’ll be able to put my impressive brain to the task of figuring it out if I had a picture to study.”

  “Oh m
y God, you’re ridiculous. Hold on, let me get my cell.”

  Retrieving my phone, I hunched down by the front window and managed a few shots. “I’m sending them. Looks like his car is a Charger, an old one.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus, he’s delicious. Ah damn he’s wearing a wedding ring.”

  “He is? I didn’t see that.”

  “You’re right, it’s an anomaly, all that hotness in one place. Maybe you should move here and I’ll stay there, just in case it’s not safe.”

  “I really can’t believe you operate on people’s brains when you haven’t one of your own.”

  “I’m brainless? Have you made your move on your sexy landlord? Cause I got to tell you, Avery, if it were me, I’d have tapped that repeatedly by now.”

  “I’ll repeat, since you clearly are hard of hearing, he’s seeing someone.”

  “Whatever.”

  Still hunching down at the front window, eying Rafe and the new guy through my high-powered binoculars, I nearly fell out of it when the timer for the cookies went off.

  “What the hell was that?” Nat demanded in my ear.

  “My cookies.”

  Jumping up, I ran to the kitchen, placed the binoculars on the counter, shut off the timer and pulled the trays from the oven and placed them on the cooling racks.

  “What kind of cookies?”

  “Peanut butter.”

  “Oh, I love your peanut butter cookies. I’d hop in my car, but I’ve got Mr. Daniels aneurysm in a few minutes.”

  “Be nice and maybe I’ll overnight some to you.”

  “You do love me”

  “Yeah, I love you.”

  “Send cookies and get Rafe naked and then I want details, leave nothing out.”

  I hung up on her. The knock at the door startled me, followed quickly with nerves since I knew it was Rafe and the sexy new guy. Unconsciously I glanced down at my faded jeans and burgundy sweater, a step up from the sweats I usually wore but not by much.

  With about as much enthusiasm as Loki usually demonstrated, I moved to the door and pulled it open. The force of the collective stare coming from impossibly hot men nearly had my legs going weak. Before I could say hi, Rafe’s friend inhaled, noticeably, before asking, “What is that?”