Melody Anne's Billionaire Universe: One Sweet Summer (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Love by the Numbers Book 1) (11 page)

He stalked down the hall to the back stairs.

“You’re saying you would just give up your life of comfort here for an…auto mechanic?” his father followed him, his voice raised incredulously.

Kane stopped at his door but didn’t turn around. “I’m saying exactly that. After all, you’ve told me time and time again I’m no better than a gardener.”

Carson came to a stop right behind him. “She won’t be in the show, son. I won’t allow it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have pretended I had any authority to pick the artists in the first place.”

“It wasn’t a pretense. I thought you’d do a decent job.” Carson clenched his fist.

“You mean you thought I’d do your job. The way you wanted it.” Kane’s head was pounding and there was a roaring in his ears. “But that’s never going to happen. Not now, not ever. I do things my way, Pops. Right or wrong, it’s my choice. You can believe in me, or you can keep doing things the way you always have. Either way, I’m choosing to stand by her.”

“All this over a summer fling,” his father spluttered. “This is a mistake.”

“You’re the one making a mistake. I’m leaving.” Kane slammed the door.

His heart felt like a granite boulder inside the cavern of his chest. He should’ve known his father would ruin this. How in the hell was he going to tell Anna that their love affair had just wrecked her chances for a spectacular career launch? His father wouldn’t have prodded so far into Anna’s background if it weren’t for her connection to Kane.

He could imagine how he would sound to her. A woman who’d obviously spent her life taking care of things. Broken, banged up things. Things that she polished to a mirror shine. Things that she made beautiful.

Could she do the same for him after he’d let her down so badly?

As he jammed his clothing and shoes into the same luggage that had brought him here, he was struck by just how changed he was. Before, he’d hardly put down any roots, shipping off from one city to the next to tape a series of hollow episodes about backyards around America.

He hadn’t felt a sense of home until he was lying in Anna’s arms after a day’s work at the community center. Now he’d spoiled the whole thing by tipping off his father. Kane pushed away the thought of Anna’s disappointment when she heard her beautiful sculptures wouldn’t be at The Mav.

Sure, she’d understand, but she couldn’t handle another derailment—not when Tricky Ricky had already sabotaged her once.

“Kane?” His mother knocked in her brisk but gentle manner.

“Packing.” He didn’t want to face her along with his father’s snide disappointment.

“I know. Your father told me everything.” Bev slipped inside, pressing her back against the wall as she watched him pack. “I wish you wouldn’t leave.”

“Why?” He jammed a pair of dirty work boots into the bottom of another suitcase. The producers had always wanted his boots dirty, his jeans with rips, and his shirts easy to remove.

“It’s been nice having you home.” Her arms were wrapped around herself as if she faced a gusting wind off the Sound. “Having you back to normal. I couldn’t stand that funk you were in over leaving that stupid show.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Kane ground out. “A reason that Pops is about to ruin.”

“Then do something about it.” His mother’s sharp tone shocked him.

He set down his stack of T-shirts. “What do you mean?”

“You always run when he confronts you. Did it ever occur to you that your father would respect you more if you stayed and fought for your dreams?”

“He wouldn’t.” Kane shook his head. “He just bulldozes over everyone who disagrees with him. Anyone who doesn’t measure up to his lofty expectations.”

“Perhaps.” She arched her brow, a gesture that reminded him of the look that Anna had given him on countless occasions. “Or maybe he’s just provoking you to fight for what you really want.”

He sank to the edge of his bed. “Anna needs a show, Mom. She deserves it.”

Bev shrugged. “Then get it for her.”

“He’ll never allow it.”

“Kane, you are your father’s son. More than you think. But you’re also my son. Surely you don’t believe The Maverick is the only game in town.”

“She’s slipped up before. She told me no one will take her work.”

“You’re a Maverick.” She pushed off the wall and turned to leave. “If this is what you truly want, nothing on earth will stop you.”

Except that he didn’t know who he was. He knew who he used to be and who his parents wanted him to be, but he didn’t have himself pinned down. He felt fluid, like a landscape design that just didn’t flow. He needed to modify himself, to reshape according to nature’s plan. A plan to beautify things. A plan that hopefully included Anna.

But how?

How could he get Anna’s work seen by both the general public and the most prestigious families in the area? Families with power and influence, like the Andersons, who hired Anna for their specialized art classes and sent their progeny work with her for a few weeks each summer. She was good enough to teach them art. Was she good enough to sell them her art?

Suddenly, an image of the community center flashed before his eyes. Nothing more than a scraggly lot and some scrubby grass. But it had so much potential.

Just like Anna. She was simple and beautiful and she made his world a better place for being in it. The type of woman others might overlook because she wasn’t flashy. Once he’d gotten a taste of her fire, he’d been completely lost in it. He simply couldn’t let her down.

This plan, though…this plan was better than good. It was genius. And he might be able to spare Anna the disappointment of facing his father’s blatant refusal to see reason. If he could spare her one moment of heartache, he’d do it.

He only had a few weeks before she’d return from California. His brain started calculating the wholesale cost for materials and indigenous plants that would thrive. For the first time in his life, the idea of being taken seriously as a landscape designer and as a Maverick felt damned good.

If he could fix this before Anna came back, there’d be no need for their newly-formed relationship to weather this storm. No damage to her trust in him. He was so busy yanking out graph paper and colored pencils that he never heard the sound his bedroom door closing as his mother slipped out.

Two weeks to pull off the yard makeover of the century? Even if the community center board approved his design, he wasn’t sure he could finish it. But he had to try. For himself and for her. He was Kane Maverick, damn it, and Mavericks didn’t quit.

Chapter Ten

It was good to be back in Seattle, even if the she was a few days earlier than she’d intended. California was beautiful and her cousins had been awesome. They’d gotten an awesome stash, and the parts she and Aldo had brought back would be the foundation for a new series of sculptures. She was already dreaming of the possibilities, possibilities that would hopefully include Kane.

I’m back. Where are you?
She waited a few minutes, hoping for a reply.

Nothing.

Well, she’d been anxious to get back to him. His texts had been short, but sweet, so she guessed he’d been super busy. She missed his easy smile and their late night chats. And her body was missing him as much as her heart and head.

He’d sent her a score of messages like, “
See you soon
,” “
Working hard
,” and responding to her questions about the show with heart and flower emojis. They agreed for her to meet him at her house when she got back, but maybe he was tied up at work since she was early. His calls every night were way more personal, though. Hot off the charts. She was itching to get her hands back on him.

“Hey Anna,” Aldo called out, after he unlocked the storage unit. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“What do you mean?” She’d told Kane to take the pieces he wanted for the show. Maybe he’d taken more than a few?

Aldo rolled up the door the rest of the way to reveal a nearly empty unit.

“Whoa.” She hopped off the back of the truck.

Almost every one of her sculptures was gone. The unit had housed seven, from Bo to Little Boy Blue, so she assumed Kane had taken them all to the gallery to determine the best pieces for the show, which was scheduled to open in a few hours.

“Welcome back. You knew about this, right?” Fred came around the corner and caught her in a hug.

“Ye-eahhh.” Anna scratched the back of her neck. “I’m supposed to meet Kane this evening, but maybe I can catch him setting up. You okay to handle the unloading?”

“Sure thing, Anna Banana.” Fred and Aldo hitched the loading rails to the back of the truck and rolled the dollies up the ramp. “We’ll come by later, okay?”

“Great.” She was so thankful Fred and the boys would be able to share in her triumph. They’d really stuck by her and it was almost like having her dad there, too.

Anna whistled as she sped home to shower and change. Weird that every one of her pieces was gone. Surely everything was on track or Kane would’ve called her. He’d just told her to be ready to present to the public by noon, so she slipped out of her old jeans and into the one nice dress she owned—a simple black sheath she’d worn to her high school graduation—before meeting him at The Maverick. Hopefully she could catch her man in action before the start of the ceremonies. She’d like to meet his parents, maybe.

She parked her Chevelle outside The Mav and stopped short just inside the darkened doorway. The place was like a mausoleum on crack. Heavy metal music blared through the loud speakers. It looked like someone had spray painted graffiti on a few huge canvasses and hung them on the walls as art.

Not exactly her tastes, and not what she would’ve expected from Kane, either.

“Uh, hello? Anybody here?” she called, trying to be heard over the raging rock beat. Maybe they were keeping the show a surprise until the opening? “Hellooo?”

A wine and cheese bar was set up to the side, obviously untouched, but it was only mid-afternoon. The gallery was like a ghost town, with most of the walls cleared of art, except for the few massive, modern abstracts. Is that what Kane had envisioned to go with her sculptures? Maybe he was feeling a Heavy Metal vibe, but that didn’t seem to fit with her style. A sinking feeling formed in the pit of her stomach.

This didn’t seem to be her kind of show at all.

Or Kane’s.

Suddenly, the music cut off. Footsteps sounded on the concrete floor, getting louder, like one of those creepy B-movie stalkers. Anna swallowed hard.

Carson Maverick strolled out of his back office, with an ingratiating smile. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Annabelle Thomas. Is Kane here?” Carson’s smile melted away.

Nothing. She whirled around. Not a hint of her handsome hunk. Not a glimmer of metal sculptures to be seen. “He took my pieces for the show.”

“Your…things, to be precise, are not here.” Carson Maverick strolled toward her, reeking of cigarette smoke.

She wet her lips and tasted ash. “Why?”

She already knew the answer. Kane had lobbied for her to be in the show and failed.

“We couldn’t use you.” Carson’s upper lip curled into the tiniest sneer. “Let’s say The Maverick caters to a different clientele.”

“I see.” If this had anything to do with her past…well, of course it did. What other explanation could there be? But why hadn’t Kane let her know his father didn’t accept her. Would likely never approve. Of her or her work. Maybe that’s why he’d been avoiding her.

Oh, God. Her work? What had Kane done with it?

Probably had it housed someplace safe, until he could tell her to her face that his father had refused. Yeah, she just had to believe that her faith in him wasn’t misplaced. Just as soon as she found him.

“Well, thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Maverick. I’ll—”

“I think the bigger question is why you think you have a chance with my son.” Carson folded his arms.

She didn’t particularly like Carson Maverick or the way he treated Kane. Now that she had no ties to the summer show, she didn’t have to worry about tiptoeing around him.

She flashed Carson a casual, fake smile that she knew would infuriate him. “Because we like each other.”

“Like? Is that all?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Oh yeah, he didn’t like that smile. She gave him an even wider one.

“Maybe love. I don’t know. We haven’t gotten that far yet, but you can bet we’re going to try.” There, that should teach him. She cringed at how stupid she probably sounded, then decided she didn’t care.

Carson’s expression seemed shocked and…thoughtful. Which made no sense.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She reached for her cell, not bothering to wait for Carson Maverick’s permission. She needed to find Kane and figure out what the heck was going on.

But Carson wasn’t done with her. “I don’t want you seeing my son.”

“That’s not your decision.” She tapped in a text asking Kane to meet her back at the garage, where he could explain exactly where he’d taken her work.

“Clearly his judgment is flawed.”

“That’s your opinion.” She glanced around. If the current direction of the gallery was his doing, Carson Maverick had some serious issues with judgment calls anyway. She headed for the door.

“You should’ve seen the direction Kane wanted to take this summer show.” He spread his arms, trailing after her. “It was ludicrous.”

Ludicrous was not a word she would use to describe Kane’s aesthetic vision. Ludicrous was the word she’d use to describe...Anna nearly burst out laughing. “Hold on a minute. You mean…this…is The Mav’s summer show? This?” The gallery was barren. Deserted. Unappealing. Like a punk bar minus anything that made it punk or edgy.

“Of course.” He straightened his tie, not fooling her with his polished pride for one minute.

You could’ve knocked her over with a feather. The infamous Maverick summer show was a complete dud. D-ewwwww-D, dud.

Carson’s face blanched. “Well, yes. I thought it would appeal to a younger crowd.”

“I assume you completely discarded the advice of your son who is part of that younger crowd? Because…yeah. I’d be willing to bet he had nothing to do with this display.”

Carson wet his lips nervously.

So, dear old Dad had dissed Kane’s vision and instead set up the biggest bomb in the gallery’s history. The Mav might favor classic styling, even a touch of antique dreariness, but it was never this dead...or this tasteless. People would be scratching their heads over this for years.

And she’d just find someplace else. Like Kane had. She’d pivot when people’s expectations kept her down.

Suddenly the Ferris wheel and pony ride festivals didn’t sound too shabby. At least they were honest and unpretentious. And her work was sturdy. She could handle an outdoor festival or two. Maybe she’d try them again and design her new series around smaller, more portable art.

“Good luck with your show, Mr. Maverick.” Anna shook her head. This was literally the worst collection she’d ever seen, and she was a children’s art instructor. Judging from the lack of customers browsing the show, she wasn’t the only one. “I’m going to find Kane. If you were smart, you’d whip up a darn good apology and do the same.”

She left him spluttering and stammering in the center of a dark, empty gallery.

Anna drove in an angry haze back to Thomas’ Garage. Man, Kane’s dad was a jerk. If she had to spend more than five minutes listening to Carson’s condescending tone, she’d take a blowtorch to her ear drums.

She just hoped her impression of Carson didn’t impact her relationship with Kane.

She pulled her Chevelle into her parking spot and hopped out to find Fred.

“Hey, kiddo. You look fantastic. How are things with th—”

“You gave Kane the keys to the storage unit, right? Have you seen him since?”

Fred stopped and scratched his head. “Not since you had him move the pieces over to the summer show. Why?”

“Because I’m not in the show. And Carson Maverick got rid of my stuff.”

“Got…rid?” Fred sounded like a mule had kicked him in the chest.

“They aren’t at the gallery space. Kane probably has them someplace safe, but I haven’t been able to reach him. I knew I shouldn’t have left town,” she fumed. He knew how important her work was to her. She trusted Kane to keep her pieces safe, but she really wanted to know where the heck he’d stored them. Why not just bring them back here? “Can I hang out until I get ahold of him?”

“Well, sure, Banana. It’s your place.” Fred gave her a worried look.

Anna stopped cold. Why the hell was she asking permission to hang around her own property? For the same reason she hadn’t called the bungalow her home.

She’d been so busy trying to fight for her place in the art world that she hadn’t taken her place in the real world. Not yet, not as an adult. Just like Kane, she had to step up and shoulder that responsibility.

“You’re right, Fred. About the house. This garage. All of it. This garage was Dad’s dream and you helped him build it, just like you’ve helped me with mine. And I never said thank you for holding us all together.” She threw herself into his arms. “I’m at home here. And I love you for it.”

“You were always like one of my own.” Fred’s face turned red and he mopped his brow with a dirty rag. “I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

“Sure, sure.” Anna wiped at her own misty eyes and steeled herself to track down Kane.

After a half-hour of unreturned calls and texts, she gave up.

“Fred, he’s not calling me back. I’m just going to go find him.” It was afternoon, but she’d never focus on her art, on fixing cars, on anything, until she figured out what was going on. “Did he give you any clue about locations besides The Mav?” Maybe she’d call out the National Guard or something.

“Didn’t say a word beyond thanking me for my help. But before you leave, I made these for you.” Fred shoved a stack of printed papers at her.

She glanced through them, eyes widening.

“These are advertisements for my sculptures?” Photographs of Bo, complete with the cruddy garage junk in the background, and some garishly-colored type advertising her as the “Arteest of the Century.” Fred had used about fifteen different fonts in five different colors for emphasis. Visually, the whole flyer was just a mess, and she loved him for it.

He shrugged, ducking his head. “The boys and I figured now that your name is going to get out there—or that it was, before—we should set up a little showing right here. People gotta know where they can come see the rest of your work, don’t they? We’ll load up the front with your stuff and some tables out back and maybe we could set up some cupcakes or something.”

Cupcakes and art in the junkyard.