Melody Anne's Billionaire Universe: One Sweet Summer (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Love by the Numbers Book 1) (5 page)

Chapter Four

He needed to stop thinking about her.

Kane flicked on the television for white noise and went to pour another cup of coffee.

After he’d agreed to trade his grunt labor for Anna’s skilled craftsmanship, he’d parked his car in the back of her salvage garage and covered it with a drop cloth to protect it from dust and prying eyes. She’d helped him fill out his volunteer application online, leaning over his shoulder with her hair smelling pleasantly of gasoline and girl. Then she’d brushed her hands together and kicked him out of her garage claiming she needed to get some work done on her sculpture. He’d caught the city bus, then the ferry back to Bainbridge Island, until Matt and Nate could swing by and drop him at home.

“Dude, we’re pub crawling tonight. You in?” Nate asked.

“Nah. Too much to do.”

“You’re becoming your old man, bro.” Matt pulled a face as Kane slid out of the passenger seat. “Later.”

Kane watched as they sped off. Somehow between meeting Anna and being responsible for the summer show, he just didn’t have the heart for bar-hopping.

Now, here he was, skimming through show applicants and trying to pin down the precise color of her eyes. Kane rubbed his chin and stretched. He needed to get a grip, but somehow she’d invaded his thoughts like a dandelion poking through cracks in the concrete.

He clicked over to his mailbox to find his community center volunteer approval email came through, so it looked like things were a go.

I’m in. See you on Monday?
he texted her, looking forward to seeing her next week. Maybe he’d spend his weekend swapping out some annuals in the flower beds near the mailbox. His mom could never have too many marigolds.

His phone buzzed when her text message came through.

Just took the bumper off. Looks more involved than I thought. Probably take a week. That cool with you?

A whole week? The thought of telling his father about the accident and destroying their uneasy truce was unbearable. Kane’s gut twisted.

Anna’s social media profile pic was one of her sculptures, Little Miss Muffet. Kane smiled. He couldn’t imagine that firecracker afraid of anything as mundane as a spider. And as long as she could fix the damage and return the vehicle, he didn’t mind the time he’d spend with her in the summer camp, but still he felt guilty not coming clean to his father.

After he’d made things right, he promised himself, he’d confess everything.

He was just about to punch in a reply when his father strolled into the kitchen wearing his favorite weekend golfing shirt and said in a deceptively calm voice, “The Ferrari’s missing from the garage.”

Kane almost choked on his Seattle’s Best. He tucked his cell into his back pocket. “I drove it yesterday, so getting it detailed.” He wasn’t forbidden from driving any of the family vehicles, precisely, but that wouldn’t stop his father from pitching a fit if he knew about the Ferrari.

“Good. Nice to see you taking care of things.” Ugh, Pops actually sounded pleased.

“Thanks.”

His father selected a Clementine from the fruit basket and started peeling the skin with excruciatingly slow gestures—almost as if he could peel Kane’s skin and see behind his white lie. “Plans for tomorrow? I was hoping we could review some of the show applications.”

“Actually, I haven’t finished going through all the applications yet. And I’ll be working at the community center.” Kane swallowed the last dregs of his guilt along with his coffee and set the mug in the dishwasher.

“You? At the community center?” His father frowned. “For how long?”

“Couple weeks, maybe. Volunteering to assist with some summer art classes. I do have that fancy degree, after all.”

His father’s frown deepened. “Volunteering? You couldn’t find a paying position?”

“Don’t be such a grump, Carson.” His mother sailed into the kitchen smelling like Chanel. “It’s nice to see Kane taking an active interest in the community.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’m helping out a friend.” Kane grabbed a bottle of iced tea. He hadn’t thought of it as a charitable gesture when he’d agreed to help Anna, but if that was what his parents assumed, that was fine by him.

“That’s nice, dear.” She turned to address her husband. “Isn’t that
nice
, Carson?”

“I suppose. Besides, it will give me something to talk about at tonight’s dinner with the junior executives.” Carson eyed him.

Oh, goodie. He could be a topic of conversation over dinner. There was the Maverick self-serving nature rearing its ugly head. His father had never understood his personal decisions, his motivations; he was blinded by his own expectations for him. And he expected so much from him. Things Kane couldn’t give. Things he didn’t want to give, like stuffing himself into a suit at a job where he didn’t respect himself. Things he’d promised himself when he quit the show that he’d never cave into again.

Here he was falling right back into the same pattern. Pops gave orders; Mom gave suggestions. All under the guise of trying to help. Just like the producers, but worse, because they were his parents. They should’ve known him better.

“Don’t worry, Pops. I’ve got things underway for the gallery.” His father made a harrumphing noise as Kane headed toward the back stairs.

And he did. In between replanting annuals and manicuring the back lawn, he spent the rest of the weekend in his room checking over details and sorting applications so he would have time to spend with Anna and her summer campers. It wasn’t a hardship; the guest wing of the house was nicer than most luxury hotels. He even spread the slides over his carved walnut desk—the kind that businessmen like his father bought to feel important. Well, both things Kane was working on
were
important. His chance to take The Mav into the new decade and his chance to impress Anna.

The hours he’d spent doubled over the art show applications only underscored the fact that he wanted her. Wanted her work, that is. She was so far ahead of the competition, he was surprised that neither he nor his father had ever come across her before.

Exactly what rock had Annabelle Thomas been hiding under?

Kane punched her name into an internet search, hoping he’d find some information about her. A bio, perhaps. A previous show. Maybe he’d find a photo of her with a past boyfriend or something.

“Kane, honey?” His mother’s knock on the door interrupted him. “I know you’re working but would you mind running to the store? We’re out of fingerling potatoes.”

He sighed. Since when were carbs back on the menu? Oh well, maybe checking into Anna wasn’t the best idea. Her past didn’t matter. Only her art—and her ability to fix his father’s Ferrari.

“Sure, Mom. No problem.”

He shut down his computer and headed to the farmer’s market closest to the outdoor hardware store where he could pick up a work apron. If he was going to play her sidekick at the community center, he needed better armor. Crafting with children could be messy business.

***

“You made it.” Anna seemed surprised.

“I said I would.” She just needed time to get to know him. He nudged the door of his truck closed with his hip and handed her a to-go coffee.

“Thanks.” She was wearing jean shorts so worn and faded around the seat they were nearly white. Her bright green camp T-shirt highlighted her eyes, and barely showed off her curves, yet made his mouth water.

They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.

“You can set things up over there.” She edged away from him and started greeting the campers as they arrived.

He donned his newly-purchased work apron, loaded up the paint tubs with the proper colors, and filled the water jars. Anna returned to his side, her face a study of approval.

“Good job.” She’d come out of her skeptical shell, like a flower emerging at dawn. That was excellent, because he had every intention of breaking through her defenses. Something in him yearned to see the real Annabelle Thomas.

To start, she’d laid out the ground rules to the campers. In the time remaining, she’d herded them outside into the barren field next to the community center and shown some of the older girls how to tie-dye shirts using rubber bands, while Kane had taken some younger ones aside to splatter paint a la Jackson Pollock.

He liked how her project plans were all takes on famous artists—she did more than just fill time, she gave her students a true arts experience. Whatever she’d learned in the classes at The Art Institute seemed to more than equal his four-year degree.

They worked side-by-side for a few hours. Hours he spent with his admiration for her growing. At last, the clock and his stomach reminded him that it was almost time for lunch.

“I think that’s it for the morning session.” He plunked the last of the paintbrushes into a plastic jar of water.

“Yeah, it’s noon. Good thing, cuz I’m starving.” Anna brushed twigs and grass from her jean shorts. Her long, muscular legs had grass marks imprinted on the backs of her calves.

One of these days, he’d see her out of denim.

Maybe in a sleek black gown at the art show.

Maybe in nothing at all.

A guy could dream.

“We sure worked up an appetite.” Managing twenty children between the ages of five and nine hadn’t been easy. Though she could certainly handle them, he was glad he’d agreed to help her.

“I have to admit, you were better than I’d expected.” She moved toward the bucket of lunches stored in the shade of the overhang.

Her praise made him feel warm inside. “Thanks. I enjoyed this.”

“This had to be a far cry from working on your own TV show.”

“Not really.” The media made him out to be a spoiled prima donna, demanding more money and perks than the show could afford, but that wasn’t exactly the whole story. Hence his departure when he contract was up for renewal.

“Oh? So why did you quit?” Her brow arched over those indescribably beautiful eyes.

“My contract was up. I chose not to sign.” He kicked at a clump of grass. “Not exactly quitting.”

“That’s not what the papers said.”

“They don’t always report the truth. Look at the recent political articles.”

“I see.” Her cheeks flushed. “Well, this suits you.”

“What does?” he asked.

“Being here. Outside.”
With me.
The unspoken ending practically hung in the air between them. Kane swallowed hard.

“Hey, Anna, do y—” His phone buzzed. Kane smiled apologetically and checked it.

Just Nate texting in wanting to know if he was down for partying later. Kane glanced at Anna observing the campers cavorting in the scrubby grass and tapped in
nah, pass.

He stuffed his phone in his pocket and joined her in watching a group of kids playing tag near the picnic table. They were racing around like crazy, letting off some steam before an afternoon indoors. “I could get used to this.”

“You’re a big kid.” Anna snorted, a cute sound that tickled his ears. “The kids are having a blast with you.”

And there wasn’t a hint of anyone poking fun or acting like he was useless eye candy. Being here felt good. Being with Anna felt even better.

“How about you?” he asked.

She avoiding looking at him. One corner of her mouth curved as she surveyed the outdoor classroom space they’d set up for today’s project. Parts of the concrete looked like it had been tie-dyed where they’d been a bit exuberant with their splatters.

“Hopefully the community center staff won’t mind a little paint on the pavement.” She brushed her palms together and sighed.

“Tempera is water-soluble. Any residue will wash away in the next rain. The paintings will dry while we have lunch.” He stacked small plastic cups with tempera paint inside a large white tub and carried it to the back entrance to the center to be washed and reused.

“You’re good at this, Kane. Really good.” She hefted the bucket of lunch bags. “Maybe you should consider this for your next career move.”

“Nah, not without the right inspiration.” He gave her a meaningful look. “I don’t see this as a long-term career.” But her…yeah, she was someone he could definitely get used to being around 24-7.