CHAPTER NINE
[MESSAGES]
Tess: I need to clear my head. Want to go for a walk?
Kate: You’re not working?
Tess: The advantage of being my own boss.
Kate: Are you planning on annoying me and offering unwelcome advice on this walk?
Tess: Of course!
Kate: Fine. Mondays suck anyway.
Tess: I’ll be at your place in half an hour.
It’s one of those clear, beautiful winter days. Tess is like a child let out of her playpen. Her green eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are flushed from the cold, crisp air. She tells me she’s just emerged from a grueling stretch launching a new birthday card range.
“After sitting for so long, it feels good to get the blood flowing.” She sniffs deeply. “And fresh air. Wonderful.”
My head aches, it always does after a crying spell, but I manage a smile. Her effervescence and zest for life is catching.
“What about you?” she asks. “Any shoots scheduled?”
“I have a cereal shoot tomorrow.”
She gives a tiny hand clap. “I love insider details. Do you still use white glue instead of milk?”
I nod. “Milk makes the cereal too soggy. It ends up un-photographable.”
“Speaking of photographers, are you still working with Joel?”
“Yes.”
She shoves her hands in her pockets. “And there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”
“Nothing other than a professional working relationship.”
“Pity. I think the two of you would suit each other.”
“Why on earth would you think that?” I ask, my voice laced with irritation.
“He’s handsome and you’re gorgeous.” She throws me a sidelong glance full of admiration. “You know, I’ve always wanted to look like you, with your cheekbones and dark eyes and olive skin.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Don’t be silly.”
“I don’t think you realize how stunning you are.”
I keep quiet, because I can’t think of a suitable reply to her statement.
Tess slips her arm through mine. “Also, Joel’s not much of a talker, like you. Just think, you can spend all your time glowering at one another. It’ll be so sexy and weird.”
Despite myself, I laugh. I can always count on Tess to say something that’ll either tick me off or lift my mood.
Fifteen minutes into our walk, I glimpse the tall, familiar figure of Gideon in the distance walking his dog. Awareness of him prickles my skin.
Gideon spots us, and I realize it’s too late to change course. We’re the ship approaching the iceberg.
I know the second Tess catches sight of him, because her entire body perks up, like it’s been pumped full of helium. She’s craning her neck, trying to gain a better glimpse of him, but she looks like she’s doing some kind of interpretive dance.
I feel the small slice of panic I so often feel around my sister. My smart-mouthed sister who has no filter.
“Forget Joel,” Tess says. “Who is this fine male specimen walking toward us?”
My steps falter a little. “Why are you talking like that?”
“This hunk of a man is giving off Thor vibes and I’m totally running with it.”
“No one speaks like that.”
“Quiet, woman!” she commands.
I stifle a groan. “Stop, please, I beg you.”
Tess flashes me an impish grin. “Me, Sofia, and Kenzie are rewatching the Thor movies on our ladies’ nights.”
“And now we all have to suffer.”
“I’m sharing the love.”
“More like pain.”
“Well,” Tess demands, “do you know who this guy is?”
“Yes,” I admit reluctantly, knowing what will inevitably ensue. “That’s Gideon Walker.”
Realization sweeps across her face. “Your new neighbor?”
“Unfortunately.”
She throws me an accusing look. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“How so?”
“You said he was handsome, but you neglected to mention just how gorgeous he is.”
“Is he?” I try for indifference, but Tess sees straight through me.
“Nice try, sis. I know there’s nothing wrong with your vision.”
“It doesn’t mean we have the same taste.”
“He has a beard,” Tess says dreamily. “And not a wild and wooly one either.”
“Beards are overrated.”
“Not where it counts,” she retorts, a wicked glint in her eyes. “I’m trying to get Aaron to grow a beard, but he’s having none of it.”
“Why not?” I ask absently, still keeping a wary eye on Gideon who’s heading our way.
“He said a beard would drive him to distraction and that’s currently my role.”
I snort.
“Gideon Walker looks perfect for you,” she adds slyly.
Could she be any more obvious? She’s like a human version of Tinder. Everything about her is screaming, swipe right! swipe right!
“This is why I don’t tell you anything,” I say. “Because you react like this.”
“Wait, what are you wearing?” Her eyes land on my oversized sweater and her face falls. “What were you thinking when you opted for that size? That you might need to fit another person inside there?”
I roll my eyes. “What does it matter what I’m wearing?”
“It always matters,” she mutters. “On the positive side, at least he can borrow your sweater when you date.”
“He’s not going to ask me out on a date. And anyway, I wouldn’t say yes.”
“At least your leggings are form-fitting. They show off your legs nicely.”
Tess’s ability to filter out anything that doesn’t fit her vision is intensely annoying. My level of alarm is rising with each passing second.
“Tess, please, don’t embarrass me,” I say in a low voice. “Try to rein yourself in.”
“Sister, however I will wrong you in the future, I truly am sorry.”
“Stop with the Thor thing,” I hiss.
And then Gideon is in front of us, his dog at his side. He’s wearing jeans and a sweater that’s tight across his shoulders. It’s a casual, relaxed look, in sharp contrast to Aaron, who feels more at home in tailored suits.
I feel the impact of Gideon’s presence low in my belly. It stuns me that I’m attracted to him. It’s been years since I felt like this.
“Kate,” he says, the smile in his voice disarming me.
“Hello, Gideon.”
He flicks a glance at Tess, who’s directing a dazzling smile his way, showing off the dentistry that cost our parents a small fortune.
Gideon raises his eyebrows expectantly at me.
I let out a long-suffering sigh. “Gideon, this is my sister, Tess. I apologize in advance for anything that might come out of her mouth.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he says with a smile, shaking her hand. “That’s quite an introduction.”
“I’m quite a woman,” she responds.
An appreciative laugh rumbles out of his chest. I raise my eyes heavenward.
“Who is this handsome hound?” Tess asks, still clearly in Thor mode.
“Uno, my rescue greyhound.”
“A former racing dog?”
“Yes.”
“How old is he?”
“Four.”
Kneeling, Tess defies all reasonable safety advice when it comes to strange dogs and shoves her face right in front of Uno. “Who’s a handsome boy? You’re a handsome boy. Yes you are, you’re so handsome.”
Tess seems to have adopted a different persona, complete with a high-pitched, child-like voice. I feel mildly horrified.
Uno’s tail is wagging so hard his entire spine is undulating.
My sister, trouble-stirrer of note, looks up at me. “Isn’t he handsome, Kate?”
He’s one of the ugliest dogs I’ve ever seen with his long nose, skinny body, and mournful face. “He’s unusual looking,” I concede.
Gideon throws his head back and laughs. I get the sense he’s a man who laughs easily and often. “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”
“I’m a cat person, while Aaron, my husband, is a dog person,” Tess goes on. “I still love dogs though.”
“I’ve only ever had dogs,” Gideon says comfortably.
Don’t these two have work to do? Their attitude is so relaxed, as if they have no problem losing themselves for hours in a conversation. My mind darts to my to-do list sitting at home. No one to check those tasks off except me.
“What about you, Kate?” Gideon asks. “Are you a dog or cat person?”
I’m neither. I barely even qualify as a people person.
Before I can answer, Tess says, “My sister loves dogs. Isn’t that right, Kate?”
Honestly, she ought to have the word instigator tattooed on her forehead.
“I love that other people have them,” I say neutrally.
My response elicits an amused grin from Gideon. “Any particular reason you don’t have a dog?” he asks. His tone isn’t confrontational. Instead, he sounds curious.
I look down at Uno panting away happily and shrug. “Dogs are babies that never grow up. I mean, you raise children to be independent, to ultimately look after themselves. But with dogs you have to feed them and take care of them pretty much until they die. I don’t see the point of them so why would I subject myself to that?”
Better that Gideon knows right from the start how I feel. A man who is so obviously a dog person will want nothing to do with me, a person who is so clearly not a dog person.
Tess’s eyes are huge. She knew I’d be blunt, but the shocked look on her face says she didn’t anticipate me being brutal.
Annoyance washes through me. In the strain of this moment, I feel a stab of self-loathing. But when I’m catapulted into the memory of standing in the shower, crying, my hostility toward Gideon is greater. Why did the man have to mow my lawn? Why did he have to show a kindness that still has me unsettled?
I push away the concern that I’ve no doubt sabotaged any kind of future relations with my new neighbor. No one expects to be the villain in their own story. And yet here I am, in the alternative edition of my life.
When I finally look up at Gideon, he’s watching me with an inscrutable expression. The directness of his gaze unsettles me, as though he knows something about me no one else does. I feel raw and exposed under his gaze. And then I feel defensive.
What does he think he sees?
Tess stands, breaking up our strange staring contest. “How are you settling in, Gideon?” she asks, trying for a clumsy segue into a neutral topic.
“I’m slowly getting there, only a couple of boxes left to unpack.”
“That’s good to hear. Do you have everything you need?”
“I do, thank you.”
While Gideon’s talking to Tess, I swear his dog is inching slowly toward me. The greyhound is trying to be subtle about it, but I’m watching him out of the corner of my eye and he’s definitely moved closer in my direction.
Gideon flicks a glance at Uno, appearing to notice what his dog is doing. A ghost of a smile crosses his lips, as though the dog’s behavior confirms something. It’s odd, but I get the distinct impression Gideon is having fun .
“Everyone’s been very welcoming,” he adds.
The dubious look that passes over my sister’s face says she doubts that everyone includes me. She would be right.
“You know, Brown Oaks is known for its hospitality,” Tess says breezily.
I narrow my eyes at her. She’s up to something. Whatever it is, I’m sure it won’t be anything I’ll like. Which, I believe, is the point.
“With that in mind,” she continues, “would you like to join us for dinner this Saturday?”
I feel color rise to my cheeks. “Tess.”
“Kate.” There’s steel in the smile she directs at me. “Of course, you and Lisset can come along too. In fact, I insist.”
“Let’s not overwhelm the man,” I manage to get out.
Tess glances at Gideon. “Do you feel overwhelmed?”
“Not at all.”
My hands clench into fists at my sides. While I can be straightforward, I’m unable to say what I really feel right now, not in front of Gideon, and my meddling sister knows it.
“Thank you for the invite,” he says. “Dinner sounds great.”
Tess beams. “Great.”
After they exchange numbers, Gideon gives Uno’s leash a gentle tug. “I better get going. It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” Tess echoes.
I keep quiet.
The moment Gideon moves out of earshot, I turn on her. “Really? You invited him to dinner?”
“I had to make up for your rudeness,” she retorts. “Someone has to save you from your self-destructive tendencies.”
She’s right. It shames me a little. “You ought to come with a muzzle,” I mutter. “It’s safer for everyone.”
“Why are you so against him?”
“I’m not against him, per se. I just don’t want to get to know him.”
“Not every man is an Oliver,” Tess tells me. Her gentle tone is almost unbearable.
“No, but every man could be,” I retort. I avoid saying my ex-husband’s name to spare myself the bitter aftertaste.
“It’s been four years since your divorce,” she points out, as if I need a reminder.
“I know.” Four years. A long time. Also, not nearly long enough.
“Four sad, drought-stricken years,” she emphasizes. “And that man over there is your rain cloud. Your nimbus.” Her eyes widen. “Oh, that gives me a brilliant idea for a Valentine’s Day card.”
I rub my chest. She’s beginning to give me heartburn.
“On a lighter note,” Tess continues, trying to stop me from disappearing into my head, “they do say that dogs reflect their owners.” Her eyes track Gideon’s retreating form. “I’m starting to believe it’s true.”
“The long, mopey face,” I murmur, picturing Gideon’s greyhound. “Yes, I see it.”
Tess playfully bumps my shoulder. “That dog is an ex-racer. He’s all sleek strength. And did you see those hind-quarter muscles? Your Gideon Walker is all speed and strength.”
“You’re delusional,” I retort. “And he’s not my Gideon Walker.”
“With a man like that, I’m going to give you advice from one of Thor’s more famous lines.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
She answers anyway, as I knew she would. “Thor said, I went for the head .” Her eyes twinkle as she tilts her head toward Gideon walking away in the distance. “With a man like that, you listen to Thor. Go for the head and take him down.”