The Writer's Romance Page 5

  The night before was the perfect example of why. She tried socializing, and she got drunk, made a fool of herself, and passed out fully clothed. That’s why. But you did have fun, admit it.

  She sighed. It was true. Up until she realized she was being played for a fool, she had been having fun. The music, the dancing, the starry sky and twinkling string lights. The smell of Mitch Ford’s cologne…

  Stop.

  “Watch yourself, lady!”

  The sharp bellow broke through the peaceful melody emanating from the headphones. Katharine startled, and she pulled an earbud loose. She looked around for the source of the warning call. She didn’t have to look far. A pontoon boat loomed before her, it sunburnt occupant stared down at her with a mixture of annoyance and concern. His chubby, sunscreen streaked, ginger-haired twins blinked down at her as well.

  “Sorry, sorry.”

  Katharine had drifted close enough to push off with her hand, which she did along with her apology.

  “No problem. Say, are you the one who owns the house next to Mr. Genoma’s property? You’re the writer, right?”

  Katharine cringed internally.

  “Guilty as charged. I am she. The writer.”

  Even to her own ears, she sounded pretentious. Not like a native. Not like a normal person.

  “Ye-ahh. Uh. Right. I’m Jim. These are my boys, Joey and Jeremy. We—my wife, Janie and me— we live on the other side of you. The McNamara’s? My wife brought you a casserole when you moved in. Cookies at Christmas. Every Christmas, actually. I think your doorbell is busted, or something. You never answer your door.”

  Katharine’s face had gone pink, and she stammered, “Oh, wow. I—it must be. I, uh, it’s nice to meet you, Jim. Sorry, I, um, get really caught up in writing, so…”

  She trailed off, not really knowing what more she could add. She already looked like a total jerk. Katharine had indeed heard the ring of the doorbell each time. And each time she deliberately waited until the woman rounded the corner before opening her door wide enough to pull the tray through. A handwritten note always accompanied the plates, ‘Season’s Greetings from your neighbors, the McNamara’s! Jim, Janie, Joey, and Jeremy xo’. Or, ‘Happy Easter! From, The McNamara’s xo!’ Or… well, insert any and every holiday. Cookies, cakes, pies, you name it. Clearly, Janie McNamara liked to bake.

  Katharine had never once acknowledged the trays, or them when they waved from their minivan as they passed her by. Now, it was coming back to bite her in the rear. Jim McNamara’s sardonic expression told her he believed she was an anti-social, rude, snob of a woman who probably believed she was better than everyone else. In fact, she could easily imagine him relaying the story of this meeting.

  “Oh sure,” he’d say, “I finally met her, Miss I’m Too Important to Talk to the Peasants. She’s not all that. Skinny little bird of a thing. Couldn’t even put one sentence together. Beats me how she writes a whole book!”

  They’d all laugh and nod in agreement. Not only would she be called the mean neighbor lady, but now they’d add unintelligible snob, too. Suddenly, Katharine found herself wanting the McNamara’s to like her. Before she knew what she was doing, she called out to him.

  “Hey, I—I’m having a small get-together at my place this Saturday. Maybe you guys could join us? It’s a—an end of summer… thing.”

  What the heck are you saying? You don’t have any friends. Not one. Oh, well, surely, he’ll say they have plans already.

  “Well, that’s really nice of you. We’d love to, right boys?”

  The boys stared from Katharine to their father.

  Katharine, perhaps a little too brightly, exclaimed, “Great! That is so great! So, uh, Saturday? Um, one o’clock? See you then?”

  “Sure, sounds good. I’ll have Janie whip up one of her famous appetizers.”

  Katharine was already paddling away, back towards the safety of home. She raised a hand in a quick wave but didn’t turn back. She didn’t need to look to know they were staring at her with surprised, confused expressions. It was the exact mirror of her own face. Mentally, she went down a list of people she knew to invite.

  Nate… and well, just Nate.

  Who could she get to show up at such short notice? Maybe she could beg random strangers at Angelico’s. The bouncer there seemed to like her well enough. She could ask Tori to take the drive from New York, she supposed. Other than that, there was no one. Katharine had hardly expanded her circle past acquaintanceship with anyone. For the second time in two days, Katharine was regretting her extreme introverted ways.

  Lost in her panicked ruminations, Katharine glided up to her launch. Once there, she hopped into the chilly water and pulled the kayak out. As she back-stepped, her wet-shoe lost its grip on the packed dirt and Katharine fell hard on her bottom. Swearing, and trying to not let go of the boat, she attempted to stand. From behind her, a hand grasped her elbow and steadied her, while another grasped the kayak’s rope. She looked up over her shoulder, once again startled. It was him. Mitch Ford.

  “Are you always this off-balance, or…”

  “Or, what are you doing here? You can’t walk onto someone’s property and sneak up on them, you know. I think they call it stalking or something.”

  Katharine yanked her elbow from his grasp and promptly lost her balance again. This time, she steadied herself, blowing loose strands of hair off her forehead. Mitch smirked down at her, his eyebrow arched. The reflection of the sparkling water danced in his eyes and Katharine’s insides dipped. She hated that he made her so…unhinged. But she kind of liked it, too. Not that she’d ever admit it.

  “Actually, Katharine, I came to apologize for last night. It was all one big misunder—”

  “Oh, I think it was all perfectly clear, Mr. Ford. Now, if you’d kindly go away, I have work to do. And I’d appreciate it if you’d get back to your job, too. The sooner you people are done over there, the sooner I can get my life back to normal.”

  Mitch pulled off his hat and ran a callused hand through his hair, then put his hands on his hips.

  “You know, lady, you are a real pain in the butt. I come over here to apologize—and by the way, you could try the same—and you berate me. I don’t—”

  “Me? Apologize? For what? Believing you were a decent human being? For not wanting to have embarrassing videos of me on your stupid show? Or for thinking I had a right to live in peace and quiet on the peaceful, quiet lake house I own? You have a lot of…”

  “Oh, don’t you even say I have a lot of nerve! You have a lot of nerve! My show, by the way, has helped hundreds of people rebuild their lives. I contribute to society, sweetheart. What is it you do, again? Oh, I know, you hide in your cute little house and write teen romance books. Geez, get over yourself.”

  Katharine was so angry that if she had anything handy, she’d throw it at him. Before she could refute his pompous, erroneous claim about her books, he added,

  “And yes, you should apologize. Thanks to your dramatics, your bouncer friend threw me out of the restaurant. Literally.”

  If Katharine weren’t so livid, she’d have doubled over laughing at the image of Mitch Ford being manhandled out of Angelico’s. Well, she did laugh out loud, but it came out more like a derisive snort. They circled each other in a small arc, like boxers in a ring.

  “Serves you right,” she shrugged. “Maybe the next time you try and manipulate someone, or take advantage of them, you’ll think twice.”

  “Take advantage? Take advantage,” Mitch stepped close to Katharine, so close she could smell his undeniably sexy, outdoors scent. He brought his face close to hers, close enough that she could see the adorable scar above his right eyebrow and smell minty gum on his breath. When his lips just about touched her ear, he whispered two words.

  “You…wish.”

  Katharine’s pulse quickened at his nearness, and her body swayed slightly toward him as if on its own accord. Catching herself, she leaped back and scowled menacingly at
Mitch. She was going to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face if it was the last thing she ever did. This time she did grab the first item handy. Her oar. She swung it wide in front of her, pointing the paddle at his mid-section. Mitch jumped back, his eyes widening in surprise.

  ***

  “Are you crazy, lady?”

  “Yes, and you’re going to get this thing across your face if you don’t get off my property.”

  She jabbed it at him for emphasis and Mitch stumbled back. He wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or yank that oar from her tiny hand.

  She’s out of her mind! But man, is she cute when she’s angry.

  Mitch was so busy backing up and staring at the way the sunlight caught Katharine’s hair, that he didn’t notice the change in her expression, or hear what she said next.

  “I said, you’re walking the wrong…”

  A loud splash interrupted her. Mitch found himself waist deep in the lake, a bewildered expression on his face. For a moment, Katharine stared in shock. Then, she dropped the oar and covered her mouth with one hand. It was no use, laughter bubbled out from behind her hand. But she wasn’t the only one laughing. They both turned towards the sounds. It was coming from the bushes separating the Genoma’s yard from hers.

  There stood the entire Rebuilder crew, doubled over laughing and pointing. Sam was there, too—with his camera wedged securely between his shoulder and head, no less. He gave a huge smile and a ‘thumbs up’ signal to Mitch. Katharine’s laughter died on her lips and her eyes slanted as she looked from one to the other.

  “Are you kidding me right now? Another play for the cameras? You are unbelievable.”

  She kicked the oar out of her way and stomped back to her house, not giving Mitch a second glance.

  “Katharine, wait! I had nothing to do with that! I didn’t know they followed me, I swear. Come on.”

  It was no use. Before he could utter another word, her back door slammed loud enough to reverberate across the lake. Mitch looked around. Everyone had gone back to the work site.

  “A little help here,” he called to no one.

  EIGHT

  NOT ANOTHER SHOWDOWN

  Thursday morning arrived all too quickly for Katharine. Her sense of dread about the upcoming interview hadn’t subsided in the least. In fact, it had bloomed into full-fledged heart palpitations and hives. Thankfully, none of them were on her face, and the one on her neck was beginning to subside. She’d arrived at five a.m. at the studio where they taped the show. Though she’d seen the Connecticut Today show several times, she’d never realized it was taped in a town. She’d assumed it would’ve been in one of the more prominent cities, like Hartford or New Haven. Hmm, learn something new every day.

  A pretty but stern make-up artist named Katya brushed powder across her temples and brow. Katharine closed her eyes and tried to calm herself.

  “Hey, girl! Now, don’t you look—what’s that on your neck,” said Tori from the doorway.

  Katharine jumped, knocking the brush from Katya’s hand. It bounced off her black silk blouse before falling to the floor. A cream-colored bloom of powder burst across her top and dotted her matching black pants.

  “Tori! You scared the heck out of me!” To the make-up artist, she said, “Sorry, Katya.” Then Katharine looked down at her clothes. “Oh, no, my blouse!”

  “Is okay, I fix,” declared Katya confidently.

  “You can fix that?” Tori pointed to the large splotch of powder on Katharine’s shirt.

  “No, I not can fix this. This I fix.”

  She waved her hand in front of Katharine’s face. Then the corners of her mouth pulled down in a frown. She squinted at Katharine for a moment before nodding and shrugging. “You stay still, yes?”

  “I was still until this one scared the—”

  “Oh, now, I told you I’d come down and give you some moral support, girl. Didn’t I?”

  “No, Tori, actually, you didn’t. But thank you. I’m so nervous, I could throw up.”

  “Hey, no throwing up in our dressing room, lady! Knock, knock! Mind if I come in and say hello?”

  It was Steve Hurley himself. He was adorable on T.V., even more so in person. Katharine wasn’t good with people in general, and she was even worse with celebrity, even a local one. She supposed the only exception to the rule was Mitch Ford. But then, she wasn’t doing so well with him either, was she?

  “No, I mean, yes. Please come on. In, I mean. Please come in.”

  “Whoa, okay. Someone here is a wee bit anxious, hmm?”

  The utterly charming Steve Hurley looked from Katharine to Tori and back again. He took both of her hands in his and compelled her to look into his eyes.

  “Now, Katharine, sweetie. There is nothing to be nervous about. I promise. We are going to have a blast! Just a bunch of friends, chit-chatting about your books and Mitch Ford’s hit television show, right?”

  “Right. Wait, what?”

  Katharine looked from Steve to Tori with saucer-wide, panicky eyes.

  “Alrighty, I’m off to beautify my mug. See you out there!”

  Steve was out the door before she could ask him what he meant. She had a feeling Tori knew. “Tori? Did you know anything about this?”

  “About what?” Tori had become extremely interested in her cuticles and wouldn’t look up at Katharine.

  “About what? Um, about Mitch Ford, that’s what.”

  “Oh, that. Yes, well… funny story. You know my friend, Justin? No, wait, I suppose you wouldn’t since you never show up to any party I’ve ever invited you to. Anyhow, my friend Justin is Mitch Ford’s publicist. And he told me Mitch is working on the house next door to yours. Small world, right? So, I was like, ‘Hey Justin, why don’t you see if you could get your guy on the show with my girl, here,’ and he was like, ‘you know what, that’s a great idea, Tori,’ so, I was like—”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. What else?”

  “What, ‘what else’?”

  “I can tell you’re not telling me something, Tori. What. Else?” Katharine’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the armrests and her shoulders had bunched up almost to her ears. Katya pushed them down.

  “Okay, don’t get mad. Promise me you won’t get mad?”

  Katharine dropped her face into her hands, much to the intense irritation of Katya, who was watching and listening as if they were a tennis match. She roughly tilted Katharine’s head back up and re-powdered her. Katharine was resigned to let her paint her face like a clown at this point. Things were only about to get worse, she was sure. Something told her the whole state would be laughing at her by the end of the morning. Tori continued, her words coming out in machine gun bursts.

  “You see, when Justin called Mitch, his camera guy answered his phone. There was some kind of loud ruckus goin’ on or something. They were at a bar, I think. Anyhow, the camera guy told Justin that he was arguing with some lady who lived next door to their build, and they had some great footage of the two of them goin' at it. So, I put two and two together. Me and Justin coordinated everything, and voila, here we are!”

  Katharine was speechless. Jaw-dropped, wide-eyed, blatantly dumb-struck. If she weren’t living it, she’d have said it was the plot of a made-for-television movie. A stout woman wearing a headset poked her head in the doorway. “Five minutes till go time, Miss Evans.”

  In horror, Katharine looked down at her ruined blouse. “Tori! I can’t go out there like this. What do I do?”

  “Calm yourself, woman. Here,” Tori lifted her paisley scarf over her head and draped it over Katharine’s. “See, no one will ever know you got yourself a big ole blob of powder on you.”

  Sure, they’ll be too busy laughing at me making a fool of myself. She’d convinced herself that Mitch had brought the video of Katharine yelling like a banshee at Mitch, being sent away like a spoiled brat, then last but not least, her stumble and fall in the muddy rut. It would be the perfect revenge for him to embarrass her yet again, this
time publicly.

  “Time to head out, Miss Evans.”

  Well, this is it. My moment of doom awaits.

  “Oh, now stop acting like you’re walking the plank, girl. It’ll be over before you know it. Remember, plug The Chelsea Marin Chronicles One and Two. Hype the release date for Three and give Steve and Marla this.”

  Tori pressed a gift basket filled with Chronicles Swag. T-shirts, mugs, signed books and more.

  “I have to walk out with this? What if I trip?”

  “She can be a bit clumsy,” a deep voice called out from behind Katharine.

  Mitch Ford. Perfect.

  “Look who’s talking,” she spat out.

  “Well, hello there, handsome.” Tori, the traitor, batted her eyes at Mitch and fluffed her hair. Katharine glared at her, but it went unnoticed.

  “Hello yourself. I’m…”

  “Mitch Ford, this is Tori Brown, my publicist. Tori, Mitch Ford, stalker star of Builder.”

  “It’s Rebuilder, thank you. And you wish I stalked you. A pleasure to meet you, Tori. Justin told me to say hello if I saw you today.”

  Katharine ignored their pleasantries and cut in before Tori could respond.

  “Did you know about this yesterday?”

  Mitch smiled apologetically at Tori and turned a cool, condescending tone to Katharine.

  “Why, yes, Katharine. I did indeed know about today. I’d have told you about it, but you were busy trying to stab me with an oar if I recall correctly.”

  “You do not recall correctly,” Katharine hissed up into his face. Or at least tried to. The oversized basket was between them, the bow at the top in her way.