Mixed Match Page 7

  She did a little bounce, and he thought she might actually break into a skip. "Actually, you're in luck. I happen to know the difference." She gave a smug nod, evidently pleased to be one of the abnormal people who knew the sex of a vegetable.

  Or is it a gender? Is it a fruit?

  "And...despite this being my first time sampling this lovely Portland tradition, I happen to remember a booth with a great selection of both. This way, kind sir." Then she did a sort of skip-hop, stepping in front of him.

  "After you, madame."

  One aisle over and three booths down, the two of them were gaping at crate after crate of green bell peppers. Sophia picked up a couple of them, seemingly at random, and then turned them upside down and pointed out the number of bumps on the bottoms. She explained the female peppers were the ones with four bumps and were seedy, sweet, and better to be eaten raw, while the three-bump ones were male and tended to work best for cooking.

  Everett was officially mind-blown. She might as well have just told him the earth was flat after all. "Get the fuck out of here. You're kidding, right?"

  "Nope."

  "Why do you know this?" He laughed. "No, seriously. I need to know why."

  Sophia doubled over in stitches, but when she righted herself, Everett's stare did not waver. She smirked and lowered her chin in a coy, faux-humble move. "Did I mention I’m a renowned chef?" She promptly corrected herself. "Well, not renowned, but I can hold my own in the kitchen."

  "Sounds like more than a dream in there somewhere, Sophia Kent. What the heck are you doing in Portland, then? You could be somewhere like New York or LA with your own restaurant. You could've stayed in Vegas at some five-star restaurant in a Strip hotel."

  It surprised him. He didn't know what her food tasted like, but he didn't doubt her statement. And now, even more than before, he needed to know why she was here.

  Why Portland?

  "Honestly?" she asked, and he nodded, genuinely needing to know the answer. "There's a part of me in the house I can't let go of."

  Everett paused for a moment to pay for the bell peppers before turning to her.

  "I saw the boxes through the windows. How can you already have ties when you just moved in? And who would want to...steal the house from you?" The words wounded him to even say aloud, but the urge to ask overtook him. He needed to know what she knew. What or who was her tie beyond Austin Harman? And what part of her was in Patton Place that she couldn't walk away from?

  "It's complicated," she muttered. The crease between her brows deepened, and Everett couldn't help but notice the easy innocence drained from her face.

  "And this hotshot lawyer your cousin mentioned? Has he made any progress?" Even asking the question felt dirty and underhanded. If she wasn't loyal to the Harmans, Sophia was at an unfair disadvantage. More and more, he was learning exactly who she was, but she still hadn’t figured out she was confiding in her own enemy.

  "We'll see. I meet with him again tomorrow." Her voice was solemn, laden with worry. Almost as if the gods knew there weren't many more good places this conversation could go, the sky opened up and rain poured down onto the canopies, funneling water over them. Sophia dug into one of the bags Everett was holding for her and got out an umbrella. "Can't be too prepared. Want to come under?"

  "Can I give you a ride home?" Please say yes.

  She smiled with a resigned pucker of her lips. "If you don't mind."

  "Not at all. My truck’s not too far from here." Everett ducked under the cover of her umbrella, trying not to think about how good it felt to be so close to her. He led the way toward Park Ave as they shuffled through the crowd. "Do you like basketball?"

  Sophia gave him an incredulous look, though apparently grateful to have an end to the thick silence. "You may or may not believe it, but I'm a Lakers fan. It's been hard since Kobe left, but I still have faith."

  She quickened her pace to match Everett's stride. "I'm waiting for the pendulum swing. They always come back every few years."

  "If you want to save your stew for another night, maybe you'll want to join me for the game tonight. The Trailblazers are no Lakers, thankfully." He grinned, picking up the pace again. Her bags weren't getting any lighter. But when Sophia still didn't agree, he threw in the kicker. "My sister, Zora, and my friend Mike will be there, too."

  She stopped mid-stride and asked, “The fiddlehead fern sister?”

  Everett met her wide, magical eyes. "One and the same."

  "Oh, yes. Count me in."

  After dropping Sophia off, Everett went straight back to his place. He was home less than ten minutes before Zora was all over him like white on rice. She scrutinized his every move as he took the groceries out of the bags, then proceeded to take over, as if he wasn't doing it fast enough or up to her standards. Then Mike not-so-discreetly offered to help her...which in and of itself was suspicious.

  From the moment he walked in the door, he'd caught the side-eye stares and hushed whispers between them. Now all of a sudden they're the awesome twosome? No way. Neither of them could do subtlety if it killed them.

  "What's going on with you two?” Everett lifted his brows at Zora and Mike.

  "Seriously Ev, I don't think the dentist has ever seen this much of your gums, and you're asking us what's going on?"

  The ride to Patton Place couldn’t have taken more than fifteen minutes, but it felt like a lifetime with Sophia only inches away from him. Aside from talk about the weather and Blue, they mostly drove in a comfortable silence save for the low hum of the radio. The whole time it was all he could do not crawl his fingers across the seat and entangle them with hers.

  Everett could feel himself still grinning now, but at Zo’s question, he cleared his throat and knitted his brows together. "What are you talking about?"

  A rogue bell pepper fell out of the bag and Blue, who was splayed out on the floor. wagged his tail, leaping to his feet to sniff it. Everett swiped it from beneath his buddy's wet nose. "You don't want this." He mussed his chocolate brown fur baby. Unable to resist those big, sad eyes, he got out one of the gourmet dog cookies he bought at the farmer’s market and bent down to give it to him.

  Remembering his train of thought, he turned the spotlight on them. "I could ask you guys the same thing." Just the idea of Mike and his sister together was unsettling. For one, Mike was a player, and two, if they teamed up against him, game night or otherwise, he'd be the odd man out. But both of them could do worse. Even Babs had known there was something between them since they were kids.

  As Everett stood and replaced the green pepper on the counter, he bit back a laugh. He prayed he wouldn't think of Sophia every time he came across a four-bump bell pepper.

  "Mike? Since when are you Mr. Helpful in the kitchen?" He looked back and forth between his friend and his sister. "And Zo? You don't have any demands, no wisecracks about what I picked up at the farmer’s market? There's always something. I've just been hanging here twiddling my thumbs, waiting for the other shoe to drop."

  Why am I being so defensive?

  Even as he said it, guilt bubbled up inside him. He was deflecting and he knew it. But he couldn't let on to them about the war brewing inside him when it came to Sophia. He slipped past a guilty-looking Zora and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

  "Uh..."

  "Oh, this is one for the books. My bossy little sister is speechless. Now I know something’s going on." He gave them another glance, shaking his head, trying to stifle his ear-to-ear, full-teeth grin as he strode out of the kitchen into the living room.

  Everett settled onto the couch, remote in hand, prepared to turn on the television. For a second he'd almost forgotten he invited Sophia over to watch the game. A mix of nonsensical nerves and annoyance pummeled him. Yes, he wanted her to be comfortable enough to talk so he could get to know her, but what did it matter what she thought of his house?

  Why did he suddenly care if she liked it?

  When it came down to real estate, he coul
d spot a jackpot on a street full of money pits. He could reconstruct, rebuild, and renovate like nobody's business. But deep down he knew when it came to making it an inviting place to live he only considered the basics. His house was well-built with top-of-the-line cabinets, fixtures, and gadgets, but it was bare. It was strong and clean, but plain. There were no decorative finishing touches. Nothing warm and fuzzy about it. Black and gray were about as good as it got in terms of his ability to experiment with color and texture. As far as paintings and accents making a house feel like a home went, he didn’t have a clue.

  Maybe because no house other than Patton Place had ever felt like home.

  He reminded himself this was why she was coming tonight. Nothing else.

  Everett shook off thoughts of Sophia and looked over his shoulder into the kitchen, where Zora and Mike were still standing around the island. They were locked in the middle of a telling look. Her brows lifted. Mike’s eyes unnaturally widened. But it wasn't sweet and endearing like they were pillow-talking. They were...conspiring.

  Mike and Zora shared a slight nod before they realized Everett's attention was trained on them. He turned and squared his shoulders, quiet for a moment as he read the situation. "What is going on between you two? Is there anything I should know?"

  He thought his question would be met with fierce denial and backtracking and he'd get a good laugh. Everett could care less if they finally decided to be together and quit tiptoeing around, like it made any difference to him.

  But, it wasn't what happened.

  "See?" Zora pointed at Mike. "I told you."

  "You told him what?"

  Everett studied the way they stood on either side of island. Zora was beside the sink, while Mike stood in front of the barstool on the other end. Between them, a mammoth slab of granite nearing five feet in width. They weren’t too close. On the contrary, what Everett found disconcerting was the distance between them.

  Before he could ask any further questions, Zora cocked her head and smiled at him. "We were just wondering about your little trip to Shemanski."

  We. Ugh.

  "What about it?"

  "Okay, before you go off the deep end, hear me out. Usually you take, what, fifteen, twenty minutes at the farmer's market? It's like you can't wait to get back. It's either the rain, or the crowds. Last time, it was the smell of the meat at the booth in the back. I can't shut you up about your list of gripes, right?" Zo held up her hands, palms down, signaling for Everett to be patient with her.

  He nodded impatiently and sighed. She was allegedly getting to the point.

  "Today, though? Not a peep. Not one word. You've been gone for hours. And..." she sang out the word, holding one finger up. "And. You got exactly what I needed. Every vegetable. Perfect. Ripe. Beautiful." She pressed her hands on the counter and lifted herself up onto her tiptoes on a level of excitement it seemed she could hardly contain.

  "So, we think you might have solicited some help. Maybe from a newcomer to this little town?" Zora went straight for the juice.

  Dammit, Mike!

  One mention of a good-looking woman and he was all ears, and apparently mouth. Couldn't keep a lid on it.

  Zora and Mike mirrored each other with smug grins smeared across their conspiratorial faces. It could have been an evasion tactic to steer Everett away from his suspicions about the two of them, but his sneaky little sister had ways of putting her feelers out. Ways of knowing when anything remotely good happened to Everett.

  Is this good?

  He needed to say something. Otherwise Zo would count his silence as an admission. Whatever he came up with, it better be good if he was going to stand any chance of going up against a woman who knew him inside and out and a lawyer.

  Avoidance seemed his only real chance of escape. Everett glanced at his watch, then over to the television, grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't hide it. "You better hurry up with whatever it is you're making. The game is coming on in like an hour."

  On a volume level only meant for small dogs and insects, Zo released a high-pitched squeal. It seemed to erupt from every part of her body. "Yes." She shrieked. "I knew it. Where is she?"

  It was pointless to deny the effect Sophia had on him, especially to these two, but Everett refused to just cave. No matter how futile. He stood and made his way past Mike, who it seemed had decided to keep his thoughts and hands to himself for the time being rather than risk a beating worse than the one already coming.

  "Who, exactly, are you talking about? I went to Shemanski by myself." He laughed despite himself.

  "Ev, seriously? You're going to act like I can't see right through you? With the goofy grin?" She planted her hands on her hips and looked at him sideways. "Ugh, you're killing me. You might as well spill."

  He cracked his IPA open and threw his head back in a long satisfying swig. Half the fun in this was seeing her squirm. He knew every second he withheld, Zo was growing ever more impatient. With a mischievous smile, he came up for air again and shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Take the hint.

  "So that's the story you're sticking with? You really want to play it like this? Because I have ways of finding things out. I have resources." She paused, but if Everett thought it was the end of it, he was sorely mistaken. "Mike?"

  Blue's head popped up and his tail began slapping against the tile as his eyes flickered between Mike and Zo. Rather than get involved, Mike raised his hands in surrender.

  "Okay, Mike. I thought we were on the same team, but now I know where we stand," she said. "I was going to play nice, but since you assholes are sticking to your little man code—Everett, Mike already told me you got all soft for Sophia Kent, so quit playing."

  Everett slouched into the cushions of the couch and turned the TV on. "Why don't you ask her yourself when she gets here?"

  Chapter Seven

  The image of Sophia's face on the phone screen was zoomed in close enough to see the pores on her nose and cheeks. God she hated how FaceTime always gave her a funhouse mirror look with her forehead elongated and her eyes so close together.

  She took a few steps back until the camera framed her entire body.

  "You know Portland has like fifty million farmer’s markets, right?" Julie's voice sounded like she was talking around a mouthful of grapes.

  "Actually, I didn't know." Sophia was so happy to have one nearby, she hadn’t thought to see if there were any others.

  "Either way, let's get this straight." Julie cleared her throat and then the image on the screen bobbed up and down until she appeared to have propped the phone up. She was farther away now, and Sophia could see her cousin curled up in the bed. She was getting comfortable for whatever point she was about to drag out. "It was raining. You and Everett's fine ass were just standing there with no umbrella, basically all up in each other's faces, dripping wet, talking about the female anatomy of a fucking bell pepper? Then he asked you to come watch basketball at his house? With his sister?"

  Give or take a few details. That's about the size of it.

  Sophia gave a noncommittal yes, deciding it was easier to agree than go through the infinite details of her cousin's editorializing.

  Julie squinted at her, seemingly determining how else she might torture her. "Okay, yes. Then this is definitely the dress to wear. Turn to the right again."

  "Did I tell you I talked to Mom today? She still won't stop sending the countdown emails. I shouldn't have told her I was filing for my business and food service licenses. It's sent her into overdrive. But she did admit things are going okay with Otis."

  "Girl, you should see those two canoodling and holding hands and stuff. They went on a double date with Mom and Stan last week. She won't admit it to you, but she's so into him."

  "Good. Maybe she'll stay out of my love life. If I ever get one." Sophia inched to her right per Julie's instructions. "Can you see it now?" she asked, shifting slightly until the bite-sized image of her appeared at the top right
corner of the screen. Her phone was propped on top of three books on top of the bed, facing her, as Julie tilted and turned her head on the screen. It didn't take a stretchy funhouse mirror version squeezed into the frame of the phone for Sophia to see the dress was far too tight.

  Still, after she saw the Instagram photo of the two of them, Julie insisted on approving her clothes for her visit with Everett. So, while Sophia primped and preened for her on FaceTime, Julie judged and nixed just about everything in her closet. They were either too loose or too homely, or just plain frumpy.

  "Yes, I definitely think this is the one. Might get you a love life tonight."

  Sophia groaned. Of course Julie would vote for the article of clothing most closely resembling dental floss. Sophia preferred comfortable clothes with some semblance of class. Something loose, so, say, if she dropped her purse and needed to pick it up, the hem wouldn’t hike up and put all her goods on display.

  "I'm thinking this one is a definite no-go. It's got groupie written all over it. Besides, this is the sixth outfit I’ve tried on. I'm going to stick with my jeans and T-shirt."

  Much to Julie's chagrin, Sophia was sticking to her guns.

  "Oh, my gosh." Julie expelled a lungful of air. "You have no clue how to play the game, Soph. You've got to dangle the right bait if you want to catch the right fish."

  Ever since Julie locked Nico down, anyone would swear she wrote the how-to book on dating and marriage. There were still about two months before they would walk down the aisle in late July, and already she was the authority. Although it was true, Julie and Nico's relationship was the sweetest thing ever.

  Suddenly Sophia lost the motivation to put on airs. "Well, if the right fish wants to catch my bait, they better know what they want, with or without all the shiny frills."

  She wanted to be comfortable and relax, and maybe make some new friends. This was what she'd always hated about dating. It was too much work. It required too many outfit changes. All the more reason why she agreed to something so low-key. It was a basketball game. On television. In a house. "It's the Trailblazers. Game four of the finals. I'm not going clubbing."