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Ava's Prize
Cari Lynn Webb
He needs a great idea. She can provide it–but at what cost? The battle lines are drawn when Army medic-turned-paramedic Ava Andrews enters a contest devised by San Francisco entrepreneur Kyle Quinn. She isn’t just competing for a tempting grand prize. She’s fighting her attraction to the self-made millionaire... and losing the war.
He needs a great idea
She can provide it—but at what cost?
The battle lines are drawn when army medic turned EMT Ava Andrews enters a contest devised by San Francisco entrepreneur Kyle Quinn. The first responder isn’t just competing for a tempting grand prize. She’s fighting her attraction to the self-made millionaire...and losing the war. But private and professional boundaries blur when a breach of trust threatens Ava’s future with Kyle.
CARI LYNN WEBB lives in South Carolina with her husband, daughters and assorted four-legged family members. She’s been blessed to see the power of true love in her grandparents’ seventy-year marriage and her parents’ marriage of over fifty years. She knows love isn’t always sweet and perfect—it can be challenging, complicated and risky. But she believes happily-everafters are worth fighting for.
Also by Cari Lynn Webb
A Heartwarming Thanksgiving
Wedding of His Dreams
Make Me a Match
The Matchmaker Wore Skates
The Charm Offensive
The Doctor’s Recovery
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Ava’s Prize
Cari Lynn Webb
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09064-3
AVA’S PRIZE
В© 2018 Cari Lynn Webb
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Mom and Dad: For showing me the strength
of love, family and faith. I’m grateful for
your support, encouragement and guidance.
I love you!
Special thanks to my husband and daughters
for the endless laughter and willingness to eat
leftovers while I’m on deadline.
Contents
Cover (#u4ac462a1-1e93-5aaf-a0ea-e0610d1d1e3f)
Back Cover Text (#u4ca3ac70-53f0-516a-8e33-85cdc7efd9c0)
About the Author (#u4945ec9f-f665-5dbe-81ce-61f90a17cd16)
Booklist (#u1e5da186-2d9b-501b-8189-9e8a4bbb7085)
Title Page (#u7cd99ab1-ab03-5891-8358-f45e88747ca3)
Copyright (#u5d481f70-61e1-56b3-9a09-b48c305fe0cb)
Dedication (#u16ecc377-4157-5ba6-9904-8e4c84594b78)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc68ac822-6008-53cf-83ca-4e87ab4ac9d1)
CHAPTER TWO (#udc0b200b-8904-5be7-8d16-68da31820355)
CHAPTER THREE (#u82b32bc1-f560-50f5-88f7-c13eb6ec7f40)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u29983461-437d-5fce-8737-21c0bd2c1ae5)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u9d690832-a303-5e42-96d7-eba3d6729bd1)
CHAPTER SIX (#uad7921d4-b4a8-515d-be0a-b83681f31dc0)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u312b7689-1e40-5082-a26e-897a07ae939c)
THREE. DISASTERS ALWAYS came in threes. Kyle Quinn had two.
First: he was about to lose his fortune.
Second: a woman had just collapsed on the twenty-foot-high scaffolding above him. And could be dead. Only the multiple calls to 9-1-1 disrupted the stunned silence from the photography crew and models looking on from the ground floor at the charity calendar photoshoot.
Kyle ran toward the scaffolding.
A redheaded model sprinted past him wearing trendy jeans and heeled boots.
No, the third disaster wasn’t the event.
Kyle had been warned redheads were trouble by his own ginger-haired grandmother. He grabbed the redhead’s wrist to keep her from being injured. One model down was more than enough. “The photographer’s assistant called 9-1-1. We don’t need another casualty for the paramedics when they get here.”
She scowled, deep and intense, as if he’d insulted her, not protected her. Her mascara heavy, her eyes narrowed on him like twin rifle scopes. “Then you should stay down here.”
With that, she yanked free of Kyle’s hold and scaled the scaffolding he’d intended to climb.
“Trouble,” Kyle muttered. His grandmother had been right after all. He followed the headstrong model up the ladder, albeit much less gracefully. The redhead scaled the steel structure like a seasoned acrobat from a Cirque du Soleil show.
Francesca Lang, the older model who’d collapsed, had been one of San Francisco’s favorite models for decades. Her face had adorned city billboards and commercials alike. She was to be the face of January for the charity calendar. She’d been poised on the platform to look like she’d scaled a high-rise and conquered life. Now she was powerless and barely breathing.
Seeing her, Kyle forgot about his problems and tried to remember the basics of CPR. Compressions and breath ratios.
He needn’t have worried.
The redhead confidently checked the older model’s airways and felt for a pulse, making him wonder if her parents had encouraged her to have a backup plan to modeling. “Help me get her harness off.”
“That’s on her for safety.” What if Francesca went into convulsions? She might drop to her death.
“She needs to be able to breathe easier and deeper.” The redhead unzipped the older woman’s jumpsuit. “Help me, please.”
“Tell me what to do.”
And she did. For the first time in a long time, Kyle felt vital. There was progress, too. Francesca seemed to breathe easier without the suit, although she still hadn’t regained consciousness.
The redhead greeted the arriving paramedics by their first names, calling out a pulse rate and other medical jargon as if she was the trained professional and Kyle was window dressing.
Too many tense minutes later, Francesca finally opened her eyes and was lowered off the scaffolding to the gurney waiting below.
The redhead had never flinched. Never panicked. Never paled like the other scared onlookers nearby. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was a hero.
The sirens from the ambulance faded as the EMTs drove off. Beside him, the red-haired model-turned-hero kicked a slate-gray earbud device across the platform with the toe of her high-heeled boot and mumbled what sounded like a bitter curse. “I should have guessed she was wearing one of these.”
Kyle eyed the all-too-familiar device with gut-sinking shame. He’d invented the medical ear bud. It was responsible for his instant celebrity. And for his flush bank accounts. It was also the one thing that could bring about his ruin in less than two months.
“Have something against medical earbuds?” He tried to press disinterest into his voice.
“Only if it’s a Medi-Spy.” She nudged the device farther away from her. “Those earbuds should be remarketed as a toy, not a medical alert device.”
He winced. “Really.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking less like a wannabe supermodel and more like a judge handing out a life sentence. “It gives faulty readings that send people to the ER unnecessarily, and it fails to recognize true emergencies in time.” Her frown deepened. “Then there’s also the totally unnecessary music feature and its sporadic connection with its own app and the dropped call rate.”
“It hasn’t exactly evolved in line with its original purpose,” Kyle allowed.
He knew the issues with his product, but he’d sold control of Medi-Spy to Tech Realized, Inc. without realizing he’d sold his soul, as well. With every royalty check he cashed, he watched the earbud become more commercialized to increase the profits. Bluetooth? Music options? He wasn’t sure he even remembered the heart of the design anymore.
“Anything else wrong with the device?” The harsh bite in his tone was self-directed. He expected her to identify him as a failure next. His reputation and Medi-Spy’s were closely linked.
“That’s only the highlights of the Medi-Spy’s faults.” She eased by him toward the ladder. “If you really want to see how often that particular earbud fails, ride along during one of my shifts. I’m a paramedic.”
“But you’re here,” he blurted out. “Don’t you mean past tense?” She was gorgeous. The green in her eyes matched the green in her sweater.
“You think I’m a professional model?” Her cheeks bloomed an attractive pink. Doubt, not confidence softened her voice. “I’m part of the local piece of the calendar.”
Before he could respond, she’d moved down the ladder, disappearing from his view. Kyle made his way off the scaffolding. Turning, he discovered his model hadn’t made it very far. A linebacker-size man and a copper-haired young boy blocked her path.
“I knew I should’ve waited to use the bathroom.” The boy shoved his bangs off his forehead. “What did we miss, Aunty Ava? Did someone fall off the platform and crack their head open?”
Excitement rushed the boy’s speech. The linebacker scanned the floor and frowned.
“Nothing that dramatic, I’m afraid.” Ava stepped sideways and bumped into Kyle.
He grinned at her and remained in her space. Perhaps not the most polite reaction, but he didn’t feel like moving away from her. They were almost on a first-name basis. At least now he knew her name.
The boy’s gaze widened, revealing eyes shades deeper than Ava’s pale green gaze. The boy’s eyes were the color of an avocado skin, Ava’s the color of the inside. Kyle rubbed his forehead. He’d scaled a scaffolding and returned to his bumbling adolescence. Comparing eye color to fruit was definitely his cue to leave. And eat. Clearly, he was hungry, or he wouldn’t have compared Ava’s eyes to an avocado. An avocado. He kept his lips firmly sealed.
The boy tugged on the linebacker’s arm with one hand and pointed at Kyle with the other. “Dad. That’s Kyle Quinn. He’s the inventor guy.”
Ava reached over and pushed Ben’s arm down. “Ben, it’s not polite to point.”
“But he invented the Medi-Spy.” Awe clouded Ben’s face and voice, lengthening the word spy into several syllables.
Ava looked at Kyle, her gaze assessing. “He doesn’t look famous.”
Kyle resisted the urge to smooth his hands over his button-down shirt as if to prove he concealed nothing. He never liked to be scrutinized at any depth beyond the surface, and Ava analyzed. Kyle shrugged instead of asking Ava for the results of her analysis. “He’s right. I’m the Medi-Spy inventor.”
“I hate to tell you this, but...I stand behind my earlier comments.” She straightened and locked her gaze with his. “Your device has too many features. It’s confused about what it is, like some teenager trying to figure out who they want to be when they grow up.”
No apology. No pleasure to meet you. No retreat. Kyle discovered his first real smile that morning. He liked his paramedic-turned-model even more. He reached over, shook hands with the linebacker and learned Dan was Ava’s partner in the ambulance, the boy his ten-year-old son, Ben. And according to Ben, Ava had earned the title Aunt, not because they shared blood. Rather, Ava was family from the heart.
Ben extended his arm toward Kyle, mimicking his father. Kyle noticed the paracord band wrapped around the boy’s thin wrist. Its silver medical-alert plate all too familiar. Kyle felt the shift of the titanium links of his own medical-alert band across his own wrist. He’d worn some form of a medical-alert bracelet since he’d started walking. He wondered how long Ben had his and gripped the boy’s hand in a firm handshake.
Ben’s grin spread toward his ears. “Wait until the kids at school find out I met a real famous person.”
Soon, Kyle might be famous for being a hack. For losing everything because he had no new ideas. Without a second idea, he’d fail to fulfill his contract. The penalties were stiff and unforgiving. That definitely wasn’t the type of notoriety he wanted. He shouldn’t still be here. He needed to get back to his office and create something. A new invention to rival the Medi-Spy earbud. The execs at Tech Realized, Inc. would accept nothing less.
“Hey, I was chosen to be a part of this celebrity calendar, too.” Ava’s arm brushed against Kyle as she reached to tug on Ben’s hair. “You already know me.”
Kyle wanted to know more about Ava. She had a bold confidence that he admired. But getting to know a woman better couldn’t be his focus right now. He needed to stop distracting himself. His mother would tell him to quit procrastinating. If only it was that easy. If only he wasn’t stuck as if he stood on a high dive, too afraid to jump. Too afraid to trust in his swimming skills. Fearful he’d sink, because Medi-Spy was exactly what Ava painted it—a failure.
“But Mr. Quinn is in the papers and magazines at least once a week,” Ben argued. “And you aren’t.”
The photo ops were a side effect. Definitely not Kyle’s choice. But that was the unwritten part of signing a seven-figure contract and launching a bestselling product. His celebrity had been instantaneous. It had been handed to him and he’d been trying to hand it back ever since. Standing out never suited him.
He’d stood out in school for several reasons, from his scrawny stature to more serious offenses, like his preference for the science lab over the football field. But he’d grown into his height, filled out and tipped well now. Still that awkward kid with the deadly nut allergy—the one that had forced him to sit at the peanut-free table every school lunch—lingered inside him and cringed with every camera flash. “Your dad and aunt save lives. That’s the real-life hero stuff that means more than any picture in any gossip page.”
“Still, you get to meet other famous people. I’ve seen the pictures on the internet.” Ben edged closer to Kyle. His gaze shifted back and forth between his dad and Kyle. “If I invent something, can I meet Chase Jacobs and the starting offensive line for the Pioneers?”
His dad held up his hands and retreated. “Don’t look at me. I sit in the upper section at the football stadium, not the box seats, when the Pioneers play at home.”
“I can get you tickets on the fifty-yard line,” Kyle offered. “Let me know if there’s a home game coming up that you want to see.”
Dan shook Kyle’s hand again, a grateful, hearty pump. Ben nodded as if his suspicions had been confirmed. Celebrity was good. Confidence tipped the boy’s chin up and strengthened his voice. “My aunt and I are inventors, too.”
“That’s nothing.” Ava waved her hands between them as if trying to wipe Ben’s words from the air. “That’s just a game we play.”
Kyle liked the tinge on Ava’s cheeks. “What’s the game?”
Ben rubbed his hands together. “It’s called You Know What We Need?”
Kyle knew what he needed. He needed another million-dollar idea. And he needed it yesterday. Still, he wanted to share Ben’s enthusiasm, feel that same innocent excitement for something. He’d felt it once with the Medi-Spy. “How do you play?”
“Someone says, �You know what we need?’ and then tells everyone their idea. We discuss the idea, then vote if we like it or not. You get points if everyone likes it.” Ben’s eyes widened, and horror lowered his voice to secret-telling level. “But if we vote it down, you lose double the points.”
If Kyle played, he’d only lose points. In real life, it was more than bragging rights or his reputation at stake. If he didn’t come up with a second invention soon, his parents and sisters would suffer. The women’s shelter he funded would be forced to shut its doors. He could handle the fallout himself, but failing his family would be unforgivable. He’d created the Medi-Spy to honor his grandfather, an iron worker who’d suffered a stroke in the heat. He’d always meant for the money to bring his family closer. That wouldn’t happen if he defaulted on the terms of Medi-Spy’s sale.
“Or...” Ava’s disgruntled voice muted Kyle’s thoughts. “There’s no discussion at all because your idea gets voted down instantly. Then you drop to last place. Last place.”
The words vote and last place circled through Kyle’s mind. Something hummed inside him. Something he hadn’t felt in far too long. The first stirrings of an idea.
Ben set his hands on his hips. “Aunty, you know your idea for hair dye that changes color with a person’s mood wasn’t good.”
Kyle placed his hand over his mouth and chin to cover his smile. Even he doubted there was a market for mood-changing hair dye and he, the one without an idea, had no right casting judgment.
Dan laughed. “There really wasn’t anything to discuss.”
“It could be hugely popular.” Ava set her hands on her hips and stared them down. “But we’ll never know because you crushed it before I could debate its merits.”
“What merit is there in having hair that changes to green when you’re jealous? No one really wants green hair.” Dan nudged Ava in the shoulder, knocking her out of her standoff mode. “You really need to come to the table stronger in the next round.”
Kyle laughed.
Ava pointed at him. “You can’t side with them unless you’ve agreed to the rules.”
Rules? That hum shifted to a buzz. Kyle’s idea solidified into more than a throwaway thought. Their game could be a contest. First place. Last place. Rules to follow. Perhaps a contest for an original invention. An idea that would keep his parents retired in comfort, Penny’s Place open and his sister’s college tuition funded through her graduation. Then Kyle would finally bring his family back together like they’d been before his grandfather’s death. “You have rules?”
“Every good game has rules.” Ben looked at him as if Kyle shouldn’t ask such ridiculous questions. “It needs to be fair.”
Kyle nodded. His contest would be fair, too. But could it work? Could one simple contest keep him from financial ruin? “What are the rules?”
“Everyone gets a turn. You can tell your idea anytime. Any place, except church and anytime Dad tells you to be quiet. Otherwise you can’t interrupt.” Ben held up his fingers and counted. “This is the most important one—you can’t make fun of an idea.”
“Unless they’re mine,” Ava added.
“We couldn’t not comment on the hair dye, Ava.” Dan jabbed his elbow in Ava’s side. “Even my dad nixed that idea and he likes every single one you have.”
Ava shoved Dan back. “Your dad is a good man.”
“What does the winner get?” Kyle asked. A family game was all fine and good. But his contest needed a winner. In a viable contest, there needed to be a prize.
“Bragging rights.” Dan’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if nothing else mattered.
Again, that worked for a family game played in the car or a restaurant or at home. But Kyle needed more than bragging rights to entice entries.
The more that he needed was money. Money motivated people. There’d be no entry fee required. He’d offer a twenty-five-thousand-dollar grand prize for an original idea, provided the winner agreed to sign away their rights to the idea. If his team—the one he’d need to pull together—could develop the idea into a prototype, he’d give the winner an additional twenty-five-thousand-dollar bonus. Then he’d submit the winning idea to Tech Realized, Inc. to meet his deadline and fulfill his contract. Everyone would win.
Kyle searched for a downside, but couldn’t see one and wanted to hug Ben.
A hug was hardly enough to thank the boy who’d possibly saved Kyle from bankruptcy. Instead, he touched his medical-alert bracelet. He didn’t know why Ben wore the bracelet, but he knew that bracelet made the boy different. Set him apart from his peers. Kyle remembered all too well having his mom bring special food to baseball practice and classmates’ birthday parties until he’d stopped RSVPing with a yes. He remembered all too well how it felt to be different, when all he’d wanted was to be the same. Different might help an adult, but it would hinder a child. “Ben, how would you like to tour my idea tank? Your dad and aunt could come, too, if they wanted.”
Ben tugged on his dad’s arm. “Can we?”
“We have to check our schedules,” Dan said. Before Ben could argue, Dan lifted his hand, palm out. “But I don’t see why not.”
Ben pumped his fists against his sides. “Can I take pictures?”
Kyle nodded. The kids at school would require proof of Ben’s claims about spending the day with a so-called celebrity. Kyle would ensure Ben had whatever he needed to be the envy of his classmates. “As many selfies as you want.”
“Cool.” Ben stepped to Ava’s side. “Aunty, you have to go, too.”
“I’m not sure,” Ava hedged.
“But you might come up with better ideas if you see how good ideas are made,” Ben countered.
Ava crossed her arms over her chest. “I already have good ideas.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Please come with us.”
Kyle held his breath, waiting for Ava’s response. Totally ridiculous since he didn’t care if she joined them or not.
Finally, Ava hugged the boy. “Fine. I’ll be there.”
Kyle released his breath. One quick tour. One more afternoon with Ava. That wouldn’t be too much of a distraction. Nothing Kyle couldn’t handle.
CHAPTER TWO (#u312b7689-1e40-5082-a26e-897a07ae939c)
AVA BUSIED HERSELF with the sun-kissed-yellow teapot whistling on the stove and tried not to track her mother’s every step from the kitchen into the family room. Today was a good day. With every step Ava’s mother took, her auburn curls bounced rather than wilted against her forehead. She’d opted for her cane over her walker—another improvement.
Lately, her mom’s bad days seemed to outnumber the good days by almost two to one. Ava should be celebrating these moments with her mom. Not leaving her alone. “I’ll call Dan and cancel.”
Her mom settled both hands on the cane. Her voice lowered into parental override mode—the one that demanded, not requested. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“It’s no big deal.” Ava set the tea mug on the end table beside the couch, along with the bamboo tea chest, filled with her mom’s favorite tea blends. She avoided looking at her mom, worried her too-perceptive mother would notice the hint of disappointment in her gaze and call her out for lying now. “I wasn’t really interested in touring Kyle Quinn’s think tank anyway.”
“Ben expects you to be there.” Her mom lowered herself onto the couch and settled the cane within easy reach. “You can’t disappoint that precious boy.”
She also couldn’t leave her mom alone. That made Ava feel like a disappointment as a caretaker. Ben was young; he’d recover. Her mom’s good days weren’t guaranteed. Her stomach clenched around her love for her mom. How many stars had she wished on over the years to end her mom’s pain? How many prayers had she recited since middle school? She ignored that knot twisting through her chest and concentrated on gratitude. She was grateful for this day. “Ben will understand if I don’t make it.”
“Well, I’m ordering you to go.” Her mom dropped a ginger tea bag into the mug; her tone dropped into the criticism category. “You need to do something other than work and look after me.”
“I like my work.” Perhaps not as much as she wanted to, but her work fatigue was temporary. Sleep and a night off would improve her outlook. Ava tugged the teal throw from the back of the couch and tucked the fleece blanket around her mom’s lap. “Even more, I like to spend time with you.”
“I’m supposed to be doing the looking after.” Her mom touched Ava’s cheek. Regret stretched into the lines fanning from her mom’s pale blue eyes and slipped into her voice. “I’m the mother—it’s my job.”
“You did that while I was growing up.” Ava took her mom’s hand and held on, giving and absorbing her mother’s strength. Pleased she could be here for such an amazing woman. “Now it’s my turn.”
Her mother tugged her hand free and smashed the tea bag against the side of the mug as if that would squeeze the bitterness from her voice, too. “You should be making your own life and not have to...”
Ava stopped her. “Don’t say it.”
“It doesn’t make it less true if I keep silent,” her mom said.
“Taking care of you has never been a burden,” Ava said. That’s what family did for each other.
Ava and her older brother had promised each other they’d protect their mom like their father never did. They’d vowed their mother would never be alone. Brett had cared for their mom while Ava had served her country. Now it was Ava’s turn to help her family.
“At least your brother dated and finally married.” Her mom’s words chased Ava into the bathroom.
She grabbed her mom’s afternoon meds and walked back to the family room.
Her brother would return from his internship in Washington, DC, before Thanksgiving. Then her mom could switch her attention to the possibility of a grandbaby and away from Ava’s lack of a dating life.
Ava was more than happy to leave dating to the unsuspecting singles in the city. The ones foolish enough to believe in love, who easily surrendered their hearts to a man. Ava wasn’t about to give her heart to any man. She couldn’t trust he’d stick around, and that’d only lead to heartbreak. She prided herself on being smart enough not to invite heartache into her life.
Her older brother would stick with his new wife, Meghan, through the good and bad, sickness and health, like he’d vowed on his wedding day last year. But Brett was the exception.
Men stuck until a true test came along. It was then they revealed their true heart. An argument or disagreement or relocation wasn’t life changing or a true test. However, a diagnosis of MS at the age of twenty-six with two children in diapers—that was life altering. That was a real test. One Ava’s dad had failed when he’d bailed out on his family. Life had gotten hard and suddenly more was expected from her father than he’d ever planned to take on. He’d run away: far and fast.
Ava refused to follow in her father’s fleeing footsteps. “I have a very full life. No dating or marriage required.”
“Working all the time is not a well-balanced life.” The spoon rattled against the plate under her mom’s tea mug, along with her mother’s disapproval.
Ava’s two jobs kept them in their three-bedroom apartment. Her jobs paid for the in-home nurse and therapists that helped care for her mom each week. Her jobs granted her brother and his new wife the opportunity to concentrate on starting their own family without worrying about their mother.
Except Ava had lost her second part-time job as a CPR instructor yesterday. The company had hired an intern full-time and no longer needed Ava. The extra paycheck had covered the costs of her mother’s medications and the utility bills. Ava hadn’t told her mom, refusing to give her mother any more worries. She’d figure out the finances.
Ava was determined to do what her father had failed to do: stick beside her mom every step of the way. If that meant she had to work more than an average forty-hour week, she’d do that and more for her family. “Well, this is the life I choose.”
“Roland tells me that balance is the key to happiness and contentment, which in turn leads to longevity in life.” Her mom’s voice was thoughtful and smooth like the honey she added to her tea.
“Roland also likes to say that stretching is the gateway to the soul.” Ava swiped a chocolate from the happy-face candy dish on the end table and aimed the tip of the chocolate kiss at her mom. “We both know that being able to curve your spine into a full backbend until your feet touch your head is painful and awkward. Hardly soul cleansing.”
Her mother’s laughter melted through Ava, satisfying her more than chocolate ever could.
“I admit there are a few things Roland says during our yoga sessions that don’t seem to apply to real life.” Her mom tossed another candy at her.
Ava caught the chocolate in her free hand.
Her mother dipped her chin and eyed the candies in each of Ava’s hands. “But he’s not wrong about the rewards of always seeking balance.”
“I’ll seek balance soon.” After she balanced her checkbook. Ava popped a chocolate into her mouth.
Maybe she wanted more or something different on those nights when reality and memories blurred into the same nightmare. But bullets ripped open flesh, no matter if the victim came from a battlefield or the city streets. People suffered whether from a lost limb after encountering an IED on a desert road or a miscarriage on the bathroom floor of a homeless shelter. Ava could help the wounded. Just like she helped her mom. She’d worry about herself later.
Her mother looked at Ava over her glasses and shook her head. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, but a good daughter.”
This was Ava’s world. Letting a guy in would upset the balance. Relationships required time that she didn’t have. She was already committed to her family and her work.
Her mom tugged on the drawer of the end table, but her fingers slipped, unable to keep her grip around the handle. Ava opened the drawer. Her mom had lost more strength, but not her spirit. Ava had to hold on to the positive like her mom always did. Ava was sure she’d find another job soon. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Take your time. Rick will be here within the hour. We’re playing Rummy.” Her mom took a deck of cards out of the drawer. One corner of her mouth kicked up with the cheer in her tone. “When you play cards with us, you ruin the fun by calling us out for cheating.”
Ava straightened, set her hands on her hips and frowned. Knowing Dan’s dad would be with her mom calmed her unease. Still, she’d take the tour of Kyle’s place and head back home. “When I win, I like to know that I earned it fair-and-square. Makes every win that much more rewarding and worthwhile.”
“Perhaps.” Her mom sorted the cards across the coffee table. “But Rick and I both cheat. Trying to outwit the other one makes the game more entertaining.”
The light moments offset the painful ones for both of them. Maybe Ava just had to discover more light moments. “Fine. Next time, I’ll cheat, too.”
The burst of surprised laughter from her mom bounced through the room, pulling Ava’s smile free.
“You have too much integrity to stoop so low.” Her mom nodded, her own smile lingering. “It’s one of your best qualities. Just don’t judge the rest of us too harshly.”
Ava shoved her phone and keys into her sling bag on the kitchen counter. “I don’t judge people.”
Her mother covered her cough of disagreement with a sip of tea.
“There’s nothing wrong with expecting people to be...better.” Ava had worked hard and sacrificed for everything she had. The easy road hadn’t been opened to her or her brother. She wouldn’t have taken it anyway. She didn’t operate that way. She struggled to understand people who seemed to have a lot of what her grandmother had used to call “quit” in them. Her father had too much quit in him.
“Well, today I plan to be a better cheater at Rummy than Rick,” her mom said.
Ava smiled. “Call me if you need me.”
“I’ll be more than fine.” Her mom waved her hand toward the door. “Get out and find some fun.”
Ava would prefer to find a help wanted sign. She blew her mom a kiss and took the stairs to the lobby. Outside, she paused on the sidewalk and tipped her face up toward the sky. Fall was one of her favorite seasons in the city. The sun warmed the city’s locals and the tourists scattered like fallen leaves swept away in the breeze. Ava crossed at the intersection to cut through the park.
A couple strolled along the paved path toward the fountain, their laughter entangled as tightly as their linked arms. A mother pushed a stroller while her young son scrambled after her, a balloon gripped in one hand, an ice cream cone in the other. Shouts echoed from a group of college students embroiled in a rambunctious game of flag football. Others lingered on blankets, books in hand, headphones plugged in, soaking in every ray of the bright Saturday sun. Ava kicked a soccer ball back to a father. His daughter skipped in front of a soccer goal made with orange cones, her ponytails swinging against her bright soccer jersey that matched her blue cleats. The park pulsed with fun, relaxed and easy and welcome. Ava kept walking, her steps rushed as if she feared the trees would join branches and prevent her escape, forcing her to stop. Forcing her to have fun.
She slowed her steps, crushing her ridiculous thoughts into the gravel with the heel of her running shoe. She could relax and enjoy a day in the park like everyone else. She simply chose not to.
Later, she’d stop and smell the roses at the floral shop’s outdoor stand on her walk to the Pampered Pooch. She wanted to see if her friend Sophie had any senior animals that needed fostering. Ava and her mom hadn’t fostered for several months, but they both always enjoyed the extra company of a senior rescue. Surely a four-legged friend in their house would add balance to Ava’s world.
Ava blamed her mom and Roland for her errant thoughts. She didn’t even attend yoga classes on a regular basis. Yet Roland’s affirmations about a fulfilled life followed her around like a shadow. She picked up her pace again, as if she needed to outrun her mom’s chiding laughter and Roland’s disappointment.
Who cared if she didn’t actively search for fun? She usually accepted extra hours at the hospital or filled in to teach a CPR class or worked a music festival to bolster her bank account. Then she slept better.
Surely the fact that she enjoyed teaching CPR and had discovered she liked both country music and indie rock counted for something. Roland would no doubt chide her to seek out more entertainment. If she graduated from a physician’s assistant school and transitioned to another career path, then she’d have the opportunity to find fun.
There wasn’t enough money to provide for her mom and get her graduate degree.
Even more, there was nothing appealing about putting herself first and being as selfish as her own father. Her family came first. Always. If that meant fun waited on the back burner, so be it.
She’d be grateful for what she had and not mourn a life that wasn’t meant for her.
That would be enough. She’d make sure of it.
Ava hurried across the street, leaving the park and her private wishes behind, among the trees and birds.
CHAPTER THREE (#u312b7689-1e40-5082-a26e-897a07ae939c)
KYLE CHECKED HIS recent call log and his emails for the tenth time in the past twenty minutes. Not that he could’ve missed a call. He’d woken up before sunrise, clutching his cell phone, and he hadn’t put it down even to eat lunch earlier. Yesterday, he’d called and messaged a dozen former developers and business associates about judging his contest. No one had replied. No one.
He couldn’t judge the contest he’d created. The contest he planned to use to keep from defaulting on his own contract.
Canceling wasn’t an option. The press releases had gone out. Hits on the webpage had multiplied into the thousands overnight. More headlines and sound bites had hit the TV and radio news spots all morning. Kyle couldn’t turn back. He needed to keep his reputation intact and run a viable contest, not some hoax that the public would conclude was no more than a publicity stunt. The press liked to speculate about his next PR blitz as if his Medi-Spy creation had only been for attention. Yesterday’s newspaper had claimed a reality TV show was his latest pursuit.
He paced through his second-floor suite, ignoring the theater room and the arcade room, instead seeking refuge in the design lab. He shouldn’t have invited Ben and his family over. He shouldn’t have translated Ben’s car game into a contest. He should’ve left the photo shoot last weekend and returned to his lab. But it was too late for what he should’ve done.
Right now, he shouldn’t be dropping into the industrial office chair and pressing the button to print more contest flyers as if he’d suddenly decided to hone his marketing skills. He should be scanning his brain for an idea. He only needed one.
What was wrong with him?
The groan of the printer spitting out copies matched the groan of panic rolling through him. He shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, closed his eyes and drew in a breath that lifted his entire rib cage and made his stomach bloat. His older sister had taught him how to breathe, claiming he needed to learn to breathe with more mindfulness. More intention.
He counted to five. Nothing quieted those jitters skipping around inside him.
Another five-count and still nothing within him unwound. Only his to-do list flashed across his eyelids. At the top: create an invention.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Kyle exhaled and lost any intention of quieting his mind.
He clicked the answer button on his notepad propped beside the computer. His little sister’s face with her clear lab goggles propped on her head like a new-age headband filled the screen. Kyle dropped the stack of flyers onto the work table in the center of the design lab, set a 3-D printed piggy bank on the stack and walked with the notepad into his so-called inspiration area.
“Still moping around, all alone in your steroid-infused man cave?” Callie adjusted the oversize goggles on her head.
“It’s my home.” And his offices. He skipped his gaze over the large room filled with both vintage and contemporary arcade games. Darkness and silence leaked from the connecting theater room, yet not the good kind of dark for movie watching or that quiet anticipation before the final fight scene. He’d transformed the entire second floor of the building into the ideal work and living space. He blamed the sandwich he’d eaten for lunch on his sudden indigestion.
Kyle frowned at the computer screen. Although it was wasted on his little sister. Her focus had already returned to her microscope. He asked, “Did you want something? I have company coming over soon.”
That captured her attention. She blinked once at the screen, slow and methodical, like an owl. Only, owls held their silence; his sister had no such filter. “You don’t have people over to your place. Except for the rooftop, but that doesn’t count since you don’t live up there. People are never invited inside your home.”
No thanks to Callie. In her clear-cut manner, Callie had asked how he’d know if people came to visit him or his ultimate man cave? Friends might like his man cave more than him. He’d chosen to do what he’d always done: keep to himself. Except today, he’d stepped out of his comfort zone. Hopefully, he hadn’t lost his mind at the photo shoot. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“You can’t get distracted now.” Callie’s eyebrows pinched together, and she shuffled papers around on her desk. “You only have forty-one days before you need to hand in your second idea.”
His sister had a memory like a vault. One time, in a passing phone conversation, he’d mentioned the terms of his contract. She hadn’t forgotten one detail. “It’s under control.”
Callie leaned closer to the computer screen as if to study him like a petri dish under one of her microscopes. “You aren’t still pining for the past, are you? The days when you were unknown, unremarkable and an amateur.”
That was the life she’d told him no longer existed. The one she’d told him he’d never get back. He dropped into one of the oversize leather chairs and set the notepad on the flat, wide arm of the chair. “I can have friends.”
Confusion thinned her gaze and her mouth. Of course, Callie had skipped her senior year in high school to enroll in college and then fast-tracked her way into graduate school to become a medical scientist. She would earn both her MD and PhD titles behind her name in the next year, as long as Kyle kept his contract with Tech Realized, Inc. and paid her tuition.
“How many times do I need to remind you that if you hadn’t sold out, you’d still be wasting away in Mom and Dad’s basement, a wannabe inventor, living off Dad’s meager retirement?” She grimaced as if her test results proved inconclusive.
Now he lived in a man cave on steroids and was poised to lose everything. Was that somehow better? “This isn’t about high school reunions and old times.”
“That’s a relief.” Callie sighed. “You and I aren’t team players. We can’t conquer the world with apologies and regrets.”
Kyle wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to conquer the world. He’d wanted to design something that could keep people from suffering. People like his grandfather. Callie, he knew, had other plans for her life. Plans that depended on his continued funding. And those depended on his next big idea. “I’ll make the tuition payment soon.”
She looked at him as if she’d never doubted that would happen. As it always happened on the third Thursday of every month. “I wanted to tell you that I’ve been invited to continue my medical research at Oxford once I receive my doctorate degrees.”
“But that’s in England.” And nowhere near San Francisco or her family.
“It’s one of the premiere research facilities in the world.” Excitement widened her brown eyes.
How could she be thrilled about living in another country, so far away from her family? How could he not be happy for her opportunity to continue her life’s work? “Have you told Mom and Dad?”
“They’re ecstatic. At least from what I could tell.” Callie tapped a pencil against her bottom lip as if she struggled to work out the exact sequence of a DNA genome strand. “They were walking on the beach. Mom found a giant sea shell with only a small chip. Maybe they were cheering about that.” She paused, grabbed a notepad and scribbled across the paper.
Kyle waited. His sister spoke in logical order. But her thoughts always came out in scattered spurts like air in a waterline. He’d always assumed her genius brain never quieted. If she didn’t pause to record her thoughts every so often, she might miss the next big medical breakthrough.
Finally, Callie blinked into the screen. “No, I’m sure Mom wished me safe travels and Dad wanted hotel recommendations in the area. Or maybe that was the couple with them. I think they’re planning a trip up the Gulf Coast. Doesn’t matter. Oxford wants me.”
Kyle wanted to wish his sister well. Share her excitement. But only sadness circled through him.
Four years ago, their grandfather had died unexpectedly, and their family had splintered without the glue that had been Papa Quinn. Kyle had inherited his grandpa’s vintage 1965 Mustang. Along with the last of his grandfather’s wisdom on a handwritten note left inside the Mustang’s glove box: “When you take a wrong turn, Kyle, a guiding hand and full heart will lead you home where you belong.”
Kyle’s family had taken several wrong turns after Papa Quinn’s passing, and the distance between his family had only widened further. Then Kyle had signed his contract with Tech Realized, Inc. Honoring his grandfather’s memory had filled his bank account. The money he’d always intended to help guide his family back together.
Now he funded dual degrees that would only take his sister farther from home. Worry mixed with the sadness. She was a scientist, not an experienced world traveler. How was he supposed to protect her from a continent away? He should protect her. She’d always been there for him in grade school. More than once, she’d stepped in to deflect the bullies’ attention off him and on to her with her oversize books and even thicker bottle-size glasses.
The buzzer from the street entrance hummed through the suite. Kyle tucked his concern away, certain he’d come up with something to entice his little sister home. Something like her own research lab, custom built to her specifications. “That’s my company.”
Callie had already returned to her notepad and had pulled her microscope into view. “Don’t be like Iris and get distracted, Kyle. Send them away and get back to what really matters. You can’t lose focus of what’s really important.”
With that, Callie clicked off. No “I love you.” No “talk to you soon.” No “I hope you visit me in England.” Only an order to work and a caution not to be like their oldest sister, Iris. Kyle’s problem was he struggled to focus on what was important: a new idea.
He checked his emails on the way to the entrance. Still no response from his potential judges. Not even a terse thank-you, or any thank-you at all. He’d take his sister’s advice. Offer a quick tour and then send the trio waiting outside on their way. They’d understand he had to work. If they didn’t, what would it matter? They weren’t friends, and this was a onetime offer.
He pressed the button to unlock the main entrance door that led into the lobby and spoke through the intercom, telling them to come up to the second floor.
Kyle opened the door to the suite and welcomed his guests inside. He would’ve explained his plans to work that afternoon if Ben hadn’t disrupted the silence with a drawn-out whoa.
Kyle shut the door and turned around to find the young boy bouncing from one foot to the other, his gaze darting around the suite. Ben never moved from his father’s side, as if he waited for a referee to blow a start whistle to let the games begin.
“You work here?” Ava stood with her arms crossed and one eyebrow arched. Clearly, she wasn’t as impressed by his personal arcade space (aka inspiration area) as Ben.
“I live here, too.” Kyle grinned at the disbelief Ava failed to hide. His grin widened at her resistance to smile. Suddenly, all he wanted was to make Ava smile. Suddenly, that became important. That became his focus, even as he told himself to concentrate on something else.
“Cool.” Ben failed to hide his awe.
Dan rubbed his chin and nodded. “Can’t see anything I’d add.”
“How about books or candles? Maybe some colorful throw pillows or picture frames to break up all the gray and black,” Ava suggested.
Ava, with her red hair sweeping past her shoulders and green eyes, brought color into the monochrome room. The room was quiet and subdued without the arcade turned on, the screens lit up and the sounds of the game over music playing. All the room wanted was someone to press Play. Kyle didn’t know what he wanted. But he liked welcoming Ava into his home. “It wasn’t designed to be a meditation room.”
“Clearly,” Ava said. Her gaze jumped around the room, taking everything in. Even better, she never retreated toward the door.
“This should appeal to you, Ava.” Dan shoved her shoulder. “You love that pub with the ’80s arcade games and pool tables south of the city.”
Busted. Ava avoided Kyle’s gaze. He longed to laugh. She didn’t want to like his place. Too bad he didn’t want to like having her there. He’d planned to send them away quickly and without much fanfare. Now he hesitated, and that irritated him.
He’d always have to question whether a woman genuinely liked him—the guy with the deadly nut allergy, who preferred arcade games and comic books and his family. The one who tended to believe if the money went away, so might the woman.
The news reports about him wanting to find love on a reality TV show were completely false. Yet there was something about Ava that tugged at places deep inside him. Places he’d learned to ignore years ago. Places he buried under his flush bank accounts, confident money would fill any void.
He admitted Ava was attractive like he acknowledged a flaw in one of his 3-D designs. He’d fix an error in his design with several keystrokes on the computer. The only way to fix Ava was to ignore his interest in her. Ignore that tightness inside his chest. File her into the same category as every other attractive woman he’d met: unavailable, off-limits and a disruption to his life.
“Aunty, you always want to play Skee-Ball.” Ben pointed across the room. “Here we don’t have to wait in line.”
“Or wipe down the machines before we use them.” Dan looked at Kyle. “I’m not kidding. She carries those antibacterial wipes with her everywhere we go.”
Ava threw up her hands. “Just trying to keep everyone from getting sick.”
Dan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her. “We appreciate it, even if you act more like an overly cautious grandmother sometimes.”
Ben giggled and followed Kyle farther into the room, cutting between the pool and foosball tables.
“You have basketball shoot and off-road driving games.” Ben touched the Ping-Pong table and stared at the far wall. “And four pinball machines.”
Kyle had always wanted a pinball machine in the basement of his parents’ house. In the gaps between his invention design sessions, he’d make lists of every game that would’ve improved the basement dwelling. Every game that might’ve enticed the kids from school to come over and play with him. Each one of those games waited inside Kyle’s inspiration suite now. Kyle had stopped waiting for friends to come over in middle school. Now he’d assumed the more fun and games that had surrounded him, the more ideas he’d have.
For now, inspiration hadn’t arrived, no matter how many arcade games he jammed into the room. Not even Skee-Ball, his favorite childhood game, inspired him. “There’s a ninety-two-inch flat-screen TV with surround sound and gaming consoles right through that door.”
“Like a real theater room.” Ben dragged his hand across the air-hockey table and edged closer to the twin Skee-Ball games.
Surprised Ben wasn’t racing into the theater room for the video games, Kyle looked at the subdued Skee-Ball lanes. “I never replenished the prize tickets in Skee-Ball, but they work.”
The blank chalkboard wall—the one he’d always meant to be like a graffiti wall to write inspirational sayings or draw pictures on—caught his gaze. The box of colored chalk had yet to be opened, and he’d bought it a year ago to celebrate the completion of the remodeling. His sister’s earlier claim about him being alone drifted through him. He chose independence and self-reliance. The blank wall mocked him. “The highest score gets full bragging rights and their name listed on the wall of champions.”
Ben hopped as if anticipation bounced through every limb, forcing him to move. He tugged on his dad’s arm. A plea widened his eyes.
“Ask Kyle if you can play.” Dan dipped his chin toward Kyle. “This is his office.”
Kyle grinned at Dan’s hesitation over the word office before meeting Ava’s gaze. “I refer to it as the inspiration room inside the think tank. There’s also a design lab with 3-D printers and more professional equipment. Everything required to make this place look like a real business.”
One corner of Ava’s mouth twitched as if daring Kyle to try harder. He’d never turned down a dare in his life.
Dan stepped back and raised his hands. “Definitely not judging.”
“He’s just jealous.” Ava wrapped her arm around Dan’s waist, easy and comfortable.
Dan hugged Ava. “I won’t deny I’m jealous.”
Jealous. Kyle watched Ava and Dan’s casual interactions. In that moment, he understood jealousy on a very different level. But relationships complicated life. Relationships required effort and focus and time—everything he needed to put into developing an idea. And everything he required for his contest to be a success. He acknowledged that twinge of envy that tinted his eyesight green and filed Ava in the if-only-he-was-a-good-team-player-and-this-was-another-time category.
Both Dan and Ben shared twin looks of excitement.
Ben rubbed his hands together. “So, can we really play?”
“We don’t want to take up too much of Kyle’s time.” Ava touched Ben’s shoulder. “I’m sure Kyle has plans for the afternoon.”
This was where Kyle agreed with Ava. He should explain that he had to work. This was his cue to hurry through the rest of the tour and make the offer for them to come back another time. Or never. This was where he regained his focus and concentrated on his priorities.
That chalkboard wall trapped Kyle’s gaze as if reflecting some void deep inside of himself. But Kyle liked his life. “It’s Saturday, you can play as much and as long as you want.”
“Seriously?” Ben asked.
Ava kept her hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if holding him in place, and eyed Kyle. “One hour.”
He should accept her terms. One hour was already overstaying their welcome. He held her green gaze, locked on as if they’d entered some staring contest where the winner received more than simple bragging rights. “As it happens, my afternoon is wide-open.”
Ava never flinched. “One hour should be more than enough time.”
Challenge accepted. He’d make sure one hour wasn’t long enough. Kyle pointed to the wall again and grinned at Ben. “I feel I should warn you that I don’t lose easily, and I intend to have my name up there.”
Ben shrugged one shoulder as if unconcerned with Kyle’s skills. “I like to win, too.”
“I can’t decide where we should start.” Dan’s laughter mixed with Ben’s as the pair ventured around the room.
The cheerful sound seeped inside Kyle as if trying to fill that void. He’d once shared that same joy with his sisters, playing Ping-Pong in their parents’ basement that they’d converted into a teenager’s hideaway. Kyle looked at Ava. “We can continue the tour or play a round of pool.”
She opted for the tour, but her gaze landed on the Skee-Ball lanes and stuck as they passed.
Kyle guided Ava into the development lab. The state-of-the-art room had multiple desktops, a dry-erase-board wall and tinted glass windows that overlooked the city. More hand-held games and toys littered the entire space. Multicolored puzzle balls and cubes sat among the various plastic building blocks scattered across the empty worktable. Three-dimensional printed items, ranging from a bottle opener to the first pieces of a chess game, stood sentry around the room. Each piece a reminder of his continued unoriginality. Middle school kids printed more complicated designs on their 3-D printers.
“You’re running a contest?” Ava pointed at the contest time line Kyle had written in colored markers on the dry-erase board.
“I put it together this week with my legal team, and we issued a press statement yesterday morning.” Kyle eyed the list on the dry-erase board. Acting as tour guide to Ava accomplished nothing productive and only reminded him of that awkward boy he’d long since outgrown. “I need to thank Ben for the idea.”
“Ben?” Ava stood beside the sleek metal table and picked up the piggy bank he’d used as a paperweight for the stack of contest flyers.
“I got the idea when Ben talked about that invention game you guys play.” Guilt pricked into his skin like a rough tag in his shirt collar. He’d done nothing wrong. He had nothing to confess.
He’d launched a contest. Planned to give the winner money. He’d even written in the rules that the winner’s idea became the property of his company once they accepted the cash payout. He’d spent hours with his legal team. Even required the entrants to click an “I accept the terms and conditions agreement” box to enter the contest. That wasn’t guilt scratching at him; it was panic. He had to find judges and mentors immediately.
Ava picked up a contest flyer and searched the paper as if searching for understanding. “What’s behind the contest?”
His chance at success. Albeit from the mind of someone else. Still, the winner would get money and Kyle would fulfill his contract. Everyone won. That scratch dug deeper into his neck like a razor pressed at the wrong angle. “It’s a way to give back. People have great ideas, but no platform to build them.”
“You’ll supply the platform.” Ava smiled, sincere and wide. Surprise drifted through her voice as if she’d doubted his altruistic streak. “That’s really impressive.”
Somehow her smile only sharpened that razor against his skin. He stepped forward and grabbed the flyer.
Ava held on to the paper. “Afraid I might enter?”
Kyle didn’t want to encourage her. After all, playing a game about invention ideas in the car was much different than coming up with a viable idea that could potentially change lives. Ava was certainly a pleasure to be around, but she wasn’t an inventor. Nor was she his conscience. “The contest is open to anyone with an idea.”
Ava released the paper. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kyle placed the flyer and his guilt back under the piggy bank paperweight.
“Your contest can possibly change someone’s life,” she said.
Or return his life to how it should be: with his family home, where he needed them. “I’m not sure it’s life-changing money.”
“Trust me. It is.” Ava’s earnest tone drew Kyle’s focus. “You’re going to change someone’s world.”
He only wanted to bring back his old world, where he’d always belonged—the one he’d relied on before Papa Quinn’s death. Before his family had splintered and had fled in different directions. Without a new idea, the contest was his only chance. “The contest has to be a success first.”
“It has your name and you’re already a success,” Ava said. “How could it fail?”
Kyle concentrated on her wide smile, refusing to list all the ways his plan might fail. Or the ways he might fail. If only her smile was enough to lessen the unease building inside him. He grabbed a puzzle cube from the table to keep his hands busy. But no matter how many turns he made on the cube, he couldn’t quite organize his guilt back under that pile of flyers. Or rearrange his unease.
He rushed out of the design room. In his haste to retreat, he led Ava into his living quarters. His personal space. Not the place he should’ve taken her. The apartment area was too small. Too compact. She was too close.
He couldn’t avoid her gaze that was too penetrating, as if she could read his secrets. She was supposed to have stopped at the game room. Been enthralled by the glitz and the glamor of the theater room. Been in awe of the state-of-the-art development lab.
She wasn’t supposed to look any deeper at Kyle.
He wasn’t supposed to let her.
He feared if she looked too close, she might glimpse the fraud inside him. For some unknown reason, he didn’t want her to see him that way.
“There’s no separation between work and home.” Ava opened his college-dorm-style refrigerator that had leftover pizza and an assortment of Greek-style yogurt inside. She grinned at him over the door, a tease in her voice. “Don’t cook much?”
“One of the perks of selling the earbud. I got to add a personal chef to the payroll.” He kept his tone easygoing but touched his medical-alert bracelet.
Her gaze tracked to his wrist. “What’s the bracelet for?”
He stiffened, but kept his voice mild and indifferent. As if his condition was no more life-threatening than a hangnail. In the summer before the sixth grade, he’d wanted nothing more than to fit in with the other boys. He’d boasted about his allergy and embellished his stories about ambulance rides to sound cooler than they ever were. Troy Simmons—one of the boys Kyle had wanted desperately to call a friend—decided to test Kyle’s claims and hide a nut in Kyle’s lunch. That single nut had sent Kyle on another ambulance ride. His three-day hospital stay had taught him a life lesson in trust. His family became the only ones he’d ever fully trust. He’d returned to school, confident that it was easier to be alone with his secrets than to be betrayed by so-called friends. “Nut allergy.”
“How severe is it?” she asked.
“Enough that I need to wear this.” And the personal chef had been hired to ensure his employees didn’t bring food into the building that would cause a reaction that sent him to the hospital. He wasn’t about to confess that weakness to Ava. She was a stranger. A temporary guest in his building.
In middle school, he’d stopped discussing his food allergies with people outside of his family. Now, even though his personal staff had moved on to other jobs, his chef still delivered meals twice a week. He’d grown tired of the five things he knew how to cook that wouldn’t make him reach for his EpiPen and dial 9-1-1.
“You don’t talk about it much.” She shut the refrigerator door and watched him. “At least from what I read.”
“You looked me up?” He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or worried.
“I wasn’t bringing Ben into a stranger’s house.” Her voice was confident and sure. Her stance, with her hands on her hips, was unapologetic.
“I’d be even more cautious after reading anything about me on the internet.” The news reporters and gossip columnists were just another reason he kept to himself.
“You don’t like to talk about yourself, do you?”
“I like to keep my private life private.”
“But you’re a local celebrity and the public wants to know.” Ava leaned against the counter as if in no rush to continue the tour. “I imagine everyone wants to spill your secrets.”
Good thing he didn’t have too many. And none that he’d risk sharing with another person. He eyed Ava. No makeup concealed the freckles across her nose. No designer labels peeked out on her yoga pants and oversize sweatshirt. As if she really wore those clothes to work out in. She’d dressed for herself and her own comfort, not to impress. Such a refreshing change, yet everyone had an agenda.
What was Ava’s? Was she looking for a fast track to her fifteen minutes of fame? Looking for an easy payout with a story to sell? He hoped she was. That was more than enough for him to escort her out of his suite and sever his interest in her. “It’s a good thing that I don’t have any secrets, then.”
“Well, you’ve got one,” she challenged.
Alarms blared through him. He knew she’d been too perfect. “What’s that?”
“I never read a quote or story about you from your private chef.”
“She’s discreet.” He paid Haley Waters, his chef, very well for that discretion.
She nodded, as if content with his answer. Content not to press for more. “We remodeled our kitchen, but it might’ve been wiser to invest in a personal chef.”
Like his chef, Haley? Did Ava have secrets? Kyle should walk her back to her friends. Not linger in his kitchen as if he wanted to get to know her better. As if he wanted to know her. Yet he should discover what she wanted from him. “You don’t like to cook, either?”
“It’s not the cooking. It’s the shopping.” Ava grimaced. “Although now I get our groceries delivered.”
Our. Kyle scanned her fingers for a ring. Even without a ring, she could be involved with someone. That thought knocked around inside his gut like the break of the balls on the pool table. Definitely not his business. Those were only hunger pangs making his stomach clench. Nothing food wouldn’t quiet. Before he could shove a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth, he asked, “You cook for more than yourself?”
He had to stop talking or she’d question his angle. As if he had one.
“My mom and I live together.” She walked out of the kitchen, toward the game room, as if she’d revealed more than enough.
She wanted to keep her private life private, too. That put them on common ground. And intensified his desire to learn what else they might have in common. Why couldn’t she have been like the women he’d met who were only interested in what his money could do for them? Why did she have to be interesting? And standoffish, as if she didn’t trust him with her secrets.
She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. “We should get going.”
He’d asked one personal question and she wanted to leave. “Play one game of Skee-Ball. It’ll be hard to talk while you’re trying to beat me.”
Her gaze shifted toward the lanes. Temptation was there in her half grin.
“Come on, Ava,” Dan urged. “I talked to my dad. Your mom is good, and they already planned dinner without us.”
“One game.” Ava stepped up to the first lane.
Kyle pressed Play on the second lane. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He already knew what he got: a game room that wasn’t empty or silent. He’d enjoy the moment. Then get back to work. What harm was there in one round?
One game turned into two. Then three. The moment extended into the evening. Then through dinner. The foursome moved together from one section to another. Challenges issued. Teams made and disbanded. Everyone proved to be poor losers and even worse winners. Between the boasting and bragging, more challenges were tossed out. Laughter threaded through every minute: good-natured and contagious.
Finally, Dan called a halt. Ben had exceeded his yawn limit and bedtime beckoned.
One last debate followed.
Ava grabbed the chalk and walked to the wall. “I claim the top spot.”
“For Skee-Ball only,” Dan argued. Both Ben and Kyle nodded, drawing out her frown.
“Fine.” She filled up the wall with a swirl of blue chalk. “Here are the final standings.”
Kyle earned: Expert Ping-Pong Player.
Ben: Highest Score 11 and under.
Dan: Best Off-Road Driver.
Ava: High Score Skee-Ball.
Kyle walked the trio out and returned to the suite. Time to work. His reprieve had ended much like all good times had to. His gaze stuck on the chalkboard wall. Ava had added a smiley face after her name: bold and challenging, like her.
He skipped turning off the lights and instead pressed the start button on the Skee-Ball lane.
One more game wasn’t a big deal. It meant nothing. It wasn’t as if he wanted to extend the moment. As if he couldn’t accept the evening had ended.
As if he wasn’t ready for the silence of being alone. He preferred the quiet.
He just wanted to play one more game. Nothing wrong with that.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u312b7689-1e40-5082-a26e-897a07ae939c)
KYLE FINISHED A direct deposit into Penny’s Place bank account to cover the shelter’s expenses for the month, submitted Callie’s tuition payment early and logged out of his banking website. His ringing cell phone disrupted the silence that had blanketed the suite the past week. The heavy quiet draped like sheets over the furniture of an abandoned house.
Or perhaps the real damage had come from Ava, Dan and Ben last weekend. Their laughter no longer lingered and that amplified the stillness surrounding him. He’d never have noticed if he hadn’t opened the door that day. Even more disturbing was that he wanted to invite them back. He needed an idea, though, not friends.
He pressed Answer on the phone screen.
Over the speakerphone, the brusque voice of Terri Stanton, VP of Tech Realized, Inc., disrupted the still, sterile air in the development lab. “Kyle, you can help as many amateur inventors as you want with your contest, as long as you submit your proposal as outlined in the contract you signed.”
“You’ll have a proposal by the due date.” Kyle double-checked the time line on the dry-erase board. The contest ended two days before his idea was due. Late last night, he’d added the last judge to the panel. The official contest open house happened tomorrow afternoon. Everything was proceeding as planned.
Everything but creating his own original idea. That wasn’t proceeding at all.
He’d spent the entire week inside the lab. The result: a 3-D printed chess game board, complete with all the individual chess pieces. And a growing list of ideas he’d thought were original until a quick search on the patent website proved him wrong. It seemed everyone had gotten to his ideas first.
The contest was quickly becoming his plan A.
“Hey, I like an altruistic streak as much as the next person,” Terri added. The graciousness in her voice was cut by the bluntness in her tone. “Just not at the expense of your commitments.”
“And the bottom line,” Kyle said before he could shut his mouth.
There was a pause in the air over the speakerphone. Then Terri cleared her throat as if strengthening the firmness in her voice. “We’ve all enjoyed the Medi-Spy profits, even you, Kyle. You can’t deny it. That doesn’t make us bad people.”
No, bad people stole others’ ideas and passed them off as their own. Kyle ran his hands through his hair. He wasn’t really stealing an idea. Every part of the contest had been vetted and approved by his legal team at Thornton, Davies and Associates. Every contestant had to sign an agreement and a waiver. No one was being duped. No one was being forced to submit an entry.
Besides, he wasn’t taking every idea. Only the winner’s. The winner received a monetary prize. A quite nice reward. Maybe if he increased the payout, he’d decrease his guilt.
This was for his family, after all. That didn’t make him a bad guy. A bad guy wanted to line his own pockets. “These inventions have to be about more than money.”
“Do they?” Terri laughed as if his innocence amused her. “Money opens doors.”
And was supposed to solve any problem, wasn’t it? “It really is all about the money.”
“It’s about making more money. With your new invention.” Terri’s voice increased, as if she picked up the phone and spoke directly into the receiver to get her point across. “Then we can do whatever we want. Even sit around and philosophize about the dangers of money if we choose to.”
Several clunks echoed down the hallway, followed by the clatter of bells. Kyle was supposed to be alone. Like he wanted. Like he chose to be. “I’ll have my proposal to you on time, Terri. I need to get to a meeting.”
“Make it a profitable one. I promise you won’t regret it.” Terri laughed and clicked off.
Kyle stood up, stuffed his phone into the pocket of his jeans and walked into his inspiration area. A curly-haired petite woman in four-inch red heels and a charcoal-gray business suit picked a ball out of the Skee-Ball queue. One underhand toss and the ball flipped up the ramp, landing in the forty-point circle. The points flashed in red lights across the digital screen on the top.
Kyle walked up to the second Skee-Ball lane, pressed the start button and switched his greeting for his older sister into a question. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
Specifically, his older sister should be at the job he’d secured for her last week at the Zenith Law Firm.
“Who’s Ava?” Iris threw her second ball, garnered another forty points and never glanced at him.
“Ava is Ben’s aunt.” Kyle faced his lane and aimed a ball at the white rings. “What about your job?”
“Things weren’t going to work out at Zenith.” She kicked off her heels and adjusted her stance as if her future was riding on the next toss. “Who is Ben?”
“Ben is Dan’s son.” Kyle landed a ball in the fifty-point ring. “What happened at Zenith?”
Thanks to a connection through his own legal team, he’d found his sister a position as a receptionist at the Zenith Law Firm. The position was perfect for Iris; between her pleasant voice and animated disposition, she’d been ideal to answer calls and greet clients in the reception area. The position paid well, offered benefits and had no mandatory overtime.
“Besides the requirement of having to be seated at my desk at precisely 8:00 a.m., there were other unrealistic expectations.” Her ball failed to make it into the scoring range. “Who is Dan?”
“They’re friends.” Kyle grabbed another ball and glanced at his older sister. “Tell me why you got fired.”
This was Iris’s sixteenth job in the past twelve months. That had to be some sort of employment record. His sister was quickly becoming a serial job-hopper.
“You don’t have friends.” She tossed her last ball from one hand to the other and looked at him. Nothing sparked in her blue eyes, as if she guarded herself from Kyle. “It was a mutual parting, by the way. I told Lacey Thornton you’d see her at the Harrington fund-raiser tonight.”
Kyle’s ball dropped out of his hand and onto the lane. His voice dropped, too. “Why would you say that?”
“Because Lacey helped get me the job at Zenith.” She pointed the ball at him. “You are friends with both Drew Harrington and Lacey, so you should be there at the fund-raiser to support your friend’s family.”
“I don’t have friends.” He threw her words back at her.
“You don’t have friends who come here to hang out, play arcade games and write their names on the chalkboard wall.” She turned to the lane, tossed her ball into the fifty-point ring and smiled. Her voice came out more like an accusation. “But you do have business friends.”
“Fortunately, I have those business connections.” Kyle ran his hands through his hair as if that would contain his frustration. He didn’t mind supporting his sister, especially since her disaster of a marriage and the extreme fallout after her divorce. But she needed something of her own. Certainly, she wanted that for herself, too. All she had to do was stay longer than a week at a job and she’d start to build something. “It’s been those business friends who’ve been willing to offer you employment. But I’m running low on those connections.”
“Then you can network tonight at the Harrington event.” She frowned at her final score and restarted the game. “If it makes you feel any better, I really intended to be at that job longer than a week.”
He’d intended the very same thing. Had even bought her an entire work wardrobe for this particular job, believing this would be the one she stuck with. Her suit jacket bagged around her shoulders—she still hadn’t regained the weight she’d lost after her divorce. Her frame had always been frail, but now she looked even more fragile. More vulnerable. He sighed and softened his voice. “Tell me what happened.”
She watched the balls roll into the queue. “When am I going to meet your new friends?”
Iris released information according to her own schedule. In her own way. She’d continue returning his question with one of her own for the rest of the morning. Determined to end the game, he said, “I met them at the calendar shoot for juvenile diabetes research several weekends ago. I offered to give Ben, who has juvenile diabetes, a tour of the place. He likes to invent things.”
She cradled the ball and turned to face him, but her gaze refused to meet his. “It was a mutual parting of the ways at Zenith. Wade and I agreed I wasn’t right for the job. I’ve already made plans to meet up with Wade and his entire team at Rustic Grille for appetizers and drinks next week.”
His sister had remained friends with every one of her prior employers. Every single one. She’d crossed the employee-employer boundary, proving they were better buddies than coworkers. He might’ve envied her ease at making friends if not for the fact that her friends wouldn’t pay her rent or her credit-card bills. “What now?”
“I have options.” Both her voice and small grin lacked confidence.
More like Kyle would have to find her another employment option. He rolled his last ball up the ramp. “Options that can pay your rent, bills and food.”
“Why is it always about money?” Irritation dipped into her normally sweet tone.
He’d just asked Terri of Tech Realized, Inc. the very same thing. He repeated Terri’s response. “Once you have enough money, you can do whatever you want. Whatever you’re passionate about.”
“Are you living your passion now that you have money?” Iris tossed her ball from one hand to the other as if debating whether or not to launch it at him. “Living alone in an arcade. Is this the life you always imagined?”
When had it become about him and his life? Or his passion. Whatever she meant by that. He could count on his hand the number of people he knew that were passionate about their work. Maybe he needed to extend his circle of acquaintances. They weren’t discussing his life right now, anyway. “Come with me tonight to the Harrington event. We’ll find someone with a job opening that you can be passionate about.”
“I have another commitment tonight.” She turned back to the game.
“For a potential job?”
“Maybe,” she hedged.
Kyle studied his sister. He wanted her to be happy. She deserved to finally be happy after a marriage that had left her isolated and scared to trust anyone, even her own family. His throat closed as if a Skee-Ball lodged there. “Iris...”
“I’ll change my plans around.” She eyed him. Her chin tipped up in challenge. “As long as you introduce me to your new friends.”
Simple. Easy. “Done.”
He had no idea when he’d see Dan, Ben or Ava again. That promise wouldn’t be difficult to keep. Smiling, he walked toward the back of the suite, grabbed his checkbook from a desk drawer and wrote out a check in his sister’s name. He knew by heart how much she’d need to cover her monthly expenses—he’d written the same check every month for the past year. Returning to the inspiration area, he handed her the check. “It’s enough to cover rent and food for the month.”
“I’ve got everything covered.” She focused on the lane, both her voice and grip on the ball intense.
“You’ve already lined up another job.” He couldn’t quite pull the surprised sarcasm from his voice.
She tossed the ball, pumped her fist as it rolled into the highest point ring. “Not yet. But I will.”
“Then you’re going to need this.” Kyle thrust the check at her. “Just take it.”
His sister launched her final ball. Landed another high point and jumped up in the air. “Where’s the chalk?”
“The what?” he asked.
She waved toward the chalkboard wall. “The chalk. I need to write my name over Ava’s.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“I’m the new high score.” She jumped again and pointed at him. “You can tell Ava I said, challenge accepted.”
Why couldn’t his sister be this competitive in the workforce? “You need to go home and iron your suit—the one you wore for your job interview at Zenith—and not worry about being the high score.”
“No ironing today.” She erased Ava’s name and wrote hers with her trademark flourish and flower to dot the second lowercase I in her name. “I have an appointment with Roland Daniels to de-stress and unwind.”
He needed to de-stress. How could his sister be so unpredictable and stubborn? She’d just lost her job. Again. “Stop at the bank and deposit this check on your way to the yoga studio.”
“I already agreed to go with you to the Harrington event. You don’t need to pay me like I’m your employee or something.”
Kyle cleared his throat to release the truth. The truth she never wanted to hear. “You can’t go back to Penny’s Place, Iris. Take the check.”
Iris crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. “Why not? They understand me there.”
“It’s a shelter for abused and abandoned women.” He still cringed at the memories of seeing his sister in the doorway of Penny’s Place. Her bruised eye. The stitches circling her wrist and crisscrossing her forehead. A nauseous fury still stormed through him at the reminder. “You aren’t either of those things now.”
She yanked the check from his grip and stuffed it into her suit pocket. “Because of your handouts.”
“It’s not like that.” If she’d keep a job, she wouldn’t need his handouts. He smoothed the frustration from his voice. “I want to help. That’s all.”
He wanted his sister to have security and protection—everything she never had in her brief marriage.
Iris slipped her heels back on, once again looking the part of a corporate professional ready to conquer the business world, one promotion at a time. “Mom and Dad called to congratulate me on making it a full week. I tried to pretend, but it only disrupted my inner zen. Luckily, they were off to snorkel, and their lecture ended quickly.”
Neither Iris nor Kyle had told their parents the full details of her divorce. No one besides Kyle knew where Iris had ended up a week after she’d signed her divorce papers. No one besides Kyle knew about the darkness in her marriage. Kyle intended to help his sister now.
“Did Mom and Dad tell you when they wanted to move back?” Perhaps with his parents back home, they could work together to get Iris into a full-time job. Kyle was beginning to think he needed reinforcements.
Iris tipped her head and gaped at him. “You do realize they retired to the Florida Coast, right?”
“But their family is here.” Their home was here. At least once he built the family estate in Sonoma. Then their family could be together again. Close again like they’d been before Papa Quinn’s death. Like his grandfather had always expected them to be.
“Speaking of family, can your family members enter that contest of yours?” Iris pulled a folded piece of paper from her oversize purse. “Wade showed me the flyer this morning before I left.”
“No. You’re ineligible to win.” Besides, he’d already advanced her double that amount over the past year.
“I have a great idea that’s worth more than your contest prize.” Enthusiasm lifted her voice. “I only need paint brushes and...”
“Painting the ceiling in here to look like the sky isn’t a great idea.” Kyle crossed his arms over his chest. He’d given Iris free rein to design the bathrooms and hang her own artwork in the elevator. The arcade, he intended to leave alone. The family basement never had a ceiling painted to look like the sky. He didn’t need that now.
“With the right lighting in here, it’d look incredible.” Iris adjusted her purse on her shoulder and stared up at the ceiling. “You have no imagination.”
He used to have one that helped him create endless ideas. He wasn’t sure where his imagination had fled to or how to find it. “I don’t need an imagination to recognize when something is a waste of time and money.”
“Art is never a waste of time.” Her voice was confident, her tone defiant. “But I don’t expect you to understand.”
He understood his sister needed a job with a regular paycheck. “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight.”
“Any other orders?”
He couldn’t resist the urge to bait her. “Get a class calendar from the yoga studio. When you start working full-time again, you won’t be able to attend a late-morning yoga session with Roland.”
Iris glared at him and yanked open the door. She exited without a goodbye. He shouldn’t have baited her. Yet when she was riled, she lost her fragility and vulnerability. Whenever Iris was riled, he saw a glimpse of his older sister—the one with the backbone and spirit that had come to his defense more than once. The one he’d grown up wanting to be like. Was it wrong that he wanted the sister he once knew?
CHAPTER FIVE (#u312b7689-1e40-5082-a26e-897a07ae939c)
AVA RUBBED HER eyes and looked out the passenger window of the ambulance, idling in their usual curbside spot on the street. Three hours ago, the clock had chimed for Cinderellas everywhere to return home before the magic disappeared. Now Dan and Ava were stuck in the middle, between midnight and sunrise, with four hours left on their work shift.
The darkest hour of the night might’ve already passed, but the city only ever went completely dark in a rare power outage. Tonight was no different with the stoplight lighting the intersection and the surrounding buildings lit in awkward checkerboard patterns.
Tourists knew the city for its landmarks: Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz and Lombard Street with its eight hairpin turns. Ava marked the city by patients and victims, especially the ones that had left the deepest mark inside her. Six blocks ahead on the left was the cardiac plaza. Chest pains and shortness of breath were the main reasons for 9-1-1 calls from that particular office building. Four blocks to her right was her first hit-and-run intersection. Every time she passed the corner of Cliff Street and Gate Street, the anguish of a mother’s cries over her stillborn baby echoed through her.
Ava stared out the window, searching for a less morbid memory. Only gloom overtook her. That was her own fault for inviting her financial problems inside the ambulance. She should’ve stuck to the cute puppy and kitten videos she usually watched between emergency calls and not opened the help-wanted website on her phone.
But watching endless videos wasn’t going to pay the rent or cover the cost of her mom’s prescriptions. Neither was her paramedic’s salary. She had to supplement her income.
She scrolled through the job ads on her phone and groaned.
“Nothing promising?” Dan asked between bites of his cheeseburger.
“It’s a toss-up between airplane repo man, exotic personal assistant or nude housekeeper.” Ava dropped her phone on her lap.
Dan choked on his bite of french fry.
Ava handed Dan his bottle of water. “In all fairness, the nude part ends when the guy’s wife returns from her vacation. Then it’s just regular housekeeping.”
Dan wiped a napkin over his mouth and muted the laughter in his voice. “How much does the housekeeper get paid?”
“Not nearly enough.” The housekeeping would barely cover the expense of her mom’s daily medications. That left rent, electric and food.
“For the fast, easy payout, you should enter Kyle’s contest. You get to keep your clothes on, unless of course your invention involves being naked.” Dan crumpled the empty foil wrapper from his cheeseburger along with the tease from his tone. “Although that doesn’t seem like the kind of X-rated idea Kyle wants in his contest.”
“How do you know what Kyle wants?” She wanted to see Kyle again. But only in the can-I-play-Skee-Ball kind of way. Nothing more. She had no time for a man in her life.
Even if she did, Kyle wouldn’t make the cut. Anyone who could fund a random contest with fifty thousand dollars in less than a week, on a whim no less, played on a different field than she did. One that was no doubt carefree, worry-free and extra green from his money. Her field consisted of financial debt and possible job burnout—not exactly greener pastures or enticing.
“Ben and I checked out Kyle’s website.” Dan polished off the last of his french fries. “We’re trying to come up with a winning invention.”
That money, along with the potential bonus, would allow Ava to go to school and pay for her mom’s care. No naked housekeeping required. Temptation swirled through her. But she had to come up with an idea better than mood-changing hair dye. She’d need a serious, workable idea. One worth twenty-five grand. “Surely you guys have something on your list of wins from our You-Know-What-We-Need game.”
“Nothing worthy of fifty grand,” Dan said.
“Then it’s not such an easy, quick payout.” Like everything in life. Life was never that easy or simple. Ever.
“You just need one idea.” Dan held up his index finger. “One.”
“One really good idea that hasn’t been thought of already.” Ava stretched her legs out and flexed her toes inside her boots, rolled her ankles. Nothing smoothed out the sudden restlessness inside her. “An invention that can also be made into a prototype.”
Dan scrunched up his napkin and threw it at her. “You looked into the contest, too. What is your idea?”
“I talked to Kyle about the contest when we were there.” She’d considered the contest in a the-sky-is-always-pink-in-that-world kind of way. Putting her energy into a fantasy made her selfish like her father. She had to do what was right for her family, not only herself. Believing she could win a contest was a risk she couldn’t afford. She tapped on her phone screen to search for more job ads. “My only idea is to find a legal, non-nude, part-time job that pays well.”
Dan tapped the steering wheel. “You have better odds with the contest or the lottery.”
She refused to believe that. She had to be thoughtful and methodical in her job search. Entering a contest and wishing on stars wasn’t practical. “I just have to search the right job-ad website.”
Dispatch interrupted the conversation. Codes. Location. And more details rattled over the speaker, focusing Ava.
Who was she kidding? She wasn’t an inventor or a forward thinker. She was a paramedic who’d served her country and now took care of her mother. She tended to the wounded and sick—that was what she knew how to do. What she excelled at. Ava buckled her seat belt and left her ridiculous thoughts about inventions outside, in the gutter.
“Time to roll.” Dan buckled his seat belt. “Told you that you should’ve eaten while we had the chance.”
Stress had stolen her appetite. With each block closer to the victim’s location, she crammed the stress deep inside her, where it wouldn’t distract her. She couldn’t rescue her struggling finances, but she could help save another life.
* * *
FORTY-EIGHT HOURS after her late-night job search in the ambulance, the reality of Ava’s life crashed over her. Game night at Kyle’s place seemed like a distant memory—an imagined one.
Her reality was a domestic fight and a victim with multiple stab wounds. An overdose. One early-morning heart attack. A stroke. Not everyone arrived at the hospital alive. Those were only the life-threatening calls during the night.
Five hours into their shift, Ava had checked the full-moon calendar, looking for something to explain the hectic pace. The full moon was still more than eight days away. Her shift had been another routine night on the job. A routine night that had left her hollowed out and exhausted.
Ava walked into her apartment, her legs wooden, her steps slow. Surely a few hours of sleep would right her world enough to take on the day.
But her home life collided with her professional life, adding a bleakness everywhere she looked.
Joann, a registered nurse and her mother’s caregiver, sat at the kitchen table, her fingers wrapped around a wide mug. Worry and exhaustion faded into the older woman’s wide brown eyes and thinned her mouth.
The long-time nurse—and second mother to Ava—didn’t need to speak for Ava to know her mom had relapsed during the night.
Ava worked her voice around the catch in her throat. “How is she?”
Joann sipped her tea as if requiring the warm liquid to loosen her own words. “We made it through the night.”
They’d never called Ava. Not that she would’ve been able to answer, given their call load. She thanked the powers that be for Joann. She’d be lost without the remarkable woman caring for her mother.
Joann pointed to a dry-erase board on the side of the refrigerator. “Doses and times are on the board. You’ll want to repeat.”
Ava scanned the med list and her heart rolled into her stomach. This wasn’t a mild relapse. Nothing that would resolve in the next few hours. “You need to get some rest.”
“I’m thinking the very same thing about you.” Joann tipped her mug toward Ava; a familiar motherly scold laced her tone. “Child, you look like you’re about to drop out to that tile floor. If you dare to do it, I’m leaving you right where you fall.”
“Can you at least cover me up?” Ava asked, a small smile in her voice.
“Fine, but I’m not getting you a pillow.” Joann rinsed her mug in the sink and set it in the dishwasher. “Go to bed before you really do face-plant on this floor.”
Ava hugged Joann and watched the nurse leave. Exhaustion made her feet drag down the hall. She already knew sleep would be difficult to hold on to with the worry for her mom weaving relentlessly through her. She showered and changed, and then headed out of her bedroom. Her gaze drifted over the contest flyer she’d tossed on her dresser last week.
She tiptoed into her mom’s room and curled into the recliner beside her mother’s bed. Concern pulsed through her, making her entire body ache.
Her mental health needed a career change and soon. She’d never really paid attention to statistics, never considered herself a number on a survey. Until recently. Statistics listed a paramedic’s burnout rate at five years. If Ava listened hard enough, she could hear that clock ticking. She hadn’t shared with Dan or her mom that her past and present intersected during any quiet moment. In those moments, memories stole her sleep and haunted her with fear-induced adrenaline rushes.
The more she worked, the more her empathy dwindled away. Last night’s first call had been to a car accident involving a seventeen-year-old who’d been texting. The teen had cried his life was too hard with balancing school and girlfriends and expectations. He’d swerved into oncoming traffic, too absorbed by the videos on his phone to watch the road. Ava had wanted to lecture the teen that hard was having both legs blown off from an IED and living to talk about it. Hard was leaving your pregnant wife at home while you served for a year overseas and not knowing if you’d return at all. Hard was burying your child. Too soon. Too early. Because of irresponsible drivers like him. Anger warred with her compassion. But teens should be having fun and being carefree, shouldn’t they? They weren’t adults yet. And didn’t everyone deserve a second chance?
She wanted to believe she could attend physician assistant’s school, shift into an office environment with normal hours and less stress. Then she’d rediscover her empathy and passion for helping people. But attending graduate school would sacrifice her mom’s care. She’d never risk losing Joann. If only there were more hours in the day. Then she could have everything.
Kyle’s contest was another option. A chance—however small—to change her future if she won. Maybe all she needed was to just take the risk and enter the contest. Maybe believing she had a chance to win would be enough to quiet the past and give her hope. Hope that would surely bring back her compassion.
Her brain was too exhausted to think logically. She wasn’t actually considering entering Kyle’s contest, was she?
She had an idea of sorts. Something she’d considered over the last few nights in the lull between calls. Something she’d woken up thinking about yesterday afternoon.
Ava slipped out of her mom’s room, grabbed her laptop and returned. She opened the contest website and clicked on the entry button. She’d enter and not tell anyone. If nothing came of it, at the worst, she was out a few hours’ time. She’d wasted more time scrolling through TV stations, searching for something to watch.
Filling out the entry form gave her a chance to decompress—something the facilitators of the Critical Incident Stress Debriefing group recommended.
More than an hour later, her mother woke up. Her smile barely twitched across her lips; her voice was no more than a raw scratch. “Glad you’re home safe.”
Ava set the laptop on the bedside table and held her mom’s pale hand. “Sleep, Mom. I’m here.”
“I have two guardian angels,” her mom whispered. “What would I do without you both?”
Ava waited for her mom to drift back to sleep. She wasn’t qualified to be a guardian angel. Joann had earned that distinction more than once. Ava might not be guardian-angel eligible, but she was there to protect her mom.
She reached toward the computer with her free hand and pressed the submit button on the entry page. She had to try for her mother and herself.
She shut the laptop and curled into the recliner. She fell asleep cradling her mom’s hand between her own, wanting to hold on to the dream of a different future. Not the pink skies and fantasy future, but one that might be a real possibility. If only...
CHAPTER SIX (#u312b7689-1e40-5082-a26e-897a07ae939c)
KYLE WALKED AROUND the outdoor garden oasis he’d designed on the rooftop of his building, checking the ice bin, appetizer trays, and avoiding the guests mingling around him. Small talk had never interested him. Too much politeness and too many gracious compliments made him suspicious. He always ended up searching for the flip side—the criticism wrapped inside the sweetness.
At eight, his grandfather had declared Kyle was man enough to learn how to shake a hand and stand behind his word. Papa Quinn had taught him to rely on the strength of a handshake, not empty promises. His grandfather looked people in the eye, always had a firm handshake and listened.
Sam Bentley, one of Kyle’s judges and soon-to-be mentors, walked over to the buffet table and shook Kyle’s hand. Sam had a handshake Kyle could rely on.
“Quite the crowd,” Sam said. “I didn’t expect so many people to be here.”
Neither had Kyle. The contest open house had been last weekend. The number of contest entries had exceeded his expectations by more than double. “You might want to try the shrimp before they’re gone.”
“Good idea.” Sam piled several bacon-wrapped shrimps onto a napkin. “You doing okay?”
Kyle paused and looked Sam in the eye. His grandfather had always cautioned Kyle not to ask a question if he wasn’t fully invested in the response. Sam seemed prepared to listen. Sam’s wife, Glenda, bounced between them and air-kissed Kyle. “You’ve outdone yourself, Kyle. How did you manage this so fast?”
The effervescent woman answered her question with another one. “Did you see Vanessa Ryan, the news anchor from Channel 15, and Brendan Payne from Channel 10? Brendan looks better without all that studio makeup. Do you think they might be an item?” Glenda glanced at Kyle. “Don’t you get nervous talking to reporters? Worried you might say the wrong thing.”
Sam handed his wife the napkin with the shrimp and grimaced at Kyle. “Honey, try these. They’re quite delicious.”
“I can’t eat now.” Glenda adjusted the cashmere scarf around her neck. “Nikki James—also from Channel 10—is headed right this way.”
Kyle disliked the press even more than small talk.
Nikki lifted her champagne glass in a toast to the threesome. “Kyle, are you going to show us where the finalists will be working on their inventions?”
“Not tonight.” Or ever. Kyle motioned to Sam. “Mr. Bentley can answer any questions you have. We designed the lab together the last few days.”
Glenda widened her smile and tugged her husband closer to Nikki James. Grateful, Kyle slipped around the buffet table and escaped. He checked his watch. Only twenty minutes until the finalists were announced.
The finalists with the ideas that would save him.
He’d spent another endless round of nights pretending to work inside his lab. Even the five-star meals prepared by Haley Waters, his personal chef, had failed to inspire him. He’d played Skee-Ball more than once in the early morning hours, searching for something with every toss of the ball. All he’d discovered was that the game was better with Ava challenging him and Ben and Dan’s laughter surrounding him. The ideas remained stuck inside him.
He’d considered arranging another visit for Ben, Dan and Ava, but nixed that thought. He wasn’t that lonesome to have people around. Even his sister hadn’t popped in to disturb the silence. Iris had texted to tell him about several job interviews she’d scheduled for the week. She hadn’t texted with news that she’d secured a new job. How was he supposed to judge his sister while he failed at his own job?
Iris circulated through the crowd, bringing her usual cheer to every guest. Not only did his sister excel at small talk, she made every person she met feel special and comfortable. She treated strangers like cherished old friends, claimed she’d never known a stranger. For one breath, he envied her. Wanted to be like her. Wanted to belong with such effortless ease.
Fortunately, his survival instinct forced him to inhale the evening air, driving that senseless wish away and returning him to more secure ground. He might stand apart, but at least he was safe there.
His gaze caught on an all-too-familiar redhead. The same redhead he’d imagined challenging him to a late-night game of Ping-Pong. The same redhead he’d want as a friend if friends were his goal.
He’d stopped looking for friends in the sixth grade. He’d been wary and distant on his return to middle school after Troy Simmons had tested Kyle’s allergy claims. In high school, he’d accepted that inviting the guy who might need an EpiPen jammed into his thigh and an ambulance ride was too much of a party buzzkill. By college, that twinge of missing out had faded. He’d been too busy with his studies and sharing his inventions with his grandfather.
Yet that almost-familiar clench to his insides, as if he’d missed being around Ava, surprised him. He’d moved on from his past and was more than satisfied with his life. After all, he had more important priorities than a misplaced wish to belong.
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