Greta twisted her long, dark hair into twin braids and secured the ends. She looked at her barley-there bikini in the mirror and sighed.
It was nice. Pale blue with white strings for the ties against her tanned skin, it was quite striking. Her body was in impeccable shape, clean lines and lovely definition. As it should be, since she worked on it enough.
She knew she looked good. Not that she was conceited, she wasn't. But she also wasn't one of those girls with a bad body image. No, Greta's insecurities went far deeper. Anyone could like a pretty face, but finding someone who wanted her for who she actually was? That was the impossible dream she lived with.
She shook her head at her deep musings and slipped on her white cutoff jean shorts and black tank. She had to get to Soaring Bird before Shane got there. She didn't have time to psychoanalyze herself for the millionth time. Besides, she had plans for a sketch later that would help her get those feelings out onto paper. Dark, heavy lines. Shadows that she would deepen and blur.
Miranda had cooking. Harrison had music. And Greta had art.
It's what she'd gone to school for. Her first year at Boston University had been great. But then things had happened... She'd transferred to San Diego after a year. Their program was excellent but she bored of it quickly. Instead, she switched to physical therapy and sports rehab due to her fascination with the human body and her obsession with muscle groups. How they worked, how they moved, what they were capable of. The sports rehab clinic where she had worked had been cool; it's where she'd met Clarke. But again, she got bored and went back to serving coffee to tourists at the pier.
Her tendency to bounce around from thing to thing is what irritated her brother the most. He wanted her to choose something, anything, and stick with it. But Greta couldn't stand the feeling of being trapped in something. She wanted to be free.
She skipped down the hall and then down the stairs, regretfully slipping on a pair of flip-flops. Shoes were for suckers. But Shane had looked irritated with her that day she'd shown up barefoot. She didn't want to push the wrong buttons today.
Excitement shouldered its way into her previously contemplative thoughts. She was looking forward to getting into Shane's issues and helping set him free as well. Because that's where people were their best—when they were free.
She'd stayed away for a couple of days, hanging out with her brother and Mike, letting Shane forget she existed again. It was all part of the plan. He couldn't feel trapped and forced into it. He had to want to hang out with her.
Clarke had remained adamant that Shane not become a project, but Greta couldn't help it. A man that fantastic couldn't be left alone for too long. He'd end up with some bimbo taking advantage of his good heart. He'd be safe with Greta. She had no desire to cage him anymore than she wanted to be caged herself.
“Are you coming out with us today?” Brady called from the kitchen.
She spun towards him, noticing the mug he held up to his lips, and decided that a cup of coffee didn't sound half bad.
“What are you doing up so early?” she asked, reaching around him and getting a cup out of the cabinet.
Brady and Bo Samson were brothers who were often mistaken for twins. Both tall, broad-shouldered blonds with a year-round tan and smiles that could melt the inhibitions off of a preacher's daughter. They had too much money and enjoyed spending it on themselves and their friends.
Brady was the responsible one, socially speaking. He made more lasting friendships than his slightly younger brother, who had a tendency to ruffle feathers and cause tension.
Greta loved them both equally and for different reasons.
“Steve snores,” he grumbled, taking a tentative sip. His blond hair was matted on one side and sticking straight up on the other. She stood on her tiptoes for a moment so she could ruffle his rooster-tail playfully.
“Is that what that noise is? I thought someone was trying to kill a bear with a lawnmower.” She snickered and filled her cup, bypassing the cream and sugar.
Steve, on the other hand, was a little more difficult to love. He was crude and obnoxious most of the time. While he thought he was the funniest guy in the room, he was usually the one who made everyone call it an early night. Also blond, also built, but with the emotional maturity of a golden retriever puppy. Which meant, at times, he could be quite lovable. Then he'd whiz on the carpet and spoil the moment.
All three of the guys had been in Shane's life since childhood and in Clarke's life since around high school, when they all started to see each other at various surfing competitions.
SoCal was huge with a small world feel at times.
“You didn't answer me. You coming out with us today?” he asked again and reached over, flicking the string from her bikini that hung down her back.
“I don't know yet. I have something I have to do this morning, and it depends on how that goes,” she replied vaguely.
“Who's the new guy?” Brady's mouth twitched up on one side and he tried to hide it behind his coffee cup.
“I'm not telling.” Greta smiled coyly. They'd find out soon enough anyway. Chances are they wouldn't even be surprised. They'd been watching her do this since they met ten weeks ago. She'd had, what, three projects since then? And they knew some of the guys she'd helped before hand.
He tsked. “One of these days you're gonna pick the wrong guy.”
“Oh yeah?” She raised her eyebrows in amusement. “What do you mean by 'wrong guy'?”
“You're gonna accidentally fall for him and you'll break your own heart.” Brady's usual playful demeanor quieted and he looked thoughtful.
“What makes you so sure?” Greta asked as she leaned up against the counter next to him.
“I'm going with the odds. It's only a matter of time.” He cleared his throat. “If it doesn't work out with Mister Undeclared today, you should join us. We're trying some new stuff and I think you'll like it.” He reached over and tugged one of her braids.
“I'll think about it.” She finished her coffee and placed her cup in the sink behind her. “I have to get going, Mister Undeclared's future is depending on me.”
“Give him hell,” Brady teased with a wink.
The drive to the shop was quick, especially for Greta who hardly ever drove the speed limit. Her dad said she drove like traffic laws were more of a guideline. It made her mother nervous as hell, but Greta was smart about it. She'd never been in an accident and had never gotten a ticket. That had to count for something.
She pulled the Jeep into a parking space and breathed a sigh of relief to see that no one else was here yet. She checked her face in the visor mirror. Good, nothing in her teeth, no weird toothpaste lines around her mouth.
“Rude girl.”
Greta jumped when Shane appeared next to her open window. She felt her face flush at the surprise, and it increased when Shane chuckled at her reaction.
“Your teeth are all accounted for, from what I can see.”
“Thanks.” She gave him an embarrassed smile and pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a step back as she opened the Jeep's door and stepped onto the pavement. His narrowed eyes scanned her vehicle and he pursed his lips.
“I'm here to see if you can help me with something.” She cocked an eyebrow, but her confidence faltered when he abruptly rolled his eyes and turned to walk towards the building.
“I have no interest in whatever you're scheming, Greta.”
Ouch.
That was sharp. And kind of cold.
Greta refrained from wrinkling her nose at his sour attitude.
“Why do you think I'm scheming?”
She was scheming, but he shouldn't have been able to pick up on it.
He unlocked the front door and held it open for her to enter first. “Clarke told me what you do.” He crossed to his office door, Greta following right behind him.
“What is it that I supposedly do?” she questioned, trying to sound casual, but she knew it was coming out rude again. She leaned against the doorjamb as he tossed his keys on the desk and took a seat. Damn Clarke for interfering.
Shane leaned back in his chair and looked at her skeptically. “She said you find sad men and try to fix them. I'm not sad and I have no interest in being 'fixed.'”
Greta ground her back molars together and took a deep breath as slowly as she dared as all her plans went right out the window. Clarke was only trying to protect her job. This could still be salvaged; Greta would simply have to change tactics.
Embrace the unexpected.
“She's right, I do do that,” she admitted soberly. She noticed the ripple of surprise that went across his face, but he smoothed it immediately.
“Well, then I guess we have nothing further to discuss,” he replied curtly, and nodded to the doorway, indicating his preference that she leave now.
Greta looked down in resignation. Damn, damn, shit, damn. This was going to be harder than she had originally thought. She'd approached it all wrong, gotten cocky and sloppy.
“Okay,” she held up her hands in surrender, “I'll bow out gracefully.” She gave him a half-smile. “But I would have done an amazing job.”
He almost smiled back as she turned to leave.
“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” he called behind her.
She withheld her smile as she spun back around and arched an eyebrow. “I'm very good.”
“What would you have done if I hadn't been made wise to your plan?” His mouth crooked up slightly and she noticed how his lower lip was fuller than his top lip, creating an almost perfect pout. She imagined using charcoal to define the lower line and having to shade a little deeper than with the last guy she'd sketched. The last guy had had very thin lips; she'd barely noticed them.
“I'm not devious,” she protested, and then smiled when he smirked disbelievingly. “I would have just tried to be your friend. I would show you how awesome you are, and you'd stop being sad.” She shrugged one shoulder up, trying to appear harmless.
“Why don't I believe you?” He narrowed his eyes at her playfully, his stiff resistance from earlier all but dissolving.
“Because Clarke has already set you against me. I'll have to poison her food later.”
Shane laughed out loud, and Greta couldn't look away from his mouth. His smile was wide, coming across his face in a happy ribbon of curves and lines. Her fingers twitched with the absence of charcoal between them.
“And you help sad men out of the kindness of your heart?” Again with the disbelief, but it was more flirtatious now.
“No.” She couldn't believe she'd just said that. She'd never outright admitted to have an ulterior motive, but it popped out. Shane looked equally surprised. He lifted both brows and waited for her to explain.
“I'm an artist.” She watched his hands clasp on his lap, the shape of his forearms drew her attention next and her eyes traveled up his arms and rested where the fullness of his deltoid pushed through his thin shirt. “I like to draw people.”
“You have sad men pose for you? Like, nude, or what?” Shane looked apprehensive and interested at the same time. Oh, the witty banter with him was more fun than she had anticipated.
Greta chuckled lightly, bit her bottom lip and looked at her toes. “No.” She looked back to Shane's amber eyes, feeling no need to further explain herself.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. His expression couldn't decide between amused and curious. He settled on a blend of the two that made his eyebrows crooked and his top lip curl slightly. She could almost feel the grain of the paper under the pad of her finger as she smudged the line.
“Why did you pick me? Do you have certain criteria?”
Greta took a slow step into the office. Another one put her at the edge of the desk. She couldn't tell him that he had actually picked her, ten weeks ago on the dance floor of Pauly's. He wouldn't understand. Not yet. So she went with the rest of the truth.
“I can see you.” His head tilted slightly at her words and she knew she wasn't making sense, but she was being honest. “I see the whole picture, in crisp detail. I see the parts you've forgotten about or the parts maybe you never knew existed. All I would do is help you to see it too.”
Shane swallowed hard. “And then what?”
“And then you go off and have an amazing life.”
“No catch? No expectation?”
“Nope. I get what I want, you get what you need. We both end up happy.”
“And you trick men into letting you fix them?” He was amused again.
“Sort of.” Greta rolled her eyes, not believing she was admitting to all of her tactics so easily. “You're gonna get lonely and women have radar for that sort of thing. All I try to do is get there before the vultures, build you back up and leave you completely intact. The beginning usually requires flirting, which can appear misleading at first blush. If you want to call that 'tricking,' then go ahead.”
***
Shane could feel her eyes measuring him in a way he'd never felt before. It was unnerving. But he could also sense her honesty, and that intrigued him. She truly believed that he was sad enough to fix, and that she could do it.
Sure, he'd told her he wasn't sad, but that wasn't true. He was very sad. And lonely. And he had already been fending off women intent on 'fixing' him. Women in New York had been stalking him since his break-up with Lucy had gone public. And then Harmony had started calling his cell phone last night. He hadn't answered.
Greta's proposal was different in that she had already stated she had her own agenda.
He took advantage of her studious glances and made his own sweeping observations. He'd previously pegged her around Clarke's age, so probably twenty-four or -five. That explained her hopeful ambition. Maybe the braids made her appear younger. She was also... fit. That was the appropriate word to describe her build. And since Shane was easily seven or eight years her senior, he tried to limit his thoughts to the appropriate.
He'd decided the moment he saw her the first time that he needed to steer clear of her. She looked too similar to Lucy and he would be tempted to make her some sort of rebound. Like he had with Harmony after Lenny. And look at the nightmare that had created. But where Lucy was clumsy and unsure, Greta was athletic and confident. Lucy's dark eyes had been round and warm; Greta's were blue and currently sizing him up.
“What if I sign up voluntarily?” He smiled out of the side of his mouth at the confusion and delight that rolled off of her. He was enjoying catching her off guard. He got the feeling she wasn't used to that.
“I guess that depends,” she mirrored his smile. “What's your motive? Will you be attempting to resist my tactics?”
“No,” Shane shook his head. “I think we could both benefit from each other.” She was suspicious. Good. “I think you're playing a dangerous game, trying to rescue broken men. Maybe I can keep you safe while you're attempting to mend my breaks.”
Her face went slack and she looked down at his desk. Hm, well, he had either offended her or hurt her feelings.
“You're going to try to fix me?” Her blue eyes came back up and she had regained her composure, like shutting a door.
“No, I'm going to attempt to stoke that insanely huge ego of yours and see if we can make you a competitor.”
He'd really thrown her on that one. Her frown was deep as she tried to follow him.
“Clarke told me you surf, but you don't compete.” Greta's mouth got small as she prepared to argue with him but Shane kept going. “Have you ever tried snowboarding?”
“No,” she said slowly, her frown scrunching her face and making her look adorable. He saw the resemblance to Harrison now.
“Clarke says you have a natural talent, I'd like to see what you can do on a wave and then what you can do on the snow.”
“Clarke is a sweet girl but not that bright,” Greta stated with a squint. “I'm not that good and I've never even been skiing, so...”
“All the better,” Shane grinned. “I'll have something to teach you.” He could see her getting ready to mount a more aggressive argument and he cut her off. “It has to be equal, Greta. You can't expect my full participation if I don't have yours.”
How bad did she want it? Was this just a weird hobby? Was she as serious as she put on?
“Fine. But I'm not promising that you'll be impressed with my surfing, let alone my snowboarding. I'm too old to do anything as far as a career in either direction. I have no idea what you could possibly be thinking; it's kind of a waste of time.” Her agreement gave him more reason to suspect that she was hiding something about herself. What kind of a person made it a mission to encourage others to see their own awesomeness and yet downplayed her own?
“So we have a deal? We'll be each other's projects?” Shane saw uncertainty color her features.
She was intimidated.
“But now that you know you're a project, I'm afraid you won't think I'm genuine when I tell you what you need to hear.”
Her small declaration wasn't what he was expecting. She was worried about him?
“Then let's make a pact. We won't lie about anything. No manipulation, no games. Even if it's awful to say, we'll say it. Shouldn't be hard for you, you're already rather rude,” he said, attempting to tease her, and she scowled at him.
“Fine, I'll be the rude girl. But if you make me cry, I'm beating you up.”
Shane's burst of laughter echoed in the small office and caused Greta to laugh with him.
“What's going on in here?” Clarke stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.
Greta half turned to her friend and gave a small wink to Shane. “Shane and I have come to an arrangement.”
“I've agreed to be her project if she agrees to be mine,” Shane explained professionally, knowing that Clarke would not approve.
Clarke looked back and forth between them, her face a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. “Whatever. You two have problems.” She shook her head and left the office.
“I should get going. You have a business to run.” Greta took a step towards the doorway.
“When do we start?” Shane asked, leaning back in his chair again and keeping his eyes trained on hers instead of her hamstrings. She must work out relentlessly. He'd have to ask her about it later.
She turned at the door and gave him that smirk that he couldn't place. “Oh, we've already started.” Her irritating cockiness was back. She reminded him of Lenny when they'd first met. He had to get her on a snowboard. He would bet she was fearless. “I'm making dinner tonight, feel free to stop by if you're hungry.”
“I may do that.” He nodded once with a smile.
He watched the doorway until he heard Greta say goodbye to Clarke and she was gone. And just like that, he felt alone all over again. Her bold presence seemed to drive away the gray that wanted to infiltrate his vision. She was bright and loud, and now his office seemed small and bland.
He'd made a decent show of acting like he wasn't interested in being fixed. But the truth was, he knew he needed something. Before he made a bad decision out of loneliness. Isn't that exactly what Greta had said was going to happen?
Maybe she did know what she was talking about. Perhaps she could help him despite his previous assumption that she was just a foolhardy kid trying to save the world.
***
Greta was nervous.
This was unprecedented.
Maybe Brady had been right. She had finally picked the wrong guy.
All the other guys were normally too wrapped up in their own hurt and pain to question her tactics. It made it easier to sever ties at the end. She didn't share herself, that was part of the deal.
Shane Brookings was a game changer.
Oh well, she would keep moving forward with her original intent. Which was dinner that night. Her brother and Mike would be over as well.
They had found an available house up the beach to rent, but had still been over every night for dinner. Greta suspected that Mike was coming over with the target of seeing Clarke, and Harrison was coming over with the design to intimidate Steve, Bo and Brady. They were both failing tragically.
She had left Shane's office and had gone to the beach to spend some quality time with Brady and the gang. Then she went to the market and picked up supplies for dinner.
Dropping off her groceries in the kitchen, she turned the stereo system on super loud and danced up the stairs. No one would be home for hours; she had the house to herself and she loved these moments.
She sang along unashamedly with Matt Nathanson about doing things they could both regret as she showered and got dressed again. Her sky blue short shorts were calling to her and she added a yellow tank to the ensemble. No shoes.
Returning to the kitchen, she began to clean, slice, chop and sauté. The stereo was still loud. And she was still assuming she was alone. So when she did an exaggerated pirouette whilst singing into a carrot and suddenly saw a man standing in the doorway of the kitchen, she screamed, hurling the carrot in his direction.
“BALLS!”
Shane caught the carrot, eyebrows raised in surprise. His shoulders began to shake, then his head went back and he burst out laughing.
Greta thought she might throw up. She didn't like to get scared, and he was really lucky she hadn't been holding something more deadly.
“Man alive, Greta!” Shane finally choked out.
“What the hell are you doing here, Brookings?” she yelled at him, her whole body still trembling with the surge of adrenaline. Her hand curled into a fist and pressed in on her stomach.
“You told me to come over for dinner!” he reminded her, still laughing. “If you weren't expecting anyone, you should have locked the door,” he pointed out.
Greta grabbed the remote and turned the music down. She usually did lock the door. She was actually kind of nutso when it came to locking doors. “I'm sorry I screamed. But you seriously scared the crap out of me.”
She was starting to regain her composure and now she was just embarrassed.
“That was pretty awesome.” Shane tried to stop laughing but he couldn't.
“Stop laughing, it's not funny. I could have killed you,” she reprimanded sternly.
“With what? This?” He held up the carrot.
She yanked it out of his hand and he chuckled some more.
“You're way too early. I hope you're not making Clarke work late.” She was trying hard to sound cross. She was mad at him for scaring her and she wanted him to know it.
“It's Sunday, we close early. She left long before I did. I figured she'd be here already.”
Shane took a seat on a stool by the island and Greta waited for a half a minute before she poured him a glass of lemonade.
“Did you make this?” he asked as he took a sip.
“Yes. From scratch.” Greta raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Is it not good?”
“It's very good.” He looked around the kitchen. “So this is where Steve has decided to squat. He has good taste.”
“Ugh. It wasn't so bad at first, but now they're not even trying to find a new place.”
“Have you made any of the them one of your projects?” Shane was trying to sound casual, but Greta thought it came out a little judgmental.
“No. They don't qualify.” She waved his question off.
“Why's that?”
“None of them are vulnerable and gorgeous,” she replied with a shrug.
“Gorgeous?” Shane's brows lifted.
“Oh, please.” Greta rolled her eyes. “Like you don't know.” She turned back to the sink to retrieve the rest of the carrots that she had been rinsing before Shane had startled her.
She chopped the carrots silently for a few minutes with her back turned to Shane. He didn't say anything and she could hear the ice tinkle in the glass every so often as he sipped his lemonade. The music was still playing and the tune caught her feet. She began doing a small shuffle as she transferred the vegetables to the waiting pan.
She spun around and pointed at Shane during the chorus like it was an anthem, “Oh, oh, ohhhhh.” He smirked and shook his head. The vegetables began to sizzle slowly and Greta did a variation of a two-step around the island towards Shane.
She grabbed his hand and twirled herself as if they were on a dance floor. She hopped her butt onto the counter, delivering the lyrics like she was auditioning for a Broadway performance. Planting a hand on each of his shoulders, she sung earnestly into his face. He was beyond amused, his smile genuine but a little unsure.
The song ended and she hopped off the counter and checked her vegetables. “Next time, I expect you to participate.”
“I'm not a really a... musician.” His tone dropping to the octave she was anticipating.
She paused the appropriate amount of time before asking quietly, “You think things would have turned out differently if you had been?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder.
“I guess it depends on what situation you're referring to,” he responded tightly. His very public romance and subsequent breakup with Lenny Evans where she had ended up with the lead singer of Double Blind Study had painted him in an ugly light with the media. The following year, when he debuted at the VMAs with a young songbird from Oklahoma, it had caused quite a rustle with the local papers in southern California. Especially when a few weeks later, she married the guitarist from the same band that Lenny had married into a few months prior. He didn't have the best outcome when it came to love and musicians.
She turned the burner off and took a deep breath. Turning around to face him, she saw his head dipped a little lower, their previous moment of silliness forgotten. He looked into his near-empty glass but his eyes seemed so far away. She slid her hands across the counter until they caught his attention.
His eyes came back to hers, face sad and drawn. The regret he felt darkened his amber eyes to a smoky brown and she wished she could mix that exact color with her acrylics on her painter's palette.
He was beautiful, even sad.
“It's not a dead-end, just a detour.”
***
Shane couldn't look away. He had no intention of breaking open the fissure that he had created the night he'd left Lucy. He kept that tucked away safe and only brought it out when he was sure he was alone and no one could see his pain. In fact, he had been determined to keep Greta away from that particular broken aspect of himself.
But she'd completely disarmed him. Stripped him of his sword and shield with a slow blink.
He felt exposed and bare.
He didn't like it.
Swallowing hard, he simply nodded. He couldn't answer her, not yet. She had cut straight to the core of him and he'd been unprepared. Her gentle expression and soft voice were conveniently comforting. He was torn between fleeing her presence and hoping she'd say something else that felt like a balm on his raw emotions.
“Shane.” Greta came around the island so she was standing next to him. He swiveled to face her more directly. “You can trust me. Really.” Her eyes held no deception. Not a drop.
“You scare me,” he admitted seriously. She didn't laugh or even crack a smile. Another slow blink as she looked at the center of his chest. “You must know how much you look like her.” He couldn't stop himself from saying it. That brought her eyes back to his and he marveled at the blue. So different from Lucy.
“I'm not her. And I have no intention of trying to be her,” Greta whispered roughly. “My goal is help you get through this.”
Shane reached out and grabbed her face with both hands, pulling her close to him. He heard her sharp intake of air, but she didn't resist.
“How? How do you help me through this? What's the plan? I don't like your games. I don't like that you can see through me like a frickin' window. What do you think you're gonna find? I'm not a good person. I'm a liar and a cheater and I use women for my own gain. I tried to be someone different with Lucy and it didn't pay off. What makes you think you're gonna like what you see when you get to the deep, dark bottom of who I really am?”
He was breathing heavily and he could see the worry on her face. Not fear. Not panic. Only worry. Compassion. Sympathy.
She didn't blink or try to get away. She only stared back into his eyes, searching him as desperately as he was searching her.
“Am I interrupting something?” Clarke's slow voice cut into their standoff and Shane released Greta.
“No, dinner is almost ready.” Greta calmly went back to her task at the stove.
Clarke gave Shane a suspicious once-over. He flexed his jaw and swirled the melting ice in his drink.
“I'm gonna get changed. You'll be okay for a minute?” she asked Greta with a frown.
“Of course! Mike and Harry should be here soon.” Greta smiled sweetly and started to get plates down from an open cabinet.
Clarke left them again and Shane felt the self-condemnation start to overwhelm him. What had he just done?
“Greta, I'm s—”
“No.” Greta spun around, adamant. “No. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't you dare apologize.”
Shane was shaking his head to disagree, but she smiled widely as Harrison and Mike entered, eliminating the chance for him to make amends until later. If he even could.
He felt like he'd crossed a line he didn't know was there. And it scared him. Or was it Greta that brought that side of him out?
Maybe he should be more afraid of her.