“Make more money if you look the part?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, but a smirk tightened his lips. “Doesn’t hurt.”
“I bet. So this is the Clark Kent version? You present as a mere mortal after your work parties end?”
He rolled his eyes, drifting around my kitchen. Moving with a stealthy grace, he ran fingertips along my countertops, examining canisters and knickknacks, finally resting his hands on the back of a chair and leaning over, looking up at me. “I bring a change of clothes if I have somewhere to go right after and don’t have time to stop home. Good thing I did tonight, since you—”
“I know, I know, I left you standing out in the rain.”
He twirled a loose strand of hair around his finger as he studied me, and I wondered if he was nervous. “Did you do it on purpose?”
“What?”
“Leave me standing out in the rain. You do it on purpose?”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because you hate me.”
I frowned, not expecting that. “No. I’m not that diabolical, whatever my father told you. And I don’t know you well enough to hate you.”
He straightened, but still gripped the chair back. “Huh. Heard stuff about you a lot in town. Good things. Trying to figure out if you’re that guy, or the prick Jasper told me about.”
I snorted. “You heard stuff about me in town? I doubt that. I don’t hang out down in your neck of the woods.”
He studied me through narrowed eyes, that scrutinizing look I’d seen from the dunk tank. “You know Gerry Spooner. The mayor.”
“Oh. Yeah, I know Gerry. You know him?”
He nodded. “I do work for the tourism council. Did you really build all them cottages? For those folks that lost their homes to beach erosion?”
My brows shot up in surprise. “Oh. Uh, yeah, that was a couple years ago.”
Orion huffed. “The guy who did that has a big heart. A huge heart. But the guy standing in front of me seems kind of mean, so I don’t get it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
“I’m joking. That was super generous of you.”
“Well, we didn’t put up all the money, there was a fundraiser organized. Lot of people helped out.”
“But it was your idea, right? Your company did it?”
I suddenly felt shy and self-conscious. As the son of Jasper Varley, I was unaccustomed to compliments or recognition. “Sure, it was my idea, but anyone would have done the same.”
He bit his lip as he watched me. “Anyone decent, you mean. Not everyone is. You helped rebuild Pete Foster’s restaurant after that storm too, right? He said you cut him a major deal.”
I scowled. “How the hell do you know so much about me?”
He shrugged. “Known about you a long time. I saw you through the window a few weeks ago when you showed up at Jaz’s place. Surprised me how much you’ve changed.”
“Changed from what?”
“You look different than your pictures.”
“What pictures?” I didn’t have a social media presence, aside from the dating site, and I doubted Orion needed to use ‘How Sweet’ for hookups.
“I’ve seen pictures your dad has.”
“Oh.” I chuckled. “What, that one on his wall where I was seventeen? Well, yes. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Orion, but when people get older, they look older.”
He shrugged. “You look better now.”
I grew uncomfortable as his eyes drifted over my body. “Speaking of Jasper, would you like to see the garage?”
He cracked his knuckles and shrugged. “That’s why I’m here, right?”
“That’s why.”
“Huh. I was wondering if maybe you just wanted to see me again.”
“Aren’t you funny.”
He grinned. “Am I?”
A wave of embarrassment hit me, and I turned away to hide the reaction, shifting the cookies around on the tray with a spatula. I’d planned on giving him a personal tour of the garage, but after that comment, I opted to play aloof. “Go on, you can head right out that door, across the path to the garage. It’s unlocked. Take a look around, then maybe I’ll give you a cookie.”
I kept my back to him, and waited for him to respond, but when silence followed, I glanced over my shoulder to find him studying me. He looked quickly away, then pointed to the side door. “Out here?”
“Yep.”
He walked out the door, closing it a bit too hard behind him, and I flinched. I watched as he crossed the path and entered the garage. Was I being rude? Was he pissed off that I didn’t walk over with him? Maybe. But I felt called out...because he was right, I had wanted to see him again. But he didn’t know that. He was just making a joke. Or maybe he did know because he’s psychic.
I scoffed. “He’s not fucking psychic,” I mumbled as I slid one of the lasagnas into the freezer.
Orion returned quicker than I anticipated. I turned from the fridge as he stepped back into the kitchen. He paused there, shaking rainwater off his arms.
“So?”
“Want me to take my muddy shoes off?”
“Um…sure.”
He kicked them off, then stepped slowly over to the table, sighing as he pulled out a chair and sat. He appeared forlorn, curled tendrils covering his eyes as he hung his head. I set a plate with two cookies down in front of him. “Garage not what you were expecting?”
He picked up a cookie and stared at it. “You renovate it, or was it like that when you moved in?”
“I did it myself.”
“It’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” I took the seat across from him. “So as you can see, I was never offering to stick my dad in a cold, dirty garage with gas fumes.”
He silently nibbled a cookie, frowning at the plate. Wiping crumbs off his mouth, he looked across the table at me. “Jaz knows it looks like that?”
“He knows I renovated it, yeah.”
He dropped the half-eaten cookie back on the plate. “Why would he lie to me?”
“Because he didn’t want us meeting and comparing notes.”
His brow furrowed. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe, definitely. He said so himself. He didn’t trust you not to screw up and rat him out to me.”
Orion’s breath hitched, and for a moment I was afraid he was gonna cry. I sure hoped not. I wasn’t equipped to deal with that. It was hard enough when my kids did it. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said.
“Why?”
He rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his face. “You’re saying he didn’t want us to meet because of him messing around with Claudette and the whole thing.”
I winced. “Your foster mother?”
He nodded.
I hadn’t wanted to know the woman’s name. Now my imagination took off, wondering if she lived nearby, and how often my father used to see her behind my mother’s back. My mind tried to conjure images of my father undressing in some seedy motel, and I winced again. Claudette. It sounded exotic, and I pictured a beautiful woman dressed similarly to Orion going to one of his parties, a seductress draped in silk and jewelry, luring my father in with a crystal ball.