Page 22 of California Waves

It was a gorgeous day, and she relished the fresh, salty air and that buzzy feeling she always got at the start of a new week—like anything was possible. Her office was just a few minutes from Ocean Avenue, where so many of Carmel’s restaurants and high-end boutiques lined the streets and where her trusted dry cleaner had been operating for twenty years. She loved living here, even after all the travel she’d done when pro surfing. No other place in the world gave her the tingly feeling Carmel did. It was home.

She passed Saint Anna’s, where she resisted popping in for another coffee, or a pastry—treats were mostly relegated to the weekends and Tuesday coffee dates with Erin and Tessa. In the window, she saw a young family she’d worked with to secure them a new home last year. The smiles on their faces when they spotted her were so wide and sincere, she waved back enthusiastically. It was the part of her job she relished the most—helping people find their dream homes. Yes, the thrill of closing a big-dollar deal was a high of its own, but serving the community and getting to meet so many new people week in and week out gave her the kind of job satisfaction she knew she needed since her surfing career had ended.

Then she noticed her former clients raising confused eyebrows. She looked down. Of course. She was carrying a wedding dress—they could see it through the clear plastic zipper bag. She tried to gesture that the dress didn’t belong to her, but since this was impossible to do one-handed, she just shrugged and waved good-bye. She wasn’t planning to get tied down anytime soon—even if her mind was full of a certain man right now.

She hiked up the bag and was about to push open the door to the dry cleaner when she literally bumped into Herschel Greenfield. Apart from the immediate electric thrill she felt from coming into contact with his body, she was also a little spooked. Had she just summoned his presence by thinking about him so much? It was like the universe was having fun with her. When she recovered her composure and focused, she was pleased to see his face had lit up.

She grinned and suddenly had no idea what to say to the man she’d been talking to in her head all day long.

“Hey there,” he said. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

Had she been walking quickly? Probably. She was always conscious of time. “I’m just taking a wedding dress to be cleaned.”

“Oh,” he said, and then the light in his eyes faded. “You’re married?” He sounded extremely disappointed as his eyes darted to her left hand.

She laughed. “Oh, hell no. Marriage is not for me. I can’t imagine being stuck with one man all my—” She abruptly stopped. What was wrong with her? Again, she’d blurted something completely inappropriate. She was mortified.

Hersch must have thought it was inappropriate, too, because his expression became confused and then hurt—as though he was taking her words straight to his heart. She stared at him, puzzled by the strong reaction. But then she realized something else. Even as she spoke, she’d wondered whether it might not be true anymore, because there was a very secret part of her that had started thinking of Herschel Greenfield as The One.

To her embarrassment, she blushed. Mila Davenport never blushed, not even when her bikini top rode up while surfing, not when she misremembered the square footage of a house, not even when her career had been upended. Desperate to move the conversation to a different track, she said, “Are you going to the dry cleaner too?” It wasn’t the most scintillating question, but at least it was neutral ground.

Hersch shook his head. “I’m heading to the paint and bedding stores. I have no idea what I’m doing. I just feel like I should start getting ready for when I get the keys to that house.” He gave a kind of helpless shrug, which was so charming that she regained her confidence and grinned.

Plus, she’d now had time to take in the athletic, casual clothing that showed off his incredible physique, even if nothing actually matched. If ever there was a man who needed the help of a woman with a good sense of design and color, it was Herschel Greenfield. She said, “Do you want some help? I’m a pretty decent amateur decorator.”

He looked so relieved she nearly laughed. “I cannot tell you how much I would appreciate some help,” he said. “I can service the oxygen generator in a space shuttle, and I can conduct experiments on flammability with a clear mind after a hundred days in microgravity, but pick a shade of paint for the bedroom? Find a bedspread that’ll match? I haven’t a clue.”

Mila grinned again. There was something adorable about someone so smart he was kind of nerdy and didn’t know how to navigate a paint store. In order to spare him from an entire house decorated in beige, she said, “Just let me drop this dress at the dry cleaner. I’ll be right out, and then we can go together.”

She went in, and Martin, the owner, assured her that no one would ever know there’d been water damage once he’d worked his magic on the dress. He enthusiastically explained his special technique. She didn’t quite follow it, but understood that a solution could gently pull the stain off the ivory satin without any damage. That was all she needed to know. She took the receipt and headed back out to where Herschel stood on the sidewalk. It felt good to see him waiting for her, and she was already looking forward to helping him run errands.

He said, “Who’s getting married?”

“Just a friend of mine,” she said, trying not to feel guilty. It wasn’t a lie. Tessa was a friend of hers. But even though she was sure she could trust Herschel, it was better not to mention that her famous brother was about to tie the knot before it was officially announced.

The paint store was a five-minute walk, and they spent the time in easy conversation, just like when she’d taken him to see the houses. It was striking how easy he was to talk to, how relaxed she felt in his company. After all, there weren’t many people in the world for whom she would extend her lunch break. Hersch might be the very first outside of her immediate family.

Once inside the paint store, however, Hersch’s mood immediately seemed to dip. He stood among all the thousands of paint swatches and color-pathway books and looked at her with something like desperation. “I don’t even know which color to choose.” He held up a book and grimaced. “How is ochre different than tan? What is ochre, anyway?”

She had to laugh. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m going to help you. We can narrow this down.”

He glanced around to where a woman and her decorator were comparing shades of green and two couples were poring over swatches. “It’s been so long since I decorated my other house that I barely remember how.” He sighed. “I don’t mean to sound old-fashioned, but most men who buy houses have wives to help them. I never did.”

Hersch might be a little stuck in the 1950s, but he was also so lost it was cute. She took the whole book of various shades of tan out of his hands and put it back. “The first thing you need to understand is that before you make a decision, you take swatches home and look at them against the walls in your house. The light changes all the time. What you might think is evergreen in the morning looks more like pine at night. You won’t be able to change everything all at once if you move in right away, so I think we should start with your bedroom. Most of the other rooms seemed okay for now, but you really want the primary bedroom to feel like it’s yours right away.”

Mila blinked. She’d mentioned his bedroom again. But if Hersch noticed, he didn’t show it. Instead, he said, “How can I take any swatches there if I don’t have the keys yet?”

“Let me see what I can do.” She quickly texted Dan and asked if it would be okay for her client to take another look at the house he was buying. As she’d suspected, he replied right away that it was no problem.

She told Hersch the good news, and his eyes filled with light again. “What are your favorite colors?” she asked.

He pulled a dorky face. “I don’t know. Blue?”

She shook her head. Such an obvious answer for a man.

Still, she could do something with that. She grabbed a few cards that offered a main shade and then complementary colors for trim and accessories, making sure there was always at least a little blue. But he was really starting from scratch.

“I’m tempted to start with the bedding and decorate around that,” she said.

---