Beach House No 9 - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,37

than a small pile of lightweight fleece.

Squelching another tiny flare of guilt, Tess glanced back at Teague.

He was looking her way. Their eyes met.

Her ego argued with her conscience. If she waved at him, he'd come over; she could see the truth of that on his handsome face. Then he'd flirt a little. Maybe ask her to run away to Arizona again.

Make her feel like a woman, not a wife set aside by her husband.

Pulse speeding up, Tess stood, then crossed the short distance to the rail. She started to raise her left hand, then paused as her wedding set caught the sunlight. On their tenth anniversary, David had given her another ring to wear with her simple gold wedding band. The one-carat solitaire was surrounded by a circle of smaller diamonds. He'd said it reminded him of the brightness of the stars on the night she'd agreed to marry him.

"Tess?"

She whipped around, stumbling so that the small of her back smacked the wooden railing. "David?" Had she conjured him up? Because it was definitely her husband, dressed in business attire, the sun picking out threads of red and gold in his short brown hair. "What are you doing here?"

He frowned. "We made a deal when we signed up Duncan and Oliver for summer soccer. I take them to practices."

She glanced at her watch. "You're early." Even with the traffic he would run into, there was plenty of time. It annoyed her that he'd come now, when he wasn't expected, yet had stood her up two days before. The feeling turned to sarcasm in her throat. "I thought you were so very, very busy."

David's jaw tightened. "I texted you about that. I had a lunch meeting already in place - yes, I know it was a Sunday, but I couldn't get out of it and you didn't give me enough notification to make other arrangements."

"Arrangements, schmarrangements," she muttered, aware she sounded no more mature than Rebecca. But he could have gotten away if he'd wanted to! He was the head of the accounting department at one of L.A.'s largest and most prestigious talent agencies, Wallis-Downs. That's how they'd met. She'd been on her way to the parking lot following a meeting with her agent. He'd been coming in the door, putting them on a collision course that had landed Tess on her butt with David standing over her.

You're her, he'd said, like Teague had yesterday, recognizing the OM girl.

"You're something," he said now, his voice tight. "Upset about where I've been or not been when you're the one who left our home."

You left our marriage! she wanted to shout at him. Sometime when Russ was not long out of newborn-sized diapers, David had left behind his husband and father responsibilities. He used to be so good at them too, coaching Rebecca's rec league basketball team every winter, every Sunday taking a parade of neighborhood kids along with his own to the park down the street. Then, all of a sudden he'd traded those in for weight lifting at the gym and an obsession with spin classes.

Tess's gaze dropped to his favorite cordovan loafers, then moved up to take in the slacks and dress shirt she'd bought him just weeks ago, following the loss of those fifteen pounds he'd been complaining about for years. There was a stain on his necktie, and habit had her stepping forward, ready to sponge it clean. But she forced herself back against the rail.

His eyes narrowed at the movement. "What's going on, Tess?" he said. "When the hell are you coming back?"

He was supposed to sound as miserable as she felt. Not demanding and defensive. "What's wrong with Crescent Cove?" she asked.

"There's nothing wrong with our house. And it's our wedding anniversary next month. I thought you wanted a big party."

That was when she'd still been able to convince herself they had something to celebrate. "I don't think that's such a good idea anymore."

"Because I missed lunch?"

"The boys wanted to see you. No matter where we are, they're still your kids."

"Of course they're my kids," he ground out. Then he huffed a sigh and dropped onto the chair she'd vacated. "I talked to them when I came in. They didn't look up from their Legos. Rebecca was too busy texting to enter into a conversation. How are they?"

The question sounded rote. Or resigned. Tess closed her eyes. "Rebecca seems to be tolerating her mornings at summer school." In the old days she would have told

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