Free Everything We Keep: A Novel by Kerry Lonsdale Page A

girl.”
    “Stop . . .”
    “Let me have my fun,” she griped.
    “Happy birthday,” Ian toasted.
    “Thank you.”
    He kept his gaze focused on me over the rim of his champagne flute as he drank. Hiding a grin, Nadia hummed into her stemware, her eyes jumping from me to Ian.
    Wendy approached. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to steal the main attraction.”
    Ian set down his glass on a nearby high table. “Don’t leave without saying good-bye,” he said as Wendy whisked him away.
    Nadia tracked their departure. “Damn, he looks good. Too bad he had eyes only for you. I mean, they were glued on you. I felt like the third wheel on my Townie.”
    “Your bike has only two wheels.”
    “As I was saying.” She chin-pointed across the room. I glanced over and saw Ian surrounded by a small group of admirers looking at me. A hint of a smile appeared before he glanced away, his attention turning to the man beside him.

    Toward the end of the evening, Nadia found me admiring Belize Sunrise . “Gorgeous,” she murmured. “Hey, Mr. Property Broker and I are grabbing a bite to eat. Join us.”
    “So I can be the third wheel on your Townie? Not a chance.”
    She laughed. “It’s not like that.”
    “Uh-huh. I’ll walk home.”
    “Don’t be silly. I’ll drop you off.”
    “I’ll walk with you.” Ian’s voice brushed over me.
    Nadia grinned. “Even better.”
    “Do you mind?” he asked me.
    “If it’s not inconvenient.”
    He shook his head and tugged at his collar. “I need the fresh air.”
    “Then it’s settled. I’m off.” Nadia hugged me and shook Ian’s hand. “Great show.”
    “Give me a minute. I need to let Wendy know I’m leaving,” Ian said when Nadia left.
    While waiting, I took a final, long glance at my favorite piece. Someone had turned the photograph away from the window to face the gallery interior. The price tag had been replaced with a new one, the word sold written in bold, black lettering.
    Ian returned. “You look disappointed. Why so glum?”
    I pointed at the tag. “I’m happy you made a sale, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t a little bummed.”
    He spied the tag. “Hmm, interesting,” he murmured as he rested his palm against my lower back and ushered us outside. “Which way?”
    “Eight blocks that way.” I motioned to our left, then unfolded the wrap around my shoulders.
    “Any plans for the big day tomorrow?” he asked as we walked.
    I shook my head. “Staying home. Maybe dinner with some friends.”
    “I spent my twenty-ninth birthday hiding from crocodiles in the Everglades.”
    I laughed. “That’s not my idea of a good time.”
    “I took some amazing pictures, though. Let’s see.” He scratched his chin. “On my thirtieth I spent the entire day on the back of a mule in the Andes of Peru.”
    “Let me guess, you spent the night sitting in a bucket of ice?”
    He laughed. “No, but close. My ass was sore for a week.”
    We crossed the street and walked another block. “Any more birthdays I should know about? Or do they stop at thirty?”
    “That’s all for now.” He directed us into a dimly lit alcove.
    “What are we doing?”
    “Celebrating your birthday.” He held open the door and followed me inside. We were at La Petite Maison, a French restaurant. He held up two fingers for the hostess. “Two for coffee and dessert.”
    The hostess led us to a small table beside the lace-trimmed front window. Ian pushed in my chair for me, then whispered to the hostess before she handed us menus and left.
    I glanced at the white-clothed tables and crystal lanterns delicately linked overhead. “For some reason, I don’t picture you eating here often.”
    “Never been here.” He turned in his chair and checked the space around us. He had a wicked grin when he looked back at me. “Not my first choice, but it’s open.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost eleven.”
    The waiter arrived a few moments later with our coffees.
    “This