Ava's Prize

He knew the issues with his product, but he’d sold control of Medi-Spy to Tech Realized, Inc. without realizing he’d sold his soul, as well. With every royalty check he cashed, he watched the earbud become more commercialized to increase the profits. Bluetooth? Music options? He wasn’t sure he even remembered the heart of the design anymore.

“Anything else wrong with the device?” The harsh bite in his tone was self-directed. He expected her to identify him as a failure next. His reputation and Medi-Spy’s were closely linked.

“That’s only the highlights of the Medi-Spy’s faults.” She eased by him toward the ladder. “If you really want to see how often that particular earbud fails, ride along during one of my shifts. I’m a paramedic.”

“But you’re here,” he blurted out. “Don’t you mean past tense?” She was gorgeous. The green in her eyes matched the green in her sweater.

“You think I’m a professional model?” Her cheeks bloomed an attractive pink. Doubt, not confidence softened her voice. “I’m part of the local piece of the calendar.”

Before he could respond, she’d moved down the ladder, disappearing from his view. Kyle made his way off the scaffolding. Turning, he discovered his model hadn’t made it very far. A linebacker-size man and a copper-haired young boy blocked her path.

“I knew I should’ve waited to use the bathroom.” The boy shoved his bangs off his forehead. “What did we miss, Aunty Ava? Did someone fall off the platform and crack their head open?”

Excitement rushed the boy’s speech. The linebacker scanned the floor and frowned.

“Nothing that dramatic, I’m afraid.” Ava stepped sideways and bumped into Kyle.

He grinned at her and remained in her space. Perhaps not the most polite reaction, but he didn’t feel like moving away from her. They were almost on a first-name basis. At least now he knew her name.

The boy’s gaze widened, revealing eyes shades deeper than Ava’s pale green gaze. The boy’s eyes were the color of an avocado skin, Ava’s the color of the inside. Kyle rubbed his forehead. He’d scaled a scaffolding and returned to his bumbling adolescence. Comparing eye color to fruit was definitely his cue to leave. And eat. Clearly, he was hungry, or he wouldn’t have compared Ava’s eyes to an avocado. An avocado. He kept his lips firmly sealed.

The boy tugged on the linebacker’s arm with one hand and pointed at Kyle with the other. “Dad. That’s Kyle Quinn. He’s the inventor guy.”

Ava reached over and pushed Ben’s arm down. “Ben, it’s not polite to point.”

“But he invented the Medi-Spy.” Awe clouded Ben’s face and voice, lengthening the word spy into several syllables.

Ava looked at Kyle, her gaze assessing. “He doesn’t look famous.”

Kyle resisted the urge to smooth his hands over his button-down shirt as if to prove he concealed nothing. He never liked to be scrutinized at any depth beyond the surface, and Ava analyzed. Kyle shrugged instead of asking Ava for the results of her analysis. “He’s right. I’m the Medi-Spy inventor.”

“I hate to tell you this, but...I stand behind my earlier comments.” She straightened and locked her gaze with his. “Your device has too many features. It’s confused about what it is, like some teenager trying to figure out who they want to be when they grow up.”

No apology. No pleasure to meet you. No retreat. Kyle discovered his first real smile that morning. He liked his paramedic-turned-model even more. He reached over, shook hands with the linebacker and learned Dan was Ava’s partner in the ambulance, the boy his ten-year-old son, Ben. And according to Ben, Ava had earned the title Aunt, not because they shared blood. Rather, Ava was family from the heart.

Ben extended his arm toward Kyle, mimicking his father. Kyle noticed the paracord band wrapped around the boy’s thin wrist. Its silver medical-alert plate all too familiar. Kyle felt the shift of the titanium links of his own medical-alert band across his own wrist. He’d worn some form of a medical-alert bracelet since he’d started walking. He wondered how long Ben had his and gripped the boy’s hand in a firm handshake.

Ben’s grin spread toward his ears. “Wait until the kids at school find out I met a real famous person.”

Soon, Kyle might be famous for being a hack. For losing everything because he had no new ideas. Without a second idea, he’d fail to fulfill his contract. The penalties were stiff and unforgiving. That definitely wasn’t the type of notoriety he wanted. He shouldn’t still be here. He needed to get back to his office and create something. A new invention to rival the Medi-Spy earbud. The execs at Tech Realized, Inc. would accept nothing less.

“Hey, I was chosen to be a part of this celebrity calendar, too.” Ava’s arm brushed against Kyle as she reached to tug on Ben’s hair. “You already know me.”

Kyle wanted to know more about Ava. She had a bold confidence that he admired. But getting to know a woman better couldn’t be his focus right now. He needed to stop distracting himself. His mother would tell him to quit procrastinating. If only it was that easy. If only he wasn’t stuck as if he stood on a high dive, too afraid to jump. Too afraid to trust in his swimming skills. Fearful he’d sink, because Medi-Spy was exactly what Ava painted it—a failure.

“But Mr. Quinn is in the papers and magazines at least once a week,” Ben argued. “And you aren’t.”

The photo ops were a side effect. Definitely not Kyle’s choice. But that was the unwritten part of signing a seven-figure contract and launching a bestselling product. His celebrity had been instantaneous. It had been handed to him and he’d been trying to hand it back ever since. Standing out never suited him.

He’d stood out in school for several reasons, from his scrawny stature to more serious offenses, like his preference for the science lab over the football field. But he’d grown into his height, filled out and tipped well now. Still that awkward kid with the deadly nut allergy—the one that had forced him to sit at the peanut-free table every school lunch—lingered inside him and cringed with every camera flash. “Your dad and aunt save lives. That’s the real-life hero stuff that means more than any picture in any gossip page.”

“Still, you get to meet other famous people. I’ve seen the pictures on the internet.” Ben edged closer to Kyle. His gaze shifted back and forth between his dad and Kyle. “If I invent something, can I meet Chase Jacobs and the starting offensive line for the Pioneers?”

His dad held up his hands and retreated. “Don’t look at me. I sit in the upper section at the football stadium, not the box seats, when the Pioneers play at home.”

“I can get you tickets on the fifty-yard line,” Kyle offered. “Let me know if there’s a home game coming up that you want to see.”

Dan shook Kyle’s hand again, a grateful, hearty pump. Ben nodded as if his suspicions had been confirmed. Celebrity was good. Confidence tipped the boy’s chin up and strengthened his voice. “My aunt and I are inventors, too.”

“That’s nothing.” Ava waved her hands between them as if trying to wipe Ben’s words from the air. “That’s just a game we play.”

Kyle liked the tinge on Ava’s cheeks. “What’s the game?”

Ben rubbed his hands together. “It’s called You Know What We Need?”

Kyle knew what he needed. He needed another million-dollar idea. And he needed it yesterday. Still, he wanted to share Ben’s enthusiasm, feel that same innocent excitement for something. He’d felt it once with the Medi-Spy. “How do you play?”

“Someone says, ‘You know what we need?’ and then tells everyone their idea. We discuss the idea, then vote if we like it or not. You get points if everyone likes it.” Ben’s eyes widened, and horror lowered his voice to secret-telling level. “But if we vote it down, you lose double the points.”

If Kyle played, he’d only lose points. In real life, it was more than bragging rights or his reputation at stake. If he didn’t come up with a second invention soon, his parents and sisters would suffer. The women’s shelter he funded would be forced to shut its doors. He could handle the fallout himself, but failing his family would be unforgivable. He’d created the Medi-Spy to honor his grandfather, an iron worker who’d suffered a stroke in the heat. He’d always meant for the money to bring his family closer. That wouldn’t happen if he defaulted on the terms of Medi-Spy’s sale.

“Or...” Ava’s disgruntled voice muted Kyle’s thoughts. “There’s no discussion at all because your idea gets voted down instantly. Then you drop to last place. Last place.”

The words vote and last place circled through Kyle’s mind. Something hummed inside him. Something he hadn’t felt in far too long. The first stirrings of an idea.

Ben set his hands on his hips. “Aunty, you know your idea for hair dye that changes color with a person’s mood wasn’t good.”

Kyle placed his hand over his mouth and chin to cover his smile. Even he doubted there was a market for mood-changing hair dye and he, the one without an idea, had no right casting judgment.

Dan laughed. “There really wasn’t anything to discuss.”

“It could be hugely popular.” Ava set her hands on her hips and stared them down. “But we’ll never know because you crushed it before I could debate its merits.”

“What merit is there in having hair that changes to green when you’re jealous? No one really wants green hair.” Dan nudged Ava in the shoulder, knocking her out of her standoff mode. “You really need to come to the table stronger in the next round.”

Kyle laughed.

Ava pointed at him. “You can’t side with them unless you’ve agreed to the rules.”

Rules? That hum shifted to a buzz. Kyle’s idea solidified into more than a throwaway thought. Their game could be a contest. First place. Last place. Rules to follow. Perhaps a contest for an original invention. An idea that would keep his parents retired in comfort, Penny’s Place open and his sister’s college tuition funded through her graduation. Then Kyle would finally bring his family back together like they’d been before his grandfather’s death. “You have rules?”

“Every good game has rules.” Ben looked at him as if Kyle shouldn’t ask such ridiculous questions. “It needs to be fair.”

Kyle nodded. His contest would be fair, too. But could it work? Could one simple contest keep him from financial ruin? “What are the rules?”

“Everyone gets a turn. You can tell your idea anytime. Any place, except church and anytime Dad tells you to be quiet. Otherwise you can’t interrupt.” Ben held up his fingers and counted. “This is the most important one—you can’t make fun of an idea.”

“Unless they’re mine,” Ava added.