by Addison Cole
“Drake,” she said breathlessly, passion swimming in her eyes.
He knew he should hold back, knew he didn’t have the right to mess up her plans, but he was powerless to resist the desires stacking up inside him. He lowered his face toward hers, and a shrill alarm sounded, jolting him back to reality.
Her eyes widened with shock and something bigger. Panic?
“No,” he ground out as he set her on her feet, the annoying alarm still sounding from her phone as she pulled it from her pocket.
She was shaking a little. Her cheeks were beet red, and her eyes were trained on her phone, like she didn’t want to, or couldn’t, look at him. Had he misread her? Seen only what he wanted to see?
“I must have accidentally set the alarm for midnight instead of noon. It’s so late…”
“I’m sorry, Serena. I shouldn’t have—”
“You didn’t—” Her eyes flicked uneasily up to his. “I appreciate you helping me pack and bringing all that stuff.”
Great. Now he’d made her uncomfortable. “Serena…” He wanted to tell her how he felt, why he’d almost kissed her, but that would only make her more uneasy. Instead, he motioned to the mess at their feet, trying to find safe, stable ground, and said, “Want help cleaning up?”
She shook her head. “It’s late. I’m fine.”
He wasn’t an idiot, and she was anything but fine, but he knew she needed him gone.
He hiked his thumb over his shoulder, silently cursing himself, and said, “I’ll take off. See you tomorrow at the office?”
“Yeah. Um, I have some stuff to take care of for the music store in the morning, remember? But I’ll be back in the afternoon. We have interviews scheduled.”
Back to freaking business.
Was it really better that way?
Chapter Four
RICK’S AND DRAKE’S voices escalated behind Drake’s office door Thursday afternoon. Serena cringed. She had been training Harper for the past few hours, and the guys had been in there nearly as long. For the umpteenth time, Dean’s calm, stern voice rang out with, “Cut the bull,” before their conversation became muffled once again.
“Is it always like this?” Harper asked in a hushed whisper.
“No,” Serena reassured her. “They don’t always see eye to eye, but they rarely raise their voices. It’s just a really tense time with my leaving so quickly.”
Between interviews, coordinating the layout for the music store, and packing, Serena had little time to breathe, and it seemed the more people she interviewed, the tenser things became. Drake had been running hot and cold since she’d gotten there today, either giving her clipped responses or being overly playful, and she knew it was because of last night. She hadn’t slept a wink. Had stayed up all night vacillating between wanting to call and give Drake a hard time for doing exactly what he’d done to her back in ninth grade and being too embarrassed to see straight. Had he told Dean and Rick about their almost kiss? Was that why they were fighting? Or worse, what if he hadn’t been thinking about kissing her last night, and she’d freaked out for no reason? What if he’d been leaning down only to whisper something? Oh gosh. She could see him doing that so clearly, making fun of her falling into his arms like a bad rom-com movie.
“I’m sorry,” Serena said. “They really are great guys to work with. I wish we’d done this earlier in the week, when tempers weren’t so high.”
“No. It’s fine. I work in film, remember?” Harper said confidently. She was a lot like Desiree, a beautiful blonde with a sweet demeanor. But just like Desiree, Harper was strong and could stand up for herself. She was also an earthy, hippie girl who never got flustered, which meant she’d do just fine working with the guys.
Serena felt a streak of unexpected jealousy. She was really being replaced. As much as she wanted to go to Boston, it made her feel a little like a torn-out page in a notebook. She’d served her purpose, but no one was irreplaceable.
“In film, everything escalates,” Harper said. “People raise their voices at the littlest things. I’m used to it.” She looked down at her notes and said, “What else should I know?”
They’d already covered the office organization, client relations, contracts, and emergency contacts, including plumbers, electricians, and others.
Serena leaned closer and lowered her voice, even though she knew the guys couldn’t hear beyond their own battles. “Dean is the peacemaker. If they’re all three in the office and Rick and Drake get into it, just glance at Dean, and he’ll settle them down. But when he’s not here, it’s best to let them hash it out, unless they’re out here, in your space. When that happens, step between them. It’s a visual reminder that they’re not alone and there’s a female in their presence. They’ll usually calm down like scolded children or take it behind closed doors.”
Harper laughed. “Men are so funny. It’s like they think it’s fine to be Neanderthals when they’re alone, but if a woman is around they want us to think they’re cool, when really we just want them not to kill each other.”
Serena thought about that. “When I was in college I worked at a clothing store, and my boss would yell at anyone, anytime, anywhere. He was shameless.”
“That would stink.”
“It did, but these guys aren’t like that. If they’re arguing, you know it’s about something that’s really important to them. Don’t get concerned or take it personally if they storm out of the office. That usually means they can’t control their emotions, so they go outside and end up running a few miles while they yell at each other. They typically come back in better moods. Sweaty, but smiling.”
“Maybe I should try that instead of yoga. Did you hear that Emery is going to start a couples yoga class?”
“Why does everything happen when I move away? I would love to see her get the guys out there. Actually, I’ve seen Dean and Emery do yoga together, but they make it look sexy and romantic.”
They talked about exercise for another few minutes before circling back to Harper’s new duties. Serena’s thoughts lingered on the idea of doing yoga with Drake, his big hands guiding her, keeping her steady as they exchanged energy. But she quickly pushed those thoughts away. They were all wrong, especially today.
After Harper was all set to start working Saturday and had left the office, Serena got busy with the music store designs. Rick and Dean stormed out of Drake’s office, startling her. Dean blew past and walked directly out the front door. Rick paced like a hungry tiger beside her desk. Serena glanced into Drake’s office and saw him standing with his back to her, arms crossed, staring out the window. Was he thinking about last night, too? Wondering why she’d turned into a fumbling dork around him?
“He’s in a rotten mood,” Rick said.
Tell me about it. “You all survived. That’s a good sign.”
“For now.” Rick stopped pacing, his face a mask of irritation. He had the same dark hair as Drake, though he wore his short. They both had dark eyes, like their father, but until Desiree had come into Rick’s life, his eyes had always seemed tortured. Rick had been only fourteen when they’d lost their father, and while she knew Drake and Mira had long ago dealt with their grief, Rick had bottled it up until he’d wanted a shot at a future with Desiree. Desiree and Drake had finally helped him through his grief, and he’d been a different man ever since.
“How many more candidates do you have lined up for tomorrow?” he asked.
They’d interviewed several people for her position, and Drake had found something wrong with each and every one of them.
“Two. But don’t worry. Harper agreed to work from eleven until three each day until we find someone. That’ll get you through the busiest hours. I’ve contacted temp agencies, but Drake doesn’t seem very receptive to that idea.”
He nodded. “Harper’s fine. Thanks for all your hard work. Listen, I know you’re crazed, getting everything done for the music store and the resort and trying to figure out how to move your life to Boston, b
ut I just want you to know how much we appreciate all that you’ve done here. Don’t let Drake’s bad mood mislead you. You know how he hates adjusting to new things. This is hard on him. He’s going to miss you a heck of a lot. We all are.”
“We both know that’s not true,” she said quietly. They’d made major design changes at the last minute when they were redecorating the cottages, and he’d never flinched. “Drake has no trouble adjusting to change. He has issues with me leaving him in a lurch. But thank you for the kind words. I know how much you appreciate my helping out. I’ve loved every minute of it.” She stole another peek into Drake’s office. He was sitting at his desk now, watching them. His eyes were sad, and the smile that appeared was clearly feigned. She quickly shifted her attention back to Rick. “I’m going to miss all of you, too. Even the growly one in there,” she said more lightly than she felt.
“Desiree said the girls are helping you finish packing tonight. Is there anything us guys can do to help?”
“Other than showing up for the goodbye party tomorrow night? That’s all I really need. A happy send-off, because I know I’ll cry all the way to Boston despite being excited to start my new job.”
“That I can do, but no tears, please. You’ll only be a short drive away, and I have to deal with my brother losing his mind. I’m not sure I can deal with both.” Rick stepped around the desk and embraced her. “I’m going to miss your smiling face.”
Serena breathed deeply, trying to ease the emotions bubbling up inside her. “Thanks. Now my makeup will smear.”
“You don’t need it anyway,” he said as he dug his keys from his pocket. “I’m heading down to Yarmouth for a meeting. Text if you need me.”
“Okay. I hope your day gets better.” She inhaled deeply, grabbed the design swatches and catalogs she’d collected for the music store, and her laptop, steeling herself before heading into Drake’s office.
He was standing by the window again. She wanted to confront him about last night, to get it all out in the open like they usually did when something was bothering them. But her pulse was racing just thinking about actually saying it out loud. And if it hadn’t been an almost kiss, she could do without another dose of mortification.
“Drake? Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” He turned around with a cold expression that quickly warmed to tepid.
She swallowed hard, as hurt as she was angry. “I have all the design elements for the shop, but I want your final okay before I approve the orders.” She set the books on the desk, spread out the fabric swatches, and opened her laptop, glad to have something to focus on besides the questions zooming through her mind. Drake moved beside her, standing so close she felt his tension as her own.
“You sure you’re okay to do this right now?” she asked. “We can go over it later or tomorrow morning if you need some time to…process whatever happened with Rick and Dean.”
“I’m fine.” His lips tipped up just enough for her to know he wanted to be okay with their interactions, but clearly it would take as much effort for him as it was taking for her.
She leaned over the laptop, navigating to the site she wanted to show him. “I know we agreed on the sofa already, but I found this one and contacted the distributor. If you like it, they have one that was custom made for another shop, but that customer ended up going with something else. I like the rounded back, and it’s a little longer than the other, but it would really help define the sitting area. People like things that are unique, and I think the shape alone will encourage people to stay longer, pick up a music book or an instrument, and get comfortable. The more time spent in the store the better. We always say the key to returning customers is developing friendships, right?”
He leaned over her shoulder, his chest brushing against her back, sending her mind reeling to last night, when she’d been teasing him about showing him pictures and he’d tugged her against him. She’d laughed from the teases, but also as a cover from the awareness of his hard body and the strength of his arms, which had gripped her in unexpected ways. She’d wanted to turn in his arms, to confront him about why he’d pushed her away all those years ago.
“Yes, we do,” he said in a low voice that she swore oozed with seduction. “That’s a very cool couch.”
Ohmygosh. I’m doing it again. She pushed those lustful thoughts away, telling herself it wasn’t seduction she heard but the sound of Drake restraining his anger over her quitting. Or maybe over last night’s miscommunication? Oh boy. Now she was dizzy.
He leaned forward a little more, pressing his body more firmly against hers. “What would we tie it to?”
Shoot. She hadn’t imagined it. Her mind swam back to his comment about tying up women, and she breathed a little harder. It’s official. There are some things a person says that can never be forgotten.
He reached for the fabric swatches with one hand and placed his other hand on her hip, warming her through the thin material of her skirt. He touched her all the time. Why was she suddenly noticing it so much? And why did she have butterflies in her stomach? No, no, no. This could not be happening.
“One of these?” His warm breath sailed over her cheek.
“Yes, for the chairs.”
“Ah, makes perfect sense. I like this one.” He held the swatch of distressed burgundy leather and slowly rubbed his thumb over it.
She imagined his thumb sensually stroking her skin.
“How about you?” he asked just above a whisper. “Do you like leather?” He dropped the swatch and picked up the shinier fabric sample. “Or something softer?”
“I…um…” Her mind went straight to the gutter. “That one’s great,” she said quickly. “I thought about mocha, but everyone uses shades of brown. This adds a splash of color, and I found these great lighting elements that can be ordered in any color.” Oh no, now she had verbal diarrhea. She fumbled with one of the lighting books, opening to a marked page to try to distract herself from her overactive hormones, which were on freaking fire.
“Lights,” she said too breathily, and flattened her hand on a page.
Drake put his hand beside hers, covering the tips of her fingers with his own. Sparks raced over her skin. She lifted her gaze to his, and the air between them thickened with desire as it had last night. Confusion and lust muddled her thoughts.
So much for steeling herself against all of the emotions last night had unleashed.
“You okay?” he asked casually.
“Mm-hm.” Just feeling ridiculous for thinking last night meant something. “It’s just been a crazy few days. Sorry.” She shifted her gaze to the lighting book, trying to pull her head out of the darkness she’d fallen into, and leaned forward a little more, purposely causing her hair to fall around her face and blocking his view of her. “These are the lights I’m thinking about. The shelving units and the hardware to hang the instruments should be installed this weekend. I figured I’d come down next Friday night and work through the weekend to help get things set up.” Even though she couldn’t see his face, she felt the heat of his stare, and her words continued tumbling out nervously. “If we order the furniture today, it will be here in time for the grand opening, which we also need to talk about. I’ve spoken to the newspapers and the local radio stations. We’re set for two weeks from Saturday, on the twelfth.”
He moved her hair over her shoulder. She held her breath at the intimate touch.
His brows were knitted as he studied her face. “You talk like you’re on speed only when you’re nervous or drunk.”
“Not true,” she lied.
He shifted positions, leaning his butt on the edge of his desk beside her. He reached for her hand, holding it gently, and brushed his thumb over her skin in the same slow rhythm he’d stroked the leather, rooting her in place. “Talk to me, Supergirl.”
“Don’t call me that.” She pulled away and crossed her arms, angry that he was so calm and upset with herself for caring. “I don’t feel very super anything righ
t now.” She wanted to shake him, smack him, or run as fast and as far away as she could. The trouble was, she also wanted to climb him like a ladder and take the kiss that had taunted her for far too long. All those emotions tangled together, twisting and turning inside her until she felt like she might explode.
His eyes remained deathly calm, trained on hers. “Because of last night?”
“What do you think? I’m so freaking confused and angry right now I can’t see straight,” came out before she could stop it, each word laced with venom. “What was that last night? I felt like I was back in ninth grade again!”
“Ninth gra—”
“Do not tell me you don’t remember the night you backed out of the duet!” Angry tears burned, but she forced them back. “You leaned in and—forget it! I’m not reliving that moment either. But I deserve an answer about last night.”
“I’m sorry!” he growled. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Oh, now it was a mistake?” The pain in her heart brought fresh tears. With trembling hands, she began gathering the swatches and books from the desk.
“No, Serena.” He grabbed her arm.
She wrenched her arm away. “Don’t,” she warned. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”
He hauled her closer, ignoring her struggles. “You know me better than I know my freaking self. It wasn’t a mistake, okay? It just wasn’t fair to try to kiss you when you’re about to move away.”
She twisted out of his grip again. “You’re darn right it’s not.”
She slammed her laptop closed, stacked the books on top of it, clutching it all to her chest, a barrier between them. She was breathing too hard, tears slipping from her eyes. “I was so in love with you as a kid. Do you have any idea how hard it was when you turned me away back then? Well, I’m not a lovesick teenager. This time I’m in control, and there’s no way I’ll let this throw me off course. Do you have any idea what kind of trust it took for me to accept this job with you in the first place? How hard I had to fight my feelings for you to make it work? It’s been four years, Drake. We have been working side by side for four years, and now that I’m finally moving on, you pull this crap?”
