Her thoughts were racing, but she was smart enough to stifle them before they came out in words. Jeremy obviously didn’t want to take their relationship into a sexual realm. So how much more would he object to her profession of love for him?
Embarrassed, humiliated, she ripped her hands from his gentle grasp, grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
“Emma, no, no, please.” He came to his feet. Was she so wrong about this man? About her feelings?
She had almost reached the door when he slid his body between them, blocking her from leaving. “Don’t go. Not now. I want to tell, I need to tell you. Please, Emma.”
She blinked tears back, determined to gain control. She looked into his face, his earnest eyes, then dropped her head. “I’m so embarrassed,” she said softly.
“No, don’t be. Please, just let me explain.”
It was his earnestness that made her turn around and head back into the room. But not to the couch, no, it would be painful to ever sit on that couch with him again, memories of his rejection swirling around her head. So she went to the table and sat primly on the edge of one of the seats.
He joined her, pulled his own chair out so he could face her, and took her hands. “Emma, I can’t really explain my actions tonight. I do want you, I’m very attracted to you. I've dreamed about seeing you, touching you. Seriously.”
She kept her eyes locked on her knees. She didn’t want the sight of his handsome face to get in the way of his message.
“But you’re clean and pure and beautiful. You’re on the ball, and smart and successful. I can’t live up to the standard you set. I’m ….” He exhaled a sharp breath and tried again. “I’m an ex-con. I made bad decisions and landed in jail. I did that to myself. I was sentenced to a decade away from good people to try to turn myself around, to get back on the right track.”
“And you paid your price. You earned your release.” Her whispered words were so soft she wondered if he heard them.
“Yes, I did. I worked hard, I got with the program. But you don’t know what I had to do in prison, just to survive. I was surrounded by rough, tough men who would as soon cut you as look at you. You couldn’t be seen as weak; that was a mistake you only made once. You had to fight for yourself. And I did. I may not have always won, but I competed with my fists. And I gained their respect. I wasn’t a violent man when I went in. But I learned to be while I was there.”
She brought her eyes up to meet his. He was studying her, looking for a response. “But what does that have to do with us? With this, tonight? You’re not violent now. You can’t think that you’d hurt me.”
“Oh, no, no. Not a chance. That’s not what I’m saying.” He stopped speaking, ran his fingers through his hair, struggling to find the words. His eyes swung away from her, searched around for inspiration, then returned, locked in with hers. “I need to prove myself. I need to cleanse myself from my past. You deserve so much more than a sullied ex-con. You deserve the best man life has to offer you. The best man God has to offer you.”
She shook her head. “I want you. You are my choice, Jeremy.”
A glimmer of a smile emerged on his lips. “And I want to be deserving of you, Emma. I want to be the man who gets you, a full partner. I just haven’t gotten there yet. But give me time. I’ll prove myself to you, you’ll see. Once I am a success and my past is truly behind me, then I will be a good man for you.”
Emma stared at him. Who was this guy? A true man of honor? She’d never run into one before. Was that a pedestal he had her up on? And to think he’d started out as the man who’d ruined her father’s career, her family’s life. God sure planted some interesting barriers in life’s path.
Her head was spinning. Her emotions, confusing her. She needed to get out of here to think. “I’m going to go.”
He gave a brisk nod and followed her to the door. “Emma?” And he took her chin gently into his hand and kissed her. A sweet, chaste kiss, one that showed her exactly what boundaries he was putting around their physical connections.
For now.
“Good night, Jeremy.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jeremy unloaded the last of his slightly damaged inventory into the new space. If he had more pieces, he would divide the open space into workshop and salesroom. But because of his current situation, he had nothing sale-worthy at the moment.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have pieces again eventually. He’d built up inventory before, and he’d do it again. He was used to working hard. This wasn’t an insurmountable problem. He’d just put his nose to the grindstone and dive into the task.
He did love building furniture, after all.
He scooted the meager pieces throughout the space and so he could get to work stripping each one. If he could strip the water-damaged finish off, sand the wood down and let them dry thoroughly, it’s possible he could stain them again, salvaged.
It was mindless work, and he regretted that, because while he was working his mind had plenty of time to focus on the one person it couldn’t seem to forget: Emma.
She’d completely floored him the other night when she came on to him. The thought of what might've happened, what probably would've happened if he hadn't put an end to it, was mind-boggling.
She'd wanted him -- all of him. And turning her down had taken all the self-control he could dig up. Because of course, he'd love to have had sex with her too. But in his mind, it was clear. Lust was taking over in the situation, lust was leading the way. And Emma wasn’t a woman who merited his lust. She was classy, smart, successful. She was the kind of woman he could fall for, hard. She was the type of woman any guy would be happy to spend his future with.
Any guy … but not him. Not yet. If and when he ever professed his love for Emma, and maybe way in the future, proposed to her and asked her to be his wife … his transformation from ex-con who’d done a lot he was ashamed of, to a new creation in God, a man she could be proud of, a man who was worthy of her, would be complete.
And not until then would he ever allow himself to sample her body in the way she was offering.
Yes, it was clear in his mind. But he’d completely blown it with her because of the way he handled it. His words had failed him and he feared that Emma had left that night feeling rejected and unwanted. When that was the furthest from the truth.
He had no idea how to move forward, and evidently, neither did she. He hadn’t heard from her, and he hadn’t contacted her. Sure, it had only been a few days, but was the silence intentional? On his end it was. He didn’t know what to say. Bring it up again? Make sure she understood his motivations, had no questions? Or just let it slip into their past, never to be spoken of again.
He turned off his power sander and placed it at his feet. He grabbed his white cloth and ran it over the sandy finish on the top of the damaged dresser. It looked okay. He could probably salvage this one. Once it was done he could decide if he would discount it, or if it was good enough to sell at full price.
He smirked. If only he could come to such quick, sure decisions about his relationship as about his furniture.
The cell phone in his pocket buzzed. Pulling it out, he didn’t recognize the caller. He answered.
“Yeah, I’d like to order some furniture for a new house I’m buying.” The male voice was somewhat hard to understand but Jeremy was unsure why. Strange accent? Muffled?
“Yes, sir. Thank you for calling. I have an inventory catalogue of pieces I’ve made before, or I can meet with you and get your requirements and design you something new.”
“I’ve already seen your catalogue. I know what I want.” The voice started rattling off products: the Shaker dining room set, the Beach Cottage coffee table and end table set, the Farmhouse bedroom set. Jeremy scrambled to find a pencil to write them all down. When the order finished, the price tallied into the five-digit range, and his time estimate was several months.
“You’ve got a big house to fill. All new furniture?”
“Well sir, I appreciate your business. I’m a new business owner just starting out and I appreciate the support of the community. Now, I’d like to take a day to write everything up with an accurate price and time estimate, then meet with you to show the specs and get your agreement before I start working.”
“No need. I’m out of the state. I won’t be back for a while and I don’t want to hold up progress. You know what I want. Just get started.”
Jeremy pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced at it. It was a local number. Maybe the man was local, but was traveling out of state. “Could I at least call you when I’ve got the paperwork done? I don’t want to get started building till I’ve covered this with you, and we have an agreement on the price, the timeline, the types of woods, the stains. All the details. Prevent costly mistakes later.”
“Okay, call me when you got it ready and we’ll talk.”
“And we’ll work out the deposit. I’ll require a 50% down payment on each item as I start them.”
“I’ll have to mail you a check and I don’t want the USPS to slow you down.”
Jeremy copied down the man’s name, local address, and the cell phone he was calling from, and hung up.
The big order would take him a long way toward profitability, but it would eliminate time available to restore this damaged furniture. Time for another business decision: spend time on the projects that will make you the most money. So, for the rest of the day, he worked on the spec for the new customer, Joe Martin. He took his time to suggest creative extras on the furniture pieces from his catalogue. He wanted to give his customers customization, a little bit of uniqueness for each creation. Unique wood combinations, unusual color pairings, stains or finishes. He took pride in making sure each finished piece caused admiration from its new owner.
Darkness had fallen outside the store when he finalized the proposal. He was happy with it. He hoped Joe Martin, whoever he was, and however he’d become aware of Jeremy’s work, would be happy with it too. If not, Jeremy would alter it till he was. The customer deserved his best effort.
Rolling out his tight shoulders, he stood and took a glance at the other projects. He checked his phone. Eight thirty. Sure, he could still put in a couple hours on the damaged furniture. Hopefully tomorrow, he’d have the okay from Joe Martin to start the new work.
A sharp rap sounded. Startled, Jeremy’s eyes darted to the door. A figure stood outside in the darkness. Jeremy made his way over and unlocked the glass door. Must be a customer checking things out.
“Sorry, I’m not open yet. Just moved in today and won’t have my grand opening for a few weeks yet.”
He was a large man, with massive thighs covered in jeans and a sweatshirt covering his chest, the hood pulled up, obscuring his face.
“Thanks for your interest though. I’d appreciate you coming back after I open.” Jeremy started to close the door when the man reached an arm in, blocking him.
“Harrison.”
Jeremy peered closer at the man’s face still in shadow. “Yes. Who …?”
The man pushed past him and into the store. With the bright showcase lights, even with the hoodie still on, Jeremy recognized him. “White.”
Leroy White, terrifying leader of the prison gang, stood here in his store in Pawleys Island. His past was quite literally catching up with him.
Leroy pushed his hood off, exposing his face. A bruise rounded his right eye and a busted lip was healing. Jeremy wasn’t about to inquire.
“So, you’ve been released,” Jeremy said.
“Obviously,” the big man replied. “Did you think I’d escaped?”
“No.”
“What you got going on here?” Leroy glanced around the empty space, then settled his gaze on the wood pieces clustered on the far side of the room.
“I’m starting my own furniture building business.”
“Business must be good if you’re able to rent this big space.”
“It’s more of a leap of faith, actually. Not making much yet but I figure I’ll invest in my future.”
Leroy studied Jeremy's face, his expression a mix of irritation and sarcasm. “Investing in your future, huh? You think you have a future? You think you can fit back into a normal life after everything we went through inside? What makes you think you won’t screw up again?”
“I’m determined, Leroy. I’m going to make it work.”
“Well, aren’t you a precious little girl?” His lip curled up, his eyes narrowed and Jeremy had a rush of memory from this same man, years younger, in a different place, saying some similarly infuriating remark, with the very same meaning: menacing, intimidating words, his intent to humiliate him for following the rules, for doing as he was told.
Jeremy sized up the big man and gathered his wits about him, readying himself for a fight. With Leroy, it was the only way. He clenched his fists and squared his shoulders. “Come on, Leroy. You don’t scare me,” he snarled. “Give me all you got, man. Looks like you got a head start on me, anyway.” He motioned to Leroy’s beat up face with his head.
Leroy considered, but the surprise in his eyes gave him away. He looked around and back at Jeremy. “I ain’t here to fight you, man. What’s wrong with you?”
Jeremy lowered his fists, still cautious.
“I don’t need another fight on my record. They’re keeping a close eye on me.”
“Why? You been getting into trouble again?”
“Nah, man. But I’m not sure I like it out here. Can’t find a job. Everyone waiting for me to screw up so they can haul me back in.”
Jeremy shook out his tense arms. “So what brings you by, Leroy? Why are you on Pawleys Island, and especially my store?”
Leroy shrugged. “There’s a gas station down the way there. I interviewed at one of their stations in Myrtle and it seemed to go okay. But they said the opening was actually out here and I’d have to go meet the station manager. So I drove all the way out here and he wasn’t even here. Isn’t that a bite on the ass?”
Jeremy ran his gaze over Leroy’s clothes. Not exactly interview wardrobe. On the other hand, maybe for a gas station, it was fine.
“So that explains why you were at the gas station. How did you know I was here, in this storefront?”
“I didn’t. What, you think I came looking for you? Tracking you down like I have a crush on you? Don’t flatter yourself.” He erupted into low chuckles, probably pleased he’d used the phrase correctly. “I stopped down at the convenience store at the end of this strip mall. Got me some M&M’s.” He pulled the empty wrapper out of his pocket to prove it. “Walking back to my car, I saw this store with the lights on, came down to see what was going on. I looked in the big plate window and thought I recognized you, sitting there at the desk. So I knocked.”
The story sounded feasible. He could be telling the truth, or he could be lying through his teeth. With Leroy, either one was entirely possible. And, Jeremy realized, he didn’t really care if Leroy was behind the vandalism or the fire. He just wanted to eliminate the chance of him returning for another visit.
“Well, you need to get going, I’m sure. Best of luck, Leroy. Keep your nose clean and I’ll do the same.”
The big man gave him a sneer. He didn’t like being bossed around, never had. He liked to move at his own pace, in his own direction. But they’d already established the fact that Leroy didn’t want to fight Jeremy tonight, so Jeremy felt safe pushing his luck.
Leroy ambled toward the front door. Jeremy opened it for him and he slid out. “Good seeing you, Harrison. Happy for you, I really am.”
He walked into the darkness, and Jeremy let out a big breath.
* * *
It had been a week since the “Jeremy Rejection,” as Emma was coming to think of that humiliating evening. And she hadn’t talked to him since. She couldn’t face him – her embarrassment was too deep. Sh
e’d made a total fool of herself, throwing herself at the man, and he didn’t want an intimate relationship. If she could get up the nerve to ask her girlfriends about it, she was quite sure she'd learn that she was the only young woman in America with a steady boyfriend who refused to make love to her.
She took a deep breath and let it out. So, although she didn’t consider herself and Jeremy officially broken up, she could say they had hit a major bump in the road. The fact that he hadn’t called her either, spoke volumes in her mind.
She left her apartment and headed for her car. She drove to her mom and dad’s. Her mom had invited her to do some clothes shopping and Emma had offered to pick her up. Not only was it easier on her mom, it also gave her a chance to do a visual check on her father.
According to Mom, he wasn’t drinking excessively, and hadn’t since their intervention. Some days, he had a beer or two, but had not lost control and had not gotten drunk. She wished she had full confidence that Mom was telling the truth. Not that she would lie, exactly. But she wouldn’t put it past Mom to sugarcoat the truth so that Emma wouldn’t be worried or upset.
She pulled into the driveway of the little red ranch, knocked and let herself in. Dad was sitting in the living room, watching TV.
“Hey, sugarplum. How’s it going?” he asked with a calm smile. She leaned in to his cheek and he passed the sniff test.
“Good, Dad. Really good. How about you?”
“Can’t complain.”
“Any luck on the job front?”
He reached for the remote on the chair-side table and muted the sound. “Put a couple applications in earlier this week so I’m hoping for an interview or two. Nothing came from the last batch of applications though. Nobody called me back.”
She gave him another kiss, this one on the top of his head, and gave him a sad smile. “The important thing is, you’re trying, Dad. Good job. I’m proud of you.”
Mom walked into the room and greeted her with a happy hug. “I’m proud of him too, Emma. He’s working hard.”
Dad’s cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his front shirt pocket and peered at the screen.
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 44
