“Yes to both.” He chuckled against the top of my head. “And you can start by getting us a couch. I’m tired of watching TV on the floor.”
“Hey, you didn’t have to sit on the floor with me,” I said with my eyes still closed, feeling his heart beat against my back and letting the musky scent that was pure Dylan engulf my senses. “But I’m sure as heck not sitting my big ole butt in that excuse for a hammock again, I’ll tell you that.”
“Your butt’s not big, it’s perfect.” He swatted me on the fanny, and my eyes popped open. Then he stepped away and gathered some clothes out of the closet, speaking as he pulled them on. “Why don’t you start today? I should be home by dinner.” He grabbed his wallet off of his dresser and pulled out a credit card. “Get whatever you need.”
I paused again. This felt really weird, like “married” weird. We already lived together, shopped together, ate together, bathed together, slept together, did just about everything together except share a checking account and a last name. And now he was letting me use his credit card. “You’re serious?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “I trust you.”
God, he was going to hate me. He was going to think I was just like his ex-fiancée Tina. He’d lied to me, but he’d done so for my own good. Whereas, I’d lied for purely selfish reasons. But I wasn’t just using him for research.
I truly cared about him, though I doubted he’d see it that way. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have to find out about my project. The semester was almost over. And I was only using his credit card to buy his furniture, for his apartment. Nothing for me. It wasn’t like he’d said, “If you see anything you want for yourself, just add it to my bill.” So why did I feel guilty?
I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll do it. But you don’t have to pay me, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll thank you in other ways.” He winked, then kissed me on the nose. “Gotta run.” He turned and headed for the living room, and I followed, feeling slightly less guilty. “Oh, by the way. If you see anything you want, feel free to put it on my card.” He smiled, then he walked out the door, leaving me gaping like a flounder.
Oh, yeah. He was gonna hate me.
***
At the end of the week, I sat on Dylan’s brand-new, plush black leather couch, situated beside an overstuffed matching black leather recliner, and studied the ultra-modern room. Okay, so I’d gone a little wild, but he’d said he had a bit put away, so to go for it.
Well, I did, and then some.
I’d been buying black and white furniture, funky glass and marble tables, a few cool lamps, and splashes of color in modern art all week, but storing the items amongst the Brat Pack. I didn’t want Dylan to see the room until I finished. I’d spent all yesterday painting the walls and putting up a mural, and then today moving the furniture in since he’d been gone on a twenty-four-hour stakeout.
Now that he was due home at any minute, I was scared senseless. I’d made a big crock of homemade spicy mac and cheese with fancy noodles and imported mozzarella, cheddar, and jalapeño. Accompanied by a tossed salad with Mediterranean feta and a loaf of soft French bread. And to top it off, a pitcher of Bahama Mamas sat chilling in the fridge, and salsa music poured out of his brand new sound system in the background.
What if he didn’t like it? Any of it? The food, the furniture, my taste in music? Oh, God, this had been such a bad idea. He had to live here permanently. I didn’t. He’d probably move so he wouldn’t have to be reminded of me and what a mess I’d made of his life.
I jumped up off the couch and picked up the phone to dial his cell. If I could stall him, then I could get his cousins to help me put everything back the way it was.
Too late.
The door rattled as the key turned in the lock, and then the door swung open. “Mac, I’m home, and something smells awesome.” His voice trailed off and he came to a stop in the middle of the room, taking it all in with his full lips slightly parted.
I hung up the phone and swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry. I can change it all back, I swear.”
His eyes met mine, and he blinked as though just noticing me. “Are you kidding? This is so cool, so me.”
I bit my bottom lip. “So you like it?”
“I love it. It’s like you crawled inside my head and took a picture. You’re amazing. You really have a talent for this.”
A warm feeling swept through me. No one had ever made me feel this good. Ever. “Thanks. I’ve always loved playing around with colors and fabrics, I just never gave much thought to doing anything with it.”
“Well, you should. You should seriously consider being an Interior Designer.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me squarely on the lips. “I have a surprise for you, too.”
“You do?” I cleared my throat. I didn’t like surprises, because in my case, they were usually bad.
He went back to the door and picked up a bag he’d dropped when he first came in, then handed it to me. “Open it.”
“Dylan, you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
I pulled out a big box and opened it, then gasped. A brand new spring coat. Only this had not come from Mr. Dump Ster, of that I was sure. It had “expensive” written all over it. I pulled on the heavenly brown leather and sighed. So soft and lightweight, yet nothing bulky about it. My sigh turned to a groan. “This is too much. I can’t accept it.” First his credit card, and now gifts. What did it all mean?
“Sure you can. It’s not nearly enough to make up for all you’ve done for me. And I’m not just talking about the decorating.” He slipped off my coat and hung it up. Then he came back and took my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it, his goatee tickling my skin.
“Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed my hand again. "Let’s eat. I’m starved, and something smells fantastic.”
“Just a little something I whipped up.”
“Mac and cheese, right?”
“How’d you guess?”
“Let’s just say I’ve gotten to know you pretty well, too.”
Note to self: You are thoroughly screwed! And NOT in a good way.
***
I printed off the last page of my paper and stapled it together just as Dylan walked into the bedroom.
“What’s that?” he asked as he tied his hair back in his usual ponytail and tucked his T-shirt into his Levi’s.
My heart sped into overdrive. I clutched the sheets to my chest. “Just a paper for the class I’m taking.”
He arched a sleek, black brow. “Really, what’s it about?”
I wanted to tell him, I really did, but I knew he would be angry. He would think I’d only been using him all this time, when that wasn’t the case at all. I just wasn’t ready to deal with that right now, so I said, “Nothing important.” Please, please, please don’t ask to read it.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Oh, you’ve helped more than you know, but thanks.” I smiled.
He shrugged, then turned away, and I breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t press the issue. My last day of class. I couldn’t believe our time together was nearly over. Part of me was glad that I wouldn’t have to skulk around him much longer carrying this secret, but my heart ached just the same. I didn’t want my time with him to end. But I didn’t want to get hurt, either.
“Okay, then, I have to run some errands, but I’ll be back by dinner. Don’t cook, I’ve ordered something special. I have a surprise planned.”
“Great.” Yeah, great. I really did hate surprises.
He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, and I clutched my papers even tighter. He just chuckled and shook his head as he walked out the door. As soon as he was gone, I grabbed my new coat and headed for school.
May. Flowers blooming, sun shining, a warm breeze blowing. A beautiful time of year. A time for new beginnings. I sighed.
/> A time to move on.
I got off the subway and walked the rest of the way to class. I’d made it through this stupid project, and Dylan hadn’t found out about my secret. Today was a good day. At least when he remembered me, it would be with fondness.
Once we were all seated, Professor Butthead called students up one at a time to present their projects. “Ms. MacDonald, it’s your turn. Are you prepared?” He folded his arms and wore a slight smirk like he didn’t believe I stood a chance of pulling this off. His smirk soon faded as Professor McCreedy, the head of the department, walked in and took a seat in the back, surprising all of us.
“Absolutely.” I took a deep breath and walked to the front of the room, receiving an encouraging smile from McCreedy along the way, and set my report on the podium. But I didn’t have to look down and read it to know what I was going to say.
“When I first started this project, I truly believed that size mattered.” The class snickered, but I smiled indulgently and kept filling them in on what I’d learned. “The truth is, we can’t prove one way or the other whether size matters or not. We can only draw conclusions. And after thorough research and help from some special friends, I’ve concluded that we’re human beings.”
Several heads nodded and the snickers subsided as I won them over.
“We all have issues based on the experiences we’ve had in life, not necessarily on the size of our produce.” A few more snickers rang out, but overall, I’d captured the attention of nearly everyone in the room. “That’s not to say there aren’t a few generalizations that might hold true on how the size of a man’s produce could potentially affect his personality, but just remember there are exceptions to every rule.”
I looked around the room, all eyes were riveted on me, and a newfound confidence I didn’t even realize I had filled me to the core. I no longer minded being in the spotlight. In fact, it felt darn good for a change. “At first, based on my observations and interview questions, I thought pickles were downright cocky because they felt they had to overcompensate for what they lacked, and cucumbers seemed comfortable with who they were, while zucchinis seemed overconfident women-magnets whose only thoughts were their next conquest. But then I dug a little deeper and discovered this: everyone’s self-conscious about some aspect of their bodies, no matter if they’re born gorgeous or wishing to be that way.” I smiled, as I ended with, “So don’t judge a man by his produce, get to know the person within, and we’ll all be better off. Just because one zucchini’s a jerk doesn’t mean they all are.”
The whole class broke out into applause, Professor McCreedy clapping the hardest. Professor Butthead’s face had puckered up like a prune. His mouth opened and shut a few times, then he sputtered, “Well done, Ms. MacDonald. You can take your seat now.”
When class was over, I treated myself to lunch in the cafeteria and ran into Callie’s Angels.
“So, how’d it go?” Red took a seat beside me.
“Great. You should have seen Butthead’s face when Professor McCreedy walked in. It was priceless.”
“We thought you’d like that.” Brownie grinned.
I blinked. No way. “I thought it was some coincidence when she walked in right before my presentation.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You guys did that for me?”
“Yeah, isn’t it great? We ran into her just before your class, and she was all too happy to check out your presentation. Jeepers, I wish I could have been there.” Blondie clapped.
“You guys are the best.” I got up and gave each of them a hug. “I could not have done this without you. Thank you all so much.”
“Hey, no big deal.” Brownie shrugged, but a smile tugged at her lips.
Blondie giggled. “We had fun.”
“Besides, how could we say no after we said your eggs were rotting?” Red grinned from ear to ear.
“That makes us even since I first thought of you all as giggling puddles of estrogen.” We all laughed. “I’ve got to get to work. Maybe I’ll see you next semester.”
“Count on it. And if you need any more help, you know where to look,” Red said with a smile.
“Thanks, Angels.” I waved as I left the cafeteria on cloud nine. First Dylan loved my redecorating, and then I’d succeeded in pulling off the insane project, and now I’d made friends. Real friends. Things were suddenly going right in my life.
I’d stopped running from my problems, learned how to stand up for myself, and I knew I wanted to be an Interior Designer. So why did the thought of entering a serious relationship terrify me? I guess I still wasn’t ready to trust men completely.
Dylan hadn’t said he loved me, and he hadn’t asked me to live with him permanently, so I refused to get in any deeper. I had to end it tonight, but I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be easy. I frowned, falling off my cloud and landing in a puddle of reality. If things were going this well, that only meant one thing when it came to me...
My life was about to hit the fan.
***
“Did I thank you for my new coat?” I asked Dylan as I tucked my legs beneath me and snuggled deeper into the black leather sofa. My stomach hurt from stuffing myself with take-out, but the orange chicken and egg rolls had been to die for.
“Several times,” Dylan answered, putting his arm around me and pulling me closer to his side, then crossing his sock-clad feet on the coffee table in front of us. He picked up the remote and turned the TV to the sports channel. “Come on, guys, you’re beating yourselves,” he said as though the baseball players could hear him.
“Dylan?”
“Hmmm.”
“Are you sure you like this room?” I leaned my head back to rest my cheek on his shoulder and looked up at him. God, I wished I could take a picture so I’d never forget his profile. I inhaled deeply, trying to ingrain his musky scent in my brain forever.
“Positive.” He still stared at the TV. “Bad call, ump. Get some new glasses.” He shook his head and ran his hand up and down my arm as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him.
I unfolded my legs and plopped them across his lap, wanting to be closer to him, if that was possible. He laid his other hand on my thigh and squeezed, then gave me a quick kiss and went back to watching the game. “Why all the questions?”
I sighed. “Just tying up all the loose ends before I have to go.” There, I said it before him, yet my heart still thumped painfully. No matter how hard I’d tried to guard myself against it, the thought of leaving him still hurt. But I had to. I already cared more than I should.
“Go? Go where?” He gave me his full attention now, and his brows formed a deep V.
My breath hitched. Why did he sound so surprised? “Well, the semester is over, and I have to live somewhere. Since I couldn’t find a place here, I thought I’d go back to Cutesville to confront my parents. It’s time.”
He frowned. “Okay.” He turned off the game--his favorite team, no less--and slowly set down the control. “I’ll go with you, and then we’ll come back here together.”
My heart started hammering. “Why would you do that? And where would I live if I stayed here?” He couldn’t be suggesting what I thought he was, could he?
“You’d live here with me.” He stared deep into my eyes, and his filled with an emotion I was afraid to name.
“B-But this is only temporary. You said so.”
He took my hands in his and ran his thumbs over the backs of mine. “Because I knew you’d never move in if I said anything else. This doesn’t have to be temporary, Callie. This could be a whole lot more, and I think you know that.”
I pulled my hands from his, slipped my legs off his lap, and crossed my arms in front of me. “No. No, I don’t know that. Men don’t commit. Men c-can’t be trusted.” My eyes darted left, then right. Anywhere but on his face. I couldn’t believe what he was trying to tell me, because then everything I’d ever thought about men had been a lie. I wasn’t ready to believe there were still good guys left o
ut there, even though deep in my heart I knew it to be true. Dylan was everything I’d ever wanted but thought I couldn’t have.
So why was I freaking out?
“Callie, look at me.” His voice rumbled soft and low, until I was helpless to do otherwise. “I love you. I have for a while now, and I want us to be together. Please say you’ll move in with me for good.”
I jumped up off the couch and backed away from him. “No, you don’t love me. You can’t.”
“Sweetheart, I know you’ve been hurt, but I’m not that guy.” He stood up and stepped toward me.
“Don’t come any closer.” I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I couldn’t breathe. My palms began to sweat. This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t let it happen. I had no clue why, I just knew I couldn’t.
“Callie, come on out,” he said, his voice filtering through the door. “You don’t have to decide anything right now, just sleep on it, okay? We’ll talk it over in the morning.”
I sat on the edge of the tub for ten minutes until I’d finally calmed down. Maybe I could let this happen. Maybe I deserved to be happy for a change. I didn’t know what I wanted. This was all too much too soon.
Gathering courage I had no idea I possessed, I opened the bathroom door. “Okay, I’ll think about it, but that’s all I can promise.”
He opened his mouth.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore tonight.” I took a deep breath. “I just can’t. There are things I need to tell you, things I’m not ready to say yet, but I will. Just give me some space, okay?”
“I can live with that. Don’t stress, Mac, it’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
“Whatever you say.” I followed him back to the living room, but somehow, I doubted everything would be ‘fine.’ Dylan was a really nice guy, and he’d been good to me, but my past had taught me things were never fine when it came to me. I still wasn’t sure about anything, but maybe it was time to trust a man again.
***
The next morning, I got up and headed to the living room. Maybe Dylan was right. Maybe things could work between us. I’d thought it over and decided being with him was worth the risk. But first, I had to tell him everything. He might not want anything to do with me once he found out.
Project Produce Page 22
