A Heart to Heal

by Synithia Williams

  “Do you like working in our office?”

  The smile returned to her face and she sat up. “Yes, I love it. But that’s no secret. I told you how I feel about working in your office.”

  He slowly lifted his head up and down. “Good. I’m glad things are comfortable for you.”

  They became silent again. He fought the urge to look at his watch. Kia pulled out her cell phone and checked the screen.

  “Waiting on a call?” he asked.

  She shook her head and put the phone on the table. “No, just wanted to see if anyone texted or Tweeted.”

  He wrestled back his annoyance. Kia spent most breaks and lunch hours scrolling through her cell phone. He hated it when people spent half of their time cultivating online relationships instead of having real conversations. He hadn’t thought much of how Kia spent her spare time before, but the fact that she was leaving her phone out while they were on a date — albeit an unwanted date — ate at him the wrong way.

  “And did anyone text?”

  She picked up her phone and slid her thumb over the screen. “Yeah, my friend Mariah said there’s a new DJ at Club Voracious.” She looked up at Devin. “Maybe we can check it out after leaving here?”

  He shook his head. “Not a club fan.”

  She raised a brow. “You went with Shayla.”

  He shrugged. “One time for a welcome home party. Not something I’d want to do every weekend.”

  She sighed and set her phone down. Again they grew silent. He looked toward the kitchen, willing Jennie to come back with their food. Kia’s phone chimed and she ran her hands over the screen again before chuckling. Devin clenched his jaw, and no longer fought the urge to check his watch. Damn, only twenty minutes since they’d sat down.

  “This is crazy. Why is it so hard for us to find something to talk about?”

  Her question startled him. Feeling guilty, he pulled his shirt sleeve over his watch. “We’re not at work. In the office we have specific things to discuss. Here, we need to find common ground.”

  “I thought it would be easier. I mean, I’ve known you forever.”

  Devin smiled. “Watching me while you grew up isn’t the same thing as knowing me.”

  She sat forward, revealing too much cleavage. “Then let me get to know you.”

  Devin sat back. “Kia, I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  He motioned between the two of them. “This. Look, you’re an attractive girl and … ”

  She held up a hand. “Stop it. I don’t need the ‘it’s me not you’ speech. Especially when I know the reason why.”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “She’ll always be the reason why.”

  Kia’s lip twisted. “Not for long. You know where she went tonight? To some art show in Columbia for that senator’s son-in-law. The one who came to Helena a year ago and painted downtown.”

  Devin shrugged. “And?”

  Kia smirked. “She told everyone this afternoon that she had her sights set higher than you. When I asked her about it, she admitted it was for Tyrell Crawford. She doesn’t even care that he’s married. Don’t buy this good girl act she’s putting on, it’s all a front.” Kia picked up her phone and slid out of the booth. “Don’t bother to call.”

  Devin watched her walk out with his mouth hanging open. She had to be lying. Shayla wouldn’t have gone to Columbia to hit on a married man … would she? Anger, jealousy and frustration formed a tight ball in his gut. Had she moved on after he pushed her away? He refused to believe it, and he damn sure wasn’t ready to watch her make another foolish decision like she’d done in Atlanta.

  Jennie finally came with their food. “Date’s in the bathroom?”

  Devin pulled out his wallet and threw more than enough money on the table. “No, she left.”

  “What the hell did you do?”

  Devin slid out of the booth. “Agree to go out with her in the first place.” He stormed out of the diner. He ignored the curious stares of the patrons. One of them was probably going to call his dad to report that Kia had walked out on him.

  Outside, his anger kicked up a notch when Tony’s red sports car pulled into the spot next to his truck. He owed Tony an ass beating for everything he’d done to Shayla in high school. But now wasn’t the time, or the place.

  “What’s up, Devin,” Tony said getting out of his car. “Where you running to?”

  Devin jerked the door open to his truck. “Not tonight, Tony.”

  Tony laughed. “Oh, I see. Did Shayla call? You always did go running when she called. But in the end, she made her choice.”

  Devin slammed his door and turned to face Tony. “From what I hear, you didn’t give her much of a choice.”

  The smile left Tony’s face, but the cocky look in his eye remained. “She didn’t seem to mind.”

  “When a woman says no, that usually means they want you to stop.”

  Tony held out both hands. “She didn’t say it like she meant it.”

  Rage pumped through Devin. He rushed over and grabbed Tony by the shirt, slamming him against the front window of the diner. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, I’ll kill you.”

  Tony smirked. “Before she leaves town she’ll be begging me to lay more than a hand on her. Shayla ain’t ’bout nothing. Never was, never will be. You look like a fool chasing after her.”

  Devin’s hand balled into a fist at the same time that Mr. Wilson, the owner of the diner, came out of the front door. “What’s going on out here? We don’t need any trouble.”

  Tony smiled and pushed Devin’s hands away. “Ain’t no trouble, Mr. Wilson. Dr. Jones and I were just having a talk.” Tony straightened his shirt. “We’re through. He’s got a bitch to catch.”

  Devin’s fist flew into the side of Tony’s face. Tony was stunned momentarily before taking a swing that Devin easily avoided. Mr. Wilson ran over and put himself between the two. By then, other male patrons of the diner came out and pushed the two apart. Mr. Wilson dragged Devin toward his truck. The sight of Tony’s smirk as Mr. Wilson pulled him away fueled his anger. Adrenaline pumped through him, fueling his need to beat the crap out of that sorry excuse for a man.

  “Get out of here, Devin. Or else I’ll have to call the police, and I really don’t want to do that,” Mr. Wilson said.

  Devin looked at the man, who was friends with his father. He didn’t regret hitting Tony, but did regret causing a scene in front of Mr. Wilson’s establishment. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson.” He glared at Tony. “I’m not through with you.”

  Tony straightened his clothes and wiped at his shoulders. “You know how to find me, playa.”

  Mr. Wilson patted his arm and Devin turned away. He fired up his truck and left skid marks in his haste to leave the parking lot. This entire situation would be the talk of the town. Even though she wasn’t here, those who knew their history would assume the fight was over Shayla. And knowing Tony, he’d hype up the situation to all of his friends. Tony may not have had any intentions of going for Shayla before, but Devin’s warning would change that.

  “Stupid!” Devin said, slamming his hand against his steering wheel. Tony had hated on Devin and Shayla’s friendship all through high school. It was only because Shayla preferred Devin. If she would have fawned over Tony the same way Peaches and the other girls had, he wouldn’t have given her the time of day. But because she didn’t want him, he’d wanted her. He should have known that Tony would have found a dirty way to come between him and Shayla.

  Without thinking, his foot pushed on the pedal and he headed toward the interstate. He was going to get her. He knew exactly where the art show was, since he’d turned down the invitation mailed to him. He’d liked Tyrell Crawford when the man came to town. He seemed to be down to earth and likable when they’d met,
but just the idea of Shayla possibly trying to hook up with him made Devin want to cause the man physical harm.

  His fight with Tony would give the gossips all they needed to link him with Shayla. And, dammit, if they were going to do it then it might as well be true. He’d waited years for them to be together, and his patience had run out. By the time the sun rose he would convince Shayla that openly acknowledging what was between them was worth fighting for.

  Chapter 20

  Shayla slid through the thick crowd of people admiring the artwork displayed on the unfinished walls of 701 Whaley Street. Although she’d been out of the Columbia area for years, she recognized enough faces to know that 701 Whaley was the “it” place for everything from parties to art exhibits. A show of this magnitude brought out the who’s who of the city. The mayor, local elected officials, and editors of local art magazines all mingled in the crowd. The open beam ceiling and rough walls of the refurbished building did have a charm that only enhanced the art.

  Despite coming by herself, she didn’t feel out of place. She was there to admire the paintings, and escape her mom and aunt’s happiness about Kia’s date with Devin. She’d worked hard to make sure she looked stunning. Her one shoulder black, silver, and blue sequined dress stopped mid thigh and fit her body like a glove. Five-inch glitter silver sling backs elongated her shapely legs. She’d spent an hour flat ironing her hair to perfection so it hung bone straight to her shoulders. All outward armor to prove Devin and Kia didn’t matter.

  She caught the eye of a young man in a suit too big for his small frame and dark freckles across his pecan complexion. He’d been admiring her legs all night. Before he could head her way she lifted her eyebrow and gave him her best “don’t even think about it” look before turning away. She’d like to think that he was only admiring her because she looked good. But he’d also had a whispered conversation with a reporter who recognized her from the scandal in Atlanta. Both men had shared plenty of chuckles while gazing at her before Freckles decided to follow her around the room.

  A waiter dressed in a tight black t-shirt and white jeans passed by carrying a tray of champagne. He paused and held out the tray for her, but she declined. After the fiasco at Club Voracious she’d decided to forgo alcohol. Even though she was dying to forget the fact that at this very moment Devin and Kia were probably laughing and having a great time on their date.

  “Please don’t tell me my painting is the reason for the frown on your face,” a deep voice said from behind.

  Shayla turned around and recognized Tyrell Crawford from his picture by the door. He’d spent most of the evening going through the crowd and talking. She’d purposefully stayed on the opposite side of the room from him. The last thing she needed or wanted was to be linked to a high profile married man.

  The man was good looking. Midnight black skin encased a slim, but toned body, and dark eyes stared from beneath thick lashes. His hair was twisted into short locks, which surprised her since his hair was closely cut in all of his pictures. He was dressed casually in a pale blue button up and khaki pants; if he weren’t the artist, she’d assume his casual appearance would look out of place. On him it worked.

  He walked over to stand beside her and motioned to the painting. “I’ll admit it’s not my favorite, but it shouldn’t cause scowls.”

  He made a face of mock terror that brought a smile to Shayla’s lips. “Fear not, your painting had nothing to do with my frown.”

  She turned back to the painting. It was a beach scene, as seen through the window of what appeared to be a seaside home. In the distance there was the silhouette of a woman lying on her side on a beach towel. Her back faced the artist; the sun reflecting off chocolate skin. There wasn’t a hint of the cynicism in this painting that she’d seen in the others. She’d spent most of the night coming back to it trying to find something.

  She turned to Tyrell. “I will admit it has me puzzled.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. “I’d love to hear why.”

  Cocking her head to the side, Shayla looked back at the painting. “It’s happy.”

  “Everyone here thinks my pictures are happy.”

  She shrugged. “Everyone here is probably on uppers.” She froze and turned back to him. “Sorry, that was callous.”

  He waved a hand and leaned forward. “And probably true, to some extent.” He said with a smile before pointing to the painting. “So tell me why this one is happy and the others aren’t.”

  Shayla motioned to the painting. “There’s nothing hidden in the background, that I can see, which shows the underlying hypocrisy of the world. All of your other paintings show what people want to see in small town America, but you sneak in the story behind that picturesque scene. The fakeness of it all.”

  His dark gazed bore into her. She tried not to appear unnerved and met his gaze dead on. “Do you have a problem with that? The hypocrisy I show in my other paintings?”

  She frowned. “Why would I? It’s true. It’s life.”

  He nodded slowly. “True, but most people call me a cynic for adding that to my landscapes.”

  Shayla sighed and looked back at the painting. “Most people go through life pretending as if unhappiness didn’t exist.”

  Again he studied her before saying. “I paint these scenes to show that outside perfection often hides inner turmoil. I’ve found people either love it or hate it.”

  Shayla looked around the crowded room. “I’d say most people love it.”

  He shrugged. “They love to see a senator’s son-in-law indulge in his little art hobby.” He leaned in and smiled. “Behind their wine glasses they’re calling me a skeptic. They’re trying to figure out why I paint such unhappy pictures when I live such a wonderful life.”

  Shayla returned his smile. “I’d gather from these paintings your life isn’t as wonderful as they all believe.”

  He gasped with mock horror. “Are you implying I don’t love my charmed life?”

  Shayla bit her lip and really looked at him. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There were small lines around his mouth, proof he used to laugh a lot, but now his smiled was guarded. He was someone used to holding his feelings in check. Someone who used their face as a mask.

  “Let’s just say I recognize a kindred spirit,” she said.

  His eyes traveled over her and he shook his head. “I thought I recognized something special about you.”

  His perusal sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. As much as she was enjoying their conversation, it was time to pump the brakes. She wasn’t about to go back down the road of mistress to a politician. “There’s nothing special about me.” She took a small step back. “The kindred spirit comment was just a joke.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. A few people next to them turned, surprise evident on their faces. When he stopped, he held up his left hand. “There’s no hidden meaning behind my words. I’m married, unhappily maybe, but married.”

  She didn’t relax. “I’ve heard that line before.”

  “I’m sure you have, and while I won’t lie and say I’m not flattered that you thought I was hitting on you, I will have to set the record straight.” All humor left his eyes. “As much as I hate pretending to live the life of a happily married politician’s son, I can’t afford to embarrass my daughter.” He stared back at the beach scene. “She’s the reason I stay. The reason I play the game.”

  The sincerity and pain in his voice hit her. She’d had every slick man in Atlanta try to run game on her. Unfortunately, she fell for the game of the wrong one, but for some reason she believed Tyrell. She knew what it was like, to smile on the outside and want to die on the inside. She’d done it for years.

  “It sucks doesn’t it? To experience happiness but know you’ll never have it?”

  He grabbed two gla
sses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to her. “At least we knew it for a few stolen moments.” He stared wistfully at the painting.

  Shayla looked at the profile of the woman in the painting and then back at Tyrell. “Is that her? The one who made you happy?”

  He downed his champagne in one swallow. “Yes. That’s why this one is happy. I painted it years ago.”

  “Why isn’t it one of your favorites?”

  His eyes met hers. “Because it’s too painful to look at. Hopefully someone will buy the damn thing tonight.”

  Her lips lifted in a soft smile. She liked him. Not in a sexual way, but as a potential friend. If she were dumb enough to befriend a high profile man. He smiled back before he looked over her shoulder. His smile quickly changed. Became tighter around the corners and the warmth in his eyes disappeared. The game was back on.

  At the same time her scalp prickled. Someone watched her. When she turned around her gaze collided with Devin’s across the room. The desire, anger and frustration in his eyes zeroed in on her, sucking the air from her lungs and causing her to forget everyone else around them. His hunger called to her, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember why she continued to fight her need.

  “It looks as if your happiness has arrived.” Tyrell spoke, jerking her from her spell.

  She blinked rapidly to clear her mind. When she looked at Tyrell he smiled. “From the looks he’s shooting my way, I’d better make a quick exit. Have a good night … ” he held out his hand and lifted an eyebrow.

  “Shayla,” she said shaking his hand.

  “Goodnight, Shayla.” He dipped his head and glided away.

  She turned back to Devin. Her stomach quivered as he crossed the room. His eyes never left hers and she didn’t know whether to run or stay. One hand clenched the champagne flute, the other tapped against her leg as he stalked toward her.

  When he was in front of her she couldn’t speak. She stared into his eyes, the gold flashed dangerously within their depths. His warmth and scent surrounded her. A woodsy mix of bodywash and him.