Love Stung (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective Book 5)

by Brooke St. James

  "A date," Macy agreed.

  "Don't tell her that… I wouldn't call it a… actually, he didn't even ask me to come alone. I think we should—"

  "I think Isabel will have fun at S&S," Macy said. "There's a chance she'll meet a new puppy, but even if not, she likes to play with all the art supplies. She can start buttering Lane up for when she turns eighteen and wants to move in there and be an artist."

  Isabel giggled at the thought of buttering somebody up and disappeared into the bedroom.

  Macy looked at me.

  "She'll be fine, coming with me," I said. "I don't even know if Drake expects me to come alone."

  "He probably doesn't expect it, but I'm sure he wants it," Macy whispered.

  My stomach did a complete flip at the sound of her words, maybe a double flip. I had a clear vision of me walking into Drake's studio, and walking straight into his arms. I ached for him. My body missed his physical presence. Maybe he would have some music playing and we would dance. Maybe I wouldn't even tell him Isabel wasn't coming with me and would just wait to see his reaction when I showed up alone.

  ***

  I talked to Drake two times after Macy volunteered to babysit, and neither time did I tell him that I was going to the studio alone. He never asked, and I didn't mention it, but I knew he assumed Isabel would be with me. I wondered what he would think when I showed up without her.

  Isabel continued feeling better and better, and by the time Saturday rolled around it was like she had never been sick. I dropped her off at S&S after we ate lunch. The artist collective and gallery were on the first two floors, but the owner and manager of the place had apartments on the top floor. The manager's name was Lane, and he and his wife, Zoe, had recently gone to Texas on vacation and brought home a beautiful bulldog puppy. Isabel was in heaven playing with the adorable dog and his chew toy.

  Macy took me to the second floor right before I left so I could add a few accessories to my look. I had left the house wearing jeans and a loose fitting solid colored shirt, and Macy borrowed a few necklaces from friends. She also pinned up my hair, and made me put on some lipstick.

  Zoe and her dog, along with a couple of other girls, were at the front desk when I walked out, and they all whistled for me. My sister encouraged them, but their approval felt good nonetheless. Isabel loved seeing me get attention, and she took her eyes off the puppy to giggle and clap as I bowed for my audience.

  I thanked Macy for watching Isabel and said goodbye to everyone before jumping in a cab headed to Drake's. I glanced at my phone right before I pulled up and smiled when I realized I was right on time. I was supposed to meet him at the studio at 2, and the clock read 1:56.

  I had never been so nervous in my life. I entered the building and took the elevator up to his studio, but everything felt surreal and like it was happening in slow motion.

  Chapter 16

  Just as I had imagined, there was music playing when I opened the door of Drake's studio and stepped inside. My timing was perfect, too, because a new song had just come on. My parents were fans of the oldies, and I knew the song by heart. It was a Dusty Springfield number called Son of a Preacher Man. My parents had it on vinyl. I loved the song, and could clearly picture the album cover as the familiar cords played.

  I grinned as I walked into his studio. There were fewer lights on than there had been last time, but I knew Drake was there because of the lights that were coming from his office. Just then, Drake yelled from that direction.

  "Are you here?" he asked.

  "Yes!" I yelled back, cupping my hand around my mouth to make my voice carry.

  "Come on in, I'll be right there."

  I continued to meander through the beautiful, sprawling studio space. Drake was in his office, which was way on the other side of the room. There was nothing I could do to stop myself from moving to the music. The song had an easy rhythm that had always put me in good spirits. I smiled. I loved knowing all the lyrics to a song, and I whispered along with her as she sang.

  "…Then he looked into my eyes,

  Lord knows to my surprise…"

  The song was playing loudly, and I felt so pumped by hearing such a familiar one in the first place, that I switched over to full volume and sang along.

  "…The only one who could ever reach me,

  Was the son of a preacher man.

  The only boy who could ever teach me,

  Was the son of a preacher man.

  Yes he was, he was, ooh, yes he was."

  I was absentmindedly waiting for Drake in the studio as I sang along, and I trailed off when I glanced in the direction of his office to see that he was standing there. I started to sing the part about, "Being good isn't always easy…" but I only got about three words into it before I cut off abruptly, smiling at him as he stood there. His expression was completely unreadable, which surprised me because I had kind of been anticipating a smile.

  I broadened my smile and waved at him, and he waved back at me with an almost imperceptible grin. I stepped closer to him with a curious expression.

  "Hi," I said.

  "Hey."

  "You okay?" I asked.

  We were only a few feet away from each other by this point. The music was definitely a predominant feature in our soundscape, but we were close enough now that we didn't have to yell over it.

  "I'm just kind of annoyed right now."

  I made a regretful expression. "You mean about Isabel? I'm sorry. Part of me knew you would want to see her, but then I thought—"

  "It's not about Isabel," he said. He looked around as if searching for her. "Is she not here?"

  I shook my head. "She's with my sister."

  He stared at me. "That's not why I'm annoyed."

  "Why are you annoyed?" I asked with a tiny smile.

  "Because my dad is in construction."

  I gave him a perplexed expression and he gestured by pointing upward to the speakers. I realized what the lyrics were saying. I'd been singing that the only one who could ever reach me or teach me was the son of a preacher man. I felt a great feeling of joy bubbling up in my chest that this would annoy him, and I smiled because of it.

  "I was just singing along with her," I said. "I'm not really into dating preachers' sons or anything."

  He made a noise in his chest like he thought what I was saying was interesting, and he stepped closer to me, looking me over. His eyes roamed over my hair then my face and down to the necklaces Macy and her friends have given me. He inspected me all the way to my toes and then back up to my face again, all while not saying a word. I was shaking under his scrutiny and I put my hands into my pockets just so it wouldn't be so obvious.

  "Who are you into dating?" he said, standing right in front of me and putting his hands in his pockets to match me.

  We were only a few feet apart, and I felt breathless and anxious and wanted to fall into his arms. He was even more of a presence than I remembered, and it was all I could do to maintain a regular breathing pattern as I stood there and stared at him. The preacher man song finished, and another familiar song came on. It was Slip Away by Clarence Carter, which was another record my dad used to listen to.

  "Mix tape?" I asked.

  "Spotify playlist," he said. He reached down to his pocket and pushed a button through his jeans, which resulted in the volume of the whole system turning down. We could still clearly hear the music in the background, but it wasn't quite so loud.

  I smiled at him. "I love this one, too," I said.

  "How do you know all these songs?"

  "My parents," I said.

  "They love oldies. They even go to car shows and stuff."

  "I remember you saying your dad had an old Mustang."

  I nodded, and we just stood there in quiet contemplation. We stared at each other for so long while the song played that I honestly didn't know whose turn it was to speak. I cleared my throat.

  "My sister told me you were at Amy Ambrose's house," I said. "How'd that
go?" I didn't want to be awkward with it, but also wanted him to know I knew the truth. I figured it was best to just go ahead and get it out there since it was something that had been on my mind.

  Drake gave me a little amused grin and reached out to pinch at the front of my shirt with his knuckles. "Do you feel weird that I didn't mention who my client was?" he asked.

  "Not really." I shrugged shyly, and his smiled broadened.

  "I wanted to mention it, and then I forgot, and then when I wanted to mention it again, it felt like… I don't know, maybe a little like showing off." He made a facial expression that was somewhat self-deprecating. "I want to impress you so much that I can't help but feel awkward when I try to tell you something I'm proud of. So I just didn't say it."

  "You want to impress me?" I asked.

  He gave me an easy grin. "Yes."

  "You already do."

  "I took pictures of Amy and Connor, and their new baby," he said. "His name is Leo. They have a little white dog named CoCo as well. Pretty family. Nice property. I got some good pictures. I was there with Natalie, a stylist friend of mine, who did all the styling for the shoot. She helped Amy with their home, too. Natalie and I stayed at their place—they had plenty of room, and seemed not to mind the company. Her parents were there, too. I think Amy's used to having a lot of people around."

  "You and Natalie both stayed there?" I asked.

  "Yes."

  I regarded him with a serious expression, and he grinned at me.

  "What?" I asked.

  "You."

  "What about me?"

  "You're jealous, and it's really cute."

  "No, I'm not," I said. "I'm just taking it all in. Listening to what you're saying."

  "I'm saying they were all very nice people. I had fun, and we got some good pictures. She used the egg your sister painted. I’m not sure if she'll pick any of those for the magazine, because she mentioned making the egg ones exclusive for her birth announcement. I told Macy that Amy used it and liked it, but that I didn't know anything for sure." He shifted in his stance, tilting his head at me. "How about you? How was Connecticut?"

  I smiled and took a cautious step closer to him. "It was good," I said. "I'm really glad I went. I told you Isabel was super sick, and there were honestly moments when I was completely miserable, but looking back, it was really good. Some of it was super hard, but it was an experience that'll ultimately help me. I think it was Isabel being sick that carried me through that whole encounter with J.R., which then led to the revelation about fear. It was kind of a culmination of several things."

  "Did you say you had an encounter with J.R.?" he asked.

  I nodded.

  "Why didn't you tell me that?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't. I guess I just didn't want you to feel weird about it. He drove up to my parents' house to try to talk to me while we were there, and I was in no mood to be messed with. Normally, I try to avoid conflict, but I was a force to be reckoned with when I talked to him that day. I gave him my mean face and let him know I was seriously not messing around. I think he was scared, no kidding."

  "Let me see that face," Drake said.

  I shook my head, smiling. "I can't make it at you, it wouldn't work right. I have to really be mad."

  "Were your parents there?"

  I nodded. "My mom was standing right around the corner, listening to everything we said. My dad was right there, too."

  "What about Isabel?"

  "She didn't really have any idea. She had been sick the night before. I was exhausted, too. That's what gave me the strength to tell him off like I did. I should've done that along time ago."

  "Here's to exhausted rants," he said.

  "Here's to Amy Ambrose and her family appreciating your talent and treating you well."

  "Here's to Isabel getting her cast off."

  "Here's to Isabel…"

  I was seriously about to say, here's to Isabel not being here," in a breathless, please kiss me sort of way. I couldn't, however, bring myself to say that phrase, so I cut it off at here's to Isabel…

  "Here's to Aunt Macy babysitting." Drake said.

  I gave him a smile. "I'm glad you're back," I said.

  "I am too. Your prints came in yesterday if you want to look at them. I was just taking them out of the box."

  "I'd love to," I said. "Do you like them?"

  He grinned and shook his head slowly at me. "You're my favorite thing I've ever taken pictures of," he said. He grabbed my chin, and gently tilted it to the side, studying me with an intense expression. "Yep, my favorite," he said. "I think it's the cheekbones."

  My heart was already about to pound out of my chest, but now Drake Salinger was standing there, holding my chin and saying sweet words to me. He sighed and let his hand fall.

  "I know we had a few conversations about that guy at your work and everything that's been going on with you and him."

  My heart dropped at the sound of his words. I hadn't expected him to bring up this subject, and it made me feel sick to my stomach.

  "I feel settled with that," I said. "I'm not going to have to see him again. I already talked to someone above him." I was so nervous that I was breathless.

  "That's not what I'm getting at," Drake said. He stared at me. It was dimly lit in his studio, and his eyes were as black as midnight.

  "What are you getting at?" I asked.

  "That guy was out of line," he said. "He should never have done what he did."

  "But what?" I asked, knowing his tone was leading to that.

  "But, I feel like I'm no better than him. I look at you, and I want you. I want to hold onto you—to kiss you. I want that. And now Isabel's not here, and I'm just… I'm just standing here, trying to be a gentleman."

  My heart was pounding so profusely that I was convinced that if I glanced down, I could see my chest jittering up and down. I was antsy, anxious, and breathless, and I wanted to throw myself into Drake's arms.

  "There's a difference between welcome affection and unwelcome affection," I said. My voice was a little shaky, but I didn't care.

  "What's the difference?" he asked.

  "His affection was unwelcome," I said.

  "And mine is…"

  "Welcome," I said.

  The corners of his mouth turned upward in a slow grin. "So, are you saying I don't have to feel bad about wanting to kiss you?" he asked.

  I shook my head almost imperceptibly. "I really do hope you would never feel bad about that."

  "Really, well, I'm glad I asked, then."

  "Why? Because you want to do it?"

  He smiled, and took a small step closer to me. "Yes. I do."

  There were still a couple of feet of space between us, but he was close enough now that I could appreciate the clean, masculine smell of his cologne. He was big and broad chested—the personification of a man. I felt protected and comfortable just being in his presence.

  "I guess you do, too, since you left Isabel with Macy," he said.

  "I do what?" I asked.

  "You want to kiss me," he said.

  I smiled and glanced away shyly, blushing at his words. "Maybe I do."

  Chapter 17

  "Tabitha…" Drake leaned down to whisper my name. He was so close that I could feel his warm breath on my ear. I wanted to cry. It was such a relief to be close to him. We hadn't touched each other since I came into the studio, but he was close enough that I could feel his warmth—his body heat.

  "What?" I whispered into his ear.

  "I missed you. You were the thing I was looking forward to seeing when I got home. Iz, too, but I must say, I'm glad she stayed behind on this one."

  I turned to whisper back to him. "Why's that?" I asked. I let my lips get so close to his ear that they made contact.

  "Because," he said, wrapping a hand around my back, and inching even closer to me, "I want to…" He trailed off, deciding that rather than finish his sentence, he'd place two lingering kisses o
n the side of my face—one on my cheek and one up near my temple. I missed the feeling of his lips so much I reached out and took a hold of his arm, squeezing the rigid muscles of his forearm. This caused him to kiss me again.

  "You can do that in front of Isabel," I said. "I've had plenty of boyfriends, and we do way more than this in front of her…" I giggled when I saw the distaste in his expression. "I'm totally playing, I don't even bring guys around her."

  "You bring me around her."

  "You're the first. You snuck up on me. I didn't realize I was even doing it."

  "I tricked you into it," he said, coming close it my ear again.

  "I think I tricked you into it. I remember when you came into my work and told J.R. you'd like to smash things. I looked at you and thought, he's here to rescue me."

  "Maybe I was."

  "In some ways you already have," I said. "I feel good about trying to make a go of it in New York, and you encouraged me to do it."

  "I had selfish reasons for making sure you stayed," he said.

  I pulled back so I could look at him. My eyes were on the same level as his neck, and I stared at his dark facial hair that grew in patches along his jawline. "What were your selfish reasons?"

  "That I like Isabel and want to be friends with her," he said.

  "She likes you too. She told my parents about you," I said. "They asked me about you twice because of stuff she said. My mom was an instant fan once she saw the photos you took of us. She told me to tell you thanks about ten times. She asked me to ask you if she can print and frame one of them."

  Drake tossed his chin in the direction of his office. "She might want to use one of these. They came out really nice. I had just opened them when you came in."

  Drake pulled away, turning and taking me by the hand as if he was anticipating that I would walk with him to his office. I stayed stubbornly in place, and Drake turned back and focused on me with a curious and concerned expression.

  I bit my lip and his worried expression morphed into a smile. "Whatcha standin' there for?" he asked, teasing me.

  I shrugged shyly and smiled, glancing away before looking at him again.