Me: No.
Five minutes later, I haven’t moved and I realize he’s not going to respond. For some reason, I kind of like bantering with him, so when he doesn’t reply back, I’m slightly disappointed. Soon, I see my error in this whole exchange.
Now, he has my number.
And I have no idea how he’ll use it.
Lydia
WHENEVER I MEET a new client, I’m always a tad nervous. First impressions are everything and you don’t get redo’s. That’s why presenting a professional front both in preparation and appearance is so important. Add in the fact that this new client requested me, and I’ve spent the whole drive squirming in my seat and nervously tapping on the steering wheel.
I looked into the area he lives in beforehand to get a feel for the neighborhood and draw inspiration from his surroundings, but the pictures online did not do it justice. Pulling through the wrought iron gate after I punch in the code, I’m guided into the community by a curvy road lined in tall trees. A pond sits off to my left as I make the first right onto his street. I continue down the street at a snail’s pace to give myself the opportunity to appreciate each home with its gorgeous architecture and stunning landscaping. These homes are pricey, and it’s easy to see why with their size, appeal, and close proximity to downtown Apex.
I pull up to the curb and double check the address to make sure I’m at the right one before parking and stepping out of my car. The front of the two-story house is done in light gray with white trim and a perfectly manicured lawn.
After I walk up to the porch and knock on the door, I run my hands down my favorite pencil skirt. I will the butterflies in my stomach to calm down, but they won’t listen. About a minute goes by with no answer, so I ring the doorbell figuring Mr. Riley didn’t hear me. It doesn’t take long before the door opens in a rush. At first I can’t see his face, but what I can see has my eyes widening and my mouth hanging open. On full display is his bare chest and ripped abs that are quickly covered as soon as he finishes pulling his shirt over his head. Seeing who it is before me, I take those butterflies from earlier and pluck their wings off and obliterate them.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to second guess them as I stare at the unapologetic grin of none other than Marcus.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Kelley. Please, come on in.” He steps aside to let me pass like this is no big deal, but I’m not going in.
“No, forget this. I’m out of here.” With one swift move, I spin around and make a beeline for my car, for a safe place.
“Lydia, wait!” I’m not fast enough and he catches up to me easily.
“You lied to get me here, Marcus. That’s low.” The disappointment I feel right now is shocking. I thought I’d be mad over everything, but to see that I wasn’t requested by a client for my talents stings a little.
“I didn’t lie,” he argues.
“Really? So I should start calling you Christopher?” My arms cross over my chest. I can’t believe I didn’t think anything of the last name when he emailed me.
“I was named after my father. Marcus is my middle name. I just left out the part where Christopher is the same ass that pulled you over not too long ago.” He shrugs innocently, but I know the truth. He’s the damn devil.
“Lie by omission is still a lie.” My lips purse together as the dull ache in my head builds.
“But would you have shown up if you knew it was me?”
I let out a sigh. He’s right. There’s no way I would have come here. Not because I don’t want to, but because I do. I’m not ready to get involved with a man, even on a casual level though. So what’s the point? “No, I wouldn’t have,” I finally admit, my face void of emotion.
His shoulders slump as if he expected me to argue with him. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “Look, I’m persistent. I want something, I go after it, and all I wanted was to get to know you better. I’m not asking for lifelong commitments or anything like that. All I asked for was one date.” I start to speak, but he holds up his hands. “But if you really want me to stop pushing, I will.”
Looking up into his hazel eyes, I see so much optimism and hope.
And I’m about to crush it.
He makes it damn near impossible to say the words that must be said. He hasn’t been wrong; I felt the connection between us that night too, but that’s all it is. All it can be. One night of drinks and dancing, nothing more.
“I want you to stop.”
His lips pull down in a frown as he nods several times, never breaking eye contact. “Okay. I’ll stop.” There’s such finality in his tone and I don’t like it. I’m a mess and don’t know what I want. “That still leaves me with one problem though?”
My brow furrows in confusion. “What?”
“I still need someone to fix my place.”
With my hands on my hips, my head tilts to the side. “I’m not falling for that. You said you’d stop.”
“And I will, but I moved in not too long ago and I’m sick of looking at the plain walls. I’m a guy. I don’t know shit about this stuff. Why don’t you come inside and look around just to see if you’re interested. I promise, there’s no hidden agenda.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender.
I squint my eyes at him, trying to get a better read, but he seems sincere. “Okay,” I say cautiously.
“Cool, right this way.”
As soon as we walk in, my mind starts spinning with the possibilities. It has an open floor plan that could definitely use some tweaking to help define each individual space. All the walls are done in a boring, light beige color that makes me cringe on the inside. It’s like the standard paint color for all builders and it should be destroyed immediately. The furniture is nice, but doesn’t maximize the space. God, I could go crazy in here.
“It has a lot of potential. The bones are solid, it just needs a little finesse,” I tell him as I look up at the ceilings and inspect the lighting fixtures in the living room.
“So you’ll help me? Clearly I need your expertise.”
I want to do this job so bad. I could do amazing things here and it would definitely help my portfolio. But at what cost? With Marcus’s sweet eyes and smooth appeal, I know it would be so easy to let my guard down, and I’m not ready to go down a path that could lead to disaster. I’ve been hurt enough in recent years, so I avoid everything that has the potential to cause me more pain. That’s why I’ve been resisting Marcus.
As I run my hand along the chair molding in the dining room, I wonder if my resolve is strong enough to get the job done and leave. With one more look around the downstairs, it looks like I’m about to find out.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Great. What’s the next step then?”
Building an impenetrable wall that keeps you away from me.
“I brought some design samples for you to look at,” I say, pulling my binder out of my bag.
So it begins. Let’s hope this isn’t the second worst decision of my life.
Lydia
“IT’S MARCUS!” I shout into the phone.
“Wait, what?” Charlotte asks.
“My new client is Marcus.” I pull into the parking lot of the local coffee shop to get a much needed caffeine fix. Truth be told, I could go for a glass of wine.
“Hold on a second. I’m confused.”
“Christopher Riley. My new client with the nice house. It’s Marcus!” I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the impending headache that’s building. All I hear is laughter on the other end of the line. “This isn’t funny Charlotte,” I deadpan.
“I’m sorry.” She’s definitely not. “But you have to admire the guy’s persistence. Most guys would’ve moved on by now.”
“I know,” I mumble. That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m terrified he’ll keep pushing until I cave and I’m just not ready for that. I can’t put myself out there and risk get
ting hurt, at least not yet.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Charlotte says, breaking me out of my own thoughts. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself.”
I let out a sigh. “I’m no—”
“Look,” she interrupts, “I know I give you a hard time about being so guarded, but I get it. Really, I do. I just want you to be happy and you’ll never find that special someone if you constantly keep yourself closed off. I’m just asking you to try. It doesn’t have to be with Marcus, but quit shutting down every guy that shows interest.” There’s a small pause before she continues, “And for God’s sake, throw out that fake ring.”
That makes me smile a little. “I hear what you’re saying, and I know you’re right. It’s just easier said than done, you know?”
“I know, but I have faith in you. So,” she says, changing direction. “When’s the next time you’ll see Marcus?”
“I don’t know. I have to sketch up some designs for him first and then we’ll go from there. I just left his place about fifteen minutes ago, so I haven’t even started.”
“Okay, but keep me posted.”
“I will.”
We say our goodbyes then hang up before I get out of my car to order my magic in a cup.
I stare at a blank paper for God knows how long. I’m old school in that I like to make my initial sketches on paper before putting them into the computer and making them clean and pretty. Right now, I haven’t even drawn the dimensions of the space.
After seeing Marcus yesterday, I decide the faster I get to work, the faster he’ll be out of my hair. With that said, I have no idea what to do. It’s like all creativity has been zapped from my body and I just can’t think. I spent the better part of this morning flipping through magazines and searching for the latest trends, but nothing spoke to me. Everything I looked at didn’t seem to fit Marcus.
With a sigh, I pull out my phone and send him a text.
Me: You were quite vague with your likes and dislikes. Any particular color scheme you like or one that I should stay away from?
I thump my pencil against my desk waiting for his reply. About five minutes later, it comes through.
Stalker: No pinks. I guess I want it to be manly. No frilly shit.
Me: Okay. Camo. Guns and antlers mounted to walls. Got it.
I catch myself smiling and have to stifle it.
Stalker: lol No camo. Just throw a big ass flat screen on the wall and you can call it a day.
Me: That’s basically what you have now.
Stalker: See? That’s why I need you.
Need me.
I haven’t felt needed in quite some time. I’m not sure why I get caught up on those two words, but I like the way it sounds—or reads—coming from him.
Me: I’ll text you when sketches are ready and we can coordinate a time to go over them.
Stalker: Sounds good.
Stalker: And thanks.
I sent Marcus a text letting him know the initial plans were ready for him to look over. I’m surprised I was able to pull them together in two days given the major block I was having early on. Now, I’m a nervous wreck since he said he’ll stop by the office on his lunch break to look them over. I’m not sure if the nerves are surfacing because he’ll be critiquing my work, or because we’ll be confined to a room alone together and I’ll have to pretend the mere sight of him doesn’t make me weak in the knees. In the meantime to help distract myself, I check in with the staging team to make sure all the plans for William Smith’s office are executed properly. It’s a relatively straightforward design, so I trust they’ll set it up the way I envisioned, leaving me to do a final walk through at the end to ensure everything is perfect.
The intercom on my phone buzzes, startling me. Glancing at the clock, I see that it’s already a quarter past twelve and Margaret is probably letting me know Marcus is here. “Yes?” I answer.
“Mr. Riley is here for you.”
“Okay, send him on in please. Thank you.” I don’t want to analyze the racing of my heart or the way my palms get sweaty knowing who’s about to be on the other side of the door. I’m going to put all my fears and anxieties on the backburner and do my best to relax.
Getting up, I smooth my hands down my black dress slacks and take a calming breath before approaching the door. When I open it, he’s standing there in uniform with his hand raised like he was about to knock, and my mouth goes dry.
With a flash of white teeth and warm, hazel eyes, I’m reduced to a gaping fish. But it’s the way his muscular arms cross over his chest that I haven’t stopped thinking about since I saw him shirtless that awakens parts of me that have been dormant for far too long.
“Uh,” I stammer. “C-come on in.” Averting my eyes, I step to the side to welcome him in and close the door behind us. He walks in slowly, looking around at my office. I chance a look at his face when I walk around him to the other side of my desk to see he looks almost . . . impressed. A small sense of pride washes over me. For me, my office was the single most important room I’d decorated when I first started working. Potential clients would see and judge the space, but also get an idea of my personality and aesthetic.
“How are you?” he asks once we both have a seat across from each other at my desk.
“I’m good. How about yourself?” The formality between us is awkward. It’s tense and I know he feels it too.
“No complaints here,” he says before showing his signature smile.
“Great.” I open up his file on my desktop and turn my monitor so we can both see it to get started. “So, I compiled three different looks to give you a few options. We can pull elements from each if you like something from one and not the other, or we can scrap the whole thing and go in a different direction. This is just our starting point, okay?” He nods, so I open the first one.
“Here, we use a lot of the existing pieces in each room and repurpose them. We’ll reupholster your oversized chair in a very pale gray to bring light into the room and add visual interest with a patterned pillow that will tie into the color of the couches. We’ll do those in a medium-toned gray that will work nicely with the light gray walls and white trim. Your pops of color will come from the decorative wall art that will hang on the side wall along with throw pillows and accent pieces. This look will give you a bright, welcoming area for you and your guests.”
He nods several times. “Nice.”
“So, what do you like?” I ask once I’ve presented all his options.
“Wow, you’re amazing.” It’s hard to miss the awe in his voice, and it makes my cheeks heat with the compliment.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He leans in closer to the monitor, causing his arm to touch mine. It takes everything in me not to show a reaction and to act casual, like this simple touch doesn’t affect me. While he’s studying the designs, I take the opportunity to admire his strong profile. From his straight nose, strong chin, and sharp jawline, this man is sculpted perfection from head to toe. “It’s hard to choose. Which one do you like best?” He turns and locks eyes with me, making me feel like I’ve been caught doing something wrong.
I lick my lips and swallow from the intensity of his stare. “Uh, personally, my favorite is the first one. If masculine is what you’re going for, the color scheme works well, but it’s not in your face with antlers and sports memorabilia everywhere.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, making me follow suit. “Okay, let’s go with the first one then.”
“Perfect.” I squirm in my seat a little. “Next, we need to talk budget. I can use this design and make it fit whatever price point makes you comfortable with little tweaks here and there.”
“How much do your designs usually cost?” he asks.
“It just depends. We can go low-end or high-end with everything in the room. I can do it for as low as one thousand dollars by reusing all of your furniture and using slip covers, or we can go as high as tens of thousands with lush fabrics
and custom pieces. It’s really up to you.” Normally, this part of the consultation isn’t uncomfortable for me, but for some reason with Marcus, it is. Maybe it’s because finances are usually a private matter that’s not discussed openly. And here I am basically asking how much can he afford.
“Let’s not go crazy with it, but I think we’ll be okay if you can keep it under ten grand.” Despite my efforts, I can’t hide my shock at the number he just threw out there. “What’s the face for?” he asks, humor in his voice.
“Forgive me for being presumptuous; I just didn’t realize police officers made so much.” To spend ten thousand dollars on redecorating one room isn’t exactly something to turn your nose up at.
He lets out a small chuckle. “We don’t. I won some money a while back and never spent it. I figured investing in my home was a good place to put it.”
Well, that explains it. “Alright, unless you have a specific timeframe in mind, I’ll print this out and have you sign it and I’ll start placing orders so we can get started right away.”
“Works for me.”
This wasn’t nearly as difficult as I thought it’d be, but he’s keeping to his word. He’s not pushing and he’s backed off like I’ve asked, but why do I feel disappointed? I need to have my head examined.
A few strokes of the pen later, the contract and plans are signed and today’s meeting is over, yet I’m searching my brain for reasons to keep him here.
We both stand and I come around to the other side of my desk. He reaches out to hand me the pen and paper, but the pen falls from his hand and lands on the floor.
“Oops,” I say and bend down to pick it up the same moment he does. Here we are, almost nose to nose, bent over and staring at each other. The air is suffocating and the room must be on fire with as hot as it’s gotten in here suddenly, but neither of us moves an inch. I think my lungs have quit drawing in air as this undeniable connection engulfs me.
You’ll never find that special someone if you constantly keep yourself closed off.
Charlotte’s words from a couple days ago run through my head. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time I let someone who’s interested in me in.
Calculated Risk Page 4
