Begin Again (Home In You Book 2)

by Crystal Walton

  “You do this often?”

  “Which part?”

  “The hair.”

  “What about the hair?”

  Drew let out a breath. “Never mind.” Obviously, things hadn’t changed enough to deter her from exasperating him. But she still hadn’t answered the question that mattered most.

  Ti propped an elbow over the box on the counter. “The rest should be here in a few.”

  “The rest of . . . ?” he prompted.

  “The souvenirs I’ve been working on. It took enough arm-twisting to get Stan to let me crash with Livy. He’ll get his pants all in a bunch if I don’t get those boxes out of her place.”

  “Hold on. You’ve been staying with Livy?” Confusion sputtered into mixed feelings he wasn’t sure how to decipher.

  “Stan isn’t as tough as he seems, and I can be rather charming.”

  That was the understatement of the year.

  “That’s not what I meant. You didn’t leave?”

  “Not yet. Well, I did go to Hatteras for a couple of days to track down a surprise for the surf competition. I have autographed photos of . . . wait for it . . . Brett Barley. Sweet, right?” She tapped a finger to her arm when he didn’t answer, uncertainty encroaching on her excitement. “Or not.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “I’m a New Yorker, remember? I know people. Ooh, speaking of connections. Remember that gallery owner from Cali? You won’t believe the price he’s offering for the painting of the harbor I’m working on. Seriously. The guy’s either certifiable or desperate. I haven’t decided which.”

  Or he knew when something was too valuable to lose. Unlike Drew.

  Autographs and paintings didn’t mean anything right now. Not when his heart was pulsating with things left unsaid. “Ti, about the other night at my house.”

  “Already forgotten.”

  Maybe for her. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it, wishing for a do-over. Or at least a chance to apologize.

  He fidgeted with the button on his shirt cuff. “I was trying to be someone I’m not. It was stupid. The whole thing. Not that I didn’t want to kiss you. But, you know, you’re . . . and I’m . . .” A complete idiot. Clearly. “I should . . . probably start over.”

  His self-conscious laugh met a blank stare. Instead of unfathomable depths, an ocean-blue wall barricaded her eyes. Man, he’d really messed this up.

  A long exhale lowered his shoulders but didn’t come close to slowing his pulse. “I’m sorry for walking away that night. It wasn’t your fault. I thought . . .” Why couldn’t he finish a single stinking sentence around her? He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. But I don’t want you to think—”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation, Drew. Or an apology. It’s fine. You have a lot going on here.”

  “It’s more than stuff with the shop.” How could he tell her? “I—”

  The front door opened. A young guy in a waiter uniform wheeled in a dolly with three more boxes piled on it.

  Ti flitted over to him and heaved the first box up. Drew grabbed the other side and shouldered the weight as they slid it onto the counter.

  She pulled open the flaps and unveiled handcrafted souvenirs, one after the other. Wall décor made from driftwood, sea glass mosaics, rustic shelves made out of what looked like old pallets. All of it unique, fashioned with Ti’s artistic creativity.

  She retrieved a sign with Memories are made in flip-flops painted on it and half blushed while tracing a finger over the words. “This one’s for me.”

  Awe swelled in his chest. “How’d you have time to make all this? They’re amazing.”

  “That’s just the little stuff.” Her brows followed the peak of intrigue in her voice. She opened the largest of the three boxes and withdrew an old window with distressed white trim that she’d turned into a shadow box with droplights.

  “Wow.”

  “That’s not the best one.” Beaming, she pulled out a rustic multi-colored sea turtle pallet painting and held it to her chest. “Think Maddie will like it?”

  Not as much as she loved Ti. The lump in his throat doubled.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I can’t believe you put all this together. That you’d do something like this for us, despite what a jerk I’ve been.” He released his shirt cuff and looked at her in earnest. “Thank you.”

  She fluttered a glance away from him while rolling the edge of her beanie around her finger. “You’re not a jerk, Drew. And don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

  It was something to him.

  “Please let me put all your work on consignment for you. The talent . . . you deserve to get paid for this. I can’t just accept—”

  “A gift? Yes. You can.” Her eyes warmed. “I told you from the beginning, I have money saved from modeling. And Mia’s running the studio in Astoria, so income’s still coming in. I’m more than fine, Drew. I want to give these to you. Let me help where I can.”

  She really didn’t know how much she’d already done, did she?

  He grazed a thumb along the edge of the pallet beside him. He couldn’t rely on Ti to turn the shop around any more than he could rely on someone else. Owning his responsibility in this for Dad and Maddie’s sake hadn’t changed. But honestly, his feelings for Ti hadn’t either. Four days without her had made that piercingly clear. If there was anything left to salvage, he had to try.

  Drew picked at a splinter in the wood until it kindled a spark of courage. “Why’d you stay?” he all but whispered.

  Ti clutched the beanie in her fingers but kept her tone light. “You don’t really need me to sing the Gilmore Girls theme song again, do you?” Her usual playfulness didn’t compensate for the wariness tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  Drew inched closer and dipped his head to catch her gaze. “Why’d you stay?” he asked again.

  The quiet words hung between them, weighing her chin farther to her chest. “I know you told me to leave, but I couldn’t bail on you guys. It’s more than an obligation to me.”

  The realization of how she took what he’d said that night backed him up a step.

  “I promised I’d help turn the shop around before the end of summer.” She peeked up from the floorboards. The uncertainty furrowing her brows begged for a response. “Let me see this through. I’ll leave right after the competition. I can even—”

  “Ti.” Drew caught her hand, his voice finally working. “You’re welcome here as long as you like.”

  “But that night, you said . . .”

  “A lot of stupid things. Yeah, I’m pretty good at that, apparently.” Edging close again, he steadied her gaze with as much repentance and reassurance as he could. “I want you to stay. Not just with Livy, but here at the shop.” With him. Beyond the competition.

  A hint of mischief simmered on her lips. “You’re really desperate for that coffee connoisseur, aren’t you?”

  More than he fully understood.

  “Stay.” Drew searched her face. “Please.”

  Unreadable waves shook the calm in her eyes. Was it too late?

  He lifted a hand to her neck, taking in the feel of her hair against his fingers. Maybe it was the ache of missing her or the warmth in his chest from seeing how much she cared for them. But whatever the reason, it stirred up a boldness. Enough to hope the vein fluttering under his palm meant she felt it, too.

  The sheen on her lips drew him closer, her fragrant essential oils clouding every shred of logic telling him to let go. Fear collided with desire until the last barrier gave way.

  The front door flew open again. Ti jumped back as some skinhead strutted into the shop.

  A hazy gaze landed on Ti and darkened. “Jeez, dollface. You just walk out and disappear for four days? I’ve been looking all over for you. We weren’t finished—”

  “Get out of here, Jamie.” Shoulders back, Ti laced her arms over her chest as though forming a barricade. “We hung out one night. No strings attac
hed, remember?”

  No strings. Drew’s stomach soured. And here, he’d almost kissed her. Kicking himself, he clenched his teeth. How many times did he have to make a fool of himself in front of her?

  The dude’s heavy boots clanked over the hardwoods. He grabbed her wrist. “You leave when I say you leave. You owe me.”

  Two seconds. Drew didn’t breathe, didn’t think. He pounced on instinct. “Back off.” He shoved Skinhead back and swept Ti behind him. “The lady said to leave.”

  “Lady?” he jeered. “You got the wrong broad.” Glaring at Drew up and down, Jamie adjusted his belt. “And who are you, anyway, her pimp or something?”

  That did it. Drew grabbed the guy by his black T-shirt, hauled him out of the shop, and nailed a right cross dead to his cheek.

  Jamie stumbled backward down the walkway. Straightening, he spat blood on the pavement through a dark laugh. His gaze slanted past him to Ti on the porch. “Oh, this is good. You actually want to be with this yuppie, don’t you? Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but he ain’t gonna go for a girl like you.”

  Drew broadened his shoulders. “I think you’ve said enough.”

  The guy kept sneering and finally raised his palms. “You want a crack at her, bro? Have at it. But from one guy to another, she ain’t worth the drama.” He smeared the blood on his lip over his shirtsleeve and flicked his chin at Ti while swaggering off.

  The creep’s car pulled away, leaving a cloud of exhaust and insinuations Drew wasn’t ready to face. Adrenaline-fueled breaths stretched his shirt across his chest.

  “I’m sorry.” A shell of Ti’s confident voice faltered behind him. “I shouldn’t have stayed with him. He wanted me to do some kind of pills. When I didn’t, he got angry. Now he’s sulking because I didn’t sleep with—”

  “Not my business.” Drew turned around, fingers still balled, but the bruise on her arm pummeled into his gut with a fist of its own. The idea of that punk hurting her burned to his bones, while knowing she’d turned to someone like that cut through the marrow.

  Ti hesitated only a moment before jogging down the steps to him. “Drew.” Eyes harboring the damage left from dozens of Jamie lookalikes peered up at him with such vulnerability, his anger wavered.

  Unattached. The end of their date replayed in his head—the things Drew’d said, the way she’d misinterpreted. Did she really think he was just interested in fooling around with her? The thought gutted him.

  “I understand if you want me to go, but please let me help set up the shop first. I have an idea for the back display. It could almost be like our own gallery.” She fiddled with her sunglasses, but her speed talking failed to mask the quiver in her voice.

  For the first time, the brokenness she hid inside shined through like sunlight through a prism. Layers and angles speared into his own hidden places until deep-seated empathy took over.

  “Ti . . .”

  She pushed her bangs off her lashes. “With some rearranging, we can really expand the floor plan. It’ll still be a little tight, but I can—”

  “Ti.” He found her eyes. “Come here.” The minute Drew brought her close, her tough New York exterior crumbled in his arms, and his heart ached for her even more. He rested his cheek over her head and whispered a truth he never should’ve given her any reason to doubt, “You’re more than a good time.”

  Silent tears soaked into his shirt as he held her with the tenderness she’d deserved from him all along. “I know this isn’t home, but you’re safe here. With me.” Please, let it be enough.

  A slow nod brushed against his chest, and he cradled her tighter while he still had the chance.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Romeo

  Ti skipped the bottom step of Stan’s front porch and rapped a knuckle over the door. Surprisingly, coming over these last three days had been almost therapeutic. Not that working with Drew at the shop had been stressful. The exact opposite.

  Which was the problem.

  It didn’t make sense for them to be closer now than before. All the work she’d invested into the shop must’ve earned her a spot in Drew’s life a little longer. Or he was even more amazing than she wanted to admit.

  She couldn’t go there. Head down, heart unattached. With the expiration date on her visit fast approaching, there wasn’t another option.

  “Stan?” Ti strode inside, tossed her hemp purse onto the recliner, and cued the record player. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I thought I might’ve lucked out this time.” Stan shuffled in from the kitchen, wearing a white short-sleeved button-down and high water dress pants that showed off his sock tan line. He lowered a coffee mug and mimicked her blank stare. “What?”

  “What? Are you kidding me?” Ti waved at his outfit. “That’s what.”

  He huffed. “What does it matter?”

  “Oh, trust me. It matters.” She prodded him down the hall to his bedroom and set the outfit she’d bought him to wear to the party on the bed.

  He hiked up his waistline. “These are my lucky pants.”

  “The only thing lucky about those babies is no one’s ever going to see you in them again. Hand them over when you change. Those bad boys are going to Neverland.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re pushy?”

  With her fingers on the doorknob, Ti winked. “All for Jolene.”

  Grumblings trailed the door as she closed it. He made her work too much fun.

  A few minutes later, Stan emerged in stylish slacks, a gray dress shirt, and a sleek bowtie.

  Ti let out a low whistle. “Stan the man. You’re rocking it.” She caught his arm as he wheeled around. “Not a chance, mister. We need to get another rehearsal in.”

  Still huffing, Stan joined her on their makeshift dance floor.

  In character, Ti appraised Stan as she imagined Grandma Jo would when she saw him at the party. She adjusted his tie. “My, my, Stan,” she said with a southern drawl. “Don’t you look dashing tonight. You here with someone?”

  He dropped his arms to his sides, turning a complementing shade of pink to set off his gray shirt. “Is this really necessary?”

  Ti popped him on the back.

  An exaggerated sigh merged into a compliant smile. “I was hoping for a dance with the only woman I came to see.”

  Ti fanned her face until his not-so-subtle grunt reminded her to act like Jolene instead of a southern belle. Ms. Spunk. Right. Ti hung a hand on her hip and flicked her chin at him. “You gonna ruin the dance by running that mouth of yours?”

  His cheek’s pink dusting deepened to a boiling red. If he didn’t unlock his tight jaw, he might pop a gasket. “Now, you look here—”

  “Uh-uh-uh. That attitude isn’t gonna win over Jolene.” Ti took his hands and shook out his arms. “Try again. Like we practiced.”

  Stan craned his neck to the ceiling. When he returned her gaze, his dark brown eyes had found their calm. “I can hardly talk when you keep taking my breath away.”

  “Oh, Stan. Who knew such a romantic lived under that hard shell of yours?”

  “All right. All right. Can we just get the dance over with?”

  “You can’t rush love, Romeo.” Ti placed his left hand on her hip and clasped the other in a dancing frame. “Now, remember. Feel the music.” She motioned to his feet with her eyes. “Back, to the side. One, two, three. There you go.”

  Stan lowered his arms again, a sheen of worry glistening his brow. “What if they don’t play this song?”

  “Relax. I’m taking care of it. Everything’s going to be perfect.”

  He resumed his frame but kept a penetrating stare on her. “Drew’s really important to you, isn’t he?”

  Ti stepped on his foot, tripping more over the truth. She swept her hair to one shoulder, twisted the back of her earring, and straightened her bangles. As if stalling would change the answer. “Yes. Can we get back to focusing on why we’re here?”

  He dipped his head with a grin that knew more
than it should. “I think we just did.”

  A nudge to his shoulder ended in a hearty laugh. The kind she’d imagined hearing from a grandpa.

  Stan whisked her around the carpet with impressive skill now that he’d relaxed. After twirling her out and in again, he slowed their steps. “Your father’s pretty lucky.”

  Unease climbed her spine. “Excuse me?”

  “To have such a stellar dance partner. I assume he taught you how to dance.” The honesty in his expression spoke an innocent compliment, but the simple words triggered reactions she’d lost control of ever since her jarring phone message.

  The paralysis taking over her legs weaseled up her throat.

  “Ti?”

  “Sorry. I just realized the time. I have to work on a painting for a customer. Tight deadline.” She urged her body to move. On the other side of the room, she turned off the record player. “We’re done practicing. You’ve got everything down.”

  “You sure?”

  Ti steeled herself before turning and summoned the confident expression she’d learned to wear on runways and photo shoots. The good thing about plastic? It wasn’t breakable.

  “You’re going to do great. Just remember your ABCs—aftershave, breath mints, and charm.” Offering another assuring wink, Ti nabbed her purse from the chair and reached for the door right as someone pushed it open.

  From the porch, Marcus glared down her profile. “What are you doing here?”

  “Playing fairy godmother.” And if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay out of her way, or he might end up with her wand stuck up his—

  “Ti?” Livy waved from the sidewalk.

  Ti flaunted a tight smile at Marcus while grazing past him. “Gotta run.”

  She joined Livy on what looked like an after-shift walk according to the frizzy curls refusing to stay in her ponytail. “Long morning?”

  Livy untied a black apron dotted with stains and balled it up. “Don’t ask.” She leaned a questioning shoulder into Ti’s. “I know I’m busy, but I must really stink as a friend if you’re having to hang out with Mr. Fiazza instead. Is that why he’s let up on me lately?”