Draw Me Close (17 page)

Derek had been the enemy for so long she wasn't sure how to process this sudden change. She still felt immense pain when she thought about how things had gone down, but could she eventually move past it? Was she being fair putting all these protective walls between them? Was she acting out of smarts or fear?

Definitely a little of both.

They left the truck parked on a side street and headed down the road to the official shopping district. It was now bustling with people searching for a good deal, that perfect piece for their home, the latest trend in home decorating. Building after building, floor after floor, filled with things to purchase. Even though it was still early, many local food trucks were pulling in and setting up. One of the buildings even had large speakers blasting jazz music from the rooftop. Just being here made her feel happy and inspired.

“First let's go there,” Lindsey said, pointing to a building ahead. “That's where I consign and I want to check in with Becky, the owner.”

Derek nodded. “You're in charge today.” After a moment he spoke again. “How long have you sold stuff down here?”

“Oh, a few years now.”

“What kind of items? Same as on your Etsy site?”

Lindsey stepped out of the way for a woman carrying a painted end table and then continued their conversation. “Yes, a little of everything, but here I can sell bigger items that aren't easy to sell online. I hit antiques stores, thrift shops, garage sales … curbs. Try and find stuff supercheap then repurpose it.”

“So this is more Dumpster diving. Sometime I'm gonna have to go on
that
field trip with you.”

“Stop it.” But she couldn't help laughing along with him as they walked up the big stone steps into the building that housed several shops, including the Pink Pearl.

Derek stopped and glanced at the hanging sign. “Seriously? Between you and me,” Derek whispered, “the name of this place is indecent.”

She looked at him, one eyebrow up.

“The
Pink Pearl
? Come on now,” he said with a grin.

“You are so disgusting.” She gave him a little shove in the stomach and pretended to be offended.

“I'm a guy,” he said. As she opened the big glass door he leaned in behind her and whispered, “I didn't say I don't like the name. It definitely brings a few nice things to mind.”

She turned and gave him a playful glare. “Quiet.”

Lindsey was in so much trouble spending the day with Derek. He was incapable of not embarrassing her. He was also funny and charming, not to mention so handsome it should be a crime. No less than five women had eyeballed him on their walk down the street. He was hot. It was that simple, and although she told herself over and over that nothing was going to happen between them—because it just couldn't—it was going to be hard to hang on to that resolve if she started to …
like
being with him.

Lindsey led them up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor, which belonged to the Pink Pearl boutique. It was a busy First Friday, which she was glad to see. Not even ten in the morning and the place was packed. She could feel Derek right behind her as she made her way through the bodies—made up mostly of women—to the counter.

“Lindsey,” a feminine voice called over the line waiting to check out. Lindsey waved at Becky.

“Wow, what a crowd,” Lindsey said as Becky walked up to them.

“I know, right? I think everyone's tired of being cooped up this winter and took the day off. It's such a beautiful day.” The entire time she spoke, Becky's eyes kept landing on Derek. Lindsey angled her body so he could step up beside her.

“Becky, this is my friend Derek. He's the contractor in charge at Anne's house.”

The woman's eyes lit up while simultaneously running up and down Derek's form. She put out a hand. “Oh my, it's so nice to meet you. Lindsey has told me all about the house, even shown me pictures. It's so amazing.”

There was a somewhat flirty tone to Becky's little speech and Lindsey found herself having to force a smile. Becky was divorced, a mother of two little girls. She was a little older than Derek, but she was attractive, her hair trendy, her makeup perfect. They'd probably have a lot in common. If nothing else they'd probably both enjoy a random hookup.

Suddenly irritated, Lindsey looked up at Derek. He was smiling as he shook the woman's hand and thanked her. Becky's wrist full of bangles rattled with the motion. Lindsey decided she hated those bracelets. Becky was a grown woman, not a teenager. How many damn bracelets did a woman in her thirties need to wear?

“Well, we just came by to check out my booth real quick. Remember, I told you I couldn't come in and stay this weekend because of all the work that needs to be done. But next month I will be here,” Lindsey said. She was trying to end the conversation and separate them from the woman. “Today we're looking for a base for Anne's center island. So we better get to it.”

“Oh, fun!” Becky exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm. “Let me think if we have anything here.”

“That's okay,” Lindsey said, nodding toward the huge line at the counter. There were several women working, but it didn't matter. “You're so busy today. We'll just take a look around.”

“Sounds good, you two. Let me know if you need any help.” Becky gave Derek's arm a quick touch. It was innocent enough, but hardly necessary, and it made Lindsey's blood boil in her veins. She purposely didn't meet Derek's eyes, heading immediately to the back where her items were displayed.

“Is she the owner?” Derek laughed over Lindsey's shoulder. “Makes you wonder about a woman who names her store the Pink Pearl.”

That was it. Lindsey turned on her heels, eyes wide. He looked shocked and abruptly halted, almost running into her. Lindsey lowered her voice and whispered. “If you're curious, why don't you go ask her? She seemed eager to talk with you.”

Derek's wide eyes slowly turned into a naughty grin. His lips pursed for a moment as his gaze traveled over her face. Lindsey swallowed hard, knowing that she was not fooling him. She was all talk, and by the look in his eyes, he was so on to her. And he was pleased, darn it.

He lifted his hand and nudged her chin like she was a child. “You know damn well I have no desire to speak with her. But you getting agitated is awfully cute.”

“I wasn't agitated, just … frustrated.” She tried to pull herself together, but she knew it was futile.

Granting her mercy, he didn't respond, only stepped around her and began to look at an old record player on a tabletop. Lindsey glanced over her shoulder toward the front of the shop, just in time to see Becky look away. She'd been watching, seen the whole thing unfold. Lindsey and Derek standing so close, him looking down into her eyes and then touching her face.

Good. Let Becky think he was off limits. Even though he wasn't. Not at all.

 

Eleven

Derek was officially in trouble. Every interaction with Lindsey was a balance of doing the right thing and wanting to tease a response out of her. He couldn't shake the newfound knowledge that she was fighting her attraction to him just as he was to her. She'd made it official just now. He'd been pretty certain that she was still attracted to him at the very least, and the look on Lindsey's face when that woman had checked him out was the final proof he needed. It had been pure jealousy.

They wanted each other. And the truth of it made him feel smug as hell on the inside. He also knew he'd ruin things if he didn't play it cool.

He spoke over her shoulder. “So, where's your repurposed trash?”

Lindsey gave a dramatic sigh. “Against the wall. Here.”

The entire place was clearly arranged into booths separated by using larger pieces of furniture, shelving, and other big items in order to give it a cohesive look. Derek walked up to where Lindsey stopped and took in her space. He'd been prepared to fake enthusiasm, certain that what he found would not appeal to him. He was wrong.

Her little section of the room was lit from above by several vintage light fixtures, some with crystals, some beads, some painted bright yet distressed colors of yellow, turquoise, or even black-and-white. They looked old … but fresh, somehow. Girly but beautiful and classy.

The entire space couldn't be more then twelve-by-twelve feet, but it was loaded. He had to turn sideways to walk through. There were several pieces of furniture, an old bureau painted and distressed in a shade of taupe gray, several end tables, and even an old warehouse cart on wrought-iron casters used as a coffee table. Small decorative pieces were scattered throughout the area. Random items, like antlers and glass vases, wooden bowls, old tool chests, and even a few antique dolls. It was quite a mash-up of stuff, but it had an overall feel to it he couldn't quite describe.

Feminine, subtle, and beautiful. Warm and safe. It was completely Lindsey. If she had a place of her own this was what it would look like.
Feel
like.

She needed a studio to create these beautiful things that clearly brought her so much joy. An overwhelming desire to give that to her washed over him.

He turned back to her. She bit at her upper lip, clearly nervous. Her eyes rose to his and then she spoke. “Anyway, this is it. Looks like I've sold an old desk. So that's good.” She nodded to an empty spot toward the back.

“Linds, this stuff is really nice. I'm impressed once again.”

She looked surprised. And pleased. “Yes, I can imagine your modern office with one of my pieces in it,” she said sarcastically.

“Just because it's not my style doesn't mean I can't appreciate it. This is the kind of stuff that high-end stores sell remakes of, and you're making the real deal. You've always been creative, had an eye for design. I've seen plenty of your drawings, remember?”

A slow smile emerged. “Yes, of course I remember. Although if I recall, you did most of the drawing.”

“Maybe so, but the point is … you're very talented.”

“Thank you.” They stared at each other for a moment, until two women came along and needed to get by. Lindsey stepped out of the way as the women walked into her booth.

It was a little awkward to watch, see them whispering to one another as they picked things up and looked at prices. They had no clue that the owner and creator of these pieces was within earshot.

“Let's get out of here so we can find what we need,” Lindsey said, stepping away.

Derek followed her through the convoluted space, knowing full well that he'd already found exactly what he needed.

*   *   *

Tired and frustrated, Lindsey stepped up to the fifth floor of the old building. It was nearly two in the afternoon and they'd found nothing despite the fact that they'd been through almost five buildings. All of which they'd covered thoroughly.

Despite not finding what she'd come for, they'd still had a lot of fun. Shopping on First Friday, you were always sure to find random old stuff. Things from your childhood that you'd forgotten about, like board games, your great-grandma's old Tupperware, and even toys you picked up with fast food kids' meals. Lindsey and Derek were having a good time telling each other stories about their lives as they found things to reminisce over.

She'd learned more about Derek in the past three hours than she'd learned during those three months they'd been seeing each other in college. That time around it had been all about the now. The fierce attraction between them during stolen moments between classes, on the weekends, and over Thanksgiving break had left little time for getting-to-know-you conversations. At the time she hadn't minded or even considered it because it was too much fun to kiss and touch. Ironically, it was the things they didn't discuss that had been their undoing.

Today she was beginning to get a sense that Derek's childhood hadn't been the easiest. Not that it had been bad, but a few of his comments about his father had left her wondering if there was much love between them. That made her sad, because although her mother had left her and her father was … a handful, she never doubted she was loved. Not for one second.

Lindsey glanced around the large room, trying to decide if she should just give up for today. This floor didn't have much in the way of large furniture. It was mostly kitchenware and textiles.

Ahead of her Derek walked over to a section of vintage clothes. One entire display rack held an assortment of retro ladies' undergarments. He picked up a rather constrictive-looking bra and held it up to show her.

“This is sexy as hell,” he said with a smirk. “I really wish cone-shaped boobs would make a comeback.”

Lindsey laughed and so did he. “Can you imagine?” Lindsey stepped closer and touched the thick fabric. It was quite a piece of work. “This almost looks like a torture device.”

Derek hung the hanger back on the rod. They continued to walk around in silence. Occasionally Lindsey reached out to touch an interesting fabric. Every sensation seemed to go on high alert as she and Derek stole glances at one another over the aisles made up of random items.

They entered an area that reminded them of rummaging through a grandmother's overstuffed attic. Rusted tricycles, a beat-up china cabinet, and stacks of boxes. They continued on, each of them glancing around at the various junk, but somehow Lindsey knew neither of them were really focused on the items being displayed.

Toward the back of the room she watched Derek stop and turn toward a row of wooden crates. She stepped closer and peeked around him. The crates held piles of old comics and instantly she smiled, knowing that he would enjoy this immensely. His long fingers ran across the cover of the one on top, a Green Lantern from the seventies.

After a second he picked it up, gently flipping the pages. The edges were bent and the pages yellowed, but still he handled it as if it were fragile. And she guessed it was, just on the cusp of falling apart.