Second Chances (10 page)

“Sounds like you need to re-think your contract.” His eyebrows arched authoritatively.

“Celia is already on it.” Kristin hunched her shoulders and sighed.

“But I was counting on the money I’d make from sales commissions to pay the bills I let slide in order to pay for the printing and advertising.” She looked at her watch and groaned. “And now I’ve ruined our evening. We’ve missed the film, too. Could this day get any worse?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as Kristin’s bottom lip protruded, making her extremely adorable. “We could still go out for something to eat.”

Her face brightened. “I have an idea. How about we go to my place and I’ll make us something? Maybe we can salvage some sort of enjoyment out of this day.”

David pondered a moment. “I’m game if you are.”

The truth was he’d been dying to see her flat, especially after seeing how impersonal her office at the gallery was. That also meant they would be alone together, really alone.

“Great, come on, then.” Kristin scooped a neat stack of papers on the corner of her desk into her bag, before slinging it over her shoulder. He followed her back outside the gallery to the other door leading up to her flat.

He climbed the stairs behind her, enjoying the sight of her swaying hips. She was so different than any other woman he’d been attracted to. Blond, leggy types usually caught his interest. Kristin was smaller and curvier, very different than Sophie.

His attraction to her baffled and thrilled him at the same time. How was he going to maintain a strict friendship?

Kristin opened the door and motioned him inside. “Welcome to my humble flat.” She closed the door behind them.

The small room with its royal blue walls was homey, not sterile like her office. Paperback books and knick-knacks filled the shelves, but no photos, which confused him. Regardless, he at least saw more of her in this place and her sketchbook than he did at the gallery.

To the left of where they stood was the sitting room, with an overstuffed red couch and black chair situated in front of the telly.

How nice it would be to curl up and watch movies with her as the world went on outside.

Kristin plunked her bag on the floor near the couch and David decided to test his theory about how comfortable the furniture appeared. He sank into the cushions and stretched his arms along the back. “I think I’ll just be here the rest of the evening if you need me.”

“I don’t think so, mister. You’re going to help me in the kitchen.” Grabbing his arm, she tugged him to his feet, laughing.

Following her to the kitchen area, which was situated behind the sitting room he realized he didn’t know if she could cook. “Are you going to kill me with your cooking?”

Kristin glanced up from the fridge and looked in the direction he pointed. “The bedroom as well as the bathroom.” Her gaze shifted back to David, her eyes narrowed.

“And you must pay no attention to the mess therein if you need the restroom.” She smiled and resumed her stance at the fridge.

David made note of her words. A messy bedroom, huh? Who would’ve thought? That was definitely an unexpected fact.

Kristin turned, her arms full of items from the refrigerator. “I think I have everything to make beef burgundy. How does that sound?” She deposited everything on the counter and stared at him expectantly.

“Sounds lovely. What can I do? I am at your disposal.” He held out his hands, ready for whatever she needed.

Kristin opened the fridge again, pulled out a bottle of red wine, and set it in front of him with two wine glasses and a corkscrew. “Your mission sir, if you choose to accept it, is to open the wine and pour us some.” Her easy manner made it hard not to think about being more then friends.

“I believe I can manage.” He chuckled.

“Good,” she chose a knife. “Because I do believe the corkscrew hates me. Every time I use it, it breaks off the cork, and I have to find a way to dig the blasted thing out of the bottle.”

“That’s because…” his voice forced as he used his strength to twist the corkscrew into the cork, “…you try to do it too hard and too quickly. The trick is to be delicate and slow.” He pulled the corkscrew very slowly and the cork came out in one piece, arching his eyebrows in victory.

David took a sip from his own glass, as his gaze roamed around the flat while she cooked. The walls in the sitting room were royal blue, while the area in the kitchen was a sunny yellow. The bright colors made sense, now that he knew about her artistic talents. He wondered what color the bedroom was.

He still found it strange that no photos adorned the walls or were scattered among the knick-knacks. At least there were two photos in her office. His parents, his friends, everyone he knew had slews of photos around their homes.

Her gaze shifted over to the simmering pan as she stirred the noodles. “You know my past isn’t exactly one I enjoy being nostalgic about.”

“I understand that, but I expected you’d have lots of photos of your life with James.”

“I used to.” She shrugged. “Lately, I wanted to give attention to my new life, and having so many reminders of the past made that more difficult. So, I have a couple at the office, and one in the bedroom. The rest are packed away or in albums somewhere.”

“I see.”
That made sense
.

As hard as she had grieved over the loss of her husband, having to see those reminders of a life and love lost had to make getting on with her life strenuous. It took more strength than he thought he was capable of.

David’s gaze flitted around again, trying to find out more about this woman. To the left of the kitchen, he noticed a door. A door she hadn’t mentioned.

“What’s that room over there?” He nodded toward the door as he took another sip of his wine.

Kristin’s gaze lifted once more and she paled. “It’s just a storage room, nothing important.” A sudden silence filled the room. Tension rose between them as she stirred the food in the skillet.

Why had a question about a storage room affected her like that? What could it contain that would upset her? Maybe that wasn’t the reason. Maybe the room held something she didn’t want him to know about.

David let his suspicions pass silently as he watched her put all remaining ingredients into the sauté pan. Being with Sophie so long had made him entirely too distrustful. Some people were just private, that was all. There wasn’t always some big secret to hide. That was Sophie’s doing, making him think that way.

He took another drink of wine as the aroma of caramelized onions and browning beef permeated the air, and made his stomach growl. Maybe he wouldn’t die from her cooking after all.

A small laugh escaped his lips. If there was one thing Sophie hated more than cleaning, it was cooking. She would argue that’s why God created restaurants, so she wouldn’t have to cook.

“What’s so funny?” Kristin crinkled her nose at him, the previous tension forgotten.

David hadn’t realized he’d laughed out loud. “Nothing.”

Kristin raised her right eye brow skeptically as she returned to her kitchen tasks. She poured some of the wine from the bottle he had opened into the skillet and then topped off their glasses with what remained in the bottle.

Kristin finally joined him at the bar to eat after the cooking was done. After he cleaned his plate, David opened another bottle of wine and followed her to the couch in the sitting room.

“That was really lovely.” He was truly enjoying this night they had narrowly saved from disaster. “You really are a wonderful cook.”

Kristin grinned and nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m glad you think so. I just don’t get much of a chance to do it anymore. Cooking for one is just so—depressing.”

He laughed and sipped his wine, which he knew both of them were drinking entirely too much of. His gaze came to rest on the coffee table in front of his knees. The bottom shelf contained stacks of books, one of which appeared to be a scrapbook.

David leaned forward and grabbed it. “What do we have here?” He kept his voice playful.

Kristin’s mouth dropped open and she reached to snatch the book away, but David was too quick for her. He twisted, turning his back to her, and opened the book, keeping it just out of her reach.

David sat back against the couch and perused the scrapbook in his lap. Cautious he might make her pull away from him, he flipped through the pages a spy among the years of Kristin’s life.

There were no photos of her parents, which he understood completely, given the history of her parent’s marriage and the misery for her that followed. Most of the pictures were school photos, and he realized that the sadness in her eyes was apparent even then.

David turned to the last page and unexpectedly heard Kristin’s sharp intake of breath. It was a photo of her and James on their wedding day, and she looked the happiest he’d ever seen her.

David’s heart filled with anguish when he thought of how much pain Kristin had gone through with the death of her husband. She didn’t deserve that misery, and he never wanted her to be hurt like that again.

“I didn’t. I never doubted my love for James or his love for me. We were very lucky to have that, especially with what came later.”

David closed the book and set it on the coffee table. “Yes, you were.”

He brought his glass of wine to his lips and drained it, while Kristin took a sip of hers. The mood had changed to a more somber air.

Kristin was a complex woman, full of surprises. The book that had fallen out of her bag in her office penetrated his thoughts. Why didn’t she want to share her talent with him? Even within these walls where she dwelled, he witnessed no evidence of her artistic talent. The reason for her secrecy gnawed at him. He wanted to be a part of her, every inch of her soul. No more secrets, he needed to come clean.

“I have a confession to make.” David set his empty wineglass on the table and turned toward her.

~~~

Kristin set her wineglass on the coffee table and turned to him. Confused by his quick change of mood, she wondered what in the world he wanted to reveal now.
Maybe he and Sophie were getting back together
. The atmosphere had changed from lighthearted all of a sudden to serious.

“When Celia came into your office earlier for a copy of the artist’s contract, she bumped into me, and we accidentally knocked your bag off the chair.” He ran his hand through his hair in that nervous habit of his.

“Everything tumbled out, and I told Celia I would clean it up, so she could get back to helping you. That’s when…I found your book.” He gestured over Kristin to her bag that sat on the floor, her sketchbook poking out conspicuously. “Why haven’t you ever told me you were a talented artist?”

Kristin gulped and stared back at David. He didn’t speak, waiting for her to reply. Earlier, she had noticed briefly that her bag was a little messier than normal, but she always shoved things in it haphazardly throughout her day and hadn’t really given it a second thought.

Panic clawed its way up her back. Why exactly hadn’t she shared her artistic talent with him? Maybe because she had been using it to deal with her strong feelings for him, and by showing him, she would be exposed and defenseless. Kind of like right now, actually.

David laid his hand on her knee and her body stiffened at his touch. “Please don’t be angry. It really did come out by accident, though I did have this notion you were holding something back from me.” He moved his hand back to his lap. “Turns out, I was right.”

He
was
right. The trust issues she’d had since childhood kept her protected. Kristin always held some part of herself back from others, some part she could retreat to that was hers and hers alone. Her mother ensured through years of verbal abuse that her work would never be good enough to show anyone.