My heart pulled at the tenderness that filled his caring eyes, his gentle smile. I leaned over and kissed his mouth. A soft, undemanding kiss. To my surprise, he kissed me back, albeit gently.
“I’ll be all right. This too shall pass, as they say, right?” I glanced down at the tarp, fingering the fold. “I seldom have the nightmares anymore. It’s my dad. He’s the only one that can trigger them.” Besides Alan, but he was dead, thankfully. I chastised myself for the thought.
“Your dad gives you nightmares?” Cole pressed.
“Sort of. When I’m stressed out over him,” or, more likely, by him, “I have them. They’ll pass, promise.”
“My offer stands. If you ever want to talk, let me know,” Cole said, reaching for my face. “You have some paint flakes on your cheeks.”
I again searched his face, wishing for a second kiss. When his eyes met mine, he stopped brushing my cheek and slipped his hand around my face. As he dipped his head to kiss me again, the door to his office flew open, easily for once, and in walked Maggie with a drop-dead gorgeous guy. Seth Prescott.
His light brown hair and stunning green eyes were unmistakable. His smile alone could stop a girl’s heart. Though not quite as hot as Cole, on a scale of one to ten, he sat firmly at twelve. Like Booker, the guy was even better looking in person.
Maggie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry!”
With a swift fluid movement, Cole jumped to his feet, backing away from me and stumbling in the process.
“Hi, guys. Lilah had some paint flakes on her cheek. I was brushing them off,” Cole insisted.
The hot Prescott grinned, wrapping his arm around Maggie’s waist. She beamed up at him with eyes oozing love. Envy twisted my heart.
“Seth, this is Lilah. She’s the person Booker hired to decorate my office.” Cole pried opened a paint can and dipped his brush into the green pool.
“Hello, Lilah. Cole and Book have both told me how talented you are, especially for someone so young,” Seth said with a nod.
“Thank you. That’s nice to hear. Cole’s been giving me grief about my choice in paint colors.” I looked over at Cole and winked.
“I like the color. I just think beige might be a better choice for this space, is all,” he said, red eared.
“Beige?” Maggie and Seth said simultaneously.
“Boring, Cole. Very boring,” Maggie grimaced.
“What she said,” Seth added, turning to me. “I wanted to thank you for helping Mags pick out her wedding dress. She said you’re going to do some hair stuff with her next Saturday, too.”
“You are?” blurted Cole.
“I are,” I nodded. “And I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t done hair since I dropped out of cosmetology school.” Maggie’s eyes widened at my words. “Don’t worry. We’re only trying a few updo’s for the wedding,” I assured her. “I didn’t drop out until we got halfway through colors. If you want pink hair, you’re out of luck.”
“How long ago was that?” Cole asked, still trying to figure out my age.
I laughed. “Let’s see. I enrolled when I was eighteen, and dropped out about halfway through. So a few months ago at least.” I had the pleasure of watching his face turn the color of the paint brush.
Seth laughed heartily. “I hate to drag Cole away, but we have a tux fitting in half an hour.” Seth pointed to his watch.
“I forgot.” Cole handed me the paint brush. “We’ll get an early start tomorrow.” He all but ran out the door, tripping only once.
Maggie grinned and said, “See ya Saturday,” as she and Seth followed Cole.
“Sweet little Opie,” I chuckled to myself.
**
“Ouch! Shoot!” I shook my singed fingers and dropped the Alfredo pan in the sink before snapping the burner on the stove off. The Alfredo sauce bubbled over the top and down the sides. I propped open a window and tried fanning the smoky, burnt air outside while arguing with my father on the phone. Not an easy task. Angry that Cole was coming over for dinner, Daddy went into a rant.
“Spend your time on Gatto and Prescott, Delilah, not some stupid doctor,” he demanded. “Do whatever it takes. Climb into bed with them if you have to, just get the information I need.”
I almost dropped my phone in the pot of burnt dinner. “I will not prostitute myself, father. What would mom or Birdie say if they heard you?”
“Your mother’s dead, and Birdie’s flown the coup, literally. Have you even heard from her since you got back from Mexico?” he asked, his temper still in full swing.
“No.” Admitting that hurt deeply. I thought of Birdie as a second mom and a buffer between me and Daddy. They hated each other and exchanged heated words on a regular basis as I grew up. She thought Daddy was scum, and he considered her a meddlesome old fool who’d ruined me.
“Well, when you do, let me know. I need to talk to her. Now, bag this doctor and get me the information.” I angrily shoved my phone into the dish drainer after Daddy hung up.
It wasn’t until my senior year in high school that I learned what exactly Daddy did for a living. Oh, I’d heard rumors that he trafficked in contraband, but I brushed them off as envy. We had lots of money and kids can be quite cruel when jealous.
One afternoon shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I came home to find a small gathering of drug smugglers in our home. They stood in a circle eating the cookies I’d baked that morning, discussing how to get around the tightened up borders. I confronted him about it after they’d left and we had a huge fight. “The silk gloves are now off, Delilah. You’ll help with the family business. Do I make myself clear?” Not waiting for an answer, he wheeled around and stormed out the door. I went straight to Birdie, begging for help.
When he returned that evening, they had a huge blow-up. “You’ve ruined the girl! She’s good for nothing except for maybe being a rich man’s mistress, thanks to your overprotective ways.” That one stung for a long time.
“You are an evil man,” Birdie glared. “Truly evil. She’ll not work for you, do I make myself clear?” Daddy stomped out the door, angrier than I had ever seen him.
I buried myself in school, enrolling in cosmetology classes, which drove him nuts since I already had an associate’s degree in interior design. Late one afternoon, he stormed into my room. “You’ll pull your weight at HD Enterprises, like your brothers. Tomorrow you’ll quit school and report to my office by noon. I don’t care if you sic Birdie on me. My decision’s final.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled.
As soon as he left, I packed a bag, went to the bank, drained my bank account, and hit the road. I ended up in Florida, living in a commune.
I gave them everything I had, down to my last dollar. They gave me a roof over my head, and two years later, David. Another disaster.
After everything with David blew up in my face, I took off for Mexico and successfully remained hidden from Daddy for three years. When he did find me, he dragged my butt back to the states, trying to get me to go into business with him again. I flatly refused, only he wouldn’t let up. Every day, all day, he let me know how I failed the family. Finally he proposed a compromise, well, in his eyes anyway. I saw the deal as the lesser of two evils.
“Here’s my final offer, Delilah. You help me get back the money Gatto and Prescott stole from me, and you can live your life where and how you want. Before you say no, remember, it’s not really stealing. We’re only taking back what they stole from us in the first place.”
I caved, the promise of living my life on my terms too enticing.
So here I stood, in upstate New York, with tears tumbling down my cheeks, fanning burnt Alfredo smoke out the kitchen window, and questioning whether Daddy lied to me about everything. And if he did, then why? Why did he want me here?
The doorbell rang and I wiped my face dry as I hurried to answer it. I could hardly wait to see Cole again, even though it had only been an hour and a half since I’d left him.
“Hello,” I said,
smiling into his deep blue eyes.
The smile dropped from his face. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?” He stepped into my tiny apartment and shut the door.
With Dreser-like skill, I lied. “I burned dinner. The smoke’s irritating my eyes.” I waved my hand through the cloud of smoke still in my apartment. “I’m afraid dinner’s ruined.”
“I guess we’re going out, then,” he said with a grin.
I looked down at my t-shirt, splattered with Alfredo sauce, and his scrubs. “Since neither of us is dressed for going out, why not order something in and we’ll eat on the deck?”
“Great idea. How about Dibella’s subs?” He pointed out the window to a sub shop down the street from me. I nodded. “Okay. I’ll run and grab them. What would you like?” He rattled off the menu.
“How do you know all that?”
“I eat there a lot. I’m a lousy cook,” he admitted unabashedly. I gave him my preference and he left as my cell phone rang. It was Daddy again. I muted the thing. I’d had enough for one day.
I used the time to change into my cute, lacey, tiered orange t-shirt and a short denim skirt. I added a pair of tan gladiator sandals. With no chance of running into Gatto and Prescott, I dug out my brown and turquoise bottle of frizz control and spritzed my hair, taming the frizzy mess into soft sexy curls. “Man, I love this stuff.” I pressed the bottle to my lips and kissed it. I also removed my glasses. Cole returned as I finished brushing my teeth.
“That was fast,” I said, locking the door behind him.
“They weren’t very busy, and you look . . . nice. Older.” He smiled.
“Thank you. Do I finally look legal?” I twirled slowly.
“I was thinking you look about nineteen, but I’ll take legal.” He walked over to the table and set the subs down. “You’re still not going to tell me your age, are you?”
“Opie, Opie,” I laughed. He offered a crooked smile. “I’m doing this for you. You need to let go of your inhibitions. Grab life by the horns. Take chances. If you see something you want, go for it.” I wagged my brows at him.
He rolled his eyes. “Are you done with the idioms?”
Chicken. “That reminds me, I stopped at the library on the way home and borrowed season one of The Andy Griffith Show.”
“Good. I’d like to see more of this Opie character,” he said, setting the sandwiches on plates I’d handed to him. “It’s pretty sticky outside, and it looks like the smoke has cleared out. Should we eat inside?”
“Sure.” Besides, the humidity would kill my hair. Cole passed a plate to me. The bread was peppered with seeds and . . . stuff.
“What’s all this?” I pointed to the crust.
“It’s an everything roll. It has poppy seeds, sesame seeds. . . I think. Well, I’m not sure what’s on it, but it does have chunks of salt. It’s delicious.” He picked up his sandwich and took a large bite. I frowned down at mine. “Now who’s afraid to take chances?” he teased.
“Point taken.” I nodded, picking up the sub. I took a deep breath and bit into the sandwich. To my surprise it was indeed delicious, especially the salt chunks.
“I stand corrected. It’s very good,” I said, taking another bite. Cole nodded smugly. We took our sandwiches to the couch. He pulled the ottoman over and we used it as a table. I inserted the DVD in the player and sat back to watch Cole’s reaction. He said little during the first episode, though he did smile often. Daddy called more four times. Sick of it vibrating, I turned the phone off.
“Lilah, if you need to take a call, please go ahead,” Cole said as I powered down my phone.
“Nope. Not tonight. It’s just you, me, and Opie.” I sat back down and snuggled in next to him. He didn’t say a word, though he did tense up just a little.
Listening to the southern drawls and seeing the old familiar faces again brought back memories of a happier time. I could almost hear my mother struggling to repeat a word in English with a half-Spanish, half-southern drawl accent. I caught myself smiling several times at a memory. It felt good to escape and not think about my father and his plans.
After the DVD ended, Cole turned to me. “Opie, huh?”
“Yes, don’t you see it? Sweet, obedient, and cute as heck,” I pointed out. “It’s a compliment, Cole. He’s a good guy. He’s not a manipulating, scheming brat. He’s a good kid.”
“He’s a bit on the boring side, don’t you think?” Cole looked at me, slightly offended.
“Not at all. Would you rather be the bad guy?” I stood and took the plates into the kitchen. “Cole, bad guys are only attractive in movies and books,” I said, coming back in the room. “In real life they’re liars and cheats. Trust me, I know.” I lived in a house full of them.
“I don’t want to be the bad guy, just not the boring guy, is all. His dad, Andy, wasn’t boring,” Cole pointed out.
He looked at me with his deep baby blues and I melted onto his lap. His arms stiffened and he tried to pull back as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “I thought you said you didn’t want to be boring?” He nodded, but said nothing. “Well, a boring guy would stop me if I tried to kiss him.” I didn’t wait for him to do just that. I pressed my mouth to his, softly. A pure, chaste, very Opie-esque kiss. Andy would be proud. I pulled back and smiled. “See, that didn’t hurt.”
“I’d better get going,” he said abruptly. He stood, sliding me onto the couch as he did. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He headed out the door before I could stand.
“But I wanted to show you my art work,” I called after him. Too late, he was gone.
Chapter 10
Thursday after we finished painting the walls and trim, we spent the evening picking out furniture. I drove, getting a kick out of Cole folding and unfolding his long legs when climbing in and out of my compact car. “Next time we take my car,” he complained after our fourth stop.
Part of me grew anxious to see the finished project, but the larger part of me didn’t want it to end. I’d enjoyed being around Cole a little more than I’d anticipated, so much I hadn’t pressed him at all about having Booker help me do some investing. Thankfully, Daddy left for Switzerland the daily harassing phone calls stopped, for now.
Saturday I drove over to Maggie’s to help with her hair and to have lunch. She took me straight upstairs with strict orders we were not to be interrupted.
“I want Seth to be surprised when I walk down the aisle,” she explained, locking the bathroom door behind us.
The bathroom was beautiful with its white subway tiles and gray grout. In the center sat a huge tub. Three people could easily fit inside. Maggie sat on a soft padded seat in a vanity area.
“Great tub,” I said, pulling a brush through her limp hair.
“I know, right? I love to sit and read,” she said to my reflection in the mirror. “Seth likes it too. He takes more baths than I do,” Maggie said. “Thanks for doing this, though I admit I am a little nervous.”
“I won’t do anything permanent unless I have your permission, don’t worry,” I said, examining the ends of her sad hair. “I didn’t see Cole downstairs when I came in.”
“He had a few errands to run before lunch.”
“Give me the scoop. Does he have any bad traits?” I pressed.
She shrugged playfully. “Don’t we all?”
“Yes, some more than others.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the hair care products I’d brought along. Maggie picked up the can of volumizer. I hoped to make it her new best friend because certainly she needed it.
“I don’t believe Cole has any faults. It’s discouraging,” I said, brushing through her hair a few more times.
“So it sounds like you’re falling for Cole.”
I shook my head at her reflection. “He’s a great guy and all, but I can’t compete with perfect.”
“I remember when I first met Seth. I thought the same thing. There was no doubt in my mind that the guy could walk on water. Very intimidating, especially kno
wing all of my own flaws so well.”
“And now?”
She sighed. “He can still walk on water, but now and then his feet get a little wet.” We both giggled like high school girls at a pajama party.
Maggie pointed to all the cans I’d set out. “I need all of that to be presentable?” Disheartened, her eyes scanned the products for a second time. I wanted to say yes, but afraid I’d offend her, I lied.
“No. I brought extra. I wasn’t sure what we’d need.” She looked at me and rolled her eyes. The girl was smarter than I gave her credit for.
“Okay, so if you won’t dish on Cole,” I said, “tell me, does he always wear blue scrubs?”
“Yes. Always. I’ve known him for three years and I’ve never seen him in anything but scrubs.” My mouth dropped open, and she chuckled again. When I asked why, she only shrugged.
I picked up my haircutting scissors and lifted a section of hair. “Would you be against me cutting some of it off? The ends are in really bad shape. It will be hard to make it look good otherwise.”
Maggie frowned, I knew she would. “How much, exactly?”
“Three or four inches.” She cringed at my answer. “Here.” I pulled her to her feet and stood her so she faced the etched mirror hanging over the double bowled sink. “Your hair reaches here.” I turned her sideways, gliding my hand down a strand of her hair and stopping at the bottom, about an inch above her waist. “I think we should cut it off to here.” I slid my hand level with the bottom of her bra in the back.
“That’s more like six inches,” she correctly pointed out.
I pulled a section around near her face. “See how damaged this is?” I showed her the countless split ends. “This really needs to go.”
She took a deep breath and sighed. I’d seen the same reaction at beauty school. Girls would come in and want us to work miracles on their hair, but they refused to let us cut it. “You’re right. Go ahead. I only hope Seth likes it.”
“Seth? You should be the one to like it. If he does also, that’s only a bonus,” I pointed out.