Chapter 11
Chapter 11
The weather turned cool and blustery while I was in the office, so I’m grateful for the warmth of Cozy Cottage High Tea. Sophie’s at the podium, talking with some customers. I look around as I wait patiently for her to finish. There’s no sign of Alex or his photographs. They must have been removed, ready for me to collect.
“Hey, Darce!” Sophie greets me with a quick hug. “I’ve got the photos out back, boxed up and ready to go. They looked so good here, though. I hope you don’t sell any of them at the opening because I really want them back.”
“I hope we do! Larissa will not be happy otherwise. A large part of her ‘vision’ is always to make stack loads of money, you know.”
She chuckles. “I bet. Come with me. I’ll get you the box.”
“Actually,” I say as I put my hand on her arm, “I need to talk to Alex first.” I look nervously around the room once more, trying to appear casual—and not like I inadvertently invaded his personal space and made him all angry about it. “Is he here today?”
“He’s working at the café.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Darcy? Why do you look weird?”
“Weird?”
“You know, nervous or worried or something.”
“Who? Me?” I wave my hand in the air. “Why would Alex make me nervous or worried?”
She raises her eyebrows in question. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly. There’s no reason.” I arrange my limbs into a relaxed pose but probably look nothing but.
She twists her mouth. “You are acting strangely, though. Did something happen with him?”
“What?” My voice sounds a lot like a guinea pig’s squeal. “Of course nothing’s happened with him. Don’t be silly, Soph. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
She eyes me up. “All right. Well, come back to get the photos when you’re done.”
“Will do. Now I’ll, ah, go find him next door,” I say.
“You do that,” Sophie replies. Her eyes are narrowed as though she’s trying to work something out.
I push my way through the door out into the street, round the topiary at the entrance to High Tea, and then in through the door to the café. The place is full, and as the tempting aroma of coffee and freshly baked cakes reaches my nose, my tummy rumbles, right on cue.
I scan the room quickly, looking for Alex. No sign. Well, since I’m here, I may as well get something yummy. A girl’s gotta eat, right? And kale juices and acai berry granola really don’t count as food in my book. I’ll wait in line until Alex turns up. I know I’ll need a major sugar boost for that conversation.
As I wait in line, my mouth waters as I work out which of the Cozy Cottage cakes I’m going to indulge in this morning. The cakes here are so good, all moist and tasty with ample frosting. If I worked close by, I’d be in here so often that I’m certain I’d be a prime candidate for obesity or diabetes. Probably both.
“Hi, Darcy,” Bailey says with a smile when I reach the front of the line. “What can I get you?”
“Hey, Bailey. A cup of Earl Grey and a slice of carrot cake, please.”
“Earl Grey. Nice. Coming right up. Oh, did you get Alex’s photographs? I think Sophie’s got them all ready for you next door.”
“Yes, thanks.” I shoot her a smile, and add, “Is, ah, he around?”
“Our soon-to-be-famous photographer is out back having a break right now.”
“Oh. I guess I’ll wait for him. I need to talk to him about some things to do with the gallery.”
She leans closer to me, and says, “How about I let you go back to see him while I fix your tea and cake?”
My heart rate kicks up—from nerves and something else I can’t quite name. Or don’t want to. I push my confused feelings away. “It’s fine. I’ll wait here. I don’t want to interrupt him.” And there’s safety in numbers out here in the café.
“Oh, don’t be silly. Come on. I’ll let you in.
“Thanks, that would be awesome.”
Awesome and completely terrifying, that is.
I walk with trepidation past the cabinet and around through the counter flap, which Bailey holds up for me. The last time I came through here was with Alex to find a place to put the hyacinths. Back then, my feelings about him were simple and straightforward. I hated him, end of story. Now, the hate is mixed with guilt, and both emotions churn around inside.
“I’ll bring your tea and cake out to you if you like?”
“Oh, this won’t take long. I’ll take them to go, thanks.”
She smiles. “Sure. They’ll be here at the counter when you’re ready.”
I make my way past her and into the kitchen. Alex is sitting on a stool at one of the stainless steel counters, his head down, concentrating on something on his phone.
“Alex,” I say, my voice suddenly croaky. At least I no longer sound like a guinea pig. I clear my throat and try again. “Alex,” I say more firmly, hoping my tone is bright and breezy.
He looks up directly into my eyes, and my belly twists. As recognition registers, his features grow dark. “Darcy,” he says, only unlike before, there’s not a hint of amusement in his voice, nor a smile on his face.
As irritating as I found those things before, right now, I miss them.
I squeeze my hands at my sides and step further into the room. “Can I talk to you?”
He puts his phone down on the counter. “What about?”
“I wanted to thank you for the photos you gave me on Sunday. Larissa absolutely loves them.” I think of the way she ooh-ed and aah-ed when I showed them to her. She sounded like she was in the throes of utter ecstasy when she saw his photo of the little girl in the field.
“Okay.”
“Larissa thinks . . . we both think you’re really talented.”
“Good.”
He’s really not giving me anything here.
Like the fool I am, I press on, regardless. “I also wanted to say that I’m sorry. Again. I-I know I’ve said it already, a few times, actually. But I want you to know I mean it. I should never have looked at the photos in that box. It was private, and it was wrong of me. So, so wrong.” I pause, hoping he’ll say something.
All he does is sit and watch me.
It’s obvious to me I need to say more. “If they were my private photos and you accidentally looked at them, I would feel just as angry as I’m sure you do right now. Even though it would be an honest mistake, and we would both know that. Nevertheless, I would feel aggrieved. Like you do. Right now. Totally and utterly aggrieved. So—”
I know what I’m doing. By babbling on, I’m filling in the silence, the one thing I know I shouldn’t be doing. But I’m feeling so freaking thrown by this guy. It’s like he’s got some kind of weird hold on me, and I’m trying desperately to talk my way out of it. It might not the best thought-out strategy, but I’m running with it now.
“—and even though the photographs are exquisite, I know they’re your personal items and not—”
As I continue to waffle on, I wonder why he’s not saying anything. All he’s doing is arcing an eyebrow as he watches me carry on with (un)happy abandon. It’s like he’s enjoying this. Yes! That’s what this is. He’s enjoying me waffling on about how I was in the wrong and he was in the right.
I clamp my mouth shut, mid-sentence. Two can play this game (and yes, I know I’m the one in the wrong, but it wasn’t that wrong, and it was an accident, and I’ve apologized a lot ).
After a beat, he finally opens his mouth to speak. “Are you done?”
“Yes. I am.”
“Well, then, thank you for that.” The corners of his mouth twitch. “ All of it.”
He’s mocking me, even though I’m giving him a heartfelt apology. Even though I mean every word I’m saying and I really, truly do feel bad.
I give a curt nod. “You’re welcome,” I reply solemnly, as though I’ve done him some kind of favor.
“You’re right. They’re my personal items, as you referred to them, but I’m happy to forget it happened. So, if you’re looking for it, I forgive you. Let’s forget about it and move on.”
Relief washes through me. “Moving on sounds good to me.”
Silence falls once more. Alex is still looking at me intently, and I’m still wishing this was over and I was back in the office. Being in the Red Room with Aleron and his bundles of twigs is preferable to this level of tension, believe me.
“Is there something else?” he asks.
“Oh, yes. Actually, there is.”
“Another prepared speech?” he asks, and his lips quirk into a small smile.
Something stirs inside me. Something I don’t want to think about.
“It’s from Larissa, actually.”
“A prepared speech from Larissa. That’s new.”
I shake my head. “It’s not a speech.”
“That’s a shame. I quite enjoy your speeches.”
I regard him in surprise. “You do?”
“Yeah. You get all serious, like you’ve really thought about what you’ve got to say. It’s . . . charming.”
Alex thinks I’m charming?
I press my lips together, ignoring the way his smile makes me tingle. It’s only due to my relief that he’s forgiven me. It’s nothing more than that. And saying I’m charming? Well, that’s his way of putting me off my stride, of getting back at me for looking at those photos.
I refocus on my message. “Larissa wants you to come to a meeting with her. She wants to talk to you about some things, specifically,” I pull my Labrador puppy notebook out of my purse, flip to the page where I’d written down her questions, and quote her word-for-word. “She wants to know how you think, how you feel, and to ask you about your higher state of consciousness.” I flip the cover of my notebook over and await his reaction.
His brow is furrowed. “She wants to ask about my higher state of consciousness?”
“Yes.” I give a solemn nod.
The corners of his mouth twitch again in that all-too-familiar way before blooming into a smile.
Relief washes through me. He may be laughing at me right now (is he laughing at me right now? I think he is laughing at me right now.), but this sure beats the frostiness of before—and my guilt over finding the photos of that girl.
Whoever she is.
Slowly, he gets up from his stool and walks around the counter until he’s standing closer to me. His smile now firmly in place, his eyes boring into me. “You know, I can’t say I’ve ever thought about my ‘higher state of consciousness.’”
“You haven’t?” I ask, shocked to hear how breathless my voice has become.
It’s only Alex Walsh. I hate him, remember?
“What is a ‘higher state of consciousness’ exactly?” His voice is low and sexy, and it rumbles right through me.
Uh-oh.
My heart begins to thud in my chest. Why does he have to stand so darn close to me? First at his place and now here. Doesn’t he know it makes me incredibly uncomfortable? Doesn’t he know I can catch a hint of his scent (fresh, woody, with a hint of lime)? Doesn’t he know I could reach out and touch him? That he’s close enough for me to take one small step toward him and . . . and kiss him?
Wait, what?!
What the heck am I thinking? This is Alex Walsh. Alex Walsh. He’s not someone I think about kissing. He’s . . . he’s a cocky, arrogant jerk who did what he did to me back in high school. I hate him. I hate him.
But oh, my. My conviction is melting with every second he’s standing here, smirking that sexy smirk at me. I bet he’s acutely aware of the effect his proximity is having on me, and he’s enjoying making me squirm.
Well, I’m determined not to let that happen. With a dry mouth, I back away from him, only for my butt to smoosh up against the counter behind me.
I’m trapped.
I toss my hair and shoot him a breezy smile. Well, breezy is the aim, anyway.
When I still haven’t responded to his question (I’ve had other things on my mind), he says, “Darcy? Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”
“Oh, um, I was just thinking about how to explain what a higher state of consciousness is,” I reply. “But you know what? I wouldn’t worry about it. That’s just Larissa-speak. All you’ve got to do is prattle on about your creative vision or something. She’ll be more than happy with that.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair, messing it up. It makes him look even hotter. “You know, I’m not much of a prattler,” he says.
He moves closer to me, his eyes still locked on mine.
Thud thud goes my heart.
Zing zing goes my belly.
What the heck is happening right now? goes my brain.
My hands grab the counter at my sides, the cool touch of stainless steel capturing my attention. But it’s only a temporary reprieve from the new and confusing things I’m feeling inside.
“Well, not prattle then. Talk, I guess,” I say.
“Sure, I can talk to her. But I quite like talking to you.” He pauses before he adds, “Darcy.”
The way he says my name has my eyes drifting from his eyes down to his mouth. His lips are parted, ready to be . . . what? Kissed?
No no no no no! What has gotten into me? Pull yourself together, Darcy!
He still hasn’t moved away, and he’s still got his eyes trained on me, boring holes the size of moon craters into my skull. His gaze drifts to my white-knuckled hands and back up to my face. Immediately, I let go of the counter and cross my arms over my chest. I couldn’t look any more uncomfortable if I were wearing a ski suit in hundred-degree heat.
“I’ve been thinking about you today. A lot, actually.”
“About how much you don’t like me?”
“I never said that. It was you who said you didn’t like me. Although secretly, I think you do like me, even if you won’t admit it.”
“No, I don’t,” I reply, but it’s so lacking in conviction, no court in the land would believe me.
“No you don’t like me, or no you won’t admit you do?”
I’m too thrown to respond because now he’s reaching his hand out and lightly touching my cheek, making my whole body tingle.
He’s going to kiss me. Alex Walsh is going to kiss me.
My mind turns to Seth, the nice guy I’ve only just begun dating. I think of Alex, and how much I’ve despised him for so, so long. And then, I push the litany of reasons not to let it happen from my brain as I uncross my arms and drop my hands to my sides. I inch closer to him. We stand as though in limbo, not quite taking the next, inevitable step.
And then, in one fluid motion, his arms circle around me, pulling me into him, and his lips crash against mine. Before I even have time to think, I’m wrapping my arms around him as I kiss him back, and everything— everything —around us fades to nothing.
It’s just him and me.
Us.
And oh, my, what a kiss! It’s the kind that sucks the air from your lungs, makes your legs turn to jelly, makes you completely dizzy. The kind you never want to stop.
My mind whirs with conflicting thoughts. I’m kissing Alex! But I can’t be because I hate him. But oh, my, this feels so good. But it’s Alex Walsh! What am I thinking? I hope this never stops.
Eventually, after I swear I begin to see stars, I pull back as my heart bangs like a drum. My confused feelings are strewn across the linoleum floor.
What. Just. Happened?
One second, I’m setting up a meeting, and the next, we’re kissing like . . . like that?
I have got to get out of here.
I pull my eyes from his and step back, once again smooshing my butt against that darn counter. I begin to slide along the side away from him. I must look totally ridiculous, but what just happened cannot happen again. Kissing Alex? Have I gone insane?
“Darcy,” he says, reaching out his hand.
I duck away from him. “I, ah, I need to go.”
“Do you?” he asks softly.
I nod rapidly. “I came here to—” What did I come here for? My mind’s gone blank.
“You wanted to set up a meeting with Larissa.”
That’s right! “Yes, a meeting,” I reply breathlessly.
“I’m out of here at two today. Would that work for Larissa?”
“I’ll make two o’clock work for her.”
“Will you be there?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I inch away. “I’ll, ah, see you then, then.”
Then then?
A fresh smile spreads across his face. “I’m looking forward to it it,” he teases.
I slink back from him until I’m far enough away to break the spell. Only, the spell isn’t broken, and all I can think about is that kiss.
On legs as wobbly as jelly, I somehow manage to put one foot in front of the other. “And thanks for—” the kiss? “—the photos.”
“No problem.” He smiles at me, and something new and unexpected moves inside my chest. “See you, Darcy.”
I turn away from him and scrunch my eyes shut, clasping my trusty notebook in my hands. I throw my head high and put one foot in front of the other, leaving Alex and that confusing, incredible, so very wrong kiss behind.