Chapter Seven
Ryan
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, illuminating rows of tools and building supplies. Even under the harsh lighting, Derek is gorgeous. There are little crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiles, but they only add to his appeal—he’s confident and happy, and the lines tell of his maturity.
“So, what kind of timber are you thinking for the shelves?” Derek asks. He casually brushes my arm as he speaks, sending tingles up my spine.
I clear my throat, stepping away under the pretense of examining wood samples. Pine. Oak. Mahogany. I can’t think straight with his touch still burning my skin despite the long-sleeved T-shirt I’m wearing.
“Um, pine is fine. Cheap and durable, and you said you wanted to paint the shelves, right?”
“Yep. I’ve taken your advice. I think the lighter and brighter the room, the nicer it will be to work in. I get enough dark and dingy at the office. So, pine it is.” Derek grins and heads off towards the order desk.
I take a deep breath as my eyes track his movements.
He’s behaving casually, like nothing happened between us.
He’s just being Derek, my brother’s best friend, the guy who’s looked out for me like a big brother since I was a kid.
Not the man I’ve been secretly pining over for years.
The man who blew me the other afternoon in a moment of weakness.
Shit. What have I done?
I need to get my act together, to forget it ever happened. I have to bury my feelings deep and move on before I ruin one of the most important relationships in my life. I chuckle ruefully. Easier said than done.
“You coming?” Derek stops in the aisle and calls back to me.
I force a smile and jog a little to catch up. I can do this.
When I reach Derek, he halts my progress with a hand on my arm.
“Hey, Ryan.” Derek clears his throat, gaze skimming over the shelves before he meets my eyes. “About the other day…”
My stomach clenches. Here it comes, the “it was a mistake” speech.
“I shouldn’t have…taken advantage like that.” His jaw clenches. “I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t made things awkward between us.”
“You haven’t.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “I’m a grown man. I can make my own decisions about who I sleep with.”
“Can you?” He frowns. “I don’t want to be another mistake you regret, Ryan.”
“You’re not.” I bite my lip, heat flooding my face. Shit, he could never be something I regret, but there’s no way I can tell him how I really feel, no matter how much I want to. “I just meant, you know, it didn’t mean anything. We got carried away. It’s just sex, no big deal.”
The troubled look doesn’t leave his eyes.
He studies me for a long moment, like he can see right through my pathetic excuses, before giving a curt nod.
“If you say so.” He claps me on the shoulder, smile not quite reaching his eyes.
“Come on, let’s go order this timber and get the rest of the stuff. ”
We place an order for the pine to be delivered at the same time as the new doors, then grab a trolley, roaming the aisles, gathering supplies for the renovation.
I toss in some washers so I can fix the leaking outdoor tap I noticed last time I was at Derek’s then turn down an aisle filled with paint samples.
“Did you have a colour in mind for the home office?”
“I was thinking maybe a cream or taupe. Something neutral, you know?”
“According to colour theory, your choice can influence your productivity. Red is stimulating and yellow is known for encouraging creativity. You don’t want to try one of those?
” To be honest, I can’t imagine Derek going down the path of yellow or red.
He’s more sophisticated in his tastes as the rest of his home proves.
“What about a shade of blue? Something calming?” he says.
“Maybe a blue-grey?” I suggest, reaching for the colour cards.
His fingers graze mine as he reaches at the same time and I heat at the accidental contact.
I snatch my hand back and nod, pulse racing as I study the samples.
“This one’s pretty. It reminds me of the colour of the sky just before dusk.
” Actually, it reminds me of the stormy look in his grey eyes, eyes that I could get lost staring into all day.
“Perfect.” He holds my gaze, and for a heartbeat, I’m sure I glimpse the same desire mirrored in his eyes. But then he looks away, the moment gone, and I’m left wondering if I imagined it.
I clear my throat and select a couple of cards, forcing my focus back onto the task at hand. “We’re best to take a few back home and check them out in the light of the room to make sure we get exactly the right shade.”
“I’ll grab some sample pots,” Derek says, voice gruff. He takes the cards and heads to the counter without waiting for a response.
I slump against the display. This acting normal is the hardest damn thing I’ve done in my life considering every fibre of my being is fully aware of Derek, conscious of his every move, his every breath, reading something into every look he gives.
Derek returns, sample paint pots in hand, expression unreadable. “Ready to check out?”
I simply nod. At the register, Derek pays, then we head out to the car park, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife, at least on my part. I can’t tell what Derek is thinking, but his easygoing manner of earlier is gone.
We climb into his SUV, an awkward silence between us.
As Derek drives us back to his place, I stare out the window and try to ignore the riot of emotions churning inside me.
After all these years, I finally got what I wanted—a taste of the forbidden—only to have it snatched away again.
Derek made it clear that it was a mistake, a moment of weakness he regrets.
So why did being together feel so right?
We pull up in front of his house. “You coming in?” Derek asks.
I hesitate, longing warring with self-preservation. “You want me to?”
A flicker of surprise crosses his face. “Of course. We’ve still got planning to do, and I promised you lunch for giving up your Saturday for me.”
“Oh.” I release a breath, the tension easing. He wants me here. Maybe not in the way I want, but it’s enough. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
We unload the car then, after a quick stop for bottles of water, head to the spare-bedroom-soon-to-be-office.
The furniture has been cleared out, and it doesn’t take long to spread out a drop sheet to protect the floor.
Derek leans casually against the wall and watches as I paint a square of each colour onto the far wall of the room, and another series of squares on the adjacent wall.
I’m aware of his eyes on me as I work, my hand shaking slightly as I handle the paintbrush.
“Because the light falls differently on each of the walls, I’ve done both so you can see the difference. The tone will also change depending on the time of day, lightening or darkening. Like now, it’s a bright day, so the sunshine is highlighting the warmth—”
“Mmm hmm.”
My attention turns from the wall swatches to Derek. The strong line of his jaw, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the way he’s staring at me and not the walls. “I…uh…” I gesture to the window. “Don’t forget the new French doors will let in a lot more light than this window.”
I’m suddenly aware of Derek beside me. “It’s hard to choose,” he says. “They all look nice.”
“Only nice, huh?” I tease. “Not what I was going for. Maybe we should have chosen a red feature wall after all.”
“Yeah, not happening,” he says. He turns from the wall and meets my gaze. “I don’t need any additional stimulation.”
Desire rises at the innuendo, but I wrestle it down. I swallow heavily. “Um, so back to blue, then?”
“Which one do you like?” he asks, then points to a test patch on the wall. “What do you think of that one?”
“I…ah…” I’m a blithering mess as the scent of his cologne fills my nose and replaces the aroma of the paint. “That’s n-nice.”
“Nice?” He raises a brow.
I shrug as he chuckles. “Well, yeah. They all work, so it basically comes down to personal preference. It’s up to you to make a choice.”
He looks at me for a moment, a moment that stretches too long. I can’t read his expression, but I sense his turmoil. Finally he sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “This is hopeless. How about we take a break? Grab some food?”
I nod, only too happy to take a break from the sweet torture of being near him. “I can duck out and pick up something if you like.”
He shakes his head. “Let’s order something in. I’m going to grab a beer. You want one?” he asks as he heads from the room.
“Please.”
I follow him to the kitchen, where he passes me a bottle. Our fingers graze and another of those weird shivers passes through me. I pull my hand back quickly and cross to the dining table, where I take a seat.
Derek sits next to me.
“Ryan…” He pauses, fingernail picking at the corner of the label on his beer. He looks up and meets my eyes. “I don’t want things to be weird between us. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course,” I say. It’s the truth and a lie all at once.
“Good.” He hesitates again. “Because you’re important to me. I don’t want to lose our friendship over one mistake.”
One mistake. There’s that word again. The word slices through me, sharp as any knife. I look away and stare out the window, willing the sting in my eyes to fade.
“I’m sorry,” Derek says. “I shouldn’t have taken adv—”
“It’s fine.” I suck in a breath. “We’re friends. I get it.”
He relaxes, returning my smile with obvious relief. And I suppose that, more than anything, tells me where I stand.