I Speak...Love (A Different Road Book 3) Page 7

  Oh God. Yes, I do know that look. He knows I just lied to him.

  I have a tattoo of a chameleon on the left side of my upper back that represents so many deep and personal things to me, and right now I wish I could blend into the brown leather seat cushion so he stops looking at me like that. I’ve had to morph into so many different people and put on so many fake faces over the years to hide my feelings that I’ve perfected the art of being a chameleon.

  It’s an absolutely stunning tattoo. It starts at the corner of my shoulder with a pink orchid, then the chameleon stretches across my shoulder blade. He’s sitting on a branch surrounded by green foliage, followed by another pink orchid at the edge of my spine. I certainly could never afford a tattoo and I didn’t pay for it. It was done by a tattoo student for free. She was just learning the art of tattooing, and it was part of her training. She did an absolutely amazing job. Last I heard, she’s now an award winning tattoo artist working out of Las Vegas.

  “Maddy?” he calls.

  I really need to stop drifting off in thought.

  “I baked you some chocolate chip cookies last night,” I say with a smile, reaching into my catering bag.

  I take out the cookies, remove the lid and extend the container toward Stephen. His eyes close and he visibly inhales their sugary goodness.

  “What’s wrong, Sweetness?” he asks, opening his eyes.

  Oh God, not the nickname again. I could answer that question so many different ways right now. I’m still devastated my camera was stolen. I’m definitely still beating myself up for becoming attached to it in the first place. I know better. How about this big one? I shouldn’t even be here in Stephen’s office, this will definitely hurt worse than losing a broken camera when he’s taken away from me. Not that he’s mine to begin with. But currently, I’m devastated about upsetting Courtney.

  My mind is traveling in ten different directions all at the same time. Stephen’s eyes are moving back and forth as he searches mine like he’s reading my thoughts again and he’s following each direction. His head tips to the side in some sort of realization like he just found the direction of my current problem.

  He gets up from the chair next to me, then he walks to the other side of his desk. He opens one of the bags and removes one of the items. My heart instantly feels like someone just hooked it up to a defibrillator and shocked my heart at the highest setting. As he walks closer to me with the box, I sink farther and farther into the chair.

  No. Please say this isn’t happening. Too much goodness. He can’t do something nice like this! The consequences will be too great. As much as I hate showing weakness in front of people the quickest tear I’ve ever shed escapes and rips a path down my cheek. I know I’m selfish for even thinking a person like Stephen could be interested in a person like me. It’s even more stupid to believe in wishful thinking that someone good like Stephen could just walk into my life.

  “No,” I manage to whisper.

  He sits down in the chair next to me, then he opens the box. He removes the packaging, then takes out the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and one I could only ever dream of touching in a dream of a dream.

  “It’s you,” he says, holding it out to me. I shake my head no and picture it being a monster that can only eat what little happiness I have left. “Look, it’s cracked on the outside,” he says, pointing to a very small crack in the case. My anxiety level immediately comes down a notch. “I promise you that even though you see broken and flawed, I see perfect on the inside and out,” he says, looking at the camera, then at me.

  Flawed and perfect are two words that just don’t go together in the same sentence. It’s completely illogical. It just can’t. It’s a risk I’m not willing to take, but boy do I want to.

  “I can’t,” I insist.

  “Please,” he says, holding it out to me. “I promise you. It won’t change anything.”

  “You can’t promise me something like that,” I whisper.

  “Trust me, I can,” he replies.

  He removes the container of cookies from my hand and sets them on his desk. He moves the camera closer, then he gently sets it on my lap. It’s so very heavy, and I’m not just talking about the physical weight of the camera. What it represents and the pound of flesh it will require to offset my happiness is more than I can handle. The female human heart only weighs about nine ounces, and I can tell you I don’t have that much left to give. Another tear rolls down my cheek, but Stephen quickly wipes it away. I place my hand on the cool surface, and my skin instantly electrifies. Then I remember there was way more in the bags than just this one box. I look at his desk chair and definitely see more items in the bags.

  “It’s too much,” I whisper.

  “I’ll keep those here. For now,” he says, placing his hand on my knee.

  I look up into his eyes and wish I had a voice to speak. I silently tell him without words, thank you. His eyes again move from side to side as he searches deep within my own. Another tear slides down my cheek, and I feel as though the dam is cracking.

  He comes close to my face, then rests his cheek against mine. His hand comes to the side of my head and presses against my hair.

  He rests his lips close to my ear and whispers, “You’re welcome, Sweetness,” and I about combust.

  Maddy is the most selfless person I’ve ever met. I remove the camera from her lap and set it on my desk. I slowly move my lips down across her wet tear stained cheek until they hover over hers. I open my eyes just in time to see hers roll in the back of her head, then close. I close my eyes, then slowly touch my lips to hers. I move my hand over the top of her signature chef bun and pull a pin out of it. I find one more, then unravel her beautiful, silky red hair and let it cascade down her back.

  I run my hand through her hair while my lips slowly move over her warm, pouty lips. After a few minutes, her stomach rumbles. I break the kiss, then with my hand on the back of her head, I tip her forehead to my lips.

  I back away from her with a smile while her eyes open. It’s fascinating to see her eyes dilate as her thoughts run wild. I’ve never seen someone’s eyes change so many colors. I’d never believe it if I didn’t see it first-hand.

  I reach for the container of cookies on my desk and hold it out for her to take one. She takes one, then watches as I take one. Her eyes are glued to the cookie in my hand as she waits for me to take the first bite. I’m definitely going to find out what that’s all about. I take a bite, and it’s the best chocolate chip cookie I’ve ever tasted. Maddy takes a bite of her cookie, then she wipes a crumb from her lips with her fingertip. I pop the rest of the cookie in my mouth while Maddy perches her cookie between her teeth, then she reaches into her catering bag and removes two containers.

  I take the two containers from her and set them on my desk. She reaches for her cookie between her lips, then she shoves the whole thing in her mouth with a sexy smirk. I feel the wicked smile on my lips as I lean in and taste her decadent, sweet lips. She’s pure sweetness, and I was wrong. As phenomenal as her cookies are, her lips taste like pure heaven.

  I pull away, then remove one of the lunch containers from my desk. I remove the lid and hand it to her. She reaches in the side of the bag and removes silverware and napkins, while I remove the lid from the other container.

  She hands me a fork, and I dig into my lunch. Maddy’s eyes dart back and forth from me eating to her camera sitting on my desk. I finish my food, then I pick up the camera.

  “How do you turn it on?” I ask. She reaches over and turns it on for me, then I ask, “And how do you take a picture?” She again reaches over and points to a button. I look through the lens and don’t see anything but darkness. “I think it’s broken?” I say. She covers her lips with her fingers, then softly giggles.

  It’s good to hear her laugh.

  She leans in toward me and removes the lens cap from the front of the camera, and I feel like an idiot. I look through the lens again, and now I clearly see the
beautiful woman sitting in front of me. I push the button that she pointed to, but it still doesn’t seem to work.

  “It needs a memory card,” she says.

  “Ah yes. I did get one of those too,” I tell her. Her delighted face immediately falls. “It’s just little, it doesn’t count,” I tell her showing her a fraction of an inch with my thumb and forefinger. She looks at my fingers, then bursts into giggles again and turns the cutest shade of pink. “Wait, I’m talking about the memory card . . . not my . . .” I say, then she erupts in uncontrollable laughter.

  She continues to laugh as I get up and walk to the bags sitting on my chair. I remove the memory card and quickly take it out of the package. Thankfully, I quickly figure out where it goes and slide it in. I aim the camera at her and snap a few photos of her laughing. She’s completely let her guard down, and she’s living in the moment. She still hasn’t stopped laughing, and she laughs so hard, she lets out the cutest snort. She immediately stops laughing, and her hand quickly comes up to her mouth. She slaps her palm over her lips, and her eyes go wide with embarrassment. I set the camera down, then sit in the chair next to her. I reach for her hand and remove it from her mouth, then I kiss her lips.

  Sensing her slightest unease I back away, then gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I hand her the camera, then gently smile at her.

  “I took the first photo. So, technically now it’s used.”

  For the first time, instead of her eyes darkening they lighten and turn a brilliant, radiant shade of green. She looks at her watch, then she gasps.

  “I have to get going. I have a client at one,” she says.

  I help her pack up the lunch containers, then she places them in her catering bag. While she packs everything up, I pick up the camera and walk back around my desk. I remove the backpack from the bag and unzip it. Maddy immediately freezes, and her eyes slice across the room and go to the backpack. She watches my hands as I place the camera inside. With her eyes still on the backpack, she gathers her hair in her hand and twists it back up into a bun, then she secures it with the pins. I zip up the backpack, then take it with me and walk back to her. She hoists her catering bag over her shoulder, then I hold out the backpack to her.

  “It’s for safety,” I tell her. For the first time, her eyes leave the backpack and come up to mine. “Can I walk you down to your van?” I offer, slinging the backpack over my shoulder.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she replies.

  “I know I don’t have to, but I would like to.”

  “Mr. Mason, I’m sorry to interrupt. River would like to see you in his office immediately,” Caleigh’s urgent voice calls through the intercom on my phone.

  I exhale an irritated sign, then walk Maddy to the door. I shrug off the backpack and hold it up between us, but now she’s back to just looking at it.

  I slip one of the straps over her other shoulder, then I lean in and kiss her lips. She’s so soft and so damn sweet. Before I can back away, she leans in and kisses me.

  “Thank you,” she whispers on my lips.

  “You’re welcome, Sweetness,” I reply.

  I open the door for her, then she walks out of my office.

  “Have a nice day, Ms. Malone,” Caleigh calls with a smile as Maddy walks past her.

  “You too,” Maddy replies.

  I open the back of my van and securely place the catering bag inside. I close the door, then walk around to the driver’s door. I unlock the door, remove the camera backpack from my shoulder, and climb in. I place it on the floor between the seats and stare at it. It’s still too much and there’s this huge war raging inside my head over it. A very small portion of me is relieved because now I don’t have to call Courtney and disappoint her. I have serious issues with disappointing people. The rest of me is fearful of the imminent fallout. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. There will be a fallout. It will happen. I’m trying so hard to fool myself by saying this doesn’t make me happy. Maybe if I keep saying it doesn’t make me happy, the happiness gods won’t hear just how amazing it is, and they won’t come to collect their payment. I’m afraid of what the payment will be on something that I’ve dreamt about since I was a teenager.

  I start the van, back out my space, and head to my next client. The black backpack sitting on the floor next to me is never out of my peripheral vision. It literally makes me sweat. I open the window to get some fresh air flowing through the van. As I pull up to the curb at my client’s house, my cell phone starts ringing in my purse. I dig it out from behind my seat, then swipe my finger across the screen.

  It’s Joss. Uh oh, did I do something wrong?

  “Hello,” I answer nervously, she usually doesn’t call me between clients.

  “Hey, Maddy, It’s Joss,” she starts cheerfully. “I’d like to get a head count for dinner Saturday. Can you make it?” she asks.

  Before I can think about not letting anything good fly out of my mouth for the entire universe to hear, it just comes out.

  “I have a photo shoot at noon, but I should still be done in time to make it to dinner,” I say, then clamp my mouth shut and bite the inside of my lips closed.

  “Oh, that’s right! Nina mentioned it to me this morning. She’s really excited to be your assistant. Congratulations! I’m so proud of you,” she says, excited for me.

  I slam my palm on my forehead and silently curse at myself for being so stupid. I totally know better than to say this stuff out loud.

  “Thank you, but wait? What? Nina’s going to be my assistant?” I reply.

  “That’s what she said,” she confirms.

  I quickly think back to the conversation in the shop. I was in some serious shock and if it weren’t for Nina coming to my rescue, Courtney probably would have walked out knowing just how crazy I really am. Now that I think about it, she sort of did say we’d see her and her daughters on Saturday.

  “Did you want me to bring anything Saturday?” I ask, steering clear of the subject, then I roll up the window and shut off the engine.

  “No, just your cute self,” she replies. “Or, maybe . . .” she sings. “There is something you can bring,” she finishes.

  “Sure, name it.”

  “Stephen,” she quickly replies, then the line goes silent. I pull the phone away from my ear to see if the seconds are still ticking by or if the call got dropped. The seconds are still counting away, so she’s still there. My eyes immediately go to the camera bag sitting next to my feet. “Maddy?” she questions. “Are you still there?” she asks.

  “I’m here,” I reply.

  “Do you have his cell phone number? Never mind, I’ll text it to you. I’ll see you both Saturday,” she says in two seconds flat, then the line goes dead again.

  I look at the phone again, but this time, the seconds have stopped counting. She hung up on me. It then vibrates in my hand, indicating I have a text. Sure enough, it’s from Joss and its Stephen’s cell phone number.

  Knock knock.

  I jump out of my skin, throwing my cell phone in the air. It bounces off my leg and falls to the floor between my feet. I look out the driver’s side window, it’s my client. Shit, how long have I been sitting here staring at Stephen’s cell phone number?

  I quickly bend over, grab my cell phone off the floor, then open the door and immediately apologize to my client.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” I start.

  “Oh, you’re not late, honey. I was just heading out, and I saw you sitting here. I just wanted to pop over and say hi. So, hi, and I’ll see you later. I left the front door open for you,” Annmarie calls, cheerfully.

  She gives a little wave, then she turns around and heads to her Jag sitting in the driveway. She must be headed to the gym because she’s wearing a cute little workout outfit much like the ones Kate wears. I shake my head and remind myself what I’m supposed to be doing. I shove my cell phone in my purse behind the seat, then get out of my van and open the back doors. I remove the correc
t bags, then close the door and open the unlocked front door. I walk inside her gorgeous, professional, state of the art kitchen and set the bags on the counter. I unzip the bags and get to work. I get out the pots and pans that I’ll need to use, then I take out the raw chicken breasts from the refrigerated catering bag. I then take out the rest of the ingredients to make pecan breaded chicken. The second I pick up an egg to crack it over the side of the bowl, a very large, black backpack sitting unattended between the seats of my van in plain sight bulldozes through my thoughts. I drop the egg on the marble countertop, it cracks open with a splat, then I run back outside like a lunatic.

  Quickly unlocking the door, I grab the backpack and take it inside the house with me. Seriously, the chances of it being stolen before I even get to use it is completely one hundred percent plausible.

  I finish cooking, but before I put the food in individual containers, I bite my lip and look at the backpack. I can’t help the happy smile the creeps up between my teeth. I unzip the backpack and remove the camera. The crack in the case immediately makes me smile bigger. Honestly, before Stephen said it was cracked, there was no way in hell I could accept it. When he said it was me, I melted. Then he used it before me, knowing what a hard time I was having accepting something so monumental.

  The weight of this camera is so different than my other one. Just like I’m sure Stephen’s soft Converse shoes feel different than my rigid, knock off, lame excuse for shoes, this camera feels like more than I’m worth. I remove the lens cap and snap several photos of the food. The natural lighting in this kitchen is phenomenal. I replace the lens cap and gently place it back inside the bag. I pack up all the containers, then stock the client’s refrigerator. I clean up my mess, then pack up my catering bags. I grab the backpack, and head back out to my van.