Mallory took the invitation with the utmost care. “I’ll check with my fiancé but I think we are free. What’s your medium?”
“Oils. Do you paint?”
“I do charcoal sketches and have recently started to sell them online since my schedule has freed up.”
“Can I see them?”
She lit up at his offer. “Really?”
“Yeah, I always love to see what my peers are doing in the art world.”
“My notebook is on the table.”
Andrew opened the notebook she had been scribbling in when we walked into the kitchen. He flipped through the pages. “Haven, why didn’t you tell me your friend was incredibly talented?”
“Because she never told me.”
Uncomfortable at the amount of attention on herself, Mallory waved away our praises. “It was a hobby I did in my free time until Clint encouraged me to sell them. I still have a lot to learn.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Andrew stopped on a particular page. “I love this one. What is it called?” He flashed the notebook toward Mallory and me.
Fluid lines smudged in a configuration of light and dark to create an outline of man was sketched on the white paper. It was good—really good. Hanging around Andrew, I was starting to realize everybody had a hidden talent like Matthew and his photography or Mallory and her charcoal drawings. I wonder what mine was. Grilled cheese artist?
“It’s called Man in Shadows,” Mallory said.
“I like that,” Andrew murmured.
She blushed crimson from head to toe. Finishing his assessment, Mallory wilted with relief.
“If you come tonight, I can introduce you to some people. They might be able to help organize a showing for your artwork,” Andrew generously offered. “I think you have a lot of raw untouched talent.”
I figured since Mallory’s personality border lined on shy, she would rather crawl into a hole then to let that happen, but once again she surprised me.
“Thank you so much. I would love that.”
“Great, then it’s settled. I’ll see you there.”
We said our goodbyes and Andrew and I exited into the bitter autumn air. He swung his arm over my shoulders, tucking my body against his.
“I’m glad you’re coming home with me. It was lonely there without you,” he said against my hair.
“I was gone for less than four hours.”
“Longest four hours of my life.”
Tipping my chin up, I met his eyes and grinned. “You are such a cheese ball.”
“You love it.”
I did love it more than I would have liked to admit. Andrew had the rare quality of wearing his emotions on his sleeve. Sometimes they weren’t ideal but you could always tell where you stood. Compared to the other guys I dated who’d played mind games, it was a breath of fresh air.
Andrew opened the car door. “After you, my lady.”
Climbing into the buttery leather seats, a sense of belonging washed over me. I belonged in this car with Andrew, heading home. Home. That was what Andrew’s loft was. The thought was paralyzing. What had happened to the barbed wire wrapped around my heart? It was supposed to be indestructible, yet Andrew had torn it down within three days. Before I could tip into a panic, the car roared to life.
“Do you have a dress for tonight?” Andrew wondered.
“I have a dress—whether it is appropriate is the real question.”
“What does it look like?”
My mind searched for the right description. “It looks like Minnie Mouse got into a catfight with a hooker.”
“Ha! I would love to see what that looks like.”
“I can model it for you when we get home.”
Andrew’s heated glance said he would like that very much. My inner thighs twitched in anticipation. Tonight my two-year dry spell would end and my orgasm reclaimed. Hallelujah. I grabbed my bag between my legs to search for a breath mint.
“Why did you have bruise marks?”
My eyes fell to the exposed skin on my right wrist where my jacket sleeve had ridden up. Big Ted had left behind faded black and blue impressions of his fingertips from our confrontation. Lying wasn’t an option—not with Andrew—not anymore.
“I had a run in with Big Ted the other day,” I said.
Contained anger crept into his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I guess because it would make it real. He has shed his skin and showed the monster hidden beneath. That monster wasn’t there when I was kid. Then again, it could have been and I had no idea.”
“He’s a drug dealer, Haven. He was never a saint.”
“Duh! But he shed light on things my mother did that I never thought she would.”
Andrew looked at me from the corner of his eye. “Like what?”
Fiddling with the tassel on my purse, embarrassment coursed through me. Being seen as a drug addict’s daughter was shameful enough. Andrew waited patiently for me to speak.
“My mom used her body to pay for drugs when she didn’t have money,” I said quietly. “Nothing mattered more than that sweet high.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t matter.”
Andrew flipped on the turn signal and coasted to the side of the road. I looked around, confused at what he was up to. He turned off the engine, unbuckled his seat belt and did the same for me.
“Get out,” Andrew ordered.
“Why?”
He ignored my questioning gaze and stepped out onto the busy highway. Cars zoomed past at dizzying speeds. A shallow river next to the guardrail stretched into a wide-open piece of land. An abounded house sat on the property, windows broken and the roof half collapsed. Andrew knocked on the passenger window then pointed to the house. He jumped over the guardrail like a gazelle, leaving me no other choice than to follow.
Andrew stood waiting for me at what used to be the front door, now a splintered board covered in moss. Old houses and their untold stories gave me the creeps.
I shivered and wrapped my arms around my waist. “What are we doing here?”
“This was my fort when I was a child. I lived a half a mile from here in the Pinecone development.”
The Pinecone development, known for its lavish houses, bright green lawns and large gold fountain at the entrance, screamed wealth. One year Monica, Sumiko, and I tainted the water of the fountain bright purple as a metaphorical middle finger.
“My fort when I was a child was a cardboard box until Billy, the homeless man claimed it as his. I couldn’t blame him. It was a really sweet box.” I said.
Andrew lips quivered as he held back a laugh. “You are so weird.”
“Weird is just another term for awesome, as Monica says.”
“She is onto something there. Do you want to see the rest of the house?”
I glanced at the dilapidated structure. It looked like a one room shack from the outside unless a basement was hidden below. Andrew shoved the door open and dust particles floated in the air. Coughing, my feet refused to budge from the tall grass. This was how every horror movie started out. Stupid girl walks into abounded house, finds a dead body, screams, and subsequently runs into serial killer who murders her with a butcher knife.
“You are crazy if you think I’m going to go in there with you.” I arched an eyebrow. “Is this like a metaphor for with ugliness blooms beauty?”
“Nope, I just wanted to show you a sliver of my childhood.” Off my befuddlement, Andrew explained further. “Since we met, there’s been more drama in my life than my twenty-five years of being alive.”
“Hey! You always had the choice to leave, still do.”
He stepped into my personal bubble, placing his hands on my hips. I sucked in a breath as he looked at me with unconcealed affection. “That’s the thing—I don’t want to leave. Me and you, baby, are in this together until the bloody end.”
Andrew’s use of the word baby made me giggle. “Did you just call me baby?”