She raises her brows and slowly sips from her coffee cup, leaning back against my desk and crossing her arms. “I thought you said Andre was completely apathetic toward the design and doesn’t ‘believe in home.’” She holds up dramatic air quotes, and I’m not sure if she’s making fun of Andre or me.
I double-check that I have all the forms and order sheets I need and swing my bag over my shoulder, wrinkling my nose as I brush past Desta. “We’re working on that.”
She follows me as I walk toward the door of the office, clearly refusing to let me leave without totally exhausting the topic of Andre Smoke. “Excuse me, missy.”
“Des, I’m late.”
She waves a hand. “I know that smirk. What’s that smirk? I know that smirk.”
I sigh and brush a strand of hair out of my face. “Okay. The other night, after we went to the bar…things got a little…” I lift a shoulder and feel a rush of heat to my cheeks.
“Spicy.” She sings the word.
“I really have to go. He said he could squeeze in this little design trip before practice later, and it’s his only free time the rest of the week.”
“Not the only thing he’ll be squeezing in?” She elbows me and gives an exaggerated wink. “Am I right?”
“You’re nasty,” I say on a laugh.
“One thing,” she begs, hopping between me and the exit. “Just give me one little detail to cling to.” She clutches her chest. “Not for me. For the baby.”
I level my gaze on my best friend, a smile pulling hard at my cheeks. “He said he’s into me, and he might want a ‘real deal.’ I spent the night, but nothing happened. Oh, and I told him I’m a virgin. Okay, bye!” I say quickly, rushing out the door and knowing I’m leaving her with a dropped jaw and a burning desire for more information.
I look over my shoulder as the office door is shutting. “I’ll give you the full story later, I promise.”
I shake my head and walk down to my car, that freaking smile as persistent as ever.
As I drive down the sun-baked roads, the warm light fills the car, and I try to force myself to think logically about Andre.
“Pull it together,” I whisper as I slow to a stop at a red light.
But everything in my body is practically screaming for him, and right now, I just don’t see how anyone else could possibly be right.
Sometimes I feel like I’ve put so much pressure on myself to have a “perfect” first time that it’s just horribly unrealistic. I should have just settled by now. Found someone nice and gotten it over with. But then I look at him…and a part of me, deep down, is really glad I’ve waited.
I puff out a sigh as I turn onto the road where our stoneworks warehouse is, wrestling with the conflicting emotions about Andre, but forcing myself to treat today just like any other day of choosing finishings with a client.
Except…it’s not.
Andre is already here, leaning against his money-dripping sports car and giving me a way-too-sexy jut of his chin.
The South Florida Riders T-shirt he’s wearing is pulled tight around his broad chest and ridiculous shoulders, and his black workout pants show off his junk enough to make my throat tighten.
“Hey, sorry I’m a little late.” I step out of my car and shield my eyes from the blistering sun, carrying my paperwork under my arm.
“Nah.” He lifts a shoulder and gives me a sweet smile. “I was just early.”
“Ah.” I brush my hair over my shoulder and laugh softly. “Just that excited to look at a hundred slabs of granite?”
“No…” He walks next to me as we head for the entrance of the huge, low, gray building and turns toward me, squinting in the morning sunlight. “I was excited to see you.”
I attempt to swallow the butterflies and ignore the front flips my heart is doing as he opens the door for me.
“So…” I gesture around, excited at the chance to share with him yet another piece of my job and myself. “This is a stoneworks warehouse. We pick out a lot of the major finishings for the home here. Counters, cabinets, tiles, flooring, even tubs and toilets.”
“I’ve never seen someone get so excited about…stone.” He chuckles and cocks his head. “It’s cute.”
Well, I guess Andre decided to bring his A game with the flirting today. I can’t say I’m complaining.
“Thanks.” I brush off the compliment and glance down at my papers. “Okay, so let’s start with the kitchen.” We wander through the maze of granite slabs and tile samples, all lined up and organized in an enormous, open space.
Echoes of voices bounce around the warehouse, and I watch Andre look around and take it all in.
“Is this just for design companies?” he asks, running his fingers along a piece of white quartz as we walk by. “Or can just anyone come here and pick out stuff for their house?”
I shrug. “It’s open to the public, but that’s assuming whoever’s doing the house has access to the tools and labor required to make these giant pieces of material into home finishings. Which generally requires a design and construction team.”
“And you’re a designer, right? I mean, I know you do everything, but that’s your actual job title?”
“Sort of. Desta’s technically the designer and decorator, and my official title is head contractor, although I mostly manage and delegate and make all the big, major design choices.”
“Okay.” He nods, smiling and holding my gaze with a burning interest.
I just can’t tell if that interest is in my job or in…me.
“So you choose what walls you want to tear down, and Desta chooses what color to paint the walls that are left when you’re done?”
I laugh and shake my head as we reach the center of the kitchen department. “To put it in really, really simple terms…yeah.”
He angles his head and keeps his eyes, more green than brown today, fixated on me. “You’re pretty impressive, you know that?”
Warmth swells in my chest, and I fight the urge to plant a kiss on his sweet lips.
I look skyward and smile, noticing that neither of us can help but inch closer to each other. “All right, Smoke. Countertops.” I stretch my arm out and point toward the long row of granite and quartz slabs, ranging dramatically in color, design, and price. “What feels like home to you?”
He chokes on a laugh and shoots me a look. “Kendall, whatever you think is gonna make your project win that contest, have at it. No one type of stone is gonna feel any more ‘homey’ than another type of stone.”
I purse my lips and sigh. “It’s my project for a month. It’s your house for…”
“Please, God, don’t say ‘forever.’” He holds up his hand and forces a laugh. “Come on, Kendall. That stuff might be appealing on HGTV, but you know better than anyone that a house is just a building. And in this case, the nicer you make that building look, the more successful this whole thing will be for you.”
My heartstrings tug, and I shut my eyes, reminding myself to treat Andre the way I’d treat any client. Which is completely impossible, considering I can still remember walking past my brother’s room that night all those years ago and seeing Andre wiping tears from his cheeks because his family’s house was gone.
“You’re wrong,” I say, the words coming out strong and certain and surprising me. “Andre, I know what happened. I remember. But just because something can be destroyed in a natural disaster doesn’t mean it isn’t worth loving.”
His steel gaze stares straight ahead. Looking past me, looking past…everything.
I hold my breath for a beat, keeping my eyes on him and watching that wall struggle to stay up.
Of course, I want all my clients to love their homes and be happy in them when I’m done with a renovation. That’s my entire driving force in my career. But with Andre…I want him to understand the beauty of what a home can actually feel like. I want him to feel something permanent and stable and real.
Without another word, he reaches over subtly and sl
ips my hand into his, lacing our fingers together and giving me a tight squeeze.
I try to stifle the sharp gasp of shock and joy that catches in my throat as the electric warmth of his hand jolts me.
I gather myself and keep my fingers locked with his.
“I like…” He draws out the words, pulling me slowly down the row of samples and studying each one. “Ooh!” He nods toward a charcoal granite. “The black.” He wiggles his brows. “That one’s sick.”
I give an easy laugh and relax into the moment, the feeling of his hand in mine becoming more natural every second. “I can dig the charcoal.” I touch the surface lightly with my unoccupied hand. “But it needs to pair with a lighter cabinet for sure.”
“But what if black cabinets feel more homey to me? Maybe I want black floors, too.” He jabs me lightly with his elbow, and I bump my body against his as we laugh, an airy giddiness swirling through my chest. “Or maybe…” He holds up a finger and wiggles his brows. “Everything in the house should be half black and half white. Like me. Now that’s personality.”
I laugh and shake my head in amusement. “We’ll go contemporary with a gray palette for sure. The house screams to be clean-cut and modern.” I swing our hands a little as we walk over to the wall of cabinet samples. “Desta will want splashes of color, though. She can’t stand a black, white, and gray house.”
“Desta strikes me as the type of person I don’t want to try and argue with,” he teases. “So splash away.”
“We’ll make it good, I promise.”
He faces me and narrows his electrifying gaze, drawing me closer and giving my hand a squeeze. “Oh, I know you will. I trust you, Kendall.”
I look down at my white tennis shoes, thinking about the other night as a flood of embarrassment tightens my chest. “Because I’m so brutally honest, right?”
He touches my chin gently and lifts it to raise my head up so my eyes meet his. “Something like that.”
“I’m glad there’s no…” I search for the word and force myself to keep his gaze, even though the underlying topic of my virginity still makes me want to find a hole, crawl in it, and stay there for eternity. “Weirdness,” I finish.
“I’m too chill for weirdness, Kendall.” He hits me with a classic dazzling Andre grin and turns back toward the cabinets.
“How about the dove-gray shaker?” I point to one. “It would bring out the accents in the darker quartz countertop and stay consistent with the modern feel.”
“Damn, I see it. That’s dope.” The genuine enthusiasm in his voice makes me smile and hold his hand tighter.
“Yeah, well, that’s why they pay me the big bucks,” I joke, forced to drop his hand so I can jot down the serial number of the cabinets on an order form.
We spend the next hour laughing and talking and picking out stone and tile and materials for The Esplanade House, hand in hand.
No weirdness. No embarrassment or awkwardness. Just an overwhelming crush yanking at my heart that seems to grow every second. And I’m starting to believe Andre Smoke has a crush on me, too.
Fourteen
Kendall
“Yes.” I clasp my hands together and step back, admiring the flawless contrast of charcoal quartz and dove-gray cabinets as Johnny drills in the last screws. “It works even better than I pictured.”
“What a freaking kitchen,” Desta squeals, grinning widely beside me. “It’s modern without being frigid, sleek without trying too hard, Floridian without being aggressively tropical. And it still has all the original character of the house.”
I draw in a slow breath, running my finger along the shiny counter and feeling a little extra proud of myself. “It’s the perfect kitchen. Down to the oil-rubbed bronze for the handles.”
“I am so totally itching for an accent wall.” Desta walks over to the big, eat-in table next to a massive picture window showing the ocean view. “Across from the water view. Some color, some life. Movement. I’m thinking wallpaper.”
I consider this and study the space, glancing down at the color palette noted on my iPad. “I could be talked into that. As long as it stays consistent with the—”
“Holy shit.” Andre’s low, hearty laugh echoes through the kitchen and makes me jump a little.
I whip around quickly, meeting his gaze. “You’re not supposed to see it yet!”
“Sorry, sorry.” He holds up his hands to shield his eyes and smiles, backing out of the room. “It looks so awesome, Kendall. Can’t wait to see the finished product.”
The space is filled with the sounds of banging hammers and buzzing drills, the low hum of progress and change.
“Go talk to him,” Desta mouths dramatically, glaring at me.
I glance back toward the entrance of the kitchen, where Andre is just out of sight.
I frown at her and roll my eyes. “I’m working.”
“It’s after eight. Jackson and I will round up the guys, and we can pick this up in the morning.” She gives my back a firm push, making my feet slide on the tarp on the floor. “Now go.”
I reluctantly walk out of the room, looking over my shoulder a few times to make sure everything’s okay. I like to triple-check everything on the jobsite before the crew leaves for the night, but my burning desire to see Andre quickly yells at me that Desta and Jackson will handle it just fine.
“Hey, wait a sec.” I speed-walk down the hallway to catch up with him.
His eyes seem to light up a little when he turns to see me. His white tank top looks like he’s been sweating a bit and clings to the sharp cuts of his muscles. “Hey, Miss Perfect. That’s one hell of a kitchen.”
“It’s not even done yet.” I kick at the tarp under my feet, trying to straighten it so it’s not bunched up against the wall. “But…” A wide smile tugs at my cheeks. “It does look really amazing, doesn’t it?”
“You guys are gonna crush that contest.” He steps closer to me, his forehead glinting with sweat and his eyes glinting with…desire. “And it’s all thanks to me.” He winks playfully.
“Andre Smoke. Savior of the South Florida Riders and my company. Is there anything you can’t do?” I angle my head sarcastically and give in to the aching need to place my hand on his solid chest.
“Doubt it. I’m a man of many talents.” His voice is husky and low, sending chills through my body and down to my toes.
He dips his head low, inching closer and radiating heat.
Something loud crashes and bangs in the kitchen, and I flinch a little. I turn my head toward the noise, but keep my eyes locked with his. “I should probably…”
He cups my cheek and turns my head back to him. “They’ll handle it.”
I smile and relax a little, letting my shoulders soften and leaning against his strong grasp. “How do you do that?”
He narrows his eyes. “Do what?”
“Make me just…” I wave a hand dismissively. “Forget. Let go of whatever problem needs to be solved or thing needs to be fixed. I spend my life trying to make everything perfect, and with one little touch of your hand, you convince me I don’t have to.”
He juts his chin, studying my face and half smiling in that sinful Smoke way. “Kendall…you don’t have to try to make anything perfect. Perfection just follows you around.”
We hold each other’s gazes for an extra beat. I hear the sounds of the crew packing up and piling everything into their trucks to call it a night, but the activity sounds faint and feels distant.
“Hey, lovebirds.” Desta’s voice surprises me, but the little teasing twinkle in her eye doesn’t. “We’re all out of here for the night.”
“Okay!” I slip away from Andre and instinctively fix my hair and brush off my shirt. “And everything’s closed up?”
“Yep,” Desta asserts.
“Did you make sure Johnny tightened all the handle screws? He’d left them loose in case I changed my mind.”
“Screws are tightened.” She nods and gives me a look.
&nb
sp; “Okay, and the flooring samples need to be here tomorrow, so Derek needs to get a hold of—”
“Shh.” She touches her finger to my lips, and from the corner of my eye, I see Andre’s shoulders shake with a soft laugh. “Everything is taken care of.”
I nod slowly and take a deep breath. “Right. Okay, well, I’m just gonna…” I glance at Andre, who is entirely too amused by me right now.
“See you tomorrow.” Desta sings the words as she bounces away, giving me a not-so-subtle wink over her shoulder as she swings open the front door.
The door clicks shut, and I look at Andre, feeling a swell of excitement and warmth the moment we’re alone.
“We did some work on the secret room today,” I say.
He raises his brows in surprise. “Well, shit. That’s my favorite room in the house. What were you waiting for?”
“Come on.” I nod toward the long hallway that leads into the study, feeling the plastic and tarp crunching under my sneakers as we walk through the house.
Andre walks behind me, dramatically fanning the air in front of his face. “So much dust. How can you stand all the dust all over everything? I’m a slob compared to you, and it drives me nuts.”
“Because.” I turn to him as we reach the empty study. “It’s a byproduct of transformation. It means progress is happening. Actually…” I hold up a finger and arch a brow, tapping his chest for another little feel of the hard muscle. “I love the dust. So long as it all gets cleaned up at the end.”
He shakes his head as he pulls the lever on the trick bookshelf to get into the secret room. “You truly are one of a kind, Kendall Collins.”
I try to ignore the jolt of giddiness that comment sends rippling through my chest as we walk into the safe room.
“So…” I hold my hands out and gesture toward the wall. “We’ve actually put exposed brick on the walls so it’s not so cold and harsh with the concrete. And we’ll furnish it, of course. Probably a big sectional on that wall over there.”
Rough Ride Page 10