Love Stung (Shower & Shelter Artist Collective Book 5)

by Brooke St. James

  "I'm glad you told me," Macy said. She reached out and lovingly shook my thigh in a gesture to let me know she was there for me. I offered her a sad smile, and she returned the expression. "I'm your sister, Tab."

  My face was flaming hot, and I held the backs of my fingers on it just to try to cool my cheeks. "I know, and if there's anyone I feel like I could tell, it would be you. It's humiliating, though, Mace. You wouldn't understand. You and I are different people. You're getting married to someone whose literally rich and famous. You're in a little different situation than a single mom who's pretending to be into her boss even though she doesn't even like him."

  "The fact that you don't like him lets me know that he's taking advantage of you."

  "Yeah, but I'm letting him. It's not like he's got a gun to my head."

  "He might as well," she said. "He knows your livelihood and your health insurance hang in the balance."

  "Yeah, but it's not like he's even threatening me with those things," I said. "He just started acting like he liked me, and I felt too guilty to not act as if I liked him back."

  "Tab, I hear what you're saying, and I see how it seems that way to you right now since you're in the midst of it, but honestly, you need to stop making excuses for this guy. I'm your sister, and I know you well enough to know you're too nice sometimes. You hate confrontation so much that sometimes you get yourself into predicaments."

  I felt even more embarrassed at her words. "Like I said, it's my fault. If I don't have the strength to stand up for myself, then I deserve the situation I'm in."

  "You need to stop," Macy said. "You need to take a step back. Count to ten. Breathe."

  We were silent for what must have been a full minute after that.

  "You know what? No harm done," Macy said finally. "Seriously. He's a creep. It took you until now to realize it. You needed to speak up, and now you're speaking up. Onward and upward from here."

  "I'm not speaking up about anything," I said. "I'm doing my best to forget about it and convince myself that will be the last time it ever happens. I really do hate myself."

  "I don’t understand why you're so—"

  "He's married," I said.

  "He's what?"

  "Married. He has a wife and kids." I stared at the ceiling and hot tears rolled down the side of my face. I sighed. "I mean, I feel like I did my best to discourage him in the beginning, but he just liked me so much I would have straight-up hurt his feelings if I said anything." I covered my face with my hands. "I hate myself," I said. "I wish I could just turn back time."

  "I could tell something's been bothering you," she said.

  I sighed. "I only have to see him once or twice a week, so I just try to put it out of my head in between times. Today was the worst it's ever been, though. And it makes it even more frustrating that he keeps making me fire my staff."

  "He's trying to keep you at work so you can't have a life," she said. "He's a sick-o."

  "Well, I guess I'm even worse than him for not seeing it—for just letting him have his way," I said.

  "No, you're not. You're a victim here, Tabitha."

  "I wouldn't go that far."

  "You're sitting on the couch, crying."

  "I hate him. I really do. Maybe I am a victim."

  "You're not working there anymore, that's all I know."

  "Yes, I am," I said. "I don't really have a choice. At least until I find something else. I have too many responsibilities."

  "And he knows that. That's why the jerk did what he did. He's such a jerk. I should tell Ethan about it. He probably knows some actor who could play a thug and go scare him or something."

  "Don't tell Ethan," I said. "I should have been stronger."

  "You are strong. That's why it hasn't gone further than this."

  I let out a little laugh. "No kidding. It's all I can do to keep him at arm's length without totally hurting his feelings."

  "You need to stop worrying about his feelings," she said. "Go ahead and hurt them."

  "I hate confrontation," I said. "And then I think about how his wife would feel if she knew what he was…" I trailed off, feeling disgusted with myself.

  "You got a headache, Mama?"

  I heard Isabel's sleepy voice from the doorway that led to my bedroom, and I glanced in that direction to find her standing there, holding her stuffed bear as she squinted into the light. I instantly sprang off of the couch, heading in her direction without so much as a backward glace at Macy. I was so relieved to see my little angel awake, that I scooped her up, burying my face into her tiny neck as I held her and walked toward our bed at the same time. The room was dark, a fact for which I was glad because it masked my tearstained face. I positioned Isabel in her spot, and covered her up before climbing into the bed on top of the covers. I snuggled up to her, smiling and running my fingers through the loose curls that framed her face.

  "Do you have a headache?" she asked sleepily.

  I kissed her forehead. "No," I whispered. "I'm just tired from a long day at work."

  "Why was you cwying?"

  "From happiness," I whispered.

  "Because Aunt Macy is mawwying Efan?" she asked.

  "Uh-huh," I said, still stroking her hair, and feeling thankful that I got to see her awake one more time before I went to sleep.

  "Hey, Mom?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I wuv you."

  "I love you, too, Izzybizzy," I whispered. I kissed her again—right on the tip of her nose.

  She smiled. "And Mom?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I need you to make anothew one for that man Dwake since he needs one with a camewa."

  "Another one what?"

  "One for Dwake. With a camewa."

  "You lost me, Izzybee. I think you're dreaming. Are you talking about Aunt Macy's friend?"

  She giggled. "I'm not dweaming. I weally told him a pwomise you'd make him one of those dolls. He said if you can, to make one with a camewa because he woves camewas."

  "Are you talking about me making another doll?"

  She nodded without taking her head off of the pillow. "Fow Dwake."

  "Drake?"

  She nodded. "He said he loves youw dolls so much, and he would give you five hundwed dollaws for a Dwake doll with a camewa, so I told him a pwomise that I would tell you to make him one, okay?" She looked at me with an intense expression like the whole thing was weighing heavily on her mind. Her eyes were really pleading with me. "He weally needs it, and I pwomised, okay?"

  "Okay," I said.

  "And don't wowwy, because he will give you five hundwed dollars."

  "He said that?" I asked.

  She nodded. "And, don't wowwy, he will be a nice man to you." She meant it as a general statement, but I couldn’t help but find a little humor in it—or irony, or whatever you want to call it. After the day I had, I wasn't sure nice men existed.

  "I'm glad he'll be a nice man," I said. "Because I don't make dolls for just anybody."

  Drake had obviously seen the dolls I had just finished for Macy and her soon-to-be groom, Ethan. I had made the Macy doll years before, but when they decided to get married, I made one for Ethan along with all the wedding garb to go with them. They were roughly twelve inches tall and were mostly made of wool for felting and fabric, but I worked with all sorts of materials. I liked to take my time with the dolls and use high-quality components, so five hundred dollars was the very least I could charge and still make even close to as much as I did hourly at Patterson & Ray.

  "I hope you didn't promise him I'd do it right away," I said, thinking about work and how I might be busy with starting a new job soon.

  "I know you don't want to make anothew doll after Efan's," she said, seeing my look of concern. "But you will do it for Dwake. I just know you will. He's handsome fow you."

  I screwed my face up in a silly expression. "Handsome?" I whispered, causing her to giggle. "Did you just say he was handsome? Where'd you even learn that word, you silly goose?" />
  Isabel giggled at my shock. "You will know it is Dwake when you see him, silly."

  "I will know what is Drake?" I asked.

  "The pewson you need to make the doll fow."

  "I think you need to get some rest, my little angel."

  She smiled and blinked sleepily. "You pwomise?"

  "Promise what? That I'll make that guy a doll?"

  She nodded. "Dwake."

  "I guess I do promise," I said. "If it means that much to you, I'll talk to him and find out if he really wants one."

  "He does," she said. "He told me he wants one."

  "I'll do it," I said. Oddly enough, it seemed like it really meant a lot to her. I could tell she woke up thinking about it, and now that I had promised, she was able to relax. "Get some rest, okay?"

  She yawned and nodded, letting her eyes close.

  I stared at her angelic face for what must have been three or four minutes before she started breathing in a relaxed, rhythmic way that let me know she was asleep. I thought about how I would attack any man who put her in a position like J.R. had put me in, and it was that exact thought that let me know just how blind I had been. I had to stand up for myself. I had to quit Patterson & Ray, even if it meant making J.R. angry—even if it meant moving back to Connecticut and starting over.

  I kissed her forehead and headed back into the living room.

  Macy was still sitting on the couch.

  "You'll be moving in with Ethan once you're married," was the first thing I said when I saw her.

  She nodded. We had already talked about me staying in the apartment and Isabel taking Macy's bedroom once she moved out.

  "So, maybe it's good timing," I said. "Maybe all this is a sign that I should just move back home with Mom and Dad. You know, start over."

  "Just do me a favor, Tabby, and take a day to think about all this. You don't have to go moving back home with Mom and Dad just because some guy harassed you at work."

  Chapter 3

  Drake

  Drake Salinger was one of New York's hottest up-and-coming photographers. He was a graduate of Columbia, but he built his business on a huge social media following through his unique portrait photography. He started at the bottom, and with hard work and dedication, he was now one of the most sought-after photographers in New York. While there was something to be said for hard work, dedication, and talent, it couldn't hurt that Drake was extremely easy on the eyes. He also carried himself with a relaxed demeanor that put his clients in the type of mood that made them pose for great photographs. His portraits were compelling yet playful. They were artsy yet approachable. Drake loved reflecting the heart of his subject in their expression, and he was good at doing it. He was a true professional when it came to capturing portraits—a skilled craftsman who loved his medium.

  Macy was thinking about the photos Drake had taken for her wedding invitations as she stepped inside his studio. It was a beautifully decorated room. It had an open feel but was clearly sectioned off into different areas with a vast array of backdrops, furniture, and props. Macy had been in a few photo studios in her day, but none like Drake's. She couldn't help but smile as she looked around. She remembered the scene where her soon-to-be husband was acting silly and then serious for Drake's camera. She got butterflies just thinking about him.

  "Macy." Drake's deep voice penetrated the silence, causing Macy to jump. "I'm sorry," Drake said. He and Macy converged in the center of the studio, and he took the object that was in her hand before offering her a sideways hug. He was a big guy, so Macy playfully gave him a couple of hard slaps on the back of his ribs when they embraced. He smiled at her. "This is awesome," he said, staring at the object he'd taken out of her hand. It was a custom-made egg-shaped tiny bassinette that Drake had made for some newborn portraits. He hired Macy to paint it so that it looked like it was an actual egg. "I love it," he continued. "I'm glad we went with brown."

  "I am too," Macy said.

  "I can change it in Photoshop if I want to experiment with other colors." The egg was heavy, but Drake held it up to inspect Macy's paint job—the way she painted sections of tiny speckles that made it look just like a real egg.

  "I sanded it a little right here so it would look more like it had cracked open," Macy said.

  Drake touched it and stared like he thought it was the most interesting thing. "It's perfect," Drake said.

  "It was your idea," she said.

  "Yeah, but you made it come to life."

  That comment led them into a whole conversation about Brian, the guy who had fabricated the little egg-shaped wonder. He was a mutual friend of theirs, and they spoke about him for a few minutes. Macy's art was all about painting found objects, and she told Drake about a few things she wanted Brian to make for her.

  Drake had some cash set aside for Macy's efforts with the egg, so she followed him back to his office as they wrapped up their conversation. They were in his office when she got a text from her sister. Macy had been expecting the text, so she took her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans right when she heard the sound of the notification. She sighed and then smiled as she stared at the screen.

  "It's my sister," Macy said, with some relief in her tone. "She's asking me to come up to her work and get my niece, which is a good sign."

  "Why's that a good sign?" Drake asked.

  Macy seemed a little shaken up, which made Drake regard her with a concerned expression.

  "She brought Isabel to work with her today because her creep boss was gonna be in the store, and she didn't want him to—" Macy stopped talking and regarded Drake with a regretful expression. "Actually, I don't know if she would want me telling you any of this," she said. "It's my sister's business. She's trying to get him to write a reference letter before she quits that place, and she swears she's not in any danger. She's a grown woman, and I know she's doing what she's got to do. I just worry about her, you know?"

  "No, I don't know," Drake said. "I'm not sure I understood what you just said. Is your sister in trouble?"

  "She's got this creep, jerk for a boss who tries to hit on her or whatever, but she's worked her way up at Patterson, and she can't just up and quit… at least she doesn't think she can. She blames herself for this whole thing with her boss, which is totally wrong."

  Macy paused and smiled at Drake as if to say she was sorry for saying more than he wanted to hear.

  "Are you saying she takes the little girl to work with her because she's scared of her boss?" Drake asked, wearing a confused expression.

  "Basically," she said. "It's only been a few days since she told me about it. I wanted her to quit right then, but she insists that she can't do that."

  "What'd that guy say about her taking the little girl to work?" Drake asked. "How'd he feel about that?"

  "It's the first time she did that," Macy said. "Isabel didn't have school since it's Saturday, and Tabitha thought she could get away with taking her in. I think she told him the babysitter fell through. Either way, he must be gone now if she's asking me to pick up Izzy. That's a relief."

  Drake regarded Macy with a skeptical expression. "Let me get this straight," he said. "Your sister works at a clothing store, right?"

  Macy nodded.

  "And her boss makes her feel so uncomfortable that she has to take her little girl to work?"

  "It's temporary," Macy said. "She just wants to stick around long enough to get a good recommendation from him. She thinks if she doesn't end things on good terms that she'll have to move back home and start from scratch. I'd hate to see her do that. She's worked really hard."

  Drake stared at Macy with a serious and unreadable expression. "Is this the one who made the dolls?"

  Macy nodded.

  "I wanted to meet her anyway," Drake said with a shrug.

  "What's that mean? Are you going up there with me?"

  "I'll ride with you to pick up your niece. I wanted to meet your sister anyway—maybe talk to her about making me one of those d
olls."

  "In the market for a doll, Drake?" Macy said, giggling at the irony of a big guy asking for such a thing.

  "Yep," he said. "I'm secure enough in my manhood to admit that I want a doll. I officially want a doll."

  Macy knew he was joking around, and she punched his shoulder. "I love her creations, too. It's just neat to see what she comes up with to represent you. It's like having your caricature done."

  "I know. I loved yours and Ethan's. I seriously think she could do that for a business if she wanted to."

  Macy sighed and shrugged. "I'm cool with you coming and everything, but I'm warning you, Tab's stressed with work right now. I know Isabel asked her about making one for you, but I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't commit to anything until she gets her own stuff straightened out."

  "I'm not worried about the doll," Drake said. "I'm more curious about her work situation."

  "She made me promise not to interfere," Macy said. "I probably shouldn't have even told you. She wants to handle it. She's got some sort of plan about getting a letter of recommendation from the guy who used to be the district manager before J.R."

  "His name's J.R.?"

  "J.R. Granger."

  "Sounds like a park ranger." Drake said.

  "Not quite. Tabitha said he wears jeggings."

  "What are jeggings?" Drake asked.

  Macy squinted at him. He was a fashion photographer, for goodness sake. She knew he knew what jeggings were. "You know what jeggings are."

  "Maybe, but it's better if I don't admit it," Drake said. "And wearing them is completely out of the question. It makes me want to punch that guy even more."

  "Well, it's a good thing he's not going to be there because Patterson & Ray has a strict no fist-fights policy."

  "Oh, come on," Drake said, popping his knuckles and stretching his neck. "I've always wanted to be a vigilante. This'll help me get my feet wet."

  She laughed at him. "Sorry, but you're not starting your vigilante quest on my sister's behalf," Macy said. "I promised I'd butt out and let her take care of it." She shrugged. "But you can still come with me to pick up Izzy if you want."