Control You

by Snyder, Jennifer

  “Yeah.” She shook her head and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen free from her ponytail behind her ear. “I can’t decide. I know I want the place to be vintage looking, but that’s about it.” She held out the swatches and I took them.

  There were ocean blues, turquoise colors, and pale yellows. None of them really went together in my opinion, but I wasn’t her and this wasn’t my shop.

  “Which one do you like best?” There was a heavy level of interest laced within her words; it made me smile because my opinion mattered to her.

  “I like the blues.” I held them out to her. “If you’re going with a vintage look, you could always grunge them up a bit and they’d still stand out, whereas you might lose that with the yellow tones.”

  “Wow.” The shock in her voice made me bring my eyes to hers. “You really know your stuff.”

  “I guess.” I smiled. “I’ve been doing some remodeling lately of my own. Plus, I lived with Craig’s family for years and his mom’s an interior decorator.”

  She shook a finger at me. “Ah, so you’ve been soaking up her secrets.”

  “Something like that.” I glanced around the room, because if I continued to look into her eyes, the temptation to kiss her that slipped through me the second she’d stepped a little closer might overtake me. “So, you’ve got your paint down—have you got a name for the place?”

  “I do.” The excitement in her voice was infectious. “Paige’s Closet. There’s going to be a whole vintage closet theme going on inside.” Her hands waved around as she said the words.

  Paige’s Closet. I’d have to remember that. “Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out.”

  “I’ve been brainstorming for days.” She walked into the back room and came out a second later holding a notebook. “These are the ideas we have. What do you think?”

  I took the notebook from her. My fingertips brushed against hers in the process and chills slipped along my spine. Paige shivered and sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, letting me know she felt exactly what I had. Fighting the hint of a smile that wanted to twist at my lips—because I loved what I was doing to her—I skimmed over her sketches and taped up cutouts from magazines she’d secured in place.

  “You draw?” This little tidbit about her surprised me. It was something we had in common, but was also something I wasn’t about to admit. Not right now anyway.

  “Oh, um, just a little.” She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Not like people or anything, pretty much just shapes.”

  Flipping through the pages, I soon came to realize she had an amazing idea for this store. If her parents backed out, this was something I could see myself investing in. “I really like the theme you have going on here. What have your parents said about it all?”

  “Thanks, and nothing really.” She fiddled with her fingers and dropped her eyes to the cheap carpet we were standing on. “I haven’t mentioned much to them about it. I wanted to create a portfolio for them to review at our next brunch first. I have this kind of slap it all on them at once theory I plan to use.”

  “Good idea.” I handed the notebook back to her. “I think the best idea you have is the racks. Seeing the end caps on them, made to look as though the shopper were flipping through someone’s closet, gives it a unique feel. Very creative.”

  “The goal there was to make the customers feel as though they’re at a friend’s house browsing through their clothes.”

  I nodded. “I could see that being the vibe of the place. Listen, if this thing with your parents doesn’t pan out, let me know. I’d love to go in on this with you as a silent investor.”

  “Really?” Her eyebrows drew together as though she thought I was pulling her leg.

  “Really.”

  “Awesome, thank you,” she muttered in a low tone, all breathy and hot. “I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

  “You know where to find me.” I turned and exited the shop, figuring that was a good note to leave the conversation on, and deciding the way she was looking at me was not helping to ease the temptation of pulling her to me and tasting her lips.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  PAIGE

  After mulling over the ideas Cameron had put into my head, and daydreaming for way too long about what the place would look like once I set all of my stuff up inside, I finally decided it was time to head home. I’d just flipped off the light in the back room when my cell chimed. It was a text from Craig.

  I’ve been hoping you’d be willing to give me another shot. Doesn’t look like it’s going to happen though. Are we over now?

  I didn’t respond right away. Instead, I remained rooted in place, standing in the center of my shop, staring at my phone, rattled by his choice of words. He was flat-out asking if we were over. For whatever reason, this nearly made me cry. Craig hadn’t sent me any messages all day, nor had he called. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about him until now. I guess that was my answer; now I just needed to find the right words to say it.

  The door to the shop opened, startling me, and in walked Craig. “Well, aren’t you even going to reply? You just going to leave me hanging?” A hint of a smile hung on his face, but there was a tightness to his tone.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I watched him take a few more steps into the shop. What was he doing here?

  I held my phone up. “I was just thinking about how to respond.”

  He sauntered closer to where I stood and I noticed his slight smile dip. “It’s a simple question, Paige. There’s no reason for the answer to be as difficult as you’re making it seem.”

  “You haven’t tried to get a hold of me today, so I thought…” I trailed off, not wanting to say what I’d actually been thinking. My shoulders grew tense with every step closer to me he took. My stomach became rock hard. I was scared of him. This realization made my thoughts grow fuzzy and my heart race even faster. “I just, I don’t think…” I rubbed my hand over my forehead and let out a nervous sigh.

  My throat constricted and I couldn’t think of the right words to say. Breaking up with someone face-to-face was hard to do when you weren’t angry with the person for something.

  “Have you gotten all my flowers and stuff?” His question came out rushed, as though he was trying to get a few words in before what he was expecting to hear flew from my lips. “You haven’t said anything about them. I’ve been wondering if you’d received them at all.” He shrugged and crammed his hands into his front pockets.

  My heart dropped to my toes. This was Craig, not a serial killer. He’d been trying to apologize and I’d blown him off. “I did. They were lovely. I’m sorry I haven’t called or texted to thank you and hear you out. I just needed some time,” I admitted.

  This was true, but that time apart had been the deciding factor as well. I knew the relationship between us was over. Today and my lack of thinking about him had made that clear to me.

  Craig crossed his arms over his chest and shifted on his feet. The light glinting off his face made him appear tense and worked up by my words, but maybe that was my paranoia creeping back in to play tricks on my mind. There was a shadow of a bruise along his jawline, and I wondered who’d put it there—Cameron?

  “Time, right. I get it.” His shoulders hunched forward, and an expression I’d never seen before flitted across his face. I couldn’t decide if he was feeling remorseful for what he’d done, or if he was trying too hard to appear that way. “Listen, I know what I did was wrong. I was drunk and not thinking properly. I fully admit that, but please, can’t we work through this?”

  Flickers of how I’d felt during the situation with him at the party flashed through me with as much potency as before. “You were drunk, but that isn’t a reason or excuse for what you did.” I wanted to press further with what I was saying, but noticed Craig’s hands ball into fists at his sides and begin to beat against his thighs.

  The fear of him I’d felt earlier came rushing back full force.

  “You’re
right. I shouldn’t have used those terms. I’m just trying to explain to you that who you saw that night isn’t me. It never has been. We’ve been together for a few months now, and you have to admit you’ve never seen me like that before. I let my jealousy get the best of me and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  I stared at him, waiting to see if he’d stop pounding his fist into the side of his thigh. When he realized what I was staring at, he stopped and softened his features before his eyebrows squished together and his mouth dipped into a frown.

  “You’re looking at me like you’re scared of me or something.”

  “Maybe that’s because I sort of am.” I couldn’t keep the words in. They flew from my lips in a guilty admission as though I were possessed. Craig’s eyes flashed and I waited with a pounding heart, wondering what he’d say to me next.

  He rubbed his hands over his face and then stepped forward, erasing the distance between us, and cupped my face between his palms. I nearly flinched at his touch. “Don’t be. Please, Paige, understand that I didn’t mean it. I swear.” His eyes locked with mine, the honey brown in them blazing with warmth and sincerity.

  I searched his face for any trace of dishonesty, but found none. My gaze dropped to the bruising along his jaw. It had a yellowish tint and was faded around the edges. Maybe whatever Cameron had done to him that night had made him realize the severity of his actions. Maybe it had bettered him. I could only hope.

  “Nothing like that will ever happen again. I promise,” he whispered.

  The intensity in his eyes was captivating. No one had ever looked at me the way he was right now—so completely broken and as though my decision to be with him was a life or death situation—and in that moment, I believed him. Jealousy could be a dangerous emotion. I knew this. Craig must have seen the acceptance to his plea in my eyes, because in the next instant, his lips were pressed against mine and I was waiting for him to touch me the way he used to.

  I lost myself in the feel of his lips against mine, warm and featherlight. When I opened my mouth so that he would be tempted to deepen the kiss, I realized what I was doing. I’d been about to break things off with him for good, until he’d kissed me. Just because he was a damn good kisser was no reason to stay with him. It was a plus, but not a reason, I scolded myself.

  “Craig.” I pulled back and forced some space between us. “I don’t think—”

  “A second chance, Paige, that’s all I’m asking for. I screwed up,” he cut me off. “I’m well aware of that. And while I’m not trying to diminish what I did to you in any way, I still can’t help but feel like you’re making a bigger deal out of this than it should be.”

  I flinched at his words. Was he right? Was I making a big deal about this? While I had been known to be melodramatic at times, he’d physically hurt me. I opened my mouth to say so, but he cut me off before I could start.

  “Please, give me another shot at this—at us.” His eyes shifted between mine as though they were searching for what I would say before I said it. “Please.”

  The tremor in his voice stabbed at my heart. I’d never made a guy cry before, but I wondered if that was where Craig was headed. His eyes were glistening in the dim light that filled my shop and his brows were drawn together in a desperate way.

  While my brain was telling me he’d already had his chance and blew it, my heart was pleading with me not to crush him any more than he already was. “Okay.”

  “That’s a yes, right?” His brows furrowed even more and a boyish look swept across his face.

  A small smile twisted at my lips. “Yes.”

  I’d give him a second chance, because he seemed genuine in his apology, but I prayed he would be worth it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CAMERON

  I folded the skinny jeans in my hands and chuckled. “How do you fit in these? Don’t your legs feel like they’re lacking circulation when you wear them?”

  Eva shot me a go-to-hell look. “Are you calling me fat?”

  Placing the jeans on top of the other pairs I’d managed to fold, I laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, I know, but you walked right into that one. And, no, they don’t cut off my circulation. They’re stretchy.”

  “Stretchy, right, and that makes them seem to fit better? Some women need to realize that just because an article of clothing is made of stretchy material it doesn’t necessarily make them look good in it.” I picked the jeans back up and held them out to her. “Here, go try these on and let me make sure you don’t fall into that category.”

  She smacked me across the chest. “Shut up. You know if anyone should be giving someone hell, it should be me giving you hell. I mean, you’re folding laundry on a Thursday night with me. Since when did you become so domesticated?” She grinned.

  I pursed my lips together; she was right. It was Thursday night and I had nothing better to do besides stay at her place and help fold her freaking laundry. What the hell was the world coming to?

  “Yeah, well, I could be asking you the same thing, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call me sweetheart. You know how much I hate your little pet names,” she grumbled. “And you know why I’m home. The loser I chose this time was just that, a loser. What’s your excuse?” She arched an eyebrow at me.

  “I’m a recovering addict; becoming a homebody is logically my next step. If I don’t cut myself off from fun, I might relapse.” I was kidding, slightly. The last week or so had been tough, and thoughts of using to escape the mental anguish I’d found myself in had been tempting.

  “Not funny.” Eva frowned.

  “I wasn’t trying to be.”

  “How are the renovations going?” It was a pointed change of subject, but I wasn’t so sure Eva had fully thought out the direction she was steering the conversation. “You haven’t said anything about it lately. Did you get the cabinets in this week?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, cabinets are in. Things are going smoothly. I’ve learned money truly holds the power to get shit done when you want it to. The contractor I hired to oversee the job has really had his guys busting stuff out. At this rate, I think I might be out of your hair before Halloween.”

  She tossed the shirt she’d been folding down onto the couch, and placed a hand on her hip. “You know that’s not why I was asking. I don’t mind you staying here, Cam, not at all. In fact, it’s been kind of nice having you around. This is the longest you’ve stayed in town since I’ve known you.”

  It truly was. I’d been in town for a little over three weeks now. That had to be some sort of record for me. Some days I wanted to pack up what little I owned and head out into the unknown again, while others all I wanted was to wake up in a place I could call home.

  “And to think, all this is because of that girl, Paige.” Eva flashed me a knowing smirk.

  I shook my head and grinned. “Nope. Generally, you read too much into things, but this time, Miss Bennett, you’re way off. I’m just tired of living the lonely nomad lifestyle is all. It has nothing to do with Paige.”

  Sadness flashed in her exotic eyes, and I knew she was focusing on one word and one word only—lonely. Eva was lonely too. I dropped my stare to the T-shirt of hers I held in my hand. A lacy thong was twisted in it. Carefully, I tugged it free and flung it at her with a smile. “Sexy little thing.”

  She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Anyway…”

  “Let’s head to the bar after this and see who can snag the most numbers for the night,” I challenged her, grabbing up another item to fold.

  “God, how long has it been since we’ve done that?” she balked.

  “Too damn long.” I grinned.

  Eva held out her hand and met my stare. “I’m game if you are.”

  “Oh, I’m game.” I set down the pair of tiny sleep shorts I’d been folding and shook her hand.

  “So what’s on the table?”

  Rubbing my chin, I thought
for a moment. I could make it real interesting; there were loads of bets I’d love to see Eva lose. But this was Eva and I couldn’t bring myself to make some sort of perverted bet with her—no matter how much fun seeing her streak around her apartment complex would be. “Money, loser pays the winner one hundred bucks.”

  “One hundred bucks, huh? I could use some new fall clothes. You’re on.”

  “Let’s do this, then.” I grinned.

  * * * *

  Shooters was my type of place. It was where Eva and I had first met, and the place I frequented every time I was in town for my papers. There was something about the energy lingering there. It was as though it were alive. It filled me up and got me high in a sense, which made it the type of fix I always needed when I was feeling out of sorts.

  I put my cigarette out before moving to hold the door open for Eva. She smiled as she walked past me.

  “You ready to lose, Mr. Green?”

  The wicked gleam in her eyes excited me. Damn, I missed these days with her, days when it was strictly flirty fun and nothing serious or deep.

  “Oh, got some confidence, huh?”

  She flung her long hair over her shoulder. “Damn right. I didn’t wear this skirt to not reel in some numbers.”

  I shifted my gaze to her long, beautifully toned legs, and chuckled. “You’re right. I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.”

  We walked to the bar and sat, ready to order our first drink. This was our ritual—scope the place out while drinking our warm-up drink—before we split for the night to rack up some numbers.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked Eva, ignoring me completely. Yeah, she may have me beat by the end of the night.

  “I’ll take a Cosmo.” She winked.

  He grinned and started to mix her request. Eva glanced at me, flashed a sly smile, and mouthed game on. I chuckled and shook my head. Damn I missed this.

  “It’s on the house,” the guy said, once he pushed the drink he’d created in front of her. “What’s your name?”