Begin Again (Home In You Book 2)

by Crystal Walton

  Each time the wipers dragged across the dry windshield, Drew curled the corners of the flyers in his lap a little more. “You know it stopped drizzling five minutes ago, right?”

  Ti lifted her phone to her mouth. “Owner’s OCD-ness gets cuter every day.”

  His eyes circled toward the headliner. “I thought we were done with the owner notes.”

  She snapped off the wipers but turned up her amusement. “As if I could ever plunder the depths of what makes Mr. Anderson tick.”

  And of course they were back to the Matrix jokes. Perfect.

  At least she still felt comfortable enough to be herself around him. He’d take that ease in any form today.

  Ti parked under a tree, closed her door, and moaned. “Aw, poor little guy.”

  “Who?” Drew joined her on the driver’s side, where she motioned to a gnat caught in a raindrop on her door handle.

  He looked over the bug with its tiny wings stuck in the dew. “I think he’s toast.”

  “You’re so cynical.”

  And she was insanely adorable, down to the cute wrinkle between her brows furrowed with compassion. She was opposite him in most every way—and exactly who he wanted in his life. It’d taken everything in him to let her go last night. Any more time with her, and he wouldn’t be as strong.

  Ti retrieved a tissue from her purse and tried pointlessly to free the gnat from its misery.

  Drew rolled the stack in his hand into a scroll. “Thanks for helping me get these flyers up. It’s a big help.” He tapped them against his thigh. “I don’t know why my ad in the Observer didn’t run. I submitted it weeks ago.”

  Ti stared at him as though unraveling layers between his words.

  “What?”

  She handed over her stapler. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  While she jogged into Thai Moon, Drew stapled the last of the flyers advertising the shop’s sales onto the neighboring telephone poles.

  “That little punk.” Ti wheeled through the door, carrying an open Observer in her hands. “Seems a little convenient for Marcus to have an ad front and center while yours got cut.”

  Drew took the local paper from her. Veins bulged on the tops of his hands. He wouldn’t put anything past Marcus, but this was ridiculous. No wonder they hadn’t gotten much business today.

  Ti set soft fingers over his tight ones crumpling either side of the paper. She peered across the street toward a Jeep parked at the old Island Inn. “Hang tight.”

  After talking with a group of surfers in the Jeep, Ti stormed back over to her smart car, hair as wild as the look in her eyes. “He’s a dead man. I can’t believe Stan let this happen.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Marcus must’ve found out what we had planned. He’s one-upped everything we’ve done, stealing our business.” She banged her door’s top trim. “I’m gonna kill him.”

  Drew stuffed the paper in his back pocket and hurried to his side of the car before she could take off without him. “Slow down.”

  “You stay.” She shot a no-arguing gaze above the hood. “Those guys will give you a ride to the beach. They’ve got an in with a good-sized crowd. Go mingle with potential customers. Tell them about the shop. I’ll be back in a few.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  Stormy blue eyes met his, saying everything and nothing at the same time. “I’ll meet you in twenty minutes.” The gravel crunching under her tires shut out any chance to object.

  The overcast sky may have dulled the sunrise this morning, but it couldn’t overshadow the fire Ti carried in her wherever she went. Drew faced the hazy clouds. What would it take to keep that fire from going out of his life for good?

  “You.” Ti shouldered past Stan into his pad. “You were supposed to keep your punk son in check.”

  “Now, wait a minute, missy. I told you my boy doesn’t listen to me. I tried.”

  “Tried?” Marcus came out of the kitchen with a forkful of some kind of restaurant dessert in hand. He flicked a scathing glare over Ti. “She’s what all those lectures were about, Pop? You got to be kidding me. I knew you’d pick their side.”

  Side? What were they, five? “It has nothing to do with me or sides or some stupid high school competition title to reclaim. It’s about a man, up against the odds, doing everything he can to take care of his family.”

  Marcus smirked. “Anderson’s not as helpless as you think.”

  Toe to toe, she clenched her fingers to keep from double fisting him in the gut right now. “It’s time to stop nursing your pubescent wounds. If you’re so jealous of Drew, why don’t you try switching places with him?”

  She hedged his V-neck-wearing self into the wall, stole the fork, and jutted it in the air at him. “You want to worry every day about whether you can provide for your sick daughter’s medication? You want to bury your own father?”

  A cold gaze jerked away from the fork prongs. “Better than watching your old man pine his whole life for a woman he was too afraid to ask to marry him.”

  “Marcus.” Stan rose from the recliner.

  “Come off it, Pop. I’ve known since high school. I found the box of love letters you stashed in the garage. Were you just waiting for Mom to get too sick to care?”

  “That’s enough.” Stan lunged forward. “You had no right going through my things.”

  “No right? I’m your son. Or is that another regret you’re too weak-kneed to admit?”

  Stan’s face turned as stiff as his polyester shirt.

  A crack in Marcus’s indignation fractured across his eyes. He nodded as though accepting a truth he’d always believed. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to take over the hotel business, Pop. And if I can’t earn your respect running my own business, fine. I understand I disappointed you.” Staring at the carpet, he ran his shoe along a stain, his voice buried in his shirt. “But did you ever love Mom at all?”

  Stan looked backhanded. “Of course I loved her.”

  Marcus raised a bleary gaze to his dad’s. “Then why’d you always wish for another family? What made Jolene and Drew better than us?”

  Ti’s cell buzzed in her pocket, but she didn’t move. She stood on the outskirts of this broken family with her heart in a snare she hadn’t seen coming. This had never really been about Drew or surf competitions. All this time, they’d both hidden disappointment and insecurities behind anger, never recognizing who they were truly hurting in the process.

  So much brokenness. So many years lost. Something winced inside her.

  Another shuffle forward brought a father to his son, choices to consequences. “If you honestly believe that, then the only one I’m disappointed in is myself.” Stan cupped the back of Marcus’s neck with the kind of strength and affection a father should be known for. “You’re my boy, Marcus. The only son I have, and the only one I ever wanted.”

  The simple affirmation broke through the longstanding doubt clouding Marcus’s eyes.

  Ti dabbed her own as Marcus slowly grasped Stan’s opposite shoulder.

  When she cleared her throat, the duo separated and downplayed their reactions.

  Ti needed to follow suit fast, or the last people on earth she wanted to cry in front of were about to witness the waterworks. She drew her shoulders back and emotions down. “So, we’re good here, right? No more interfering with Drew’s business.”

  The slightest shadow of remorse—or at least embarrassment—tinted Marcus’s eyes. The damage was already done. They both knew it. But she couldn’t give up yet.

  She wielded the fork at Marcus again. “We clear?”

  Hands raised, he gave a terse nod of concession. “Crystal.”

  “Good.” She backed away from his hideous shirt and started for the door, already itching for a shower. “Now, do the rest of the world a favor, will ya? Burn your wardrobe and start over.”

  A confused, “What just happened?” trailed her out the door, followed by Stan’s gravelly laugh
. “Welcome to life with Ti Russo.”

  Some life.

  On the porch, Ti stole a minute to exhale. The fatherly affection had been too much. Same as the unavoidable awareness of letting Drew down. She closed her eyes, but flashes of his empty shop and his fallen countenance throughout the day poured in. She should’ve seen Marcus’s interference coming. Should’ve tried harder. Now, she was out of time.

  She pushed off the banister and headed to what little chance she had left to salvage her promise to help him. She still had the painting Carter was going to buy. That’d count for something, wouldn’t it?

  Her cell buzzed in her pocket again as she started down the sidewalk. Unknown number. Her stomach lurched. Silence from Queens had gone too long. What if he’d found her?

  Leaves rustled in the stillness. She peeked backward to a guy in a hoodie crossing the road, eyes trained on her.

  She picked up her pace the louder the footsteps echoed. Not looking back, she rifled through her purse for her can of pepper spray. He gained ground behind her. The can slid in her sweaty hand. Clutching it tighter, she inhaled and whipped around.

  “Whoa.” A grungy guy, probably in his mid-twenties, raised his arms. “What’s with the spray? Jamie said you were supposed to be cool.”

  Jamie? She ground her teeth. “Cool with you creeping up on me like a stalker?”

  “It’s not like that. I was just waiting for you to be alone.”

  “And what part of that doesn’t scream stalker?”

  He shoved his hood off and stuffed his hands in his front pocket, looking around as though someone might catch them out after curfew. “I’m not very good at this stuff, all right?”

  “This stuff?”

  “You know.” He swayed his head. “Hooking up.”

  Her grasp around the spray can wavered, but the truth about the identity she couldn’t shake held on.

  She unlocked her jaw. “Since you’re apparently up for taking advice from anyone, here’s some for free. Next time you want to go out with a girl, try asking instead of treating her like a hooker in a back alley.”

  The guy looked up from the pavement and shrugged like a dense jock on prom night. “So, you wanna go out?”

  Ti pivoted without answering. Unbelievable. Then again, what’d she expect? It was how every guy saw her, treated her.

  Except Drew.

  The thought stopped her midway into her car. She’d wanted so much to be as good to him as he was to her. Wanted to love him the way he deserved. Maybe she still had one more chance.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Impassable

  Drew set a glass of water on Maddie’s nightstand and charged Jasper with keeping vigil. She’d seemed drained since the party. Had he kept her out too late that night? As if she would’ve let him take her home early. He laughed softly, kissed his stubborn girl on the head, and crossed the room.

  Marcus’s handiwork today had done its damage. But whatever backlash Ti unleashed on him earlier had at least salvaged a percentage of the sales they’d forecasted for the first day of the surf competition. Things would be okay. He just had to keep pushing hard.

  In the doorway, he looked from the text reminding him of Mr. Parsons’s deadline back to Maddie’s silhouette. Despite how strong Maddie was, Drew had to do a better job at shielding her from his stress level. She didn’t need anything else taxing her.

  “I promise to take care of things,” he whispered. Including finding a way to keep Ti in their life. Maddie needed her as much as he did.

  After stopping in the kitchen to reheat his tea, Drew joined Ti in the living room.

  She crossed her legs in front of her on the carpet and lowered the remote. “How’s our Sea Monkey doing?”

  Our Sea Monkey. The word warmed through him. “Sound asleep.”

  “But you’re worried anyway.”

  He really couldn’t hide anything from her, could he? He placed his mug on the end table. “Her color’s a little off. I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. I’ll check on her again before I go to bed.”

  On the floor in front of him, Ti patted his leg. “Never feel guilty for wanting to take care of those you love.”

  “Says the pot to the kettle. You’re still not going to tell me what you did to Marcus, are you?”

  She shook her head. “For your own protection.”

  “Right.”

  Diverting as usual, Ti flipped through the channels until she found an old Magnum, PI episode. “Mm.” She lifted a fruity smelling drink away while scooting up against the couch. “Here’s what I really want to know. Do you think Tom Selleck was born with a mustache?”

  “Okay, I think you’ve had enough to drink there.” Drew went to grab her cup, but she held on.

  “It’s not like it’s a Zima.”

  “Yeah, that joke never gets old.”

  “Hey, I’m just choosing to be merry. ‘For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.’” Ti regained reign of her cup and took a satisfying sip.

  Drew tried not to laugh. “Quoting Ralph Waldo Emerson. Should I be scared or impressed?”

  “You’d be amazed at the words of wisdom you can find under a Snapple cap.” With another tension-releasing laugh, she went back to channel surfing.

  He’d let her have the distraction. He could certainly use one himself. More from how hyperaware he was of Ti sitting between his calves than from any aftermath of Marcus’s stunts.

  Truth be told, Drew didn’t expect today’s sales to accomplish a miracle. It’d take more than topnotch inventory or a flash sale to cover the level of debt he carried. As much as he appreciated Ti’s effort, this was something he needed to take care of alone. Still, if he could take away her disappointment, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

  Drew risked a hand to her chin and steered her focus to him. “Ti, I want to make sure you know how much you’ve helped us. Everything you’ve done—all your artwork, your diligence—it’s been incredible.”

  Behind the flush of her drink, deep-seated sorrow stormed her eyes. “But not enough.”

  Her whisper brushed against his arm, the ache in her words against his heart.

  “Ti . . .”

  She blinked away any trace of sadness and raised her glass. “Merriment, remember?”

  For her, he’d try.

  Minutes passed with soft flashes of light from the TV flickering over Ti’s smooth legs. Drew’s muscles pulled taut every time a strand of her hair fanned against his thighs. If he had to sit here much longer, the TV’s background noise wouldn’t hide the inward groan barely restraining the urge to pull her up to the couch with him.

  He let out a hard breath. He had to be smart about this. She’d pulled away when he advanced at the party. Had been pretending it’d never even happened. He understood her needing to sort through things, but the clock was running out. How was he supposed to back off and fight for her at the same time? What if trying only pushed her further away?

  Maybe he’d better wait till tomorrow. Give her another day to let the stress from today’s setback at the shop wear off.

  Ti nestled her bare shoulder under the crook of his knee. Her soft skin against him sent quakes from one tendon to the next. He swallowed. Tomorrow. You can wait till tomorrow.

  If he actually survived tonight.

  Drew stared ahead until a snort of laughter trailed up from Ti’s spot on the carpet. He glanced from the screen to her. “What’s so funny?”

  She exaggerated a hand flutter at a couple on the TV. “That.”

  “Kissing?”

  “No. Not kissing. Movie kissing.” Soundless laughter folded her in half.

  “Yeah, I think it’s time to call it a night. You’re getting delirious.” Yet another reason to keep his cool right now.

  “Oh, c’mon.” She rose to her knees and turned to face him. “No one in real life sways their head all over the place while kissing someone.”

  He fought a grin. “They’re
just into it.”

  “No. I’m sorry. It doesn’t happen like that.” She covered his mouth with her hand, planted her lips on the back of it, and proceeded to illustrate how ridiculous it looked.

  Watching her swivel her head around with dramatic flair had him laughing against her fingers. He finally cupped her shoulders to cut her off.

  “Tell me that’s not awkward.” She dropped her hand and poked him in the chest. But instead of moving away, she stayed close. Too close. Her eyes gravitated to his mouth. “It’s supposed to be slow, tender.”

  His pulse pounded in his eardrums. Sitting in such an intimate position with her, he couldn’t think, let alone breathe. If he moved his hand from her shoulder to her neck, the self-control he’d failed to master all night would crumble in a second.

  Ocean-blue eyes held his and deepened the yearning to explore them in every way possible.

  This wasn’t the right time. Not like this, when the day’s disappointment left her vulnerable enough to drink more than usual. When she might not remember this tomorrow. Might not even know whether she truly wanted him.

  Her thumb skimmed across his lips in a kiss all its own, the gentle touch awakening every dormant nerve in his body.

  “Ti . . .”

  Ignoring his husky warning, she searched his face. Slowly. Intently. He’d seen an array of emotions color her eyes since he’d known her. But the visceral longing enlivening those endless blues right now, he couldn’t resist. Giving in, he unclasped her hair and ran his fingers through the strands waving down her neck—wild and messy and everything Ti.

  Her chest expanded and contracted with rapid breaths, as if beseeching him to move faster. To relieve the magnetized tension holding them a heartbeat apart.

  The strawberry scent on her lips overrode the last shred of resolve holding him in place. He kissed her hard. No space. No time. Just the essence of Ti Russo consuming him.

  With her tight against his body, he absorbed the feel of her earring caressing the back of his hand, the silky skin beneath her ear, the openness with which she gave herself to him. The strain of waiting, wondering—the hunger spurred from almost kissing her before—crashed through him now without restraint.