Would Jamila want him around for an entire day? Probably not. Someone else would have to be present to smooth things over. Someone neutral and not involved.
Seconds later, Maya’s sedan pulled into view, and something in him flipped. The feeling reminded him of the first time he had gone on a date with Grace. He was so nervous. Derek even spilled spaghetti sauce on his shirt at the Italian restaurant they’d visited. That was when he knew Grace was someone special. Derek never lost his cool.
He hopped out of his truck and headed her way. She was exiting her car too. As she did, the sunlight hit her hair at the perfect angle, and it reflected the gold and amber in her dark curls. He hadn’t noticed those colors before. She’d been wearing her hair natural lately. He liked it. “Morning.”
“Morning.” She pressed the auto-lock button on her key fob and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “Ready to shop?”
“Shop on a budget,” he said. “I’m not made of money, remember? I gotta get current on the mortgage.”
“Don’t worry. I’m confident this will work.” She smiled and headed toward the store entrance. Derek followed. Once inside the store, the cool air from the vents brushed against his skin, sending a chill down his arms.
“I brought the rough sketch of the new floor plan,” Maya said. “I was thinking that after we figure out the paint colors and all, I would head to a garage sale.”
“Garage sale? For what?”
“We’ll need some set pieces that will blend in with the new color on the walls and the new carpeting. I’m pretty sure the settee you have won’t work anymore.”
“We’ll see. I can’t spend too much money,” Derek said. “I can rebrand without set pieces.”
Maya stopped in the aisle next to the fertilizer and gardening supplies. “Oh really? How?”
“Get the paint in the same color scheme as the settee.” He gave her two thumbs up.
A smirk formed at Maya’s full lips. “You actually think keeping an eighties color scheme is a good idea? First of all, they probably don’t even carry those colors anymore. Not unless you want an outdated vibe.”
“Ouch.” Derek feigned offense. “You know you’re talking about my mama when you say those things.”
“I’m pretty sure your mama would agree. Her style was popular for the time, but now we need something new. Something modern and fresh.”
Maya was right. If his mother were alive, she’d probably agree. When he was a kid, his mother was always so fussy about the store’s appearance. She had a fashion designer’s eye too, but she never did anything with it, unfortunately. Owning a bridal shop was her next best thing to being a designer.
His heart squeezed. Derek missed his mother dearly.
“Want to look at some color swatches?” Maya asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“That’s what we’re here for.”
They spent the next forty-five minutes looking at ten different shades of blue, fifteen shades of pink, and thirteen shades of green. Discussing color variations was making him anxious. “Is it really this serious, Maya? I mean, we can go with whatever. I’m sure you’ll be able to make it work.”
She gave him a half-smile. “Different colors give off different messages. When I was in design school, I took an entire course on color psychology. It matters. With that in mind, how do you want people to feel when they step into your boutique?”
“I don’t know.” Derek shrugged. “Like they want to spend their money. And lots of it.”
Maya’s face brightened, and it was enough to send a ray of sunshine through him. This lady was special.
“I guess I’ll make the decisions on the colors. We’re going to need a little more nuance than ‘spend money.’ Most folks come to a store wanting an entire experience. That could mean feeling special or appreciated or like an insider on something exclusive. That sort of thing.” Maya laid out three swatches of pale blue and positioned them next to a swatch of ivory.
“Those all look good to me. I’ll let you be the judge, since you took a college-level course in this and all.”
“Really? You trust me with the store that much?”
Derek paused. “Of course I do.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
“Did I say something wrong, Maya?”
“No. Nothing wrong at all. I guess I’m so used to Laura Whitcomb being nitpicky that I expect the worst.”
“You don’t have to worry about that with me.” He tapped his index finger on a paint can. “I like your way of going about things at the store. You make every customer feel at ease, while I’m a bull in a china shop.”
Maya’s laughter sent a smile across his face. Yeah, she was cool.
“We’ll go with these.” She set a pale blue and ivory swatch before him. “I think they’re understated, yet classy. These colors will do well with any style of dress that you display at the store. They’re timeless and elegant.”
Much like you. Did he just think that? He needed to rein in his musings.
After she picked out the colors, they decided on a carpet to match, and Derek purchased everything on the business credit card. When the total amount flashed on the cash register, Derek did a double take. “That was three hundred dollars less than I was anticipating.”
“Told ya I would get you a good deal without sacrificing quality.” Maya tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I know how to pinch pennies. I bet you anything that I’ll find some good chairs and chaises at the garage sale too.”
“I bet you can.”
She checked her watch. “I may have to make a quick go of it, however. I’m supposed to check out a shop for my boss in New York and then meet my father at New Life this afternoon too.”
“Oh . . . I haven’t been there in years.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to say why.
“The youth ministry is planning their annual cookout, and my father wants to sit in on the meetings.”
“You’re volunteering at their cookout?” Derek almost stuttered on his words.
“Nooo,” she said carefully. “I don’t have any room in my schedule to volunteer. I spend most of my early mornings working on dresses before working at the boutique. My father used to volunteer with the youth ministry before he broke his hip. He still has an affinity for the young folks, and he just wanted to listen in. But me? Volunteer? No way. Not happening. I won’t be able to fit that in my schedule now that I’m working extra hours at the store.”
She was really committed to helping him with the boutique. The whole saving money part helped tip the scales in her favor even more. He liked her, a lot.
Well, not in a personal “a lot.” More like in a professional “a lot.” That made sense.
Why was he overthinking this?
She took her car keys out of her purse, and they jangled between her fingers. “Better get going. See you tomorrow morning.”
He wanted to ask her to the cookout, but if he did, that could anger Jamila. The last thing he needed was to anger Jamila again. “See you tomorrow morning.”
They fell into step with each other and headed to the parking lot. Once there, nervousness overcame him, and he felt like a school kid who secretly crushed on a girl in his class. This was way too overwhelming.
“How’s your father doing with his recovery and all?” he asked.
“He’s getting there. Physical therapy is going well. I’m so glad that Ginger’s helping out when I’m working late. She’s a godsend.”
“Ginger’s a miracle worker,” he said. And so are you.
These thoughts about Maya were coming out of nowhere, and they were coming quicker and quicker. Perhaps if he asked her and her father to come to the cookout together, it wouldn’t look so odd. It wouldn’t look strange to Jamila—or Maya. They’d just happen to be there, and Derek would just happen to be there as well, even though he hadn’t been at anything church related in ages. “I was thinking of attending that cookout too. Jamila seemed pretty excit
ed about it. Hopefully, I’ll get to see you and your father there.”
He phrased his words carefully. It wasn’t an invitation per se, just a casual mention of faint interest.
Why was this so complicated?
It was complicated because his feelings were getting complicated, and he needed to tread carefully here. One wrong move, and he could completely alienate Jamila. Also, seeing Maya outside of a work-related function would be a tiny step toward . . .
Toward what, Derek? What do you want from this?
There wasn’t anything to want. She was a nice lady, talented too. Just wanted to get to know her a bit better. That was all.
“Dad really misses working with the young folks, so I’ll most likely drive him to the cookout.”
“You’ll stay there too?” The question flew out of his mouth before he had the time to temper it.
Maya’s eyebrows lifted.
Was she delighted? Or was he reading into it too much?
“They’re using the proceeds from the event for some good causes. I don’t mind being a part of that.”
“I’ll be there too, since I’m driving Jamila and all.” He tipped his baseball cap to her. “I’ll see you at the store tomorrow morning, Maya.”
“See you tomorrow.” She slid on her dark sunglasses, and they parted ways.
Happiness. That was what sprang up within him as he headed to his truck. He hadn’t had much happiness of late, but for this one little moment, Derek decided to revel in it.
Did Derek inadvertently ask her out yesterday?
Nah. He was just being friendly.
Friendly. Friendly. Friendly.
Yet the question invaded Maya’s thoughts as she worked on the initial renovations of the store early the next morning at the boutique. Maya had arrived at the store two hours before it opened to get started. She laid the tarp down in the back corner of the store where the painting project would begin and covered the baseboards with painter’s tape.
How did he end up pseudo-asking her out anyway? She pressed the mental Replay button, and the conversation filtered through her head. Something about saving money. Then her father. Then the cookout. Then Derek’s mention of wanting to see her at the cookout.
Maya was way overthinking this one. He was just being friendly. The end.
After they parted ways at the hardware store, Maya checked out a boutique for Laura. Afterward, Maya headed to a garage sale in her neighborhood alone. She didn’t find the exact chairs for the store, but she did find some cute royal-wedding-themed decor. Brides loved to feel special on their wedding day—rightly so—and having a few royal-themed pieces in the boutique would add a special touch.
She just needed to stop considering this whole Derek thing and focus on her job, which was to bring in lots of sales and make sure this place looked up-to-date. That was all. Anything else could jeopardize her work, even musings about “friendly invites” to church cookouts.
The first thing on Maya’s agenda was painting and decorating, not thinking about Derek.
Maya popped the lid off the paint can, and the scent of the fumes wafted up her nostrils, metallic and heady. Whew. That smell was both gross and addictive. She dipped her paintbrush into the can of pale blue paint and got to work.
“This looks fabulous, Maya.”
The sound of Derek’s voice made her paint a crooked zigzag along the wall.
He stopped. “Oh. Sorry, I broke your concentration.”
“Not a problem,” she said, though his presence most definitely distracted her. Maya glanced in the direction of the miniature castle with the horse and buggy display, which she’d positioned to the right of a mannequin. It glittered underneath the store lights. “You like my idea over there?” She pointed to the display.
“I surely do. It wasn’t something I’d come up with.” Derek brushed his fingers along the chrome carriage wheel. “Where’d you get it?”
Maya told him about her garage sale finds.
“Excellent.” He stepped to the right, and the shadows fell across his face just so, emphasizing the sharp planes and angles of his features. Man, he was a cutie.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Not going there. Maya dipped her paintbrush in the can and brushed over the zigzag. This man was not going to mess with her focus. Not happening.
Her phone alarm dinged, and she glanced at the screen. It was time for her to take her medication. Maya wasn’t going to forget that again. She set the brush in the paint tray and put the lid back on the paint can. “Will you excuse me for a minute? I have to do something real quick.”
“Sure. No problem.”
“I won’t be long.” She stood and quickly headed to the break room. Better get this over with fast so that he won’t notice anything.
Maya stepped inside the break room and got her purse out of the locker. Her medicine was right there. She then grabbed her water bottle from the fridge and twisted open the pill container’s cap. She’d have to do this about two more times during the workday.
Just then, the break room’s door creaked open. Her skin tightened. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
“Maya?”
It was Derek. What in the world? Her body was facing his, and so he saw the pills, the pill bottle, and the water bottle. Shame washed over her like a soggy, cold fog. Maya couldn’t even move. Her entire being froze.
He looked down at her hands, and Maya could see that he was trying to assess her state. Judging her, just like Rex, her ex-fiancé, used to do.
Early into their dating relationship, Rex had walked in on her when she was just coming out of a particularly painful episode of sickle cell. She called her doctor immediately, worried that she needed to be hospitalized. She’d lived with the illness all her life, but its effects had grown stronger. The nurse on call calmed her fears and basically said the disease worsens with age, worsens as she nears her . . . life expectancy. From here on out, the only thing Maya could do was manage it.
After she’d gotten off the phone, Rex had a million questions. Most of them centered around how this illness would affect them (meaning him). She told him that she’d understand if he couldn’t be with her anymore. She told him it would be hard to be in a relationship with her, knowing she had a limited time. Even though Rex had known about her illness well before they were dating, Maya said he could back out now if he thought it was too much.
Rex said that her illness didn’t matter, that he still wanted to date her. Yet after that moment, he changed. She ignored the signs and kept going along with their relationship—right up until that fateful wedding day when he ditched her.
He proved to be a selfish prick, and he broke her heart—all because Rex was too cowardly to express his true feelings about her illness.
Maya had feared that would happen, but she always hoped that it wouldn’t. She always hoped that Rex would be more honest with himself and what he could deal with—before all her emotions came into play, before she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Didn’t happen.
While Derek wasn’t Maya’s fiancé, she now feared losing her job if he found out. Who needed a sick girl on their payroll, even for a few months? Maya was a liability, not an asset to Derek’s business.
He didn’t know that yesterday, when he was boasting about her skills and budget sense, but he would know that now.
“You okay?”
The question of the century. No. She was not okay. “I’m great.”
He kept looking at the pill bottle.
This was what Maya hated about having a chronic illness. Once people knew of it, or at least that something was “wrong,” they started looking at her differently and treating her differently too. They could even fire her.
She didn’t want to get fired, at least not on account of this. If it was because of Jamila, then fine, Maya had no problems walking, but if she lost this job because of sickle cell, it would prove what she’d always feared—she wasn’t enough.
Maya tossed the pill bottle back in her pur
se. If she lied and Derek found out, then that wouldn’t be good either. She had surmised that Derek was the type of guy who valued honesty, and so did she. Maya wouldn’t want to break his trust.
But there was no use in telling him since she was only here temporarily. “I was just taking ibuprofen,” she said. “I was getting a headache. That’s all.”
His expression held a mixture of disbelief and belief. The seeds of distrust were already being planted. Not good, but it was the best out of two bad options. Maya wasn’t going to give Derek a reason to see her as fragile. She couldn’t do that.
“Oh, okay then,” Derek said. “A customer arrived, and she started asking some highly detailed questions about your dresses. I figured you’d be the best person to answer them.”
“I’ll be there,” Maya said quickly.
He closed the break room door. After he left, Maya collapsed into the green hard-backed chair. He didn’t believe her, and she didn’t blame him.
Even though she hated the idea of hiding this secret, Maya wouldn’t tell him the truth. Maya’s illness was not Derek’s business. Her illness was her own burden to carry.
Chapter Seven
Something wasn’t right with Maya, and that bothered him. No matter how much Derek tried to shake it off, his sense of unease hadn’t lifted. She said she was taking ibuprofen, but that didn’t look like an ibuprofen bottle.
When he’d walked in on her in the break room, the air shifted. It tightened and stifled and suffocated. For the rest of the workweek, things had been on edge between them. They spoke in short clips, and Maya never looked him in the eye.
Would this carry on today at the cookout? Would Maya even be at the cookout? He didn’t know.
He pulled his truck onto the highway and headed south to Battery Park in downtown Charleston. Jamila was in the passenger seat, quiet. When he’d told her that he was taking her to the park today, she didn’t react either way, and that was a good thing. Before she would’ve changed her mind about going.
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