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CD in hand, he moved to his printer where a label sat, already printed with the date and the name Franklin typed on it. Peeling it from its backing, he neatly pasted the label to the surface of the CD and eased the finished product into a paper slipcase advertising the Harper Studio with its logo splashed across the front.
When he finished, he turned back to Mrs. Franklin. "Here are your proofs."
Mesmerized, Mia watched him. His careful attention to detail impressed her; she found herself watching his long fingers as he handed the proofs over.
He understood how important the pictures on that disc were to his customer. They weren’t just photos of some nameless kid, but memories that would last for years, even past the boy’s lifetime. She had albums full of Lexie’s cherubic face.
"Call whenever you decide what you’d like," Drew told his client. "Then we can either set up an appointment, or you can just tell me your preference over the phone." He paused as if trying to remember if he’d left anything out of his spiel. Then he lifted a finger and grinned. "I gave you a price list with all the different packages offered, didn’t I?"
"You did. Thank you," Mrs. Franklin answered.
"Great. You’re all set then." He reached out to cup the side of the child’s head, like he was used to handling children, and smiled at the mother. "You and Parker have a good day."
He used his thumb to quickly caress Parker’s silky fuzz of hair and then dropped his hand. Glancing briefly toward Mia, he walked Mrs. Franklin to the door.
Mia didn’t follow but awkwardly remained where she stood, realizing how big of a mistake it’d been to come. She wondered what would be the best route to escape.
After waving them off, Drew finally turned back to her. Apprehensive, she stayed rooted to the floor, unable to move. Noticing she’d begun to twist her hands together, she immediately dropped them to her sides.
Something had changed. She could practically taste it. It oozed off him in thick, aromatic waves.
He didn’t look pleased to see her. He wouldn’t make eye contact. His movements were stuttered, telling her how uncomfortable he felt, and the tightness around his mouth spoke volumes more than anything he might say.
Shrugging as if suddenly self-conscious, he motioned toward the closed door and then jammed his hand into his pockets. "That was Parker." Yanking his hand from his slacks, he tugged at his collar. "He, uh, he was in here for his six month pictures. His mom seemed happy with the results."
"That’s good," she said, feeling lamer than lame. She should go. She should just leave before he—
He cleared his throat. "So …" Though she knew his grin was forced, it actually appeared to be genuine. "What brings you by? Decide you need your picture taken?"
"I …" Breathe, Mia, breathe. Sucking in a dry lungful, she glanced his way and started over. "You look really busy. I should just …" run for my life.
She finally moved, stumbling toward the door. But he leapt after her.
"No, wait." When his hand wrapped around her arm, she actually gasped. He immediately let go. "I was just going to say … Parker was my last appointment for the day. I’m not busy at all. What can I do for you?"
I need you to help me gain acceptance, she didn’t say.
Good Lord, how pitiful was she? If she told him she’d decided he was going to be the one to help her get through her dark patch, he’d laugh her off stage and start zinging tomatoes.
She really was pathetic. People didn’t make that kind of choice after one brief, meaningless encounter with a complete stranger.
She’d felt something though … something cosmic and colossal when she’d turned from her flower bed and first looked into his blue eyes. It’d been so strong, pulsing through her, practically screaming to get her attention. Her senses had started pointing and jumping up and down, doing that urgent pee-pee dance, insisting, "That’s him! That’s him! He’s the one."
Then again, what was she doing, listening to her stupid senses? If she possessed some kind of sixth sense that instinctively knew what was and wasn’t, then Lexie would still be alive today.
She swallowed and tried again. "I just came by to tell you the house was sold."
He blinked, looking totally clueless. "What house?"
"The …" Another huge gulp. "The house next door," she reminded him. "Next door to me. The one you were looking at yesterday."
Eyes widening, he yelped, "Oh! Right." Then he grinned and smacked the palm of his hand to his forehead. "I have no idea where my mind is. That house. Of course." His brows lowered. "It’s sold, you say?"
She nodded. "The real-estate agent stopped by almost as soon as you left yesterday. When she put up a sold sign, I couldn’t believe you’d bought it that fast. So, I asked her about it, and she said a family of four had purchased it already."
"Really?" he murmured and scratched the side of his neck. "Well, that’s … that’s too bad. But I’m glad a family got it. I’m sure they need it more than I do. As you can see, I’m surviving here."
As he motioned to the room at large, Mia gazed about her. Surviving? Ha. He was thriving here. Why, in a place like this, she could—
