Design. The one thing she’d actually loved, and the one thing her mother had ruined for her.
Juliette ignored the painful twinge in her heart. “Did she at least say what kind of look she was going for?”
“No. She just gave me her budget and told me to come up with somethingworthy.” He waved his hand around in a pathetic attempt to mimic Gigi’s impeccable mannerisms.
“Of course she did.” Juliette couldn’t help it when a small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “I can come up with some color boards to go over with you later this week. I guess we’ll have to pick out cabinets, granite, and flooring. All the important things. ”
“How’s tomorrow?” Brock scribbled a note on the corner of the blueprint, then flipped the pencil between his fingers. His gaze slid to her, dipped to her mouth once, then darted back up to her eyes.
She ran her teeth along her bottom lip, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed. “I can go whenever. Just let me know.”
Brock nodded, but his gilded amber eyes continued to watch her, analyze her. “You plan on staying?”
Another haphazard shrug. “I don’t know. I suppose I don’t have any plans anymore.”
All of her life plans had failed miserably so far. Her dreams had gone up in smoke. She’d constantly chased the next best thing, wanting so badly to achieve something, to be someone. Yet everything was always just out of her grasp. Just out ofreach. Like the fruit dangling from the tree and each time she jumped for it, she fell.
And for what?
There was that tiny, insignificant voice. The one she blatantly ignored. The one she pretended she couldn’t hear when the fire between her and Rodrigo had dwindled down to barely a spark.
What would she do after they got married? Let him support her?
No matter how hard she tried, she bounced between jobs. She changed her mind about what she wanted to do with her life as often as a first-year college student. The one thing she wanted, the one thing she desired more than anything else, had caused the fallout between herself and her mother.
Brock continued to watch her. Calm and even. Steady. She wasn’t even sure if he blinked.
She didn’t see pity in his eyes, but there was a shred of sympathy. A shadow of remorse. Maybe even some interest. Not that she would entertain any of it. He’d had his chance once before, and no matter how well time had aged him, she wasn’t going back down that road.
Her stomach gave a small growl, and she grabbed a banana from the wire basket of fruit on the counter. At least it gave her something to do while awkward silence heavy with long-forgotten tension occupied the space between them.
He slid a business card out of his coat pocket and set it on the island. She stole a quick glance at it, not surprised to find that his phone number hadn’t changed. “Well, if you’re looking for a job, or something to occupy your time until you figure things out, I’m looking for a designer.”
Juliette tried not to choke on the chunk of banana lodged in her throat. Her eyes watered and she coughed once, clearing her throat. “Did my mother put you up to this?”
“Definitely not.” He lifted both hands in surrender. “I just remember how things can get between you two. You’re artistic and creative, and your mom is?—”
“An obsessive control freak with an eye for austere perfection?” she supplied, arching one brow.
“That’s one way of putting it.” Brock grinned, wide and wonderful, and the whole world tilted.
Juliette almost lost her balance. She wanted to blame it on the way the morning light slanted through the window and turned his eyes to the shade of molten gold. Or how whenever he moved, every muscle in his body seemed to flex on purpose. Or maybe it was the way he kept flicking that pencil between his very capable fingers. She forced herself to look away, leaning casually against the counter for support in case her knees gave out. She’d forgotten his smile, how it caused her heart to give a little flip. How it made a rush of heat course through her veins. How the simple upturn of his mouth could be promising and captivating all at once.
She shook the nonsensical thought from her head. Those types of lustful imaginings were what got her into trouble with him in the first place. She had to be more aware. She had to do better. Be better. Not act like she’d never been around a gorgeous specimen of a man before.
Brock shoved his hands back into the pockets of his coat and gave a small shrug, completely oblivious to the effect he had on her.
“You’ve always had a good eye for design. So if you want it, the offer stands.”
Juliette pressed her lips together and forced herself to acknowledge him without drooling. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
He nodded again, and another wave of suffocating silence smothered them.
“I just have to double-check a few more measurements and then?—”
“Perfect.” She tossed the banana peel in the trash. “I’ll just get out of your way.”
Brock’s mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but Juliette flashed a soft smile and headed down the stairs. She needed to put some distance between them. Being in the same room as Brock was too easy. Too easy to forget, too easy to forgive. She nearly sprinted down the staircase and headed toward the back entrance of the shop.
