Redesigned (Off the Subject #2) Page 7

  “How original,” Reed mutters just loud enough for me to hear.

  Ignore him.

  “But I love the delicateness of Alberta Ferretti’s designs and Matthew Williamson’s use of color.”

  Lexi’s eyes widen. “I’m surprised. Matthew Williamson has more of an edge.”

  I stare at her for a moment. “You know about designers?”

  She blinks, then gives me a sly smile. “What can I say? I like Vogue.”

  “For the pretty pictures.” Reed drones.

  “Why did he come?” I snap.

  Now Lexi looks worried. “He’s our ride.”

  “I have a car in perfect working condition.” But that’s not entirely true. The car is twelve years old and barely on life support. I’m replacing a quart of oil every other day and the brakes are sketchy. I pray it lasts until I graduate and get a job. If I get a job. All the more reason to keep my mouth shut and ignore Reed’s taunts.

  Lexi shoots an annoyed glance to the front, but Reed stares straight ahead and doesn’t notice.

  Why in the hell is he here? I realize the only time I’ve seen Lexi without her brother is last night in the coffee shop. I’ve heard of close families, but this borders on creepy. Why would she want to spend so much time with him when he’s a total ass?

  Lexi turns toward me. “What made you want to go into fashion design?”

  I give her my standard answer. “Clothing is an expression of people’s personalities and designers can help draw those nuances to the person’s exterior.” It sounds pretty and most people are impressed, even my advisor. But the fact is that it’s a lie.

  I’ve given the explanation so many times I’ve begun to believe it myself, but after my conversation with my mother, my entire world seems to have shifted off center. Not enough to shake up my life, but enough to throw everything off.

  “People actually believe that?” Reed asks.

  “Reed!” Lexi’s voice is harsher than I’ve heard from her, but Reed doesn’t seem to notice.

  My shoulders straighten and I look into the rearview mirror so I can see his face, even if he’s not looking up. “And what do you have trouble with, Mr. Pendergraft?”

  “Draw nuances of a person’s personality to their exterior? It sounds like something you’d find on a freshman college entrance essay.”

  “What? And I’m sure you have some perfectly logical reason as to why you want to get a graduate degree in mathematics?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “And it is…?” I lift my eyebrows and glare into the mirror.

  Reed’s gaze lifts and I lock eyes with his in the reflection.

  His focus returns to the road. “I like the logic of math, and I think the world needs more logic instead of fluff answers such as drawing nuances of a person’s personality.”

  I’m surprised I’m not hurt by his rude behavior, but I’m too furious for hurt feelings to rise to the surface. “The world needs more beauty and kindness, not rude behavior thinly disguised as logic.”

  Lexi’s face pales and I’m sure she regrets bringing me along.

  Strangely enough, Reed remains quiet for the next few minutes until he pulls into a small parking lot in front of a series of houses that are painted the same dark tan with black shutters. Yellow chrysanthemums fill neatly tended flowerbeds in front of the houses. A sign in the yard reads: Middle Tennessee Children’s Charity.

  Reed wastes no time parking and jumping out of the car before Lexi and I get our doors open. Not that I’m in any hurry to get out. I need to pull myself together before I go inside and meet the director.

  Lexi senses my hesitation. My hand stretches across the cracked leather of the backseat and Lexi’s hand covers mine. “I’m sorry. I know he can be rude, but he’s not usually this bad.” She sighs. “You seem to bring out the worst in him.”

  I laugh, but it’s more of a snort. “Lucky me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I pull my hand out from underneath hers. “Stop saying you’re sorry. He’s the ass. How does that make you responsible?”

  She wrings her hands in her lap. “I invited you … and he came….”

  “Lexi, stop. I was happy you invited me. Now let’s go inside.”

  I’m not really ready to go in, but what I need is a few minutes to myself, and that isn’t happening. I push my door open.

  I refuse to let Reed ruin this for me. When Lexi first asked me to come, I hesitated because of the painful reminder of my past. But my phone call with my mother yesterday made me realize there are other children like me. Children determined to escape their beginnings and make something of themselves. If I can be part of something that gives them the courage to do that, then I need to take it.

  Reed holds the door open, wearing the same stuffy expression he wears when he conducts our committee meetings. He ignores me as I brush past him, and I’m thankful. Telling him off in front of the charity’s director would likely be frowned upon.

  The walls of the entry and long hall leading to the back of the house are covered in photographs, but before I have a chance to examine them, a woman emerges from a doorway off the hall.

  Lexi takes a step forward and offers her hand. “I’m Lexi Pendergraft. I have an appointment to see Ms. Marshall.”

  The woman smiles and shakes hands. “That’s me, but everyone calls me Evelyn.”

  Lexi turns to the side and gestures toward us. “This is Caroline Hunter and Reed … Pendergraft. They’re both on the committee.”

  Lexi may be a bubbly college sophomore on campus, but at this moment she’s in full-on business mode. She speaks with an air of confidence that some thirty-year-olds don’t possess.

  Evelyn shakes our hands. “Pleased to meet you both. Why don’t we go into my office?”

  We follow her into a room that looks like it was once a dining room. Her wooden desk is at an angle and clutter-free. Photographs of children cover the walls. Two chairs sit in front of her desk, and an overstuffed chair takes up the far corner of the room. Lexi sits in front of the desk, and I hesitate. Reed stands by the door and gestures to the chair next to Lexi with a sardonic smile.

  Evelyn and Reed take their seats and Evelyn rests her forearms on the desk and leans forward. “We’re honored the Monroe Foundation chose to donate to our organization.”

  The photos on the wall drag my eyes like magnets. Some are of children on a playset. Others are of children bent over homework or reading books.

  I expect Reed to answer and take charge like he does in our committee meetings, but he sits back and crosses his legs. Lexi lifts her chin as she asks Evelyn, “What is the greatest challenge your nonprofit faces right now?”

  “The economy has hit this area hard, and unfortunately we have more needs than resources.” She twines her fingers and leans forward. “Many children are in need of the basics like school supplies and clothing. We’ve set up programs to distribute free school supplies at the beginning of the year to children in need, and we have a Christmas program that provides gifts to struggling families. But there are so many needs that aren’t being met. Health and dental care. Even something as simple as clothing that is new and fits can make the difference between social acceptance and ridicule, especially in middle school.

  “We’ve done our best to meet the demand, but there are more children than we have resources. It breaks our hearts to turn children away, but we’ve been forced to this past year.” A frown tugs at the corners of her mouth. “That’s why the Monroe Foundation’s generous offer is a godsend.”

  Lexi sits primly in her seat with her hands folded in her lap. “The committee will do everything we can to help The Children’s Home.” Her tone is businesslike, and I wonder if what Evelyn has said has soaked into her head because I’m on the verge of tears. Evelyn’s words have swept me back ten years to the girl in Shelbyville who wanted desperately to fit in but was ostracized because her wardrobe came from Goodwill.

  Evelyn and Lexi talk for the
next ten minutes about the organization before Evelyn stands. “Well, let’s check it out, shall we?”

  Lexi and Reed stand, and I realize I’ve missed where we’re going, reminiscing. Evelyn leads the way, and I follow Lexi down a hall toward the back of the house. The walls are filled with more photographs.

  One in particular pulls me closer. The photo is of a girl who looks like she’s about eight with blonde curls and blue eyes. Her face is too thin, but it’s her eyes that suck me in. She looks so haunted and beaten down. The girl looks so much like me in third grade that I freeze.

  “Caroline?” Lexi asks.

  I glance away from the photo and notice the three of them watching me.

  Chapter Nine

  “I’m sorry. Did you ask me a question?” My voice shakes.

  Evelyn gestures to the wall. “I said that I see you’re drawn to the photos. Our charity has helped children all over middle Tennessee for over two decades. We’ve collected photos over the years.”

  The blood rushes from my head. We’ve helped children all over middle Tennessee. “How far south does your assistance extend?”

  “A little past Shelbyville.”

  The truth hits me square in the face. The girl in the photo is me.

  Evelyn and Lexi continue down the hall, but I stumble backward into Reed’s chest, and he catches my elbow. “Are you okay?”

  I nod, but I can’t stop staring at the photograph.

  “You look like you’re about to get sick.” His voice softens, with only a hint of gruffness.

  I feel lightheaded, but I refuse to let him, of all people, see me flustered. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “I’m—”

  Reed steps in front of me and looks toward the back of the house. “Caroline is fascinated with the photographs so we’re going to examine them for a minute or so. We’ll follow you in a moment.”

  Lexi turns and gives us a curious glance.

  “Are you sure?” Evelyn asks. “I’d be happy to wait.”

  “You go ahead,” Reed says. “I know how eager Lexi is to see the tutoring center.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Lexi chimes in.

  “Well, if you’re sure….” Evelyn seems unconvinced.

  “Have I mentioned how excited I am to meet some of the children we’ll be helping?” Lexi takes Evelyn’s arm and leads her out the back door.

  Reed’s lowered voice interrupts my thoughts. “Caroline, do you want to sit down or get some fresh air?”

  I want to tell him neither, but the photo has shaken me up more than I want to admit. I need to catch my breath. “Outside.”

  He leads me out the front door and to a chair on the porch. I’m embarrassed when I sit and clutch the sides of the chair. Why am I reacting this way? I’ve put my past behind me. That little girl in the photo isn’t me, not anymore. Perhaps it’s my mother’s phone call on top of the uncertainty about my future, but the once-familiar feelings of hopelessness and desperation claw their way to my consciousness. They’ve been buried for so long that they burst forth in a frenzied panic and I fight to regain control.

  To his credit, Reed doesn’t ask questions, and he doesn’t hover either. He stands on the other side of the porch, his hand on the railing as he watches the traffic. His dark brown hair blows in the breeze, and his cheeks pinken from the air that has turned colder in the short time we’ve been outside. As if he reads my train of thought, he slips off his jacket and moves toward me, placing it over my shoulders.

  My mouth drops. “Reed, you don’t—”

  “I know you find this difficult to believe, but I am capable of being a gentleman.”

  “I….” but I stop.” I don’t have the energy to argue with him. “Reed, you don’t have to give me your jacket. I’m fine.”

  “You’re shivering, and I’m from Boston. I’m used to the cold. This is nothing.”

  I’m shivering but it’s not entirely from the cold. This is the first time in three years I’ve come face to face with my past, and I’m not handling it well. I’m not as strong as I think I am. That alone is unnerving. I fall silent, surprised when Reed continues to stand next to me.

  He clears his throat, keeping his eyes on the street. “Most people would ask you what’s wrong or what happened to make you react this way, but you and I hardly know one another, and after some of our recent interactions, it seems presumptuous to ask.” He shifts his weight. “When you’re ready to join Lexi and Ms. Marshall, we’ll go. Until then, I’ll wait with you.”

  His voice is gentle, and I’m grateful he doesn’t pry. I wondered how I would explain if he asked about my reaction, so now I’m off the hook. But for some reason, I’m worried about what he thinks. Why I’m worried what Reed Pendergraft thinks is beyond me.

  After a minute of convincing myself that the past really is locked behind me, I stand, grateful I’m now steady on my feet. “I’m ready.”

  He nods and opens the front door. I stop in the doorway and look up into his face, prepared to thank him. But instead, my breath catches, and my heart begins to race. His eyes are a rich shade of dark chocolate. My gaze lowers to the curve of his jaw and then over to his mouth. I resist the urge to reach up and run my finger along his bottom lip, no matter how tempting it is. His dress shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and for a brief second I wonder what he looks like underneath his clothes. I’m lost in my daze, but somewhere in the back of my head, something tells me that touching him would be a bad idea. I just can’t remember why.

  His mouth parts as his breath shallows. I find myself leaning closer to him before I get a grip. Then I remember why caressing Reed Pendergraft’s lips is a bad idea. He’s an asshole.

  This man makes me look like a fool for sport.

  I take a step back. “Good try with the nice-guy routine.”

  Annoyance flickers in his eyes, and his jaw hardens. “Are you going to ogle me all day or can we rejoin the others?”

  I walk past him into the hallway, grateful for the rush of anger that replaces the lust, despite the fact that my nerve endings are on fire. “Ogle you? Don’t let your fantasies slip into reality, Reed.”

  “Fantasies? You think I’d fantasize about you?”

  I refuse to physically react to his putdown even if it stings and reminds me of last Friday night. I try to get away, but he blocks my path, his eyes blazing.

  My hormones kick into high gear, sending a fresh wave of lust through my blood, even stronger than before. “You shouldn’t make it so obvious, Reed.” I taunt him.

  He moves closer, forcing me to step backward toward the wall, anger burning in his eyes.

  “We both know you want me.” My voice is husky and sounds foreign to my ears. I’ve never so wantonly tried to seduce a man before. Good southern girls aren’t the seducers. They’re the seducees.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Caroline.” But he moves closer, his voice lowering.

  I’m not sure why I’m tormenting him this way. The truth is I’m tormenting myself just as much if not more. My back is pressed against the wall, a picture frame digging into my shoulder blade, but I stare up into his eyes, wanting him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.

  His hands are on the wall on either side of me, and he leans closer, his mouth inches from mine. He’s agonizingly close, and I wonder if he’s planning to tease me again like our near-kiss on the dance floor. But just when I’m sure he’s about to pull away, he groans and his mouth captures mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my chest to his, opening my mouth to his demanding tongue. His hands reach around my back and pull me away from the wall, splaying across my shoulder blades, tugging me tighter to him. My knees weaken, but Reed holds me close as one of his hands moves up into my hair, tilting my head to give him better access.

  Just as abruptly, his head rises, his eyes burning with raw desire. Then horror slides across his face, and he drops his hold.

  Without his arms holding me up, I�
�m not sure my legs can support me. I step back into the wall while I catch my breath and try to figure out what the hell happened.

  I have never lost control like this, not even with my ex-boyfriend Justin. And I dated him for over two years.

  “That was … wrong.” Reed finally says. Thankfully, he looks as shell-shocked as I feel.

  “Yes, very wrong.” It’s wrong to detest someone so much yet want to do him right here in a public hallway.

  “We can’t let this happen again.” But he looks like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.

  “No. We can’t ... do that again.” But mostly because I don’t trust myself with him. Obviously this man not only makes me lose my temper, but also makes me want to lose my panties. “We need to find Lexi.”

  Hearing his sister’s name changes his entire demeanor. His lust evaporates and anxiety and irritation replace it. “Yes, we do need to find Lexi. I’ve wasted too much time as it is.”

  There’s the man I’ve learned to loathe. “Did you seriously call what we just did ‘wasting time?’”

  He straightens his tie. “Clearly nothing productive came of it, thus it could be considered a waste of time.”

  It takes every ounce of strength within me not to kick him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Pendergraft. I won’t be wasting your time again.”

  His stern expression wavers. “Good.”

  I stomp down the hall to the back door, my heels clacking so hard against the wood floor I’m surprised I don’t dent the floorboards.

  Reed follows behind me and reaches around to push the door open. I bat his arm away. “A little late to be playing the gentleman now, isn’t it?” When I stomp down the steps and look around, trying to determine where we’re going, I noticed Reed’s cheeks blush.

  Reed Pendergraft blushing?

  He looks sheepish as he glances down. “I’m sorry. That was … unlike me. I assure you that I don’t normally attack random women like that.” He clears his throat, his face now red.

  I’d give him kudos for forging ahead if I weren’t so furious.