Forgetting August (Lost & Found #1)(34)

"I did-or at least I thought I had, but I found that one lying on the  bedroom floor. Seems it managed to find its way out of the box I threw  it in. That-or a very sneaky, super nosy ex-therapist of mine placed it  there."

"Ex?" she questioned, but hardly seemed surprised.

"He's refusing to charge me anymore-keeps meeting me at restaurants and  showing up at my door for beers. So yeah, ex-therapist, I guess." I  shrugged as I watched her continue to roam around the room. The faint  red glow washed away most color, and the usually vibrant copper tone of  her hair had transformed into something darker.

In here, there were no in-betweens. No middle tones. Just reds and  blacks. I wasn't processing so I could flip the overheads on and bathe  us in white light, but here, in this space, I loved the contrast-the  separation from normalcy.

Seeing her here, though, made me suddenly aware of just how erotic a  darkroom could be. Every curve of her body was accentuated, enhanced by  the lack of color and the stark red glare. Her lips appeared heavy, as  if they were begging to be touched and caressed along with the rest of  her body.

I needed to get out of the room.

"Will you show me how it works?" she asked, looking up from the main  table I'd assembled in the middle, where the processing trays and  enlarging equipment were set up.

"Really?" I asked, an equal mixture of dread and excitement running through my veins.         

     



 

"Yeah, I mean-I don't really want to go home yet, and we don't have anything else to do."

"Sure," I answered quickly, hardly delaying the decision I'd just told myself to flee.

I truly hated myself. That or I really was the asshole she thought me to be.

Because damn if I didn't think of bending her over every hard surface  and reacquainting myself with every inch of that luscious body I seemed  to have forgotten.

"-her name?" Everly's voice yanked me back to reality. Catching the end  of a question I'd barely heard, I blinked a few times, trying to clear  salacious thoughts from my mind.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"What's her name?" she repeated. "Your date?"

"Oh, um-" my mind searched- "Magnolia," I finally answered, busying  myself as I gathered the proper equipment to develop. She watched me  intently from the other side of the table.

"Interesting name," was all she said.

A small smirk tugged at my lips. "Her mom used to be a florist over in  Half Moon Bay. She grew up on the coast so she's really looking forward  to seeing the house."

"I'm sure her childhood home wasn't quite like this," she commented,  running her fingers along the cool plastic table as her eyes met mine.

"No, but not all of us can be related to a founding member of SunGlobal."

Her eyes went wide. "I thought you said her mom was a florist! Not an heiress to a billion-dollar company!"

"I did-and I said she ‘used to be'. I didn't say what her dad did," I laughed.

She launched a pencil at my head and I managed to duck at just the right  time. "Well, you better clean up before she comes. Don't want the place  to look like a dump for the princess."

Was that jealousy I detected?

Don't jump to conclusions. That will get you in trouble, August.

"I'll do my best. So, ready to get dirty?" I asked, watching her eyes fly up to mine.

"What?"

"Hands-are you ready to get your hands dirty?" I clarified, clearly missing a key word in my sentence.

"Yes-lead the way," she instructed.

"Okay, first we need to clean the negative, and load it into the  carrier." I handed her a cotton ball I'd just soaked with a little  rubbing alcohol and the negative.

"I just rub it on there?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yep."

She did so tentatively at first and then, seeing that nothing bad was  happening, completed the job back and front. Without thinking, I grabbed  her hand and started moving it back and forth to dry the negative. Her  hand froze as her eyes focused on mine and I quickly stepped away.

"Sorry-just shake it a bit until it dries. Good," I said, watching her movements. "That should be good."

"Now we put it … ?" she questioned, looking around, until she found me pulling out the carrier-a large black frame with handles.

"Slide it in this way." I pointed as she carefully put the negative down.

"But won't it be upside down?"

"No, it will be great," I promised with a warm smile.

And it was. As soon as it was loaded and focused, I had her look down at the photo.

"Wow-is this from the backyard?" she asked.

"Yeah-I hiked down a ways today and got some really great shots. I printed several earlier. This was my next in the set."

Since I'd already done so many like it, and played around with f-stops  and aperture, I already knew approximately how long to expose the photo,  so I skipped test strips and decided to just go ahead with the entire  photo.

"I don't see anything," she said softly, as if the sound of her voice would disrupt the process entirely.

"Ahh-this is where the magic happens," I explained, handing her the tongs for the first tray. "Place our photo in here."

She looked down the line of trays. "That's a lot of steps."

"Just trust me."

Her eyes met mine and she hesitated. "Okay."

She slowly dropped the white paper in the agitator solution. "Move it  back and forth," I said, resisting the urge to touch her again.

"There it is!" she exclaimed, as the scene came back to life underneath the liquid.

"Now, the next tray," I instructed, standing so close to her I could  feel the heat from her body meshing with mine. She was so entangled with  what she was doing I don't think she even noticed just how close we  were standing to each other.

She went through the process, placing the photo in one tray after the other, with me closely beside her until it was set.         

     



 

"Now we use this," I said, grabbing the squeegee from the table. She  took it from my hand, brushing the outer curve of my palm as she  retrieved it. Every accidental touch or fleeting graze from her body  felt as if an atom bomb were igniting in mine. My heart raced, my  stomach tightened and I fought for every ounce of control not to return  the favor.

She's not mine.

She's chosen someone else.

Move on.

But no matter how much I reminded myself of those simple facts, I knew  that as many times as I'd kissed Magnolia goodnight on our dates, as I'd  pushed her against the door of her luxury apartment her father had  bought her, I'd never once felt an ounce of what I felt from just a  brush of Everly's hand.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, holding up the finishing photo.

"Yes," I answered, my eyes never wavering from the real beauty in the  room. Even without a speck of makeup on, she lit up a room. Fiery red  hair, milky white skin, and those captivating blue eyes that seemed to  sink directly into my soul.

I would give everything I had and more for a single moment with her. A  single second when she looked at me with those eyes and I felt loved.

"Where do we put it now?" she asked, separating me from my distant thoughts.

"Here," I answered, pointing to the area across the office where I'd  strung some wire and clothespins. I heard her giggle slightly as she  pinned the photo up and stepped back.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"I just remembered a time when I came in here and you had a million  suits all lined up right here in this very spot-trying them all on for a  gala. And now you have clothespins and fishing wire strung up in their  place."

I stared at her, trying to gauge her mood.

"Hmm-I'm pretty sure a bunch of suits would be pretty dirty in here now."

She choked out a laugh, covering her perfect smile from me. But it was a smile nonetheless.

I'd done that.

Made her happy-for once.

Even for a second.





After cleaning up in the darkroom, I found her back in the living room,  looking out at the dark water as tiny flecks of light caught on the  waves that washed ashore. She didn't say anything when I entered the  room, just stood there, quietly observing … waiting.

"We had a fight," she finally said, after I'd made my way across the  large room to stand next to her. I resisted the temptation to look over,  to soak in her expression. Somehow, I gained her trust in that moment,  and I knew it was a heavy burden to bear.

"He doesn't like me visiting you. He thinks it's bad for our relationship."

"He might be right," I answered, finally turning to meet her hesitant gaze.

"Do you ever think of me-when I'm not around?" she asked softly, her eyes rounding in doubt.

Stepping in closer, so she could feel the breath of my words as they  fell from my mouth, I whispered, "Every second, Everly. Every damn  second."

A small gasp escaped her lips as she pushed away from me.

"I should go," she said. "Being here-it's not a good idea."