Deserving Love: A Contemporary Romance Series (Nick & Lexi Book 1) (4 page)

You could be a little more creative than that.
 

Not always. Sometimes I have to be boring and typical.
 

I find that hard to believe Lexi. Nothing about you seems boring and typical.
 

Well you see me in a different light then.
 

I’m the boring one. I promise.
 

No one who sees the beauty in buildings the way you do could possibly be boring.
 

You would be surprised.
 

I doubt it. I’ve known my fair share of boring people. I’ve spent countless hours with them. You aren’t one.
 

Tell that to the women I’ve dated.
 

I’d rather not.

Why’s that?

If I convince them that you are worth something then I go back to my lonely little bubble while you meet the woman of your dreams.
 

I’m convinced the woman of my dreams is nothing more than a tease.

So in all honesty, have you met anyone that struck your interest since you moved here?

Not so far. I’ve seen some pretty women. But they all have some type of personality flaw.
 

What? That they don’t adore you?

That too.
 

You are different Nick.
 

I think that’s a compliment. Right?

Yes. It is.
 

Good. Then thank you.
 

You are welcome. But I must cut this conversation short. I have a busy day tomorrow and I need to get out of the tub and get clothes on and sleep.
 

And the naked mental picture is back.
 

Well you go enjoy it. I’m going to bed.
 

Naked?

I’ll let you wonder about that.

Damn.
 

Good night Nick.

Good night Lexi.

Letting the water drain, I stood and reached for a towel. I felt myself smile at the thought of Nick imagining me doing just that. He and I were definitely flirty. That’s what made it fun. We had the ability to talk and share our feelings about life and flirt. There was no pressure and no stress. We were never going to meet.
 

I found myself wondering what he looked like. If I met him would I have found him attractive? We’d never really discussed our appearance with each other. To be honest, we didn’t discuss a lot of personal things. I had no idea what he did for a living. He wasn’t aware of my shop. We didn’t share the things that made it real. We talked feelings and television and hobbies.
 

Neither of us used Facebook much. We posted occasionally, liked things from time to time and often shared our photos from Instagram. His were almost all buildings and mine were various forms of food. I was definitely a food addict.
 

I had searched through his page when he’d sent the request. There was nothing in it that told me much about who he was. I had asked him once why he didn’t share anything personal. His answer summed up my own if and when
 
he would bother to ask.
 

“If anyone needs to know anything about me through Facebook, they don’t know me well enough to know anything about me.”

I only used the site for social connections. I messaged a few members of my family exclusively through the site, but if the truth were known, until I started talking to Nick, I barely even logged in.
 

I really enjoyed talking with him, but my mental picture of him wasn’t of a tall, dark and handsome man. I envisioned Nick as being a little lanky and a lot goofy-looking, partially because of his humor and personality. Adding to the vision was the fact that any man that was really attractive would be too busy with women to talk to a stranger. Of course what did that say about me.
 

A quick look in the mirror reminded me that I wasn’t exactly ugly myself. I had a few more curves than some of the women my age. But they were located in pretty good spots and I’d never had a man complain about my body. I wasn’t fond of my face. My cheeks were plump and the heart shape of my jaw line often looked more rounded than heart-shaped. My nose was a little too big and too wide for my taste. My eyelashes were shorter than I preferred. I didn’t like to wear a lot of makeup, so I was often seen with nothing more than mascara and lip gloss.
 

My hair, however, was one of my favorite features on myself. It was well past my shoulders, a natural blonde shade and full of big waves. Many people complimented me on my hair when I wore it down. That wasn’t often as it would get hot and I was busy most of the day. A quick bun in the back solved that problem and allowed me to focus on what was important.
 

Nick would probably find me attractive. I knew that. But he’d decided pretty girls were bitches, so I didn’t guess it mattered if he did.
 

I can’t sleep. Can we cuddle?

The chirp was unexpected as I climbed up into my bed. Apparently Nick wasn’t finished talking. When I read it, I smiled.
 

How long are your arms?

Pretty long.

Then maybe.

Can I just cuddle the phone and pretend it’s you?

That could be a little creepy.
 

I’d probably just end up erasing you. I haven’t figured out this thing yet.
 

Oh, you got a new phone?
 

Yes. An android if you will believe it. It does everything. Except make me feel less lonely.
 

I got one too. Last week. It’s easier to keep up with these conversations.
 

So you bought a phone to talk to me?

No. Yes. I mean I was up for an upgrade. SO I took it.
 

To talk to me.

Mostly. But there are other things.
 

I feel very flattered.
 

You should.

So can we cuddle?

Go for it. You cuddle away. If I stop answering then I fell asleep.
 

There are worse things than falling asleep in my arms.
 

Oh yeah? Such as?
 

I’ll get back to you on that.
 

Be sure you do. Oh and if I don’t answer, I passed out.
 

If I don’t answer I’m still picturing you naked.
 

Shush it! Don’t behave like that!

Sigh. Okay. If you insist.
 

Those were the last words I remembered reading. I was asleep, where I found myself lost in dreams of a goofy guy that kept asking me out. I would ignore him and he’d just keep trying. One day I agreed to go and he stood me up.
 

*****

Chapter 4

“Kendall, you are a lifesaver!” I’d squealed as she walked in the door.
 

“You owe me Lex,” she rolled her eyes. “It looks so much more fun out there than in here.”

“It’ll be busy,” I reminded her.
 

“Well that makes it all better,” her eyes rolled again as she found an apron to slide on and pulled her hair up behind her head.
 

Kendall was going to tend to the shop for me. Biltmore Village was having an arts and craft fair that day and I needed to be out there. Crowds of people were walking around and exploring the fair, the shops and the village in general. It was the perfect opportunity to chat with them and share information about our fight against the development.
 

“If it makes you feel any better, you are helping a really good cause,” I shrugged.
 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind as I sit here in this dreary building while you enjoy the festivities,” even though she moaned and groaned, I knew that she didn’t mind. Kendall had always enjoyed working in the shop with me. “Just be sure to bring me something back.”

“Will do,” I promised as I made my way out into the swarms of people.
 

It always amazed me at the turnout of people for such a minimal event. Yes it was big in terms of a local arts and craft fair, but there was nothing truly spectacular or special about the event. It was just a chance to explore homemade items, chat with friends and enjoy the sunshine.
 

Even though the event was technically held on the grounds of a church in the Village, the people migrated around the area and truly explored everything that there was to offer. Many of the vendors had even come from other states to share their treasures with us.
 

One thing I could honestly say, those of us in the mountains of North Carolina might not boast riches and fame- but we were very proud of what we had to offer, and that showed every time you attended a local event.
 

I found myself chatting with more people in the hours I was out among the crowds than I’d typically chat with in a week of working. Most of them seemed appalled at the idea of a retail center in our little village and were more than willing to attend the community meeting.
 

I even had to go back to the shop three times to pick up more flyers to hand out. Kendall seemed to be having a great time talking with the customers and running the shop. I knew that she really wanted to work there full-time but I wasn’t able to pay anyone just yet.
 

On my third trip around the Village I ran into a man not much older than I was who wanted to argue with me.
 

“Retail centers increase the income of an area,” he spoke firmly. “I don’t know why people always fight it. It’s a benefit.”

“Retail centers take away the beauty of an area. They bring in unnecessary traffic. They pay less, they charge less and they don’t benefit the community that they are in. Our little shops will go out of business.” I had argued.
 

“Any traffic into a small area is a good thing,” he continued. “Or are you saying you prefer people stay out?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “But do you imagine the same people who are visiting a retail store for discounted products are going to spend a day at the Biltmore Estate, eat at the Bistro or visit the candy shop for a special treat? No! They are going to get what they need at that store and leave.”

“Well let’s face it,” he laughed. “The Biltmore Estate is an overpriced tourist trap. The Bistro serves the same food as ten other restaurants and inflates their prices. I won’t even go into the silliness of buying candy from a candy shop at three times the cost of making it yourself.”

I tried to contain my anger at this man. I didn’t want to argue with anyone or create a scene. I needed to focus my attention on those that were in support. Someone with the viewpoints he had was never going to change their mind.
 

“The Biltmore Estate is a prized treasure in our area and we are very proud of it. People come from all over just to see and tour it and many have season passes. The difference between the Bistro and those ten other restaurants is that the Bistro focuses on seasonal local products. That supports our own residents in their efforts to sustain their families. And not everyone has the time or skill to make their own candy.” I spoke calmly, as if nothing were bothering me.
 

“You seem very young for such old fashioned views,” he’d laughed again.
 

“It’s sad that pride is now considered old-fashioned,” I commented. “But I must move along to those who want to support the effort of the Preservation Society. I do thank you for giving me a moment of your time.”
 

With those words, I walked back toward the crowds as if he were the last thought on my mind. However, even as I talked to new people I found myself still fuming over his words. What an insulting person!
 

“Miss Haraway,” the voice approached from behind me, drawing my attention away from the small crowd I had been chatting with.
 

“Mr. Monroe,” I shook my head at the disappointment as soon as I’d seen his dark hair and business suit.
 

“May I have a moment of your time?”
 

“I’m sorry folks,” I spoke to the small crowd, “Mr. Monroe here is the man who is trying to bring the retail center into our small village. I’m sure he wishes to talk to me so that he can attempt to use his good looks and charm to convince me that I want a retail center in our presence, stealing from our local businesses and ruining the quaint village we all call home.”

“You failed to add that my retail center would bring in more people to the area, people that would likely visit the shops and eat at the restaurants. And people that will buy gas at the stations and put money in locally. Not to mention, it will add at least 100 jobs just to this small village alone.” He smiled a perfectly white model-style smile and I cringed.