“No.”
“Why is that?”
“Didn’t meet the one, I guess. You?” Her pause is too long, so I look at her. She’s facing forward, this time with her chin on her knees. I ask, “Have I crossed a line by asking?”
“No.” She doesn’t look at me. “I’m just not sure how to answer that.”
That’s when I realize what I said. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
She straightens up, stretching her legs in front of her. “Be careful, Danny, or I might think you’re saying you would have married me,” she jokes.
“I would have.”
The laughter stops. While her eyes search mine I can see panic rising. “What are you saying?”
She doesn’t know. How can she not know? I told her I loved her, that I was coming back for her, to her, that I had something special to tell her. I had the ring. The scenario was all planned out. But she didn’t show. She broke my heart and then never talked to me again. How can she really not know? “I’m saying I would’ve married you. So when I said I hadn’t met the one, I was referring to after you. No one since then that I would have married.” Tears fill her eyes. I didn’t expect that reaction and suddenly my hurt heart doesn’t matter. I just want to make her feel better. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She takes the box of food next to her and opens it. “You didn’t.” When she stops messing with the box, she looks me in the eyes. “I am, but I shouldn’t be. I have no right to be upset about anything regarding us.” She laughs. “This is heavy, not easy at all.”
“It used to be. We used to be easy.”
“Many years have passed—”
“Water under the bridge?”
“Oceans”
I nod, but I don’t know why. Oceans. She’s right. Maybe I need to just ask the questions I want to ask and stop all the other BS I’ve gotten caught up in with her. But as I sit next to her, I realize I’m doing what feels right. I like flirting with her. I like hearing her laugh and seeing her smile. I like that perfect pink that covers her face when I do push her sexual buttons. I like it all. I like her—sober and tipsy.
“Can we set work aside, and I ask you something personal?”
She bursts out laughing. “Everything has been personal, so why stop now?”
“What’s in New York?”
“Are you really asking what or who?”
“You know me well.”
“My job is based in New York.”
I wait to see if she’ll add to that. When she doesn’t, I ask, “Why rush back?”
“What do you suggest? That I stay an extra day or two?”
“Is that idea so crazy?”
“Your campaign is the biggest of my career. I don’t want to screw it up and lose this account. I have a lot of details to oversee. We’re thinking two cities at least, maybe one more. There’s planning involved that can be done from New York easier than from a hotel room.”
“I understand the logistics, but what do you want to do?”
“Danny, my job is a sixty-hour-a-week job. It’s not frivolous. I can’t just take off spontaneously. My boss has been breathing down my neck. He really doesn’t want to lose this account.”
I’ve heard the word frivolous thrown around about models many times. It’s a misnomer, but it’s not worth fighting with her. Appearances can be deceiving. We just make it look carefree. “We should eat. We’ll need to leave soon.”
We’re eating strawberries when she says, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I don’t think what you do is frivolous. I envy your freedom of choice and your ability to travel like you do.”
“Don’t envy it. It’s lonely. I’m always leaving.” I hear the catch in her breath and look into her eyes. Words from years earlier still haunt my memories. “You’re always leaving me, Danny.” She hated being left behind, but never realized how hard it was for me.
Looking back out to the ocean, a thoughtful expression softens her features. “You make it look exciting.” She says this so quietly, I feel as though I need to repair unseen damage.
“It is, and isn’t. It’s hard to explain.” Sounding much like a rehearsed pageant response. “I’m grateful for the opportunities I’m given. But I also work my ass off to get them. I’m lucky I don’t have a sweet tooth and like to exercise.”
“So are we,” she deadpans, pushing against me playfully.
“A-ha! I knew you liked the view.”
“I do and I’m not talking about the beach.”
“Be careful or you might make me kiss you for real this time.”
“Would that be so bad?” She licks her lips and suddenly all I want to do is follow in her tongue’s tracks. I lean over, but my lips land on her cheek. She’s looking down. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I am,” I reply, sitting back and losing my appetite. Looking at my watch, I pack the lunch back into the box. “We should go. LAX is a nightmare. You’ll need the time if you’re gonna make your flight.”
She doesn’t argue. It’s going to take us hours to fight traffic and get her up to the terminal. I think we talk about everything other than what happened back there or even what happened in our past.
Avoidance.
We both seem to be masters at it.
As we get closer, I say, “Thanks for Vittori.”
“You were my choice from the beginning. I knew he’d love you.”
“What about you? Any soft spots still in there for me?”
“Danny.” Her response is a warning mixed with resolve. “Please don’t make this harder than it is.”
I nod. We had all the time in the world and now time’s run out. “How does this between us go from here?”
“We’ve met,” she replies, looking at me. “Here, this week. So we know each other, but I think that’s as far as it goes for us.”
The button has been located. “You sure about that, pretty?” And now pushed.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Why?”
“Because you know what it does to me.”
“What does it do to you, pretty? Tell me.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I refuse to fall in love with you, so you can just turn those eyes on someone else. I’m not falling for it. Again.”
“Who said anything about falling? I’m not here to make you fall.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To help you remember.”
She looks out at the curb. “Professional,” she whispers as if she’s now reminding herself.
I keep my expression neutral and my emotions in check. The ignorance I’ve been living in for the last ten years is working. There’s no point in changing what’s good. If only this beating organ in my chest agreed with me. “Got it.”
She picks right back up like most of our conversation never happened. “Most of our communication will be through Mark, but if you need anything, you can call me.” She’s holding out a business card.
I take it and drop it into the cup holder. “Don’t worry, we’ll be purely professional around each other. If that’s what you want.”
“Thank you,” she says, her chin raising a bit; her stiff upper lip in place. “I think it’s best.”
When I pull over to drop her off, she stays in the Jeep until I have her luggage on the sidewalk. With the door open, I lean against the top. To make it easier on her, I’ll take the blow to the heart again. “I think of you often.”
She doesn’t pause this time, giving me this one thing easily. “I do too.”
As I back up, she gets out, coming face to neck with me. “If I didn’t have a meeting with potential clients in the morning, I would stay an extra day.”
I smile. I know just what she means. The storm brewing in her eyes gives her away. The emotional turmoil I feel inside, she feels it too. Pushing professional out the window, I slide my arms around her and she embraces me. With her head tucked into my shoulder, she whi
spers, “I look forward to seeing you again. Already, and I haven’t left yet.”
“I feel the same about you.” I take one deep breath, inhaling her into my system and memorizing the notes that make up her perfume, that make up her, and how she still fits so perfectly in my arms after all of these years.
We part and suddenly a lump forms in my throat. By how quiet she is, I’m thinking she’s at a loss as well. She takes hold of her suitcase and walks away from me. I shove my hands into my pockets and watch her leave… me.
Other than the lump and the sappy feeling I’ve got from her leaving me, Reese Carmichael is amazing. It didn’t take long for me to see what I’ve been missing.
A few days. Maybe it’s not about the past, but the future.
A second chance at love… is that what this is?
I look back once more as she disappears inside.
That’s exactly what this is.
I’m going to have a hard time keeping things professional when she is so incredibly clever, beautiful, and driven… a woman I can easily fall for, just like I did with the girl. A girl who was once wholly mine. It only took a few days for me to see what I’ve been missing all these years. I admire the woman she’s become.
Fuck!
I more than admire her. I already want her to be mine again. You’ll always be mine, Reese. Mine. Just like I was hers.
Walking around the Jeep, I get in and glance back again. Reese Carmichael is back. Destiny has a funny way of working. I smile to myself as I start the engine. And by the looks of her, she’s back better than ever.
Her strength is one to envy, but her heart is what I’m after.
10
DANNY
Days pass and I think of Reese, too much. With no word from Mark, I’m not sure what’s happening with the campaign. Things sometimes move fast and I’m on a flight that night. Others crawl until the actual gig. Vittori is a multi-million dollar ad campaign, hence why I was hired, so it being slow to progress doesn’t surprise me.
This might be the first time I’ve felt anxious, and it’s not the shoot that’s done this to me. I have the Vargo shoot in two days, so I’ve been putting my nervous energy into working out.
Running back home, uphill, I try to maintain the same hard pace I ran the last four miles. A distracting little blonde is up ahead—ass sticking out of her car, ponytail high on her head, a crap load of bags around her ankles. I suddenly feel a little more motivated to finish up strong.
Who am I kidding? I always finish strong.
“Hey there, stranger.”
She ducks out of the car and a big smile slides across that beautiful face when she sees me. With her hand on her hip, my part-time neighbor—successful entrepreneur, one of the hottest bods in Hollywood, and very taken, Holli Hughes, says “Hey there, back at ya.”
Even though my breath hasn’t caught up, I ask, “What brings you around?”
“I’m around.”
“Not nearly enough.” I land the line with a smirk.
She pushes off me. “You are too much and yes, I missed you too if that’s what you’re saying.”
“I am.” Reaching down, I pick up the bags. “C’mon. Let’s get these inside.”
“I could get used to this kind of greeting.”
Laughing as I walk up the path, I reply, “Don’t tell me the rock star doesn’t greet you like this.”
“When he’s home, he greets me in a totally different, X-rated way. There are no complaints there, Romeo.” She laughs, patting me on the chest. Her laugh is genuine, from the heart.
Sometimes I miss it, miss her, hanging out on her balcony, shooting the shit. She’s fuckhot sexy, but that ship sailed a long time ago. It all worked out how it was supposed to. I believe that deep down. And I got a great friend out of it. When I glance behind me, I see the happiness in her eyes. “That’s good to hear. I’d hate to kick his ass again.”
After a loud laugh, she says, “I’m sure he’d happily debate that fight.”
“The great Johnny Outlaw can debate it all he wants, but that night, I got the girl.”
She rolls her eyes when she passes me and unlocks the door. “How about I just tell him you called him ‘great’ and call it a day?”
“Yeah, probably best. We’re on good terms. No need messing that all up again.”
She sets her purse and laptop down on the kitchen counter and looks my way. “Wise man.” Pointing toward the coffee table, she directs, “You can set those down there. Thanks for the helping hand.”
“Anytime.”
Coming into the living room, she sits down on the couch. “It’s been a while. Fill me in on all the things.”
“I’d say not much, but—”
“I’d know you were lying.”
We laugh together; our friendship is one of the easiest relationships I’ve ever had, especially surprising since it’s with a woman. I haven’t felt this comfortable with another woman since… since…
Reese comes to mind, but I don’t think it’s wise for me to keep dwelling on our past. The problem is our past won’t seem to let me go, or I can’t seem to let it go now that she’s invaded my present.
“I booked the Vittori menswear line.”
“Impressive,” she says, sinking back into the cushions. “Billboards, commercials, and the whole shebang?”
“I’m not sure what they have planned yet.”
“Are you home much?” she asks, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table. “Or still traveling all the time?”
“I’m not home as much as I like, but you aren’t either.”
She waves me off. “Don’t be silly. I’d only cramp your playboy lifestyle.”
“It cramps my lifestyle that I’m not bothering my neighbors with women screaming my name in the middle of the night and loud parties full of beautiful people only looking to hook up.”
“Yeah, it’s just not as fun when you’re not disturbing the neighbors.” She laughs. “But all is not lost. I’m thinking about throwing a party when Dalton comes home from touring.”
“Rebel.”
“You know it.” She stands abruptly and takes two of the bags in hand. “I brought this over for filing, but I really don’t want to do it. Want to grab margaritas up the road like old times instead?” She looks hopeful. Too hopeful to turn down.
“Yes to drinking. No on the margaritas. Yes on beer. Light beer,” I say, rolling my eyes, wanting a solid lager, but settling for the lighter brew. “Let me shower. I’ll be ready in twenty.”
“You’re on. In the meantime, maybe I’ll make myself useful and try to get rid of one of these bags. Just knock when you’re ready.”
“Will do.”
Wonder if I should talk to her about Reese when I return? Get a woman’s perspective on this whole mess, but I think that conversation is best left over margaritas and beer.
A man is only so strong. With images of Reese in that little leather skirt and see-through shirt taunting me, I give in. It’s been years since I got off to her, probably since I was with her, until last night and here I am hours later doing it again. The shower has steamed up the bathroom and I take my dick in hand. Resting one arm against the tiles, I press my forehead against it and close my eyes.
Her ass.
Tight leather.
Great tits.
Gripping harder, I pump faster.
Lips.
Tongue.
Blue eyes that remember everything we once were.
Fucking chemistry, drawing me right back to her. Together, we aced that class. No one could ever deny our connection—sexual or otherwise.
I haven’t allowed myself to think about her in a long time for good reason. Nothing good would come of it. Yet here I am coming from the mere sight of her and it feels pretty damn good. So maybe something good can come of it.
My hand covers my face when I step outside. My lame attempt to hide the smile shining has failed. I can’t help it. What I thought might be a bad thing h
as turned around. Maybe Reese coming back into my life is meant to be. Definitely meant to be.
She looked good at Spago.
Really good.
Even better at the beach—natural and beautiful.
A singsong voice breaks into my memory lane reverie, “I recognize that expression.”
My head bolts up and I see Holli standing there on her top step. I don’t bother hiding my goofy-ass expression from her. She sees right through me anyway. But I suddenly feel shy about it, not embarrassed, but like I’ve just had a secret revealed and I’m not talking about the action in the shower. Because yeah, I don’t care if she knows about that, but her seeing that I might be wearing a silly smile over a girl, now that’s embarrassing. “Look away, woman!” I tease, hiding my face from her.
She laughs as she tugs at my hands. “No hiding from me.” When I lower my hands, she says, “She must be some girl.”
“She is.”
As we walk down the path, she asks, “Do I get to hear about her?”
“I have a feeling I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Eh, you always have a choice with me.” She nudges me in the hip. “But if you want to share, I’m all ears.”
“Beers, my dear. I need booze for this conversation.”
Holding up her wallet, she shakes it. “I’m buying.”
We’re sat at our regular table, the one by the window where we emptied many a pint over the years. We’ve eaten half the chips and the salsa is gone. Mainly because Holli doesn’t dip. She scoops… or shovels from what I’ve witnessed. I stopped trying to get salsa by the second chip. “Do they not feed you in that mansion in the hills?”
She almost spits out her food when she breaks down laughing. Tears enter her eyes as she covers her mouth. When she catches a breath, she takes a mouthful of her margarita. “I’ve been on a diet.”
“You don’t need to starve yourself. Just eat healthy and enjoy the good things in life.”
“Like salsa?”
“Yes, like salsa.”
“What witchcraft do they put in this salsa that makes it taste so good? Chipotle pepper? Is that chipotle?”
I stare at her and laugh, mocking her. “You’re a mess.”
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 266
