by Mel Walker
When she doesn’t, I reply, “No, but are you applying?”
She snickers as she leans up and places another soft kiss on my lip before pushing up and swinging her feet to the floor. This is the second time she’s done this, both times as if it’s no big deal. Tell that to the drums pounding in my chest.
I’ve tried to be patient and give her space. Hell, I’ve tried to resist knowing that at any minute I may be leaving Destiny Falls, but as the taste of her scent lingers on my lips, I know I can’t continue to ignore the obvious.
I place a hand on the back of her shoulder. The move causes her to turn toward me, her eyes tentative, waiting for me.
I’m still lying prone on the bed as I stroke my finger down the center of her back, bringing another smile to her face. A momentary flash of hunger in her eyes is all the prompting I require. I push back my hesitation, my patience, my past, and the voices in my head. I slide my hands up until they wrap softly behind her neck and pull her back down to the bed, my intent clearer than the weak words I’ve used up till now. Her body twists and follows my lead.
Our lips meet again. This time I’m in control, and it’s far from a quick peck. The passion of a hundred days of flirting flow through my lips to hers. She tastes of vanilla, wonderment, and strength. Our lips momentarily separate, and our hot breaths mix, warming every part of me. Her eyes close as she utters a soft sigh, which pushes me over the edge.
The tenderness dissolves with the sound and our hungry kisses intensify. Her needy hands frame my face. She pulls back for a heartbeat. Her chest heaves as she attempts to catch her breath, her eyes blazing with life, sleep a long-gone thought. Her eyes flicker with a look I don’t recognize.
“I have to go,” she whispers with irritation. “Sunrise yoga at six on the deck. Don’t you need to prep breakfast or something?”
My eyes search her face to see if she’s joking. Right now, the last thing on my mind is cooking. “There are granola bars in the kitchen, they won’t starve. We have time.”
She giggles as she pushes up on the bed, her legs crossing over one another as she pulls her hair out of her face. “We have all week to figure this out.”
Her words cause me confusion. “Figure what out? Sunshine, this is happening. It’s just a matter of when.”
“It’s not that simple, Jackson. Let’s talk later.” She swings her feet to the floor once again and slips her feet into her slip-ons.
I match her movement, adjusting my shorts and stand next to her. I catch her gaze lingering on my lap, and I don’t try to hide the evidence. “I think we are past the point of talking, Dana, obviously.”
She smirks in my direction, her gaze remaining on my lower half. She bends and gathers her yoga blocks and waves them in my direction. “Jackson, come on, let’s not make this hard.” She bursts out laughing like a twelve-year-old boy.
I cross my arms and bite my inner cheek. This is far from a laughing matter. “You really are leaving? After…” I glance down at the bed. “This.”
She crosses back to me, one hand on my chest as she looks up at me on the tips of her toes. She places another soft kiss on my lips. Quick and sweet, a ghost of a kiss which I know I will be daydreaming about all day. “It’s just a kiss. Remember balance. I’m only looking to play medium…” She steps back, her gaze lowering down my torso until it locks once again on my shorts. “… not hard.”
Her laughter bounces off the wall as she shuts the door behind her, and I’m left alone with an empty bed and my own sense of balance wrecked.
Chapter Eighteen
Dana
Maybe I’ve been wrong all this time. After what seemed like the most restful sleep I’ve had in recent memory and lip-locking with Jackson, I feel a sense of peace and ease in my spirit. Maybe this is the balance that I need.
I’ve kept Jackson at arm’s length for months, his interest and my attraction never in question. I had believed that I needed to focus on the yoga studio, that I couldn’t have a relationship and a business. Maybe I’ve been wrong all this time because at this moment I feel on top of the world.
The three morning sessions have all gone by without a hitch. And apparently, I’m not the only one who appears to have achieved a sense of balance as Carrie and Sanjeev have been sharing glances, whispers, and soft touches between them all morning. I guess I wasn’t the only one who stepped out last night. Although I’m surprised Sanjeev chose so quickly, I’m happy for Carrie. I’m sure I’ll get the full download tonight, that is, if either one of us return to our room tonight.
I push back the blush and can’t believe I am even considering what I’m thinking. Will I spend another night in Jackson’s bed? After that amazing kiss, I doubt there will be much sleeping involved.
I think through the agenda and shake my head. By this point in the schedule, I half expected to be partially insane, micromanaging every detail, stressed beyond belief. I feel the complete opposite. The students, outside of the Lord of the Flies moment when they first set eyes on Sanjeev, have been incredible. They’ve found their balance, giving their all, supporting one another during the sessions and bonding and enjoying life outside the classroom. Hell, even I’ve achieved a sense of balance. All I feel is calm, look at me.
I’m sitting in a freaking rocking chair on the porch and staring out at the lake. It’s our post-lunch break. Some girls have returned to their rooms for a midday nap, their late evenings catching up with them. Others are out and about; I spot a few in boats on the lake, some wandering through the adjacent woods.
The hard part of my day is behind me as Candice will be arriving shortly. She’ll run the afternoon session. She has a cabin on the other side of the lake and has gone through this same yoga training. Not only certified, but she is a backup instructor at the studio. It’ll be good to see her.
The sound of car tires skidding on the gravel causes me to push up from the rocking chair. It’s a little early for Candice, but it is Lake Hope—everyone likes to arrive early and enjoy the scenery first. I walk around the curve of the porch and spot the car. It’s not Candice. A silver-and-blue BMW idles in front of the lodge.
My mind quickly scans the checklist to see if there are any visitors and/or deliveries expected. I come up empty and approach the car. The window lowers, and a set of familiar eyes meet mine.
This can’t be happening.
My feet lock in place as a chill races through my body, and my hands turn into fists.
“Dana! Good! I’m in the right place. I wasn’t sure.” He is wearing designer shades, but it doesn’t matter. I know those hazel eyes nearly as well as I know my own. I never thought I’d ever be staring at them again.
“Have we got a lot to catch up on,” he says as he steps out the car. He is a wolf in designer clothing, a far different look than I’ve ever seen him in. You can put lipstick on a pig, but at the end of the day, they are still a pig.
He pauses and adjusts the cufflinks of a tight-fitting European blue-collared shirt. The move is so foreign and rehearsed I imagine him practicing it at every road stop on his drive here. He adjusts his shades and profiles as if expecting a horde of paparazzi to race out the front door of the lodge and scream his name. When that doesn’t happen, he merely tilts his head to the side and saunters—yes, freaking saunters—toward the trunk. He presses the fob like he’s a movie star, and the trunk opens silently.
I remain frozen in place, wondering if my eyes are playing tricks with me. Has teaching three classes and sitting in the sun taken me to the brink of insanity?
His movement snaps me out of my trance. He slips on a matching blue double-breasted blazer, and in his hand, he holds a bouquet of roses, eleven red with one white rose in the center.
The rose pattern forces my feet into motion. “What…” I stutter. I can’t believe my two worlds, which I’ve always kept separate, collide.
He pushes the bouquet in my direction. “These are from Mom.”
Not “your mom,” but “Mom.” This ba
stard is still in contact with my mother. It all is clicking now—her strange request for the address to the lodge. Co-conspirators.
He lifts his shades and doesn’t attempt to hide his lizard-like hazel eyes as they invade my personal space and rake over my body.
I take a step back and cross my arms against my chest. My breathing shortens and I feel the calm in my bones escape. “Can’t your fiancé drop in and wish you luck?” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He pushes the bouquet toward me. I’m stunned, and like an idiot, my hands working on autopilot instinctively reach out and take it.
Before I can reply, I hear the voice over my shoulder. “Fiancé?” I don’t have to turn; Jackson’s voice is part of my soul already. The one simple word from his lips are filled with more hurt and emotion than I’ve ever heard from him.
I drop the bouquet to the ground and turn. Jackson is already stomping back through the door into the lodge. I turn around and point. “Ex! Ex-fiancé. You have no business here. Stay right there or I will call the police.”
My threat seems to not have any effect on him as that stupid smile remains on his face. He adjusts his shades. “Take your time, I’ll just enjoy the view.” He lowers his shades slightly as his gaze slowly moves down my body yet again. “You look great, by the way.”
I ignore his line, as my stomach flips much like my world. I don’t have time for this nonsense. I need to get to Jackson; I need to talk to him. Every step brings memories I thought were gone forever. The pain, the hurt, the deceit, the lies. My body is racked with anxiety, and I know I will need to deal with the past which is standing on the road. But for now, all I care about is my present, my future, my balance, my Jackson.
Chapter Nineteen
Jackson
I shouldn’t be surprised that she has secrets. Since the very first time I saw her enter the cafe, beaming with joy from teaching a yoga class, she carried a mysterious air. Her bright light was impossible to ignore. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t resist the attraction. However, even from the start I’d felt the unseen barrier between us.
Over the following weeks, this was merely confirmed as every joust of interest from me was countered and diverted. After a few weeks, I chalked it up to someone who just needed time. Time, I understood. Hell, I was here in Destiny Falls trying to figure out my next step. I hadn’t planned on pursuing a relationship. That was never the plan. But that’s the problem with love—you can’t plan for it.
When we kissed this morning, I thought we had finally pushed past our fears, our insecurities, our bullshit justifications that screamed not yours, not here, not now. But I’m wrong, freaking dead wrong. She tried to warn me, hinted at the roadblocks that still exist.
Seeing that rich prick with the thousand-dollar watch, the shiny BMW, and designer suit say the word fiancé, it all clicked. This is what she has been hiding. The fact that he’s black, their skin tones a near match, only raises my insecurities further. I had never once considered our race in the equation. Dana seems secure in her skin. Hell, she chose to move to the middle of Indiana and surround herself with people who don’t look like her. I’ve always seen that as a strength. Maybe, like me, she was just taking a breather and needed something completely different for a bit.
I storm to the one place that has always provided refuge for me, in good times and bad—the kitchen. I pull the door closed and flip on the burners without a thought as to what I will prepare. Out of habit, I place an empty pan on a high flame. Before I’ve had a chance to even think, I hear the kitchen doors slide open.
“Jackson?” Her weak cry of my name, which had always turned me on, now barely tampers down the rage boiling in my veins.
I twist toward her with fire in my voice. “Shouldn’t you be out there with your fiancé? I have work to do.”
She ignores my statement and steps in my direction, stopping at the prep table. “He’s not my fiancé. We split nearly eighteen months ago,” she starts as her hands drum across the top of the table. Her eyes shoot from me, down to the table and back.
“Yet he’s here still calling you baby.”
Her face scrunches with the term of endearment which we both know wasn’t uttered. “I didn’t know he was coming. I think my mom sent him here.” Her words come out weak, apologetic. She’s not here looking for a fight, however my pain and anger are all I see. It’s an itch I can’t resist.
I hear the sizzle of the pan heating on the stove behind me. I reach back to move it off the stove. “Shit,” I scream and pull back my hand, the palm of my dominant hand taking the brunt of the burn. The pan flips off the stove and crashes to the floor.
Dana practically flies around the table, and I picture her repeating my mistake and reaching for the hot pan. “Stop,” I bark as her sneakers squeak against the tile.
“I was just going…” she begins.
“You’ve done enough. Just go.”
I grab a hand towel and bend down to pick up the pan. I make the mistake of looking up. Her eyes are wide, filled with water as if she is about to cry.
“Are you okay?” she whispers as she raises her hands in my direction.
I spin away from her, tossing the pan the five feet to the sink. The loud crash echoes across the empty kitchen, and her shoulders flinch with the angry sound. I feel myself losing control, the feeling that was a constant companion in Seattle.
The searing pain from in my hand clouds my thoughts. “You want to service someone, go pleasure your man.”
Her feet remain locked in place, the sense of concern and empathy shifting with each breath she takes. Her hands slide to her hips. “I’ll give you space, Jackson. I understand that, but you will not speak to me in that tone ever again. You aren’t the only one capable of throwing a tantrum, and trust me, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of mine.”
When I don’t respond, she continues. “I’ll tell Aaron that he may need to play chef until you take care of that hand.”
I wrap the towel around my hand, knowing it’s going to be tender for some time. “I got it. The kitchen is still my domain.”
Her eyes flick up and down my body as if assessing her next move. “Fine, it’s like that.” She says the words with a foreign tone filled with ice and distance. Her warning about her dark side echoes in my head. “We break for dinner at six thirty. I’m assuming your domain will be in order.”
She doesn’t wait for a response as she turns on her heels and marches out the kitchen, leaving the doors wide open.
“Shit!” I scream to the empty room and turn off the stove, walking toward the kitchen doorway. I slide the door shut and reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I scroll quickly and press.
My agent’s voice fills the earpiece after one ring. “Zach. Great hearing from you. You get my email? You ready to talk about the Food Network?”
“More than talk. Book it.” I have a history of making poor decisions when angry, and I already know this one will be added to the list, but I don’t care.
“That’s what I wanted to hear. I’ll send you the paperwork to sign. I know you said you are committed until Thursday. They start the production meetings, the B-roll shoots and such on Thursday. It will really work better if you got out here for that.”
I cut him off and press the towel into my hand. “No worries. This commitment isn’t working out as well as I thought. Something tells me that leaving early won’t be a problem.” The last words echo in my head as I think of Dana marching away. “I’m done here.”
“Yes,” Robinson screams into the phone. He’s been waiting months for me to hop back onto the wild ride we’ve experienced the last few years. “Great. I have a few other things I’ve been working on—I haven’t mentioned them because I know you wanted your downtime—but if you are seriously back to business, we can discuss a few things, some in LA, some back in Seattle if you are open to returning there.”
“Whatever. Anywhere sounds better than here. I’ll see you Thursday.�
� I click off the line. All I picture is the look Dana just gave me. The mix of hurt and disappointment is a potent combination that I’ve induced so many times. It’s the first time I’ve induced it in Indiana, but what did I really expect. You can’t teach an old dog, yada yada.
She might as well figure out that I’m a screwup who has hidden secrets from his past as well. It’s best I get out of town before the rest of this house of cards come tumbling down. Once she discovers what happened in Seattle, that look will be the least of my concerns.
Chapter Twenty
Dana
My head continues to swirl and I push through the doorway of the lodge and spot Candice chatting with the last person who should be on this property—Tyrone.
Tyrone Braithwaite, all six-feet-two-inches of the man I changed addresses to get away from. Yet he’s here in Indiana, like a bad dream, chasing me down six states and a world away from my previous home.
“Hey, Candice,” I call out and slip my hands into the back pockets of my shorts. I can’t bear to look her in the face as embarrassment floods my cheeks.
She steps away from Tyrone and pulls me into a hug, as if sensing it’s exactly what I need. “I was just chatting with Tyrone here.” She nods in his direction. He’s cheesing from ear to ear as if I’ve let him into my inner circle or something. “I think you guys need to catch up. Don’t worry, Dana, I got the class. Take your time.” She leans into me for another quick hug. “I won’t be far if you need anything.”
Her eyes glow with understanding prior to turning icy, and she directs her glare in Tyrone’s direction. “You should be gone by the time I’m done, so…” She doesn’t complete her sentence, not wanting to waste another breath on him, I want to applaud her absence of a goodbye. Both Candice and Mia know my history and are familiar with my feelings when it comes to Tyrone. However, as much as I’ve shared with them, I have left out certain details that were too embarrassing to fully explain.
