Undeniable (Always Book 3)

by Lexxie Couper

  “Let me guess?” Brendon said. “No US SIM yet?”

  “Nope.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

  It was my turn to say “Blow me”.

  “With my strict calorie intake?” He laughed. “Hell no. Okay, let’s see if we can find an Apple store to get your phone working. That’ll also save Aunt Rachel calling me daily to find out if you’re still alive. Don’t get me wrong, I love your mum, but she’s got a lousy grip on international time zones. I had a conversation with her about Russell Crowe, of all things, at quarter to two this morning.”

  I laughed, even as I itched to call Chase. “Mum would marry Russell Crowe if she could.” I was kicking myself for not having a working phone. Of course, it hadn’t mattered when the only person I wanted more than anything to talk to was right beside me, but now Chase was gone . . .

  “Here.” Brendon’s mobile suddenly dropped into my lap. “Call her.”

  I looked at the iPhone, my heart fast. “What if she—” I stopped myself. No, I wasn’t going to think about “What ifs”. What ifs weren’t going to achieve a thing.

  Dialing her number from memory, I raised Brendon’s phone to my ear and waited. It connected after five rings.

  I opened my mouth to say I was sorry before Chase could speak, and snapped it shut again when her voicemail recorded message filled my ear. “This is Chase Sinclair. Do what you’ve got to do. And do it fast.”

  A heavy pressure wrapped my chest again. Fuck. My mouth didn’t want to work. Neither, it seemed, did my brain.

  “Chase . . .” I finally said into the silence. “This is Caden. I’m—”

  The loud beep told me I’d run out of time.

  Fuck. Again.

  “She didn’t answer,” I said, handing Brendon back his phone.

  “Try again?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll get mine working. Besides, I don’t know how comfortable I am having you sit beside me as I pour out my soul to your sister-in-law. I love you, dude, but seriously, boundaries.”

  Brendon laughed. “Fair enough.”

  “Find me an Apple store, good man,” I said, pointing through the windshield. “Find me an Apple store.”

  We didn’t find an Apple store. None opened, at least. We did, however, check out of the motel in Anaheim. I’d left nothing in the room, but the dress Chase had bought on our second day together still hung neatly over the back of one of the chairs. I collected it, finalized the bill and climbed back into Brendon’s SUV. For some reason my heart was thumping fast.

  “Sure you don’t want to come back to San Diego with me?” he asked, as we drove toward Laguna Niguel. “If there’s an emergency with the dog I can drive you back.”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ll stay here. If there is an emergency, I’d rather be able to get to him straight away.”

  That also gave me time to plan my attack. And by attack, I meant apology to Chase. And when I was done with that, I was laying out a plan to prove to her that I knew she didn’t need my protection, or my flippancy. A plan to show her my love was enough.

  I loved her, and be fucking damned if I was going to let Donald the Dude destroy any chance we had together. And yes, I can see the irony in the fact I said I wasn’t going to be overprotective of her while also silently declaring war on Perry’s intentions for her, but that’s the way it was.

  By the time Brendon pulled up out the front of the motel nearest to the animal hospital, the sun was fully set and I was a thrumming mess of nerves and determination.

  “One last chance,” he said, as I climbed out of his SUV. “I’ll bring you back if I need to. Amanda won’t mind.”

  I grabbed my duffle bag, closed the door, and shook my head at him through the open window. “Go be with your family, dude. I’m good. I’m not going to fuck this up or let her slip away from me.”

  He nodded and gave me a wide smile. “Good.”

  Flipping him a wave, I turned and began to walk toward the motel’s reception.

  “Caden?” Brendon shouted behind me.

  “What?” I called, turning back to him.

  “The dog?” he asked, looking at me through the open passenger window. “Is it going to live?”

  I drew in a slow breath and shook my head. “Honestly? I don’t know. I hope so.”

  “It will,” Brendon replied, one hundred percent conviction in his voice. “You’ve got a knack for swooping in and saving the day when all hope seems lost. This dog is going to be okay.”

  He drove away before I could respond.

  And so endeth my conversation with Brendon.

  I still had a lump in my throat when I entered Reception and checked in. The only room available was a Superior Suite that cost more than I made a week on my intern income. Ouch. The upside of such indulgence was the suite overlooked the tropically landscaped pool, had a bed bigger than my dorm room, and free Wi-Fi.

  I’ll say that again. Free Wi-Fi. What every poor traveling student needs when their planned three-week trip of seduction turns into a volunteer stint at a vet clinic doing recovery watch on a stray mutt.

  Much to my chagrin, Chase didn’t have an iPhone, which meant I couldn’t text her anyway, until I got a US SIM. Instead, I found a Denny’s and ordered dinner.

  Eating alone at a Denny’s is as pathetic and miserable as it sounds. After finishing a massive plate of Bourbon Chicken Skillet, my stomach resumed its earlier grumbles over what I’d put in it for breakfast, now also obviously pissed at me for what I’d subjected it to for the last meal of the day. I ignored it, making as much use of the restaurant’s free Wi-Fi as I could by texting Mum and Dad back home to let them know I was alive. Once finished, I wandered out of the restaurant into the cold night.

  I stood on the footpath, staring up at the sky and the stars that weren’t the ones I knew. My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pulled it out, my heart fast, and read the message on the screen. I tried not to feel bummed it was from Brendon.

  Amanda just called. Chase left for this Perry guy’s place a while ago.

  An invisible punch colder than the night and harder than a sledgehammer hit me fair in the chest. I stared at the message. She wasn’t at Brendon and Amanda’s. She’d gone to Donald the Dude’s place.

  She was with Donald the Dude.

  Well, fuck a bloody duck.

  Nine

  “Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.”

  ~ Roger Caras

  Chase

  What was I doing here?

  Closure?

  The need to face him and know – really know in my heart, in my soul – I was done with him? He’d been under my skin for so long, I’d craved his attention, his desire for so long, that I needed to know beyond doubt I was done with him.

  I had to. For my own sanity. For my own future.

  I sat behind the Speeding Dragon’s wheel, staring at Donald’s place. If I wasn’t already Hard of Hearing, I’d be deaf with the force of my heart thumping in my ears. It was a wonder the Volvo didn’t shudder to pieces around me.

  Thankfully neither Mom nor Dad had been home when I snuck into the house. I hadn’t done that since I was a teenager. There was a note on the kitchen counter from Mom telling me if I was hungry there were leftovers in the refrigerator, and asking me to please send her a text because she was worried.

  I read the note, tapped out a quick text on my cell (I’m okay, Mom. Stop worrying. xoxoxo C) and then ran upstairs to my room.

  The snug white jeans, flip-flops, Star Wars T-shirt and beat-up leather bomber jacket weren’t overtly sexy, but it was the outfit I’d been wearing the first time Donald let me know he was interested in me as more than a student.

  Let him make of that what he would.

  I sat in the Speeding Dragon, in the dark, in the cold, and stared at his house. I could see him moving around inside, the muted light of his living room casting his shadow against the curtains.

  My heart c
ontinued to do its best wrecking ball impersonation in my chest. My stomach decided to join in by pretending it was a washing machine, churning away . . .

  Fuck. Closure was a scary.

  Dragging my eyes from his fuzzy silhouette behind the curtains, I looked at my cell, gripped like a life preserver in my right hand.

  I doubted there would be a text from Caden, but that didn’t stop me hoping. I’d sent him one over an hour ago. It had been a simple one. A lame one, to be honest.

  I miss Doofus.

  What I’d really wanted to say was I miss you. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a prickly pain in the ass. Instead I’d sent a text about the dog.

  I’d sat with Amanda beside me, staring at the screen, waiting for Caden to answer. I don’t know what I wanted him to say, I just wanted him to make contact with me. I missed . . . contact with him. It had only been a few hours since I’d left him at the animal hospital, since I’d lost my temper with him in the parking lot, but I ached like a vital part of what made it possible to live had been torn from me.

  “Maybe his phone isn’t working? Brendon mentioned he still hadn’t got a US SIM yet,” Amanda had suggested. “Want me to call Bren? He might already be in LA by now? Maybe he’s with Caden?”

  I’d looked up at her, ready to say yes when my cell had vibrated into life in my lap.

  Pink. Fucking Pink.

  Please forgive me, babe. You know how good we are together. D.

  I’d read Donald’s message five times. Five. Then, without hesitation, I got to my feet.

  “What are you doing?” Amanda asked, jumping to hers just as quickly as I hurried away from her.

  “Going.”

  “Where?” she shouted, loud enough for me to hear.

  I scooped up my keys and handbag, and strode to the door without looking at her. “To get some fucking closure.”

  She didn’t come after me. She knows me. It would have been a waste of her time and breath.

  Now here I was at Donald’s place, watching him move about in his living room, preparing for my arrival. And waiting on a text from Caden that wasn’t coming.

  “And so it begins,” I said to the empty interior of the Speeding Dragon.

  I shoved my phone into my bag, opened the door and climbed out of the car. It took me fifteen steps to get to Donald’s front door.

  He opened it seconds after I rang the doorbell. “Chase,” he said, his smile knowing.

  A wave of cologne hit me. It’s true your other senses become heightened when you lose one. My sense of smell was good. Sensitive. Donald’s cologne wafted from him, reaching for me, slipping into my breath. It was the same cologne he’d worn when we were together, although I was beginning to question if the word together was an accurate descriptor. It stirred memories of hurried sessions in his office, of frantic making out in his car. I stood on the top step, waiting for those memories to affect me, to tighten my belly and my core.

  Before they did, he said, “Come in.”

  Mouth dry, I crossed the threshold into Donald’s home. The last time I was here we’d screwed like rabbits on the dining table, and then he’d told me I wasn’t invited to the art gallery opening.

  His hand moved to the small of my back, his fingertips resting on the upper most curve of my ass, as though it was his to grab. A ripple of something I couldn’t identify crept up my spine and I squirmed.

  This was not how I expected to feel . . . And yet, it was exactly what I needed to feel.

  Three steps into his living room, Donald grabbed my upper arm, yanked me around to face him and then drove me against the back of the sofa, his hands pawing at my clothes, his lips crushing mine, his tongue—

  Oh God, oh God, this was . . . this was . . .

  “I knew the chase wouldn’t last long,” he groaned against my mouth, one hand closing over my breast, the other grabbing my butt. “The moment I saw you in the airport, I knew you still wanted me.”

  I froze. I wasn’t really engaged in the wild groping, but at his words every molecule in my body recoiled. Flattening my hands to his chest, I shoved. He didn’t move that far backward, but he did move. Enough for me to see the indignant confusion on his face as he stared at me. How had I been sucked in by him again? Where was my brain? What was I thinking?

  Oh God, what was I—

  “What’s going on, Chase?” he asked, pulling his familiar composure around him.

  I frowned. In my chest, my heart fluttered faster than a hummingbird’s wings. “I was thinking we could go to the opening of the new exhibition at the San Diego Museum of Art tomorrow night?”

  Donald regarded me, his eyes narrowing. “That’s not what I’m thinking about at the moment.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “No?”

  He studied me a fraction of a second longer and then smoothed his hands over my hips and pressed his body against mine once more, rubbing his crotch against the curve of mine. “We can talk about it later though.”

  “Later?”

  “After,” he said, lowering his head to close his lips on the side of my throat.

  My stomach rolled. I turned my head away and pushed at his chest again. Again, he barely moved backwards, just enough for his groin to break contact with mine. Who would have thought that sensation would feel so right?

  “Donald,” I said, holding his stare. Oh, he was getting frustrated. Angry. “Why did you first call me, after we ran into each other at LAX?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Because seeing you made me realize how much I miss you. Made me realize how much I want you in my future. Seeing you made me think about marriage. About what we had. How much I fucked up letting you go.”

  “Letting me go?” A throb in my temple intensified. I drew in a deep, slow breath, tainted now by Donald’s cloying cologne. “Letting me go is a rather peculiar way of putting it. More like dumped me because I was defective. And marriage? The man who wouldn’t even wear the signet ring I bought him, is now thinking about marriage? Really?”

  “Chase,” he crooned, sidling back against my body, a cajoling smile splitting his face. “Baby. I made a mistake. I messed up. I messed us up. But you know how much I—”

  “Want me?” I interjected. “Or is it how much you don’t want someone else to have me? You’ve become very determined to restart us since LAX, given we’d had no contact for weeks before that.”

  His hand on my hip grew tight, his fingers becoming hard points digging into my muscle. “I think you need to be quiet and let me remind you what we had, what we have, and get these silly ideas out of your pretty head that I’m just jealous of the Australian.”

  I burst out laughing.

  Seriously, I laughed so hard I almost doubled over. My ribs began to hurt, as did my cheeks, and a part of me recognized the anger boiling in Donald’s face, but the rest of me was lost to my laughter. Cathartic, soul-deep laughter.

  Donald grabbed at my upper arms as he staggered back a step. “What the fuck, Chase?”

  Even with my crappy hearing I couldn’t miss the incensed confusion in his exclamation. Shaking my head, I waved a hand at him to wait. I had no chance of talking yet. Not while I was laughing so much.

  His fingers dug deeper into my arms. He tried to make me stand up. “What’s so funny?”

  I stumbled a step to the side, still laughing. Finally, after Donald released my arms, I righted myself and wiped at my eyes. I was crying. “Oh man,” I said, the words part chuckle, part breathless pant, “did I fuck up so bad.”

  Donald’s eyes narrowed again. He studied me, clearly completely disconcerted by what was going on.

  I leaned against the wall behind me and met his mystified – and suspicious – stare. “You really are a Grade-A jerk, aren’t you?”

  His mouth fell open. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea, Chase,” he declared.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Of course you’re right. You don’t just want me because someone else does, you want me because I’m incredible,
right? Because you enjoy talking to me. Because you enjoy doing things with me. You want to marry me, right? Is that why you were at my parents’ place today? To ask Dad for my hand in marriage?”

  Something flickered in his eyes. He shook his head. “No. Your father doesn’t . . .” He stopped, his Adam’s apple jerking up and down his throat as he swallowed. “No one knows about us, but I’m ready to come out.”

  “Out?” I raised my eyebrows. “You and me? Together? Out in public? Right?”

  “Right,” he replied, closing the distance between us again, his hands finding my hips. He smiled, a wide triumphant smile. “Doing things with you is what I enjoy the most.”

  Let’s go get some ice cream, I signed, watching his face. And then go to a movie. The new Captain America movie is still in theatres.

  Puzzled frustration flashed in his eyes. Discontent twisted his lips. “You know I don’t understand when you do that, Chase.”

  I drew in a breath, my own smile curling my lips. “No, you don’t. Why not? If you can’t stop thinking about me, if you can’t bear not to be with me, if you are contemplating marriage whenever the mere thought of me pops into your head, why haven’t you learned to sign?”

  He blinked. And then gave me another one of those smug, supremely confident smirks. “We speak another language,” he said, tugging my hips to his. His erection was nowhere near as hard as it had been when he first pinned me to the wall. Funny, that. “It’s the only language that matters for us.”

  I laughed again. “Oh God, were you always this clichéd?”

  Venomous anger flashed in his eyes. “I’m not sure what you think you’re doing but—”

  “I’m over you,” I said, pushing away from the wall. “Once and for all. And I’m going. That’s what I’m doing.”

  He grabbed my arm as I tried to walk past him. Grabbed it hard.

  I shook it off with a laugh. “Seriously, Donald. The alpha male act does not fit well on you.”