by Ried Reese
So why can’t I get them out of my head?
It makes no sense. Every word Taylor said, every gesture she made, everything she did, nothing changed anything between us—not even that night in the car had changed things. I’ve only gotten to know her better, and I’ve discovered that my first impression of her is accurate.
Not the impression I got when I walked into House of Stars for the first time and watched a beautiful, off-rhythm, blonde dancer work the stage. That isn’t the woman I’ve come to know. The woman I know works hard for what she has, but she uses her mind, not her body— although she could.
That’s Taylor.
We’re so similar, Taylor and I. I enlisted with the Navy SEALs, but I couldn’t make it through BUD/S training. She took her dream of dancing all the way to a stage, but couldn’t match the other dancers. Now, we’re both trying to make the best out of the knowledge and skills we had before our dreams exploded into shards of mental discouragement.
The sexy, wannabe-dancer accountant and the strapping Navy-SEALs-dropout turned electrical contractor.
Somewhere in my mental rambles, I realize that I’ve finally figured something out. I learned a long time ago that the future is an uncertain thing. It holds so many promises and dangles them right in front of you, then, when you reach out a hand, BAM! The future you saw is gone and it leaves nothing but uncertainty and darkness.
I was a victim to future’s promises. I lost everything in one moment of failure, but I also gained something—the realization that planning ahead and counting on myself and the results I produce can’t be the only way I live my life.
Go with the flow. Get what can be done today, done today. Think about tomorrow, tomorrow.
I haven’t thought seriously about the future since that soul-crushing, sweltering day on the sand-covered beaches of California. Taylor’s words changed that for me, and now I can see the future—and in every future, Taylor is there somewhere, holding her clipboard and nibbling at her cherry lipstick as she furrows her brow at accounting documents.
She owes Cullen. Hell, I owe Cullen, too. But just because she works at House of Stars, that doesn’t mean she can’t still be my sexy accountant.
“Shit,” I mutter, blinking eyes that dried and glazed over a long time ago. I sure wish my overactive brain could think me to House of Stars faster or something. Taylor’s might be able to.
Really, I’m just being… well, myself. Electrical contractors can’t exactly be late to work—we don’t have to clock in or anything. If the job gets done and it gets done while the building is unlocked for the day’s renovation work, nobody cares when the electricians show up.
Nobody except me. I care very much when I show up because not only do I have a lot of work to do, but I want to make a good impression. Little things like being present when someone is looking for you to ask questions can do big things for a reputation.
Well, maybe there is just one more reason I’m zooming past a slow car in the right lane right now. The sooner I get to House of Stars, the sooner I can see Taylor again.
I do see her, on and off again throughout the day. Whenever I don’t have my face buried in a wall or I’m not in an out-of-the way room of the club, I’m looking for Taylor. When my eyes do find her, I don’t stare. All I want is to know that she’s here in House of Stars, near me.
That’s not all I want, actually. I search her out at lunch time and find her sitting in her usual place at the bar. “Hey, Taylor,” I greet her. She turns toward me with a smile and greeting, and suddenly I don’t know what to do with my hands. I hook my thumbs into my tool belt to avoid having to think about that too much. “Do you want to get dinner this evening? There’s something I want to see, and it’s the kind of thing that’s better if you share it with someone.”
“What is it?” she asks immediately, eyes showing her curiosity.
“You’ll find out if you come to dinner,” I point out innocently.
“Mhm, I would, would I?” Taylor thinks for a moment, opens her mouth to speak, then hesitates and changes tack. “You know what? I’m a direct person, so I’m just going to ask. Is this a date?”
I think for a moment. After the past few days, I’m fairly sure Taylor will agree to a date, and it’s not like me to say something like ‘do you want it to be’ indecisively. “Yes,” I say simply, my heart upticking in anticipation of her reaction.
“Then I’d love to go to dinner with you, Brandon.” She smiles and brushes her hair back over her shoulder, and the moment of unsurety passes. “I can’t leave right after work because I have some work to do for an accounting class, but if you could pick me up around 7:30 that would be great.”
“Perfect.” Fistpumping is not an appropriate reaction for a grown ass man and I will not do it. “The place isn’t fancy, so no need to dress up.”
“Got it. Do I get to know what this mystery place is called?”
“It’s—actually, nope. You might guess the surprise!” I protest innocently as she starts to argue. “I’ll see you at 7:30.” I head back to the second floor where I’m currently working.
It’s like there’s some kind of reaction in my chest whenever I hear Taylor’s voice that immediately begins formulating an answer to whatever she says. I’m not the kind of person who has to get in the last word in a conversation, but I guess I’ll have to be when it comes to Taylor or no conversation will ever end.
Kind of like this workday, actually. Little tasks like running wires and checking currents drag on interminably, locking onto the hands of my watch and weighing them down until they slow to a crawl.
When the exhausted little hands finally orient themselves to read a time of 5:30 PM, I don’t know if I should feel glad I’ve finished my work for today or not.
I gather my tools, wave to Rick on the way out, and pull out of the parking garage. This time, I’m the slow vehicle in the right lane. The earlier I get home, the longer I’ll have to just stare at the clocks in my apartment.
Now, in my apartment and I’m standing in the shower, letting the warm water soothe my body (instead of sweat) when a realization hits me like a brick.
How did I not get Taylor’s number? It might not matter— we had agreed to 7:30, after all, and her address is still saved in my phone’s GPS. It’s not like I’ll get lost. But what if I’m late, or she’s waiting for me to text her to come down and meet me, or—
I lean a shoulder against the side of the shower and rub my palms into my closed eyes. You’re being ridiculous, I inform myself. Rick has Taylor’s number, or if not Taylor’s, he has Gemma’s. If some reason arises that I can't be there on time or I don’t see her when I get there, I can just give him a call.
Simple, and now I can stop searching the drain for my evening.
Sure enough, after I’ve taken a shower and finished getting ready, I still have about half an hour to wait. I spend the time on my computer, wishing I could do some pushups and triceps dips to get this obnoxious, nervous energy out of my system. Sweat means another shower and thirty minutes means not enough time for another shower, so I just bounce my leg impatiently and wait.
Once I actually get in the truck, I begin to feel better. I wonder if I should pull into the parking deck or just up at the curb when I arrive precisely at 7:30. Too eager. But then, the apartment’s side door opens and Taylor appears.
Hot damn. I’ve seen Taylor in a lot of different outfits and settings, but none of her outfits had matched her personality so well as this one does. Her long legs take her daintily down the steps, the perfect skin of her thighs tight below white shorts with a blue and brown mosaic-dragonfly pattern. A jean jacket is draped over her shoulders and the sleeves are rolled up just slightly against the Las Vegas heat that persists even this late in the evening, and her dark gray top bounces as she steps down with a soft, floaty motion.
The top purposefully hangs longer on one side than the other, and that might be the most Taylor thing about her outfit. It reminds me so clearly of t
hat sort of lopsided, I’m-being-patient smile she does.
She reaches the bottom step and turns slightly to the side to reach the truck, adjusting her tasteful, low-profile purse on her arm. Her brown leather sandals wrap around her ankles and have heels, but they’re just tall enough to show off the slender lines of her legs perfectly while making walking easy.
This outfit shows off everything Taylor has to offer, and she can’t possibly know how much that is.
I shake myself, put the truck in park, and jump out to open the door. “You look incredible.” The word falls short of Taylor’s drop-dead gorgeousness, but I doubt she’d appreciate me taking the time to look up synonyms for ‘gorgeous’ and tell her she’s all of them.
“And you’re a handsome gentleman,” she replies as she takes the hand I offer her and slides into the passenger seat. For just a tiny moment, she hesitates with one leg up on the running board, but then she completes the motion. “So, will you tell me where we’re going yet?”
“Still a no, sorry. You’ll see soon. It’s not far,” I promise, laughing at the little playful pout she gives me.
“Fineeeee.” She drags out the word, then changes the subject. “Me and Gemma are thinking of getting a pet.”
“Really?” I say, surprised. Somehow I’ve never thought of Taylor as liking animals, but now that I am, I can absolutely see her cuddling a Golden Retriever puppy.
The conversation stays on pets until we’ve reached the restaurant and walked inside. It’s an Italian place, but it has enough variety on its menu that I’m positive Taylor will like something, even if she’s not a fan of Italian food.
“Arialdo’s Authentic Italian Food and Bar,” Taylor reads off the menu. “I’ve heard of this place. Why did you think this would give away the surprise?”
“Because….” I think for a moment. “Can’t tell you that either because—”
“That might give away the surprise too, I get it,” Taylor sighs. “But I wanna knowww.” Her eyes widen and her lips turn down in a pout so cute I wonder if there would be any harm in just telling her.
“No,” I say firmly. “It’s a good surprise. Trust me?”
“I do,” she says without hesitation, further melting my heart.
Over dinner, I learn a lot more about Taylor. She likes plants and growing them, but she hasn’t had much luck keeping them alive so she hasn’t tried for years. Her favorite color is blue, and she promises to wear a blue dress she loves for me sometime. She and Gemma sometimes play I Spy in the morning before work because it’s a habit they picked up when they couldn’t afford internet.
I also learn a few other things that aren’t so superficial. Taylor doesn’t tell me in so many plain words, but I gather that her mother wasn’t around when she was younger. Taylor and her father didn’t get along, and I’m not sure because Taylor clearly doesn’t really want to talk about it, but I think her father kicked her out.
In return, I share a few things about myself that I haven’t talked about to anyone but Rick in a long time. I tell Taylor I was engaged to be married, but my marriage fell through. She knows that my father had a lot of goals for me, and for a long time they were my goals too—but I couldn’t keep living my life like that. What I can’t bring myself to talk about is why all these things happened.
Then, after we finish dinner, it’s time for the surprise.
“There’s a reason I picked Arialdo’s.” I accept my card back from the waiter, leave a few bills on the table, and lead the way outside. “This way.”
We walk about a block and stop, standing with a small crowd. “What are we supposed to be looking at?” Taylor asks, confused.
Ahead, a tall, ornate building floods the street with light. “There.” I point.
Lights of all colors and hues trail swiftly all around the side of the building facing us, then leap into disarray, shooting in all directions. They bounce off the four boundaries of the walls, roof, and ground and reform, creating the words ‘Opening Night’, then ‘The Aurora Casino’.
“Ohhhh,” Taylor murmurs from beside me. “The Aurora. I’ve heard of it, but I didn’t know it opened tonight.”
Now the lights illuminate only windows. Now they show only doors. Now they’re showing an ad for the casino, and it looks almost as good as a screen. “They wanted to do something different, so this entire side of the building is like a big light show, notice board, and sign all in one.”
“It’s beautiful.” Taylor leans her head against my shoulder as if seeking an anchor against the swiftly shifting lights. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me.”
We stand and watch the lights a little longer as the crowd around us fades away, probably heading to the new casino. Finally, we’re the only ones left. “Ready to go?” I ask, a little willingly. Standing here on the silent street under the light show with Taylor is calming and haunting at the same time.
“Yeah.” She glances at the flashing hand on the pedestrian signal and immediately takes off at a jog across the street, giggling.
This side of Taylor is so intoxicating and so different from the prickly exterior she presents to most. Ten seconds left on the hand, so I don’t need to rush. I start across the street at a walk, grinning as Taylor reaches the other side and turns to wait for me.
The smile on her face falters as two men in hoodies stand up from the stairway they were sitting in.
I’m at her side before I realize I broke out of a walk, clasping her hand in mine. “The truck is this way,” I say, outwardly ignoring the two men, but my muscles are tensed and ready for anything.
They cast dark looks at the two of us, but they just pass by, shuffling across the street like it was their intention the whole time.
Taylor is quiet and reserved all the way back to her apartment, and I keep wishing I’d gone ahead and given those guys a few broken bones to think about for ruining my evening.
“Hey,” Taylor says as she gets out after I open her door. She puts her arms around my shoulders and pulls me closer. “Thank you for tonight. Really,” she laughs, and to my relief, the laugh is genuine. “Dinner was great, the new casino was amazing, and—”
She leans up and gently presses her lips to mine in a soft kiss. “And you kept me safe,” she adds softly, then kisses me back as I kiss her this time.
God, you’re so beautiful. I want you to invite me upstairs. I don’t want this night to end.
She pauses as she hops out of the truck, as if she heard my thoughts. “I’d invite you up,” she teases, “but it’s only our first date.” The door closes, and she runs up the stairs to her apartment. I’m left with a hard on, chuckling to myself. Damn, what a woman.
Chapter Eleven: Taylor
“How much stuff is Cullen getting you?” I wonder, shaking my head at the screen of Gemma’s phone. We’re sitting at the bar in House of Stars, poring over listings and specs for furniture for our apartment while we’re both breaking for lunch.
“Just a new couch for the living room and a new coffee table because he says our old one is so hideous that it distracts him from me every time he comes over.” Gemma rolls her eyes and shoots a glance at the staff rooms behind the bar. Cullen’s strong voice echoes through the current emptiness of the rooms.
“He’s not wrong.” That coffee table could frighten a robber out of stealing. “So, we need a bookcase.”
“And a desk for you. Come on, don’t argue.” Gemma correctly interprets the pursing of my lips. “You need one with all the hunching you do over your laptop. Brandon probably doesn’t want to date the Hunchback of Notre Dame—” She laughs as I hush her vehemently. “Kidding. But also, not kidding. About the desk, anyway. It won’t break Cullen and us—”
“Has done enough. Fine.” I look over the list we’re making. “Will the driver help carry things up to our apartment?”
“I think so, but he isn’t going to help put things together.”
“Well, that’s no good. We have like one flathead screwdriver,” I point
out. When had we last had money to order any furniture?
“I think I can help with that.” Rick walks up on the other side of the bar and leans his arms against it, a warning of the bartenders to be hired. “I could give you some tools, but two beautiful ladies shouldn’t have to assemble furniture alone. Brandon!” Rick calls suddenly, waving at someone behind us.
I resist the urge to spin around like a puppet on strings as Brandon’s deep, masculine voice rumbles right behind me, “Hey, Rick. How are you?”
Great. Absolutely great. I’m so glad I wasted my time on having decorum so Gemma could ruin my efforts by craning her neck around my shoulder to get a good look at Brandon and size him up like a shopper at an open market eyeing a fresh-caught fish.
Since Gemma probably already managed to make Brandon feel weird, I smile at him. His smile stays on his face as he looks away from me to Rick, but I can feel that it’s meant for me.
“You got an hour or two after work, Brandon? These girls are getting some new furniture, and they don’t have tools.”
Does Rick know about… whatever this thing between Brandon and me is? The longer I look between Brandon and Rick, the more knowing the older cousin’s expression becomes.
“We’d love some help.” Gemma beams at the cousins. I glare daggers at Gemma. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner, of course, Brandon,” Gemma adds the desk and bookshelf we’ve been looking at to the cart with the coffee table and sofa, then places the order.
“Dinner sounds good,” Brandon accepts. “I have to pick up some electronics after I leave work, but I’ll head over after.”
“Good, that’s settled then.” Rick looks a little more pleased with himself than he deserves to be.
“Can you give me your number so I can let you know when I’m on my way?”
Gemma stands up abruptly. “I have to get back to practice. You can get Taylor’s number and text her. Thanks, Brandon!” She spins, her brunette hair bouncing triumphantly, and gives me a wide grin, her back turned to the two men as she saunters away.
