Ethan seriously needed a release valve or a punching bag. He needed an out. “You don’t get it. I’m going to have to let her go no matter what.”
“That’s my point. Go think about that, Ethan, for a good long time. Try to figure it out before her flight leaves.”
Chapter Twelve
When Ethan walked into his apartment that evening, he was stunned to find Rue on his sofa. And instead of that vivacious smile she always wore, she fronted a proverbial look that could kill, and it settled on him with razor-sharp accuracy.
“Everything go okay this afternoon?” he asked.
“Oh, it was great. Shaggy had a blast. We took a nice long walk, during which she mostly wallowed in the grass while I tried to figure out why a guy who gave me the most amazing sex of my life couldn’t look me in the eye after we got out of bed.”
He sank onto the sofa next to her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”
“I beg to differ.”
A smile found his lips. “Well, that’s good to know.”
She spun on the sofa so she sat backwards, almost facing him, forcing him to look at her.
“You said you didn’t feel guilty,” she said, sounding less as if she wanted to kill him, “so what’s the problem?”
He looked at her, taking her in. Unsure of how he felt, or at least how to define it. He only knew that things would be a lot less complicated if she thought that house in Flatbush felt like home, but even that wouldn’t solve anything. The woman who was content on that parcel of land wouldn’t be the one who’d taken him in a hot air balloon. She wouldn’t be the one with whom he’d shared his bed. That woman wouldn’t be the one he couldn’t get out of his head. But instead of trying to explain all that, he simply said, “I’m not a fling kind of guy.”
Understanding dawned in those bright blue eyes. “And I’m a fling. And I believe we discussed this before the clothes came off.”
“So we did. And the reality is, you’re beautiful and amazing, and nothing and no one will ever hold you down.” The truth behind those words kind of hurt, but they highlighted everything he loved about her.
“And you’re sweet and thoughtful and intense in the best possible way. And what happened was a big step for you, and maybe you’ll decide one day you regret it or maybe not. But it happened, and you can’t undo it. Don’t run from it.”
The logic was hard to argue with, the need to hold her impossible to explain. He didn’t know how to say he couldn’t risk caring about her—not when he was guaranteed to lose whatever they had. And thinking they had something at all made him feel like one of those losers who read too much into anything, but he knew something was there. What it meant was another thing entirely.
“This thing between us won’t last,” he said. “I can’t.”
She touched his hand with a fingertip. Just enough for him to feel the contact, and not nearly enough to hold. Fitting. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” she said. “And besides, it already happened. You can enjoy it, or you can hide from it, but I vote for enjoying it. Because I did. Very much.”
“Me, too,” he said.
And wasn’t that the damned problem? For years, he’d been content to stay on the sidelines, first out of grief, and then out of avoidance. He didn’t want to risk falling in love when loving inevitably meant losing. But Rue had come in, tearing through his defenses when they should have been at their highest. He knew pretending would be hard, but falling for her shouldn’t have been so easy.
She wasn’t looking at him but, rather, the small circle she traced on his hand.
“Did you really punch a shark?” he asked.
She glanced at him, startled. “I wouldn’t have said I had if I didn’t.”
“I was a bit distracted when you told that story. How did that happen?”
“I went swimming with sharks.” When she caught his expression, she quickly continued. “Reef sharks. Generally harmless, but curious. One was swimming alongside me, and I guess my camera caught its attention because the next thing I knew, I was fighting to hold onto the camera.”
He pushed back a few strands of her wacky hair and thought a little too hard about how it had looked against his pillow. “So you threw a punch?”
She scooted around, settling against him on the sofa. And she fit.
He tried not to notice.
“Pretty much,” she said. “I didn’t hurt him. I just startled him, but I think by then he’d figured out plastic wasn’t so tasty. In the meantime, I got a couple of incredible pictures.”
He shook his head, and her hair tickled his chin. “This fearless side of you. Is it…I don’t know, real?”
As crazy as she was, he didn’t want her to say no. He didn’t want her to be any less than the woman he knew.
“I might be a bit of an adrenaline junkie,” she admitted, “but life is out there. Why sit on the sidelines?”
“When everything you need is on the sidelines,” he asked quietly, “why run?”
“I don’t think I’m running.” She chose that moment to lace her fingers through his, holding on tight. “This is me. I’ve always been restless, and I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember to get away from this stupid New York royalty thing my mom is trying to sell. For years I didn’t know what else was out there, but then I happened to look out the window of an airplane. We were somewhere in the air between New York and Vancouver, and for as far as I could see, there were rugged mountains. It was just this bare, vast wilderness, and I couldn’t think of anything else until I saw it for myself. My parents tried to give me everything,” she said. “I know that. But how do you know what everything is when you don’t know what else is out there?”
In those words, he saw a woman who would spend her entire life free. Knowing that sat heavily, but he welcomed the ache. It was enough to convince him that this was one good-bye he’d feel good about, no matter how much it hurt, because she’d be alive in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine.
But that didn’t mean he wanted to think too much about it. Not now. “Your accent,” he said. “If you were born and raised in New York, where did you get that accent?”
She snorted. “My mother sent me to a speech class that promised to eradicate all traces of regionalism. It’s supposed to make a person sound polished and professional, like a newscaster.”
“I’m not sure it worked. I thought I caught a hint of the south in your voice.”
She looked up at him. He thought about kissing her, then he thought about how soon that choice would be taken from him.
Oblivious to his thoughts, she grinned and said, “You did. It wasn’t part of the class. I just adopted it to drive my mother crazy. Needless to say, she doesn’t find it the epitome of sophistication.”
He snorted. “I’m really glad you’re on my side.”
Like it mattered. Like she wouldn’t drive him crazy either way.
But some of her happy, carefree demeanor had slipped. “I don’t have a lot of patience—let alone respect—for anyone who can’t accept me for who I am. I’m sorry she’ll be upset, but I’m fulfilling every commitment I made to her, at least in terms of this charity, but probably not the one she says I made when I was two and promised I’d never leave her. People might think I’m crazy, but between the two of us, I think I’m the rational one. And speaking of that, I know tomorrow is Sunday, but I promised I’d help out at the shelter bright and early, so I really need to get home.”
He probably should have argued, but he didn’t need a retake of waking up with her, the countdown to her departure echoing around them. He hated the tick of that clock, but he needed the reminder that they’d be over soon. That no matter how amazing the sex or how much he wanted her, he didn’t have to over think where they were going.
They weren’t going anywhere.
She had dreams to chase, and not one of them would come true in his bed.
The simple truth of that was what made him free. He didn’t have to wo
rry about losing her because she would never be his to begin with. But he didn’t have to let her go just yet. “I’ll drive you,” he said.
A brief shadow touched her eyes, and for a moment, he thought she looked troubled. Then the flash of uncertainly was gone, and she smiled, a touch of mischief lighting her face. “That would be great.”
Sure it was. After she’d said a heartfelt good-bye to Shaggy and climbed into his truck, she didn’t stay put on her side. Instead, she scooted to the middle of the bench and managed to find the seatbelt he figured was hopelessly crammed in the seat crack. While he eased out into traffic, she massaged him through his jeans and traced the line of his jaw with soft, closed lips.
Fuck.
Apparently she had to risk her life on the road, too. Not that he let himself get that distracted. He’d protect her, fiercely, until she walked away from him.
And he’d want her, fiercely, long after that.
The ride became an unspoken battle for control, and while he knew he could hold it together going down the road, he had to fight hard not to pull over and give in. Then she bit his ear, and while it was playful, it was game fucking over.
“I’m guessing you’re entirely aware of what you’re doing to me,” he muttered.
“Not much farther now,” she said, like she didn’t practically have his dick in her hand. Like his GPS wasn’t already telling him the remaining distance, down to the foot and the minute.
“Do I have your permission to retaliate for all of this when we get to your place?” he growled.
“I’m counting on it,” she said, in a voice so damned sexy it almost broke him on the spot. But he let it drop until she’d unlocked her front door and pushed it open.
Then he kissed her.
Against the wall, his fingers coursing her hair, his body hard against her every gorgeous curve. Her eyes widened, and for a moment she just stared at him, then the moment passed and she drew him in, clutching his shirt and feeding him soft whimpers while he hauled her against him. He managed to kick the door shut and turn the lock, then he stumbled blindly through the house, his memory of the layout fuzzy, his ability to walk further complicated by the fact that he was too busy trying to tear through her clothes to worry himself with directions. Other than the part where he needed to know where her bed was.
Right. Then.
The instant she hit the mattress, he was there with her. Allowing enough distance to remove clothing nearly broke him, but none so much as the sight of her lying there, moonlight filtering through the open blinds, body open and receptive to him. A distant warning sounded, but he tossed it to the floor with his jeans and nudged between her legs.
“In the drawer by the bed,” she said. “Any day now.”
He laughed, and it hit him how happy he really was. Happy. Fucking hell, why did it have to be with her? With the woman he knew he’d never have? And shouldn’t. He squashed the thought, grabbed the condom, and was buried between her thighs before the second thoughts hit. He rolled into her, feeling raw and wild as he surged deep inside her while she tore at the sheets, fisting them again and again. His name was a plea on her lips, her body a torrent of surrender when he planted his hands on either side of her head and drove hard, rocking the bed against the wall while she begged for more. Begged for harder. He didn’t know anything like it. Never had. And when she shuddered and seized beneath him, she took him with her, pleasure exploding into bright points of light that left him dizzy and lost.
Lost. Yeah, there was a word for it.
He managed to fall to the side, sweat drenched, chest heaving, world turned upside down. Again. His lips stung with her kisses, and his blood ran like hell through his veins.
He could chase that feeling every day for the rest of his life.
“I get it,” he said. “I get why you’re leaving.”
She turned her head and, looking at him across the pillow, smiled, so soft and sweet he ached inside. Then she curled her fingers around his and ripped out his heart.
“My mother?” she asked with a grin.
“No. The rush. The freedom. I envy you, you know. The world is yours, and I don’t think you’re afraid of anything.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m not afraid.”
“But you know you’ll be okay.” And wasn’t that the damned difference? He squeezed her hand, then extricated himself from her touch and then her bed. She stared openly while he dressed, never once asking him to stay. That was who she was, though, and whether or not he appreciated it, he got it.
Not that it mattered.
She had a flight to catch.
He’d be better off to stop worrying about her and start figuring out how to get through the gala. Once that was over, he could go back to his safe, normal life. The one without the quirky, car-kicking brunette with the scary clown pajamas.
He’d be able to breathe again.
Whatever that was worth.
Chapter Thirteen
Ethan hadn’t talked to Rue since he’d left her bed without a word, but he had texted to tell her what time he’d pick her up for the gala, and she hadn’t told him to go to hell. That was a good sign, but he was still nervous. Whether it was because he felt like a jerk for leaving like he had or because he had to make his grand back-in-a-relationship public debut, he wasn’t sure…but truth be told, he cared more about what Rue felt than he did everyone else at the gala put together. He never had been concerned about moving on or who thought he should. He wasn’t looking forward to the scrutiny of having done so, but he sure as hell hadn’t cared when they’d gawked at him before. This would be no different.
At least not in that regard.
But he was in familiar territory nonetheless. The last time he’d had a date for one of these fundraisers, he’d been letting her go, too.
He tugged at the collar of his rented tux and cursed the dress code of the city’s elite as he steered onto Rue’s road. Funny how he thought of it as hers now. He was still thinking about that as he parked and cut the engine, and on the walk to the house, he automatically searched for the water-pistol packing granny next door. Before he could knock, the door opened.
And he lost his breath.
Rue stood before him wearing a stunning blue gown that perfectly matched her eyes. The floor-length dress followed her curves, but wasn’t the least bit immodest. It was classic and gorgeous, just like her.
“No one will be looking at me tonight,” he said by way of greeting. “That’s for damn sure.”
She smiled and her dangly diamond earrings danced. “That’s because you’re not shirtless and sweaty with moonlight gleaming off what happens to be a seriously smokin’ bod, all predatory and wild. And don’t get me started about what’s below the belt.”
Yeah, he’d better not. Because if she got started down there, he’d be both kinds of screwed. “I don’t want to get you started on last night at all.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”
“I kind of left,” he replied, puzzled.
“I wasn’t going to ask you to move in,” she said lightly. “Leaving was inevitable.”
Oh. He stood quietly, and probably a little wounded, while she locked up. There he’d been worried she’d be upset—or worse, hurt—by him walking out before the mattress quit shaking, and she didn’t bat an eyelash. Because that was her, he reminded himself. Not a care in the world. Not that he thought she didn’t care about him, but she’d made it clear she’d put New York behind her as soon as possible. And he was New York. Maybe she didn’t think of it that way, but semantics didn’t change the truth of the matter.
That was something he’d do well to remember.
They walked to the truck, and he opened her door and helped her in, then circled around to his side. The gala was held in the grand ballroom of a luxury hotel on the Upper East Side. Not exactly his stomping grounds, and for the umpteenth time he wondered why they didn’t just donate the exorbitant cost of the fundraiser to the charity itself. But with the
guest list packed with millionaires—and some probably upwards of that—he figured they drew a nice profit…not to mention some national attention. None of which explained why he had to dress up and drive into Manhattan, but he’d lost that particular battle years ago.
“Why aren’t we taking a cab?” Rue asked.
“I’m more comfortable in my truck,” he said. “I rented a parking spot for the night.” Fifty bucks for six hours in a hundred-and-sixty square feet of barren real estate. He was definitely in the wrong business.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not a fan of dressing up, either. I hope to find Mimi Von Adler as soon as I get there so I can talk to her about the calendar. After that, it’s a matter of being seen—and I hate that I had to even say that—and then we’re out of there.”
“And then you’re out of here.”
She wouldn’t look at him, though her mood didn’t seem to suffer. “After a week or so. If she green lights the calendar, I’ll have a few photo shoots to do, but those are usually pretty quick, especially since I only have to please myself. Clients can be kind of persnickety if they’re on the shoot, but I happen to know I’m pretty easy to get along with.”
And pretty damn easy with the good-byes.
By the time he steered into his overpriced parking spot, actual dread had begun to crawl through his gut. Pretending to move on had been one thing. Actually doing it was another. Doing it in vain wasn’t something for which he needed witnesses. Hopefully he’d been right, and Rue would draw more attention than the fact that he was there with her, but he didn’t hold much hope. Gossip was second only to oxygen to most people, and everything he knew about this crowd suggested they were no different.
The short walk to the five-star hotel hosting the gala was jammed with the noise of traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian, but otherwise it was a nice night—a comfortable seventy-ish degrees with a surprising lack of humidity that kept him from choking in that tux. As they neared the entry, he took her hand.
She glanced at him in surprise.
“Just in case we have onlookers,” he said. As if they wouldn’t. “Maybe the rumor will get around to Boyd, which might come in handy since you’re splitting the second you get through the door.”
The Three-Week Arrangement (Chase Brothers) Page 14
