Calamity Rayne: Gets A Life

by Lydia Michaels

  His dad was right. I was a chicken. Turning back to Remington’s, I intended to enter through the pool area to avoid any commentary from the peanut gallery. But when I spotted Miles sitting at the pool drinking a beer, my intentions were sidetracked.

  “Hey.” I grinned, desperate for a distraction.

  He looked well adjusted now that Remington was no longer on a warpath. I pulled up a chair beside him and faced the ocean.

  “Hey.” He reached to his side. “Want a beer?”

  “Sure.” In companionable silence, we watched the sun set and sipped our bottles.

  I casually flicked my cap across the table, landing it between two candlesticks. Miles did the same, knocking my cap out of what I already considered the goal posts.

  Leaning forward, I retrieved the two caps and shot again. My cap pinged off the candle and skittered across the cobblestones and we both laughed.

  An hour later, several caps were on the table and the candles had been relocated to a more sensible location. Other household items, such as a bottle of port and set of wine glasses, had also worked their way into the mix. As we hunched over opposite ends of the table, we laughed and took countering shots, working under a combination of rules that resembled table hockey, mini golf, and paper football.

  Miles nailed a shot in my goal and I shouted, “No fair! I wasn’t ready. I wanted to move my shoe.”

  “Bullshit. You already set up your pieces.”

  I sipped my beer and hunkered down, squaring my shoulders and lining up my shot. He angled his shoe in front of his goal. I needed this point.

  Aligning my fingers, I squinted at the little cap and flicked hard. It pinged across the table and missed the goal by an inch. “Son of a bitch!”

  Miles laughed and shot up a finger. “Point!”

  “How is that a point?”

  “You missed.”

  “So did you.”

  “No. I made the shot fair and square.”

  “My shoe was wrong!”

  “Your ass. Don’t be sour.”

  We continued to bicker, but it was all in good fun. I hadn’t realized how much time we’d wasted playing the stupid game until the sliding doors opened and Hale appeared, expression blank.

  Distracted from my next shot, I stood up. “Hale.”

  He glanced at Miles and back to me. “I could hear you all the way out front.”

  I bit my lips, trying not to laugh, only slightly sorry. Miles returned his shoe to his foot and gathered up the beer bottles. “It’s getting late.”

  Hale stepped aside as Miles passed, returning to the house. I put the candles back and slid my flip-flops on my feet. A sense of breaking curfew stole over me, but that was silly. We were only having fun and it felt like ages since I did something as mindless as play a drinking game. “How was your day?”

  He brushed a kiss over my cheek. “It was good. I thought I’d see you at some point.”

  “I was…busy.”

  He raised a brow.

  “Did your mom get settled?”

  “Yeah. She’s great with Elara.”

  I supposed that was how he’d been able to show up sans child. This mother thing might just work out. “That’s good.”

  He glanced back at the house, which was now dark. “You and Miles seem to be getting along.”

  “We’re just having fun.” Miles was a distraction, nothing more.

  “I see that.” He picked up a bottle, read the label and returned it to the table. “How do you feel about dinner tomorrow night?”

  “With just us?” The moment I asked I saw that wasn’t what he’d been suggesting. “Or all of us. Whatever.”

  His brow creased. “Are you avoiding my mother?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged, finding my reasoning pretty solid after six beers. “Because it’s your mom and I’ve never met a boyfriend’s mom before.”

  “You already spoke to her once. If not for her, we might not have met. She wants to meet you in person, Rayne.”

  And there lay the issue. She likely had all sorts of expectations about the woman in her son’s life. None of which I’d meet.

  “I’m sure we’ll cross paths eventually.”

  “You’ll meet her tomorrow.”

  Taking a step back, because that wasn’t a request, my guard went up. “Hale.”

  “Let’s not make a big deal of it. We’ll have dinner and—”

  “Hold on a minute.” I shook my head. “You’re being a bit high-handed.”

  His jaw twitched and I could tell he was irritated with my reluctance. “This is something I want, Rayne.”

  “Well, I want a unicorn. Life’s full of disappointments.”

  He scowled. “You’re being childish.”

  “You’re being bossy.”

  His tone dropped as he gave me a penetrating stare. “You like when I’m bossy.”

  In a different context. “Not at the moment.”

  He took a step closer and caught my hip, yanking me to his front. His hand slid to my ass and cupped me possessively. “How about now?”

  My breath hitched as I blinked at him. “That’s okay,” I whispered, liking where this was going. My body arched against his front as he looked into my eyes and his hand slid lower.

  “I want you.”

  Yes, I liked this bossy side of him very much. Thinking this was better than bickering about his mother, I gave the slightest nod and he pulled me into the shadows where a lounge chair sat. His lips crushed mine in an almost punishing kiss and I met him lick for lick.

  “Do you want me, Rayne?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, as he stepped closer, sliding his fingers under my dress. I rose on my toes as he bunched my skirt. “Hale...”

  His thumb latched onto my panties, exposing a bit of my ass cheek. His touch moved between my legs as his other hand pulled down the top of my dress, exposing my breasts.

  “Let him hear you call my name.”

  What?

  Awareness slammed into me and I stepped back, covering myself with my dress. “What are you doing?”

  He crowded me, prying my hands away from my chest. “I think my intensions are clear.”

  “Wait a minute.” I caught his wrist. I wasn’t into exhibitionism. “What is this?”

  He scowled at me and pulled his touch away. “I heard you two carrying on.”

  “Who? Me and Miles? So what? We were playing a game.”

  “You didn’t even call me today,” he snapped, taking me off guard.

  And that gave him a green light to act like a jerk? “So fucking what? I was busy.”

  “Drinking with Miles. I know how you get when you drink.”

  Speechless, I gaped at him. Possessiveness was fine when it was just the two of us, but I wasn’t about putting on a show to make another man jealous and inflate my boyfriend’s ego. Not to mention I was pretty sure Miles was gay.

  Offended and disappointed, I fixed my dress. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this shit.”

  “You’re just going to walk away?”

  I paused and eyed him from head to toe. “From this? Yes. Call me when you grow up.”

  “Oh, you’re one to talk.”

  My steps faltered. I knew in that moment Hale hadn’t been lying when he said he could be an asshole. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. I’d rather address whatever this problem is between us than avoid it, which I know you’re doing.”

  I scoffed. “And that’s what you were doing, addressing a problem? Don’t act like you have everything under control when you don’t. You’re pissed I’m not ready to meet your mom and jealous I was hanging out with another man. Fucking me doesn’t change that. I’m going to bed.”

  I went inside, shaking my head, leaving him and his insecurities out to dry. I’d definitely been avoiding his mother, but so what? There was no rule that said I had to meet his mom now.

  Too many formalities
were suddenly coming into play. Why couldn’t we just be us? And what the hell was that bullshit about letting others hear us fooling around? He wanted to invite too many people into something private.

  Jerk. Stupid jealous jerk.

  Being territorial was one thing, but his trust issues were not my fault. I refused to pay a price every time he saw me in the vicinity of another man.

  Was there some deformed Davenport gene that made the temptation of manipulating others irresistible? For such big men they sure had the frailest egos. This was the first time I saw something so incredibly Remington in Hale and I didn’t like it.

  Hale had trust issues, for sure, but I wouldn’t enable them. If he wanted to act like such a grown up, he needed to trust people, especially where I was concerned.

  Love did not entitle one person to control another. I’d never try to dictate to him the way he’d just tried dictating to me. Why did he have to say that? Why couldn’t things just be uncomplicated and fun? But more than anything, why did he have to remind me so much of his father in that moment, a man I adored and disliked with equal measure?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Some Acorns Fall Far and Some Don’t

  The following day when Hale overlooked apologizing once again, I was still angry. Remington gave me a list of tasks and I attacked them one by one until they were all completed and then I demanded he give me more.

  I didn’t join Hale for dinner, nor did I call him. Miles was oblivious to my personal drama, as he should be, but Remington wasn’t so easily fooled.

  “You two have a fight?”

  “Mind your own business,” I’d snapped, and he must have sensed I was in no mood to discuss my issues with him.

  When the weekend rolled around, Barrett returned. He’d caught up with an old flame and disappeared for a few days, but according to his father, that was normal behavior from Barrett.

  With every passing day I thought about Elara. I wondered if she was growing, and worried that she’d already forgotten who I was. I couldn’t hide my curiosity whenever Barrett returned from his brother’s.

  “Did you have a nice visit?”

  “I’m out of it, Rayne. You want to talk about Hale, call him. I know he’s waiting for you to pick up the phone.”

  “Oh is he?” I honestly didn’t know if I could outlast Hale in some sort of pissing match. So I bluffed. “Well, he can go on waiting.”

  This was about more than Hale’s mother. It was about him making me feel like a pawn in some dick-measuring contest and taking his insecurities out on me. But it was getting worse the longer he didn’t call. Now it was about feeling ignored. By Monday, my anger tripled.

  “Did you make the dinner reservations, Meyers?” Remington asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you make them for three people?”

  I scowled at him. “I told you I wasn’t going.”

  “Your loss. Tell Miles to be ready by six.”

  My scowl dissolved into a pout. “Miles is going?”

  “Unlike others in my employment, he appreciates the opportunity to network and make connections.”

  Well that was just great. At first I thought this was some ploy to get me to persuade the future president, but maybe Remington just felt the meeting would be more casual if he had an assistant present. And why was I considering how Hale played into any of this if attending such dinner meetings was just a part of my job, the same job expected of Miles?

  Remington made no objection when I showed up wearing my black wrap dress for dinner and announced I’d be joining him and Wes. This was work. Period.

  On the way to the restaurant, he complimented my outfit and I merely rolled my eyes. I wasn’t a fan of Remington at the moment either, because while rationalizing my anger toward Hale, I’d pinned a clump of his trust issues on his father. Maybe if Remington hadn’t gone sticking his dick where it didn’t belong, his son wouldn’t be so insecure when it came to other men hanging around his territory.

  As we waited for Wes to arrive I read over the menu.

  “When do you plan on getting out of this mood, Meyers?”

  “You’re one to talk.” We all suffered plenty under the wrath of one of Remington’s many temper tantrums.

  “There’s Wes.”

  I glanced up as the man of the hour entered the restaurant. His smile grew as his gaze crossed with mine. I truly hoped I wasn’t playing into another Davenport scheme.

  “Rayne. It’s lovely to see you again.”

  I smiled without showing teeth. Remington went into a lengthy description of his upcoming venture and Wes appeared to only partially listen.

  “Do you like the wine, Rayne?”

  Taking a sip, I swallowed. “It’s fine.”

  Remington stopped talking long enough to watch Wes who apparently couldn’t stop watching me. I supposed this was the time to practice some of those nifty networking skills I was always hearing about.

  “So…president. Did you always plan to run?”

  Wes’s eyes—brown, not silver—softened. “I think every boy dreams of holding a position of power.”

  “Some just want to be veterinarians and zoo keepers.” I didn’t need to look at Remington to know he wasn’t amused.

  Wes chuckled. “Did you always want to be a personal assistant?”

  “No. At one point I wanted to be Indiana Jones.”

  “Charming.” He laughed again.

  The waiter took our order and Wes humored Remington with some mild shoptalk. I switched from wine to water, because I didn’t like the way Wes kept watching me. I also didn’t like the way Remington made no attempt to intervene.

  The conversation shifted back to lighter topics as dinner was served. I remained polite, but made no attempt to impress Wes. I wasn’t interested in anything more than the pasta on my plate and honestly should have let Miles come in my place. What the hell did I have to network for?

  It was a win-lose when I realized no one was ordering dessert. I never turned down dessert, but I was glad the evening was coming to an end, so I didn’t make a fuss.

  Wes and Remington talked as we made our way to the valet. Once Remington was inside the limo, Wes made the move I’d been dreading.

  “I’ll be in town for the next few days. Perhaps I could take you out again, Rayne. No politics this time. Just the two of us.”

  I finally allowed myself to actually take his measure. He was a decent looking guy, older than me by at least ten years, if not more. But he was fit and fairly attractive on a politician’s scale. No matter what, I couldn’t see past his career. But most unappealing of all, he wasn’t Hale.

  I suddenly had an image of me sitting as First Lady and I laughed, because it was such a ludicrous thought.

  “What’s funny?”

  My laughter ceased. Time to get serious. “I have a boyfriend.”

  “Hale?”

  “Yes.”

  If he had any inclination I was involved with Remington’s son, he shouldn’t be asking me out. It seemed all so two-faced and… politician like.

  He reached in his pocket and produced a card. “Well, you have my number if things change.”

  Appalled by his persistence, I took the card and slid into the limo. Wes leaned in and offered a polite goodbye to Remington.

  Once we were on our way, Hale’s father said, “Hold onto that card.”

  If I wasn’t so opposed to littering I would have chucked it out the window just to spite him, but I made do with crumpling it in my hand. “Don’t you care what your son thinks?”

  “Of course I care.”

  “Then why encourage me to have dinner with someone else?”

  “It’s not for my benefit.”

  My brows lifted. “Oh, really. Then whose?”

  “Yours. He could open doors for you.”

  “I can open my own damn doors,” I grumbled, sick of the games. “Besides, you and I both know I’m not his type.”

  “There are all kinds of
types, Meyers. No one’s moving you into the White House, but you’d be in a comfortable position.”

  I gaped. “Jesus, you are such an asshole.”

  “But I’m honest. Marilynn wore as many smiles as Jackie Onassis, if not more. ”

  “My God, Remington. Shut up.”

  I was quickly shifting back to my stance of sex complicates life and should mostly be avoided. Seeing sex as any sort of manipulation device disgusted me.

  Irritated, I asked, “How is it men can sleep with whoever they want for the simple pleasure of it, but with women it always comes down to being some sort of tool or weapon?”

  “Don’t turn your nose up at a good opportunity when your other options are suddenly MIA. Things change, Meyers.”

  My eyes closed, showing him I was finished with the conversation, but he didn’t seem concerned with my limits.

  “Hale won’t beg. I don’t know what you two are squabbling about, but you’ve reached an impasse. Either you bend or the game’s over.”

  Was that true? Deep down the thought terrified me, but I hid my fear. “It’s always a game with you, isn’t it?”

  “There’s always a motive.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And what’s yours?”

  “Which one do you want to know?”

  Shifting in my seat, I looked him square in the eye. “Jasmine. Why did you sleep with her?”

  His brow twitched. “She offered.”

  “Bullshit. You’re always three moves ahead, Remington. You loved your wife and you love your son. There was a reason you crossed that line.”

  “When it comes to sex, men aren’t that complicated, Meyers. We like to feel powerful, desired and, above all, necessary.”

  “Yes, I’m getting quite a lesson on man’s fragile little ego lately.”

  “It’s your own ego that makes it impossible to understand what I’m talking about. Look at you now, waspish and miserable. That’s the first sign of a bruised ego.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Go ahead and roll your eyes. I’m right.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Really? Let’s see if I can’t piece together the puzzle. You felt threatened by another woman, not the baby or the baby’s mother, but Hale’s mother. That was the first prick. Rather than face your fears, you turned the tables, using poor Miles as a pawn to even the score and poke back, showing your life could be just as busy as Hale’s.”