Pondering, his brows drew together. “I don’t hate my life, if that’s what you mean. I’m lucky to have experienced everything I have. But in the process, I think I’ve sort of lost myself. Tonight was a wake-up call for me. If I don’t take control now, I never will. So, no I’m not going back to normal… not until I’ve tasted a little bit of freedom anyway.”
Oh damn! Where did I sign up to be included in his liberation? Somehow I just knew it would be epic. “Damn Bodhi, you were only in the shower for ten minutes.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “I think fast.”
“Okay then. If you had unlimited freedom and no time or money restraints to hold you back, what would you do?”
“You mean like a bucket list?” Even as the question left his lips, he appeared to be giving it serious thought.
“Yes. For example, someday I want to rent a motorhome and drive across the states, visiting all the famous road trip attractions, like the world’s largest fork or the 30-foot long corndog.”
“Wh… wow, okay. That doesn’t sound fun at all - but good for you.”
I smiled at his diss. “Hey, you asked what was on my bucket list and that’s it. So tell me, Popstar, what could you possibly desire?”
“I want to go camping.”
“Camping?” I gawked at my handsome companion. “That doesn’t require time or money… hell, you could even get by without toilet paper for that one. I thought bucket list items were big, grand dreams fulfilled.”
He raised a brow at me. “And a 30-foot long corndog is a grand dream?”
I shrugged.
Appearing reflective, Bodhi admitted. “Every day for me is big and grand. I want to experience the small stuff.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been working my whole life, so sometimes I feel like I missed out on being a kid. I’ve never run through a sprinkler or flown a kite or even been on a swing. That’s what I want… the simple things in life.”
My smile wilted as I stared into Bodhi’s pretty eyes. While I was looking ahead to a future I hoped would come, Bodhi was looking behind at a past that never was.
Suddenly this guy who appeared to have everything might possibly be the least privileged of us all.
“What about your parents? They never did those things with you?”
Shifting in his seat, Bodhi looked away. “I never had a mom.”
Pain shrouded his features. And longing. This was the wound he carried, the one I’d sensed earlier and had wanted to heal. Had she died or was she merely out the picture, like my father? In the end, I guess it didn’t matter. Gone was gone.
My heartbeat quickened at the thought of helping this guy through his hurt. This right here… this was what I was born for.
Before I got the courage to form a follow-up question his frown deepened.
“And my dad… he wasn’t really into giving me a traditional childhood.”
“That’s…” I was about to throw him some pity but he must’ve sensed it, because he was out of his chair, digging in my fridge before I could speak the words. Clearly he was as uninterested in my sympathy as I had been in his.
11
Bodhi: A Matching Pair
Shit. What had I been thinking sharing my family dynamics with Breeze? For as long as I could remember, the subject of my mother was off the table, in both my private and public life. Not only had I never been allowed to question my father about her, but the topic was also off limits to interviewers. I suppose if I were someone more important than a boy band member, reporters might try digging into my past. To be perfectly honest, I’d welcome the intrusion. As a child, any mention of my mother was met with resistance and the same regurgitated story was spewed out for me to chew on. The underlying message had always been that she’d died giving me life, basically strapping me to a burden of guilt I’d carried with me until the day that letter arrived, exonerating me from all blame.
But the twenty-four years before she’d made contact had been fraught with questions. Because my father had made mention of her such a taboo subject, her loss hit me hard. Growing up, I’d not only felt singled out, but also crippled by her absence – which was pointless seeing as plenty of kids grew up without a parent and functioned just fine. Hell, I functioned just fine… until the abandonment of my past crept its way into the present day and I did something stupid like sharing my issues with a person I’d nearly reduced to road kill.
Like my father had drilled into my head a hundred times over, our business was no one else’s business. I’d never really understood the significance of his insistence on discretion until just recently. All these years, Tucker Beckett wasn’t muzzling me to protect my privacy; he was hiding me… from my mother. No doubt it had to be tricky to lie about something as huge as a dead parent when your kid was a goddamn celebrity. Keeping me from talking ensured she’d never figure out who her son really was. Only somehow she had found me, and now here we were.
Sometimes I wondered how different my life would have been had I not been forced to operate behind a veil of secrecy. Would I have been a more loving person? It didn’t take a therapist to point out the survival mechanisms I had in place to hold people at bay. My reluctance to share my life with women in general wasn’t just a reaction to my upbringing, but also a form of self-protection. Bad things happened to women I loved. My mother had made the ultimate sacrifice, or so I’d been told. And then there was Beth.
Retrieving her face from my memory bank, I forced myself to remember. She was my live-in nanny, hired by my father to take some of the burden off his shoulders of raising a kid on his own. I was five when she first appeared in my life and nine when she was gone for good. Although my memory of her had faded some over the years, the impact she’d had on me was still felt far and wide. Losing her decimated my young life and left me bleeding in her wake.
Beth had been widowed at twenty-five. Her high school sweetheart and soldier husband died in combat the same year she’d come to live with us. I could still remember the sadness in her eyes and the way she tried to hide it from me by only crying behind closed doors. But I’d always been an intuitive little kid, probably because of the responsibilities placed on my shoulders so young, and I worked hard every day to bring smiles to her face. I like to think I healed her, but maybe that was just the wishful thinking of a child.
Over the years we became as close as any mother and child could be. When my father insisted on work and more work, she fought for fun. When my father turned his back on a comforting hug, Beth was always there with open arms, and when I went in search of answers to the mystery of my dead mother, Beth was the one who came through.
But the closer Beth and I got, the more fractured her relationship with my father became. He routinely accused her of trying to undermine his authority and threatened to fire her. I just never thought he’d actually do it - until suddenly she was gone.
While watching her pack for the ‘vacation’ she never came back from, Beth presented me with two gifts. They would both become my most prized possessions. The first was a photograph she slipped into my hand of a woman she claimed was my mother. She’d made me promise to keep it safe and never let my father know of its existence. The second gift she gave me was the guitar I’d learned to play on, a memento belonging to her late husband - the same one I’d carried on my back to safety a few hours earlier when the world was crumbling around me.
Glancing over at Breeze from the protection of the refrigerator, the Halloween lantern creating a halo effect around her, I studied the look on her face. Yes, there was pity, but what struck me was she didn’t seem surprised by my drama. And how could I blame her? I had, after all, just played right into the stereotype of the broken child star. Breeze was probably calculating in her head how long it would take me to implode. I hated to break it to her, but she’d be waiting a long time. I might be emotionally stunted, but I’d been dealing with this my whole life and I was no shitshow.
Standing with the
refrigerator door opened wide, I groaned in displeasure at Breeze’s measly offerings.
“What the hell, woman? Were you raided by a raccoon?”
“No, but I was planning on spending the next two weeks at the house in the hills and didn’t see any reason to stock the shelves. In hindsight, I should have kept better track of Nostradamus’ Doomsday Calendar. Forgive me. Anyway, you’re welcome to the condiments.”
She wasn’t kidding. Ketchup, a tub of butter, and a jar of hamburger pickles were the only edible things in there.
“Shut the fridge to keep the cold in,” she complained.
“For what? You have nothing to keep cool.”
Still, I did as she asked before heading over to the cupboard in search of even the slightest morsel, yet aside from a few cans and a box of crackers, it was as bare as the refrigerator had been before it.
At this point I wasn’t picky, shoving a cracker in my mouth only to rush to the sink to spit it out.
“Good god, Breeze. How old are these things?”
“Not that old. Maybe a couple of months.”
“Well, in cracker years, that’s like twelve.”
Her giggle was nearly irresistible, and I had a sudden urge to smother her neck in kisses just to hear more of it. But I was much too controlled for such a chick flick moment.
Begrudgingly, I slumped back into the seat opposite her. “I should have saved a sous chef.”
After Breeze and I shared a jar of pickles dipped in ketchup, our conversation returned to its earlier track. Thankfully, she was wise enough to keep the dialogue light and far away from the pity party I’d escaped from earlier.
“So, about your bucket list,” she began. “If you give me an hour, I can probably help you cross half the items off your list.”
Her smile put me instantly at ease. Instead of being embarrassed by my catalogue of preschool desires, I was strangely excited to tackle them. With Breeze. Although I had people to attend to my every need, the things I wanted to do couldn’t be attempted with hired help. I needed someone as dedicated to my mission as I was. “Yeah, okay. That would be cool. Thanks.”
Sweetpea wandered into the kitchen and stopped at my feet. He blinked up at me and I scooped him up with a confident grin.
Breeze’s mouth dropped open and I shrugged. “Little Dick and I came to an understanding. You just need to show him who’s boss.”
As if on cue, Sweetpea sunk his teeth into my hand. Not deep enough to break skin, but with enough gusto to let me know I was talking out of my ass. Obviously, he was still firmly in charge of our relationship.
“Dude, you’re such a slime ball,” I whispered shaking loose of his clutches. “You were supposed to be my wingman. Way to make me look bad in front of the lady.”
“Impossible,” she answered, her liquid eyes meeting mine. I held her gaze as if seeing her for the first time. Breeze was beautiful, and not in that plastic perfection sort of way that I’d come to expect, but in a lived in, comfortable-with-herself style that couldn’t be bought. This girl knew who she was and, coming from a guy who was still searching for his identity, it was an attractive quality.
Reaching over, I twirled a lock of her blond hair around my fingertip, examining the pink tips. I smiled because it was distinctive, and edgy, and exactly like the woman herself— a breath of fresh air. My eyes drifted up to meet hers and I was relieved to see amusement there.
“What are you doing, Bodhi Beckett?”
I’d never been the most playful guy, but I was in a mood tonight and nothing was going to squash it.
“Okay so, I’m just going to put it out there. I’m super attracted to you.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Wow…so… do you think it has something to do with smoke inhalation or maybe survivor’s guilt?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m just… like… into you.”
Breeze snagged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Huh, okay. Well that’s— shocking.”
“Is it?”
Those eyes of hers, so beautiful and expressive, grabbed hold of mine and wouldn’t let go. As we stared at one another, she turned my hand over and began tracing lines into my open palm. I was no stranger to foreplay, but it had never felt quite so innocent…. or so blazing hot. I was glad for the table between us because it hid the hardness brewing in my girly yoga pants.
“Where did you come from?” she whispered, her gaze still locked on me.
I wasn’t sure how to answer. Three hours ago I didn’t know she existed and now I was worried about how much time we had left. How could I have been sucked in so quickly yet not feel in the least bit confined? It was possible I was all worked up after our near-death experience, and this strange throbbing attraction was just a result.
“Wherever led me to you,” I replied, trying not to wince at my own words. I sounded like stage-Bodhi. But that was okay, because Breeze appeared to be swooning.
Still holding my hand, she stood and then pulled me to my feet. I barely managed to catch Sweetpea before he tumbled to the floor.
“Quick with the hands, I see,” she quipped as she led me to the bed.
I dropped the mutt on the mattress and then pulled Breeze flush against me, her back to my chest. The minute my lips brushed the exposed skin above her collar, she spun around.
“Wait?” Her palms landed flat on my pecs. “This…I can’t do this. I’m so sorry. I’m just all over the place with my emotions right now and as much as I want to be with you, I think it’s best to slow it down.”
Slow down?
My brows drew together as I tried to remember the last time I’d been brushed off. Never. I was the prize. The guy you bedded just to prove you could.
But Breeze was nothing like the women I hooked up with. She lived in the real world, with real life expectations. And standards. The girl was looking for a boyfriend, or at least something more than a one-nighter.
If I wanted her, I had to be on the same page—which I wasn’t. A relationship was never part of my master plan. But one look in her soulful eyes, and I couldn’t figure out why.
Plastering on a mask of indifference I said, “No problem. I get it. Plus, Little Dick and I are a package deal anyway.” The minute ‘Little Dick’ and ‘I’ were combined into the same sentence, I knew I’d just misspoken. “That didn’t sound right at all, did it? I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Levering up on her tiptoes, she gave me a quick peck on the cheek before flopping down on the bed. I shifted my feet, unsure of what to do until she patted the space beside her. “What are you waiting for, Bodhi? Come over here and get to know me.”
* * *
We spent the next hour talking… and touching. Lots of touching. If this was her definition of ‘get to know each other’ then sign me up for the extended Q&A session. Though Breeze’s tight little body was a worthy distraction, I’d managed to stay on track well enough to give her what she’d wanted—the small pieces of me I kept hidden from view. The girl was like my truth serum, extracting from me my true, unfiltered self.
“What happened to you tonight?” she asked. “Can you tell me?” Sliding her fingers along my forearm, waves of pleasure spread from the place we were connected. I’d tell her anything as long as she didn’t stop. “Just exactly how close did you get?”
My hand crept to the smooth skin on her stomach as I gathered the strength to bring the nightmare back to life. “I woke up to an inferno. No joke, by the time I figured out what was happening, I was running for my life.”
As she lay riveted on the bed, I went on to describe the scene. From the exploding trees to my sprint through the burning house to retrieve the car keys, I didn’t leave anything out. Even my fear of death at the hands of the vindictive monster.
“It was the oil,” she said, after I’d come to the part of my tale where our stories converged.
“What?”
“The explosions you heard. Eucalyptus oil vaporizes in the heat and the gas it emits is hig
hly flammable. Those trees can turn into fireballs if embers touch them. The explosions that woke you up were probably the oil in the crowns detonating.”
“How do you know that?”
“My stepdad is a naturalist. He knows everything about the environment. We used to take long nature walks every weekend when I was growing up. Boring stuff for a preteen girl, but obviously I retained the info dumps.”
“That’s like the opposite of what my father did with me. Our weekends were all about auditions and business lunches. When they put out crayons, he wouldn’t even let me color because he said it wasn’t professional.” I let my head fall back. “I was six-years-old.”
I could taste the bitterness on my tongue. I’d have given anything to grow up like Breeze—carefree. But instead, I got schedules and meetings and work. If anything, our little talk only solidified my decision to keep my father in the dark. The only way to move forward with Tucker Beckett was to leave him behind. For the moment, at least.
* * *
“I’ve got another one for you.” Breeze was lying on her back, pinkish-blond hair fanning out around her as I stretched out at her side on one elbow. We were closer now, our bodies fused as we settled into a comfortable camaraderie. Enthralled, I was glued to her every word, genuinely excited to hear the next outlandish thought coming out of her mouth.
Based on past experience, it was sure to be entertaining.
I’d never been so engaged in a conversation with anyone, much less a female. While most women were a means to an end, Breeze was more like a means to a beginning.
“Hit me,” I answered, sweeping a stray hair off her bruised forehead. A small gathering of freckles drew my attention and they were so adorably positioned that, without thinking, I placed a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose.
Her eyes sparkled as my carefree act reverberated through her female brain. No doubt she placed extra meaning on the intimate gesture.
Like The Wind Page 13
