Resonance (A Golden Beach Novel)

by Kim Loraine

  There was a pleading note in his voice that tugged at her heartstrings.

  “It’s fine. Happy anniversary, guys. Go have fun. We promise not to kill each other while you’re gone.” She added the last with a note of humor, but Parker’s face blanched a little.

  The group made their way up the stairs and split off, Garrett making a beeline for his room, Parker and Jason heading toward the kitchen. She snatched her paperback novel off the counter and headed outside to the porch swing she’d set her sights on when they’d first arrived.

  The sun was sinking between the trees, leaving a warm glow to slice through the spaces between the branches. A chill ran through her as a gust of wind blew, swirling her hair around her face. She shivered in her light clothes, just a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. The late-March weather had been mild and calm, promising spring was not far. It was easy to forget how quickly winter could rear its ugly head.

  “Cold?” The rumble of Garrett’s voice caught her by surprise.

  She couldn’t stop her grin. He had two mugs in his hands and a blanket thrown over one arm.

  “Tea?” she asked as he motioned for her to make some room for him on the swing.

  “Better. Hot Buttered Rum.” He passed the drink to her and spread the blanked across their legs.

  “You’re a genius.”

  “I’ve been told.”

  She inhaled and sighed. Everything in her ached to wrap up in him.

  “I’ve been an ass.” He stared at the horizon and the setting sun as he spoke.

  “Pretty sure we both have.”

  “Truce?”

  She grinned and sipped at her drink, the spice of the rum hit the back of her throat and warmed her.

  The door opened and Parker bounded out with Jason following closely behind him.

  “Okay, we’ll be back tomorrow evening. In case of an emergency, there’s an old truck in the garage in back. Jason uses it for hauling firewood. He said it runs, but it’s best to leave it alone.”

  Jason was already in the car, a nervous expression on his face. He beeped the horn once and Parker threw them a wave as he hopped in the passenger side.

  “He looked nervous, right?” she asked as they watched the taillights of the car until they disappeared.

  “He’s proposing.”

  She turned to face him. “What? How do you know?”

  “He told me this morning when Parker was on a run.”

  A smile spread across her lips. Parker was getting married. A heated blush crept up her cheeks as a tear escaped.

  “Aw, Angie. You’re such a softie.” Garrett wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side.

  She leaned in, loving the feel of his body against hers. He stiffened when she laid her head on his shoulder and turned toward him, but she ignored it.

  They sat there as the night air grew frigid and their noses turned pink from cold. Neither one moved, as if afraid to break the spell. Garrett’s hand stroked up and down her arm while she rested her head on his chest and listened to the sound of his breathing.

  She had just nodded off when his soft murmur of, “Oh, wow. Look,” woke her.

  She looked around, worried about what she’d find. A wild animal? A crazed killer? Instead, she found that a gentle snow had begun to fall.

  “Snow?”

  “I guess we are in the mountains. It’s technically winter for five more days.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m ready for warm weather.”

  “Itching for a little windsurfing?”

  “Yep. I miss the salty air and the warm breezes.” Her stomach rumbled, an embarrassingly loud interruption.

  “Hungry? I guess we sort of skipped dinner.” He took her cup and pulled his arm back from its place around her.

  “Yeah. I’ll make something. Want to watch a movie?” She tried to disguise the hope in her voice.

  “Only if I get to pick.”

  “Deal.”

  She rose and stretched, conscious of his eyes on her as the cold crept in, and her skin broke out in goosebumps.

  “Come on, it’s cold and you’re barely dressed.”

  As she walked into the warm house, her heart sped at the feel of his palm against her lower back.

  Angela scrounged up all the necessary ingredients for chicken enchiladas and they ate at the coffee table while watching an old favorite of Garrett’s, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

  He chuckled when she shouted at the screen, “Wrong cup, asshole!”

  He could smell her shampoo from where they sat, inches from each other. God, she smelled like heaven. Occasionally his arm would brush against hers. The light touch sent tingles of awareness shooting through him. He wanted her so badly. But couldn’t have her. It was so easy to fall back into the old habits of easy friendship. The only problem was, now that he’d laid his heart on the table, each easy moment also brought a deep ache for what he’d never have.

  She turned to face him, a sadness in her eyes. “Relax. Please? I just want things to be normal again. I miss you.”

  He stiffened, unable to take the plea in her voice.

  “I . . . I can’t go back. I told you that. I’m never going to be able to put my feelings aside. I can’t be friends, not like it was before. That wall was destroyed on New Year’s Eve.” His chest hurt at the expression of grief on her face. “I needed you to want me, too. To love me back. You made your choice. Now I’ve got to put some distance between us so I can move on.”

  Feeling like an idiot as his voice quavered and the sharp prick of tears hit his eyes, he pushed himself off the couch. His heart pounded in his ears as the realization of his confession sent his head spinning. He’d finally said it.

  “I do love you, Gare. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  If only she meant the words the way he wanted her to—needed her to.

  “I know you love me. But I am in love with you. I ca—”

  She caught him off guard by shoving off the couch and rounding on him. Her arms went around his chest, pulling him tight as she nestled into his body. His knees wobbled as the softness of her hair brushed his neck and his hands instinctively wrapped around her.

  He wanted to kiss her as she raised her eyes to his. Her lips were within a breath’s distance of his.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed.

  Her eyes went wide as he pushed her away.

  “Stop it. Why are you doing this to me? I just told you how much this hurts.”

  Her expression crumpled. “I need this to be right between us.”

  “I already told you. This,” he gestured to each of them, “is not going back to the way it was. I need space.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but he turned and walked out the front door and into the cold.

  Angela lay in her tiny bed, aware of every movement she made as the mattress squeaked under her. She shivered under her layers of blankets and burrowed deeper in an effort to warm herself.

  The snow had turned into an unexpected storm and had dumped a solid five inches on them in the last few hours.

  After Garrett had run from her, she’d sat alone with a glass of wine and her guitar, idly playing with chord changes for new songs. She’d waited for him. And waited. Until he finally came in, his nose and cheeks a bright red from the frigid air. He’d been covered in snow and, without looking at her, had headed down the hall and to his room. She hadn’t seen him since.

  She’d just drifted off into a light sleep when Garrett’s voice invaded her consciousness.

  “Are you awake?”

  “Mmm.”

  “No, then?”

  She rolled on her side to face him. “I’m trying to be asleep. Apparently the universe has other ideas.”
/>   “Power’s out. Aren’t you freezing?”

  She fought the chattering of her teeth. “Yes. It’s practically Baltic in here.”

  She couldn’t see him in the dark. He was only a slightly darker shadow layered on top of the blackness.

  “Come on. Grab your pillow and blankets. We can sleep by the wood stove.”

  She did as he asked, shuffling and shivering as she crossed the chilled wood floor.

  He’d already started a fire. The door to the stove was standing open, casting an orange glow about the room and radiating warmth.

  “You were sent from God. You know that, right?”

  He offered her a sad smile and raised an eyebrow. “Is that why my dates keep screaming for him?”

  His comment, just a teasing remark, sent a sick feeling through her. She didn’t want anyone screaming anything with Garrett—unless she was the one doing the screaming.

  He winked at her, back to playful and friendly again, and patted the spot next to him on the rug. “Come here. It’s warm and I think we can make it comfortable enough for the night.”

  After dropping her pillow and blankets into a heap on the floor, she plopped herself down. On reflex, she snuggled in next to him, wanting the heat of his body against hers.

  He tensed for the briefest of moments but seemed to regain his composure and let her relax into him.

  Before long, they both slipped into sleep as the snow silently fell outside.

  She dreamed of his hands—on her, in her, everywhere.

  The sound of her own moan startled her awake. She could still taste his lips and feel the phantom traces of his touch from her dream.

  Somehow, they’d nestled themselves together, a pair of lovers, holding each other in sleep. Her body was tucked up against him, her face nestled into his chest.

  Unable to quell the lust her dream had left her with, she ran her fingers under his shirt, caressing the taut muscles of his abdomen and welcoming the answering rush of excitement as his eyes snapped open.

  Before he could speak, she crushed her mouth to his in a feverish and demanding kiss. If he wouldn’t listen she’d show him what she needed him to know.

  He broke their kiss, pushing away, and shutting her down—the stubborn ass. As he started to rise she pressed her hands down on his chest.

  “It was always you,” she whispered.

  “Angie?” His eyes were pained, as if she’d just cut him.

  “I want you Garrett. Not him, not anyone else.”

  She worked to control the trembling in her hands as she pulled her shirt over her head. His sharp intake of breath at her bare breasts sent a rush of heat through her body.

  “I . . . Um—” She silenced him with the gentle pressure of her lips on his as she straddled him.

  His hands, calloused and tantalizing, ran along the bare skin of her back and over her breasts, cupping and massaging each one. He groaned as she rocked her hips over the evidence of his arousal.

  “I need you.” She would have been embarrassed at the pleading in her voice if it were anyone other than Garrett.

  “Fuck, Angie.” He pushed her to the floor and rolled on top of her. His hands drifting down her body to the elastic of her flannel pants and beneath, he pushed the fabric down her hips. She knew what he would find when his fingers slid across her. Her dream had left her slick, needing, and hot.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he whispered, when he slid two fingers inside.

  Sensation rippled through her. She was already so worked up, her need for him amplified by the emotions of the day.

  Pulling off his shirt and sliding his cotton shorts down his legs she took him in hand. He hissed out a breath as she stroked him, his eyes screwed tightly shut. She needed him inside her, filling her, completing her.

  “Garrett, look at me,” she commanded, wanting more than anything to see his eyes.

  He turned his gaze on her then. The pained look in their depths sent an uncontrollable wave of arousal through her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him inside her without another word. His eyes went wide and rolled back in his head as he groaned. He moved his hips in slow thrusts, and she willed herself to grow accustomed to his size. The combination of pleasure and pain had her biting back her cries.

  He pulled away from her, leaving her empty and wanting. “Jesus, Angie, what the fuck are we doing?”

  She fought a smirk as she crawled toward him, straddling his hips and sinking down his length. “Um, fucking.”

  A hurt look crossed his face and guilt burned bright in her.

  She rocked her hips once, twice, causing her to moan in his ear.

  “Gare, I . . . I love you.”

  He stilled, eyes searching as if he didn’t believe her.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  When she smiled, a light that had been missing illuminated in his face. He grunted when she began to circle her hips. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “How do I answer that?” Swirl. “I am fucking you.” Swirl. “And I love you—am in love with you.”

  His lips split into a wide smile as he pulled her tight against him and laid her out underneath his body once more. His slow, lazy thrusts began that glorious build, just like in her dream. She could feel it, on the edge of her awareness, and she wanted it.

  “Angela,” he moaned as she ran her hands over his ass, “I’m not wearing a condom.”

  Ice shot through her. He stilled his movements—their bodies completely connected.

  “Are you on birth control?”

  She nodded. She’d never slept with anyone without protection. Never.

  “Do you want to stop?” he asked.

  God, did she want him to stop? “No, Gare. Come inside me.”

  He let out a groan so loud she flushed even though there was no one around to hear. Truthfully, the idea of him finding release inside her body turned her on more than anything.

  His hips moved fast, pushing hard and deep, working them both toward orgasm. As he tensed and fell over the edge she felt him pulse inside her and she was gone.

  Lost to the toe-curling pleasure.

  Chapter 22

  The morning after she’d laid herself bare to Garrett, Angela was on pins and needles. He was nowhere to be found and icy cold dread formed a pit in her stomach. She’d searched the cabin from top to bottom, checked outside, and headed down to the basement studio. He had vanished. The only thing she could think of was the one thing she dreaded most.

  He’d left her here. Alone.

  Snatching her phone, she held it up, searching for a cell signal—again. She needed something to distract her from Garrett’s absence. One lonely bar took the place of the No Service icon on the corner of her phone’s screen and her heart started racing.

  “Ah-ha!” she cried, hopping from one foot to the next. She crept along the perimeter of the room, trying desperately to gain at least one more bar.

  Deciding to try her luck out in the cold, she wrapped up in her jacket and pushed her way out the door, eyes on the screen.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed as a second signal bar showed up.

  The phone immediately started alerting her to missed calls, messages, emails, and social media alerts. Her excitement bled into a sense of foreboding. If she’d missed this much in just a few days, what did that mean for her future?

  Her eyes scanned the blanket of snow surrounding the cabin for signs of Garrett while she listened to her messages. Most of them were from Marcus. She heard lots of “Babe, things are looking good” and a couple schedule changes from him. Interesting, considering the last time she’d spoken to him he’d made her feel like the whore of Babylon.

  Her final message was from Aiden, his velvet-smooth voice
crooned in her ear, “Hey, baby doll. Marcus told me you’re on a writing retreat with the guys. That’s cool. I need you to call me. We need to record and release the single and Marcus wants us to do a video. There’s this amazing director who has some awesome ideas. Call me when you can.”

  Her stomach flipped. Aiden had given her permission to be with Garrett, but she still felt weird about it all. She wasn’t cheating but it sure felt like it, especially with Garrett’s current MIA status.

  Feeling antsy, she headed back inside. She needed to find something to do until Garrett or Parker and Jason got back. The power was back on, the weather warming, and she knew the road would be clear soon.

  She made herself a cup of tea with a little of Jason’s Macallan 18. She grinned, knowing this was a pricey bottle of scotch and feeling just a tad guilty. What the hell? They left us alone. I’m not going to feel bad about indulging in some eighteen-year-old scotch.

  As the amber liquid swirled to the bottom of her mug, she sighed and gave the cup a slight shake. She tried to push away the thoughts of Garrett moving over her, his eyes burning pools of need, his lips leaving heated kisses on hers.

  Heaving a sigh, she resolved to get something—anything—done while she waited for Garrett and the inevitable awkward moment when they acknowledged what had passed between them. She marched herself downstairs to the recording studio and settled at the piano.

  Her fingers roamed the keys, searching for a chord progression she liked. She settled on a delicate minor key—soft and gentle.

  In between verses, she paused and scribbled her lyrics, a few tears escaping the confines of her eyes and trailing down her cheeks. She’d never written a song about Garrett—not truly—not that she’d admit.

  “That’s good. Really good.”

  His voice startled her, making her jump. Her eyes fixed on his form from the recording booth. He grinned, his intense gaze heavy.