“It was good. I got a window seat and I was able to look over my new script for a bit,” he said, moving his hand back to mine, pulling it onto his lap again.
“You brought it? That’s exciting. Do you need help memorizing lines or anything?”
He chuckled. “Maybe. It’s not that big of a part, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Hey,” I said, turning to him. “It’s still prime-time TV. Don’t sell yourself short. This is a big deal.”
And it was. Riot had landed the role of a new recruit rookie cop on a very popular network drama. He’d told me about the audition the day it happened and had felt confident that the casting director liked him and, sure enough, he’d gotten the role. It was just a three-episode deal, but the producer had mentioned something to him about it possibly extending. Riot had been humble, yet excited, when he’d told me about the job. And, for once in my life, I was excited for someone else, too. I was so proud of him. And, truly, I couldn’t wait to see his handsome face on my TV.
“I just don’t want to get ahead of myself. I want to do good work on this and then maybe they’ll give me more episodes.”
My eyebrows drew in and I frowned a little. “Would you move to LA if they gave you a contract?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve thought about that. I guess it might make sense to move down there if they were to write a part for me. I couldn’t afford to live in both places.”
“That makes sense.” I wasn’t sure why it bothered me to think of Riot moving farther south. He was already a plane ride away; it didn’t change anything really. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of slight panic that came over me when I thought of him being farther away than he already was. He already felt a little unattainable.
“You should come to San Francisco one of these days,” he said, smiling at me. “It’s a beautiful city. There’s tons to do. Marcus would have a blast.”
My heart lurched at the mention of Marcus. What kind of twenty-seven year old Hollywood actor dated a woman with a mentally disabled brother, and at every turn, was amazingly considerate and thoughtful? There were times, especially over the last eight weeks when all our communication was limited to the phone, where I had to remind myself that no one was perfect; that Riot wasn’t flawless. Eventually, he’d have to show me the part of him that would drive the wedge in between us. It was those thoughts that kept me up at night.
I knew eventually the other shoe would have to drop. I just couldn’t anticipate how much it was going to hurt when it finally happened. My mind flashed to the night my father left and all the tears I’d cried, and my throat started pinching.
I tamped down the emotion, not wanting to taint our weekend with the inevitability of our separation.
“Hey,” he said, sweeping the pad of this thumb over the back of my hand. “You all right? You got quiet and far away all of a sudden.”
“Yeah,” I replied, trying to sound cheery. “I’m fine, and I think Marcus would love to visit San Francisco.”
“Well, we’ll have to plan for that,” he said, giving me the world’s sexiest smile.
We continued on our way to Lincoln City, the five hour drive not seeming that long, as we never hit a lull in conversation or an awkward silence. One would think, after spending eight weeks on the phone, we’d have run out of things to talk about, but not once did we scramble for words.
On top of the fun conversation, Riot made sure his hand was always touching me somehow. Whether he was holding my hand or resting his on my thigh, he was always connected to me somehow. At one point, for many miles, his hand rested on the back of my neck and every once in a while, he lightly trailed his fingers across the sensitive skin there. Goose bumps prickled my skin and shivers ran down my spine. It was hard to concentrate on anything when his hands were on me.
It had been a very long time since his last visit, since his hands had been on me, but my body remembered him and was begging for more contact.
It was early afternoon when we finally drove past the sign welcoming us to Lincoln City. I pointed out a building just inside the city limits.
“See that building right there? That’s Porter’s mom’s bar.”
“Porter is your friend’s fiancé, right?”
“Well, husband since two days ago, but yeah.”
Riot looked out the window, focusing on the sky. “We’re a long way from California,” he murmured.
“Welcome to the Pacific Northwest,” I said through laughter, watching him eye the dark gray clouds in the sky. “It’s probably going to rain the entire time we’re here. Sorry,” I said, my laughter tapering off.
“I don’t mind being indoors.” He used his dark, low, and gravelly voice which did nothing to keep my blood from pooling in my core. I inhaled deeply, trying not to let him see that his words had such an effect on me.
“Well,” I croaked, then swallowed, blushing because it was so obvious I was flustered. “We can get the battery on the alarm fixed and then have dinner at Tilly’s, then we can rent a movie or something.”
“Sure,” he said, all the while smiling as if he knew a secret.
So I gave up. He was obviously trying to get a reaction out of me. “You’re terrible,” I muttered. He squeezed my knee in response.
When we pulled up to Porter and Ella’s house, Riot let out a loud whistle.
“Your friend owns this house?” he asked, obviously impressed.
“My friend’s husband built this house. With his own two hands.”
“It’s massive!” he said in disbelief. “There’s no way….”
“You’ve never met Porter. Trust me, it’s possible.”
Riot scoffed. “If you know a man who could build this house himself, I don’t want to meet him. I would melt into a pool of emasculated mush around him, I’m sure.”
“First,” I said through my laughter. “Porter, although very masculine, is not a jerk and it’s not like he walks around carrying logs on his shoulders or something. Second, he is madly, deeply, and irrevocably in love with his new bride. You have absolutely no competition in Porter.”
“You don’t think I could carry a log on my shoulders?” he asked, straight faced.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, still laughing, as I got out of the car.
I walked up to the door, unlocked it with the key Ella had graciously given me months ago with instructions to ‘use the house whenever you want.’ I’d never been there before without Ella or Megan, but I knew the lay of the land and the house was magnificent.
Once inside the door, I turned to see Riot walking up the steps carrying both our bags.
“Oh, thanks,” I said, not used to men carrying my bags.
“No problem. I mean, they’re not logs or anything….”
“Oh, my God,” I cried, laughing again. “Shut up about the logs.” I rolled my eyes and tried to take my bag from him but he wouldn’t let me get close enough.
“Just tell me where to put them,” he said with a smile.
“Follow me.” I led him up the stairs to the second floor. I stopped at the first door on the right. “So,” I said as I stepped into the room. “There’s this room.” I swept my arm out like a model from The Price is Right. “There’s an attached bathroom and partial ocean view.” I motioned to the one picture window. “There’re also two more rooms down the hall, but neither of those have bathrooms or pretty views.” When I turned back to him, I was surprised to find him just inches away and closing in.
I yelped as his hands gripped my waist, easily picking me up and tossing me onto the bed. When I stopped bouncing, I was pressed into the mattress by his body.
“I don’t want to talk about bedrooms, Kalli. I just want to feel you, underneath me, in a bed.” His hands found my wrists and he pulled them up above my head, clasping them both together with just one of his huge hands. “I’ve been dreaming of getting you beneath me for weeks, Kalli. Months if I’m really honest with myself. Ever since I watched you walk
onto that soundstage.”
“Well, it looks like you got your wish,” I said breathily as I stared into his caramel eyes.
“Did I?” He sounded sullen all of a sudden, and I couldn’t help but become concerned. But before I could say anything to him, his lips were lowering to mine and my eyes were closing in anticipation of the contact.
When his lips met mine, my body went pliant and obedient, and he melted into me. My knees drew up around his waist, he settled into me, and I welcomed him. My body molded around his, needing every bit of contact he offered. His left hand still pinned my wrists above my head, but his right hand came to my waist, his fingers brushing the skin just underneath the hem of my shirt.
His hand inched up, his mouth moved over mine, tongue swiping past my lips, his deep voice growling a moan into me. When his hand came to barely brush the edge of my bra, I froze. My heart started beating rapidly and my breathing quickened. Both were too fast, both were uncomfortable. As quickly as my lungs were working, my breath was shallow and I couldn’t get in enough air. I started to panic. I pulled on my wrists and Riot quickly got the message and released me.
Once my hands were free, I pushed him off me and rolled over, finally feeling like I could take a deep breath. I sat up, putting a shaking hand to my face, trying to simply regain any semblance of calm.
“Kal, what’s wrong?” Riot asked from behind me.
I couldn’t answer so I just shook my head. His hand came to my shoulder and the panic that had started to subside slammed back into me, so I pulled away and tried to stand.
“Kalli, what’s going on?” he asked again; this time the worry in his voice was thick.
I couldn’t listen to his voice, couldn’t hear his concern, so I stood and on wobbly legs made my way to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Once inside, I took a few more deep breaths and started to feel the panic ebb a little.
I filled the little cup by the sink with water and took a sip, closing my eyes for just a moment, trying to figure out what in the world had gone wrong.
I startled when there was a soft knock at the door.
“Kalli, I’m going crazy out here. Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I replied, but my voice was shaky and weak. “I’ll be out in just a minute.” I gripped the edge of the counter and stared at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t help but wonder what in the world was wrong with me. I’d wanted Riot for weeks now. Long, torturous weeks we’d spent dancing around the idea of being together. Phone sex had only happened the one time and after that I felt like anything besides actually being with him would pale in comparison, so I’d never let our phone conversations go that far again. But, man, we’d teased each other. Talked each other in circles with what we’d do to each other, how much we were longing to just be together. And now that he was here, in the next room, a room with a bed, I’d managed to have my very first panic attack.
What in the actual fuck?
My head dropped. I was clearly crazy. Who pushed a man like Riot Bentley off her? I took a few more deep breaths. I looked to the door and I knew he was on the other side waiting for me. My eyes closed and all I saw was Riot over me, pressing me into the mattress, and my breath hitched in my throat. I snapped my eyes open and shook my head, trying to shake off the visual.
I opened the bathroom door to see Riot standing squarely in front of it, arms crossed, chest out, eyes worried, and jaw tensed.
“Are you all right?” His words were curt and sharp.
“Yeah,” I answered meekly.
“What happened?”
I moved forward and thanked him silently for stepping aside and letting me pass into the bedroom. I eyed the bed again, the comforter obviously mussed from us, but I couldn’t let my eyes linger there, so I moved to the window to look out at the ocean and the sun setting on the horizon.
“I’m not sure,” I said, resting my palms on the wide windowsill. “All of a sudden, it was just all… too much, I guess.”
“What was? I was? I’m sorry, Kalli. I didn’t mean to push you—”
“No, it wasn’t you. You didn’t do this.” I took another deep breath. “There’s something wrong with me,” I said, wiping away a tear that had suddenly appeared from nowhere, without warning. “There are fundamental things wrong with me, Riot. I shouldn’t have let you get this close; shouldn’t have given in to it.” I turned just slightly and saw him still standing between the bed and the door. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m still really confused. What exactly is it that you think is wrong with you? ’Cause, to me, you seem pretty fucking perfect.”
His words sliced through me, causing more phantom tears to run down my face. “You can’t keep saying all these nice things to me, please. It only makes it harder.”
“Makes what harder?”
“Walking away from you.”
“Listen, I understand if you need to take things slower. I get it and I’m sorry. I can take it down a notch, Kalli. I swear I can, and I will. But you’re not walking away from me. I won’t let you. Just talk to me.” He sounded so sure, but also a little broken. He took a step toward me but I held up my hand to stop him. I couldn’t be any closer to him.
“I’m not made for this,” I gasped, trying to hold on to air that was slipping away from me. It was something I’d known about myself all along—my entire life—but in that moment, it hurt more, cut deeper, than it ever had. And I could only determine it was because I’d never wanted to be with someone as much as I wanted to be with him. “I can’t give myself to anyone, and when we were kissing me and I felt your hands on my skin, all I wanted to do was give you all of me.” My hand came to my chest, as if the weight of my own hand could stop my breaths from panting in and out of my lungs.
“That doesn’t make sense, babe. I want you, all of you. You don’t have to be afraid of me, of us. If you want to be with me, then be with me. Pushing me away, punishing yourself, will only end up hurting us both. Can’t you see that?”
“I couldn’t do that to you. Couldn’t tie you down that way. Couldn’t tie myself down. I don’t want to be still, Riot. I can’t just be.”
He looked at me with sad eyes for what seemed like hours, just staring, hardly blinking, but not speaking. When he did finally move, it was his head that fell forward as he took in a deep breath. When he looked back up at me, he was resigned.
“All right then. Let’s get that battery fixed.” He turned and walked out the door, and I heard his footsteps moving down the stairs.
Chapter Twelve
In Too Deep
It had been a painfully awkward drive to the small hardware store in Lincoln City, but once I’d shown Riot the panel that needed repairing, he’d taken to the task silently and hadn’t once said a word to me. I tried to be helpful, to offer assistance, but he’d politely snubbed me, just shaking his head.
I was being torn directly down the center. Half of me wanted to reach out to him, tell him I was willing to risk everything to be with him, while the other half of me was sure I’d made the right decision of pushing him away.
I was sitting in a magician’s box, cut in half, and Riot was standing over me, saw in hand.
How would I ever put myself back together?
I’d made my way onto the porch, looking out at the sky, listening to the waves—not visible for all the trees—wrapped tightly in my favorite comfy sweater. I heard the door open and looked over to see Riot walk out, closing the door softly behind him.
“Battery’s all installed.”
“Thanks for that,” I said, turning back to the sound of the ocean.
“It’s not a problem.” His words sounded a little sad.
“Do you, um, want me to drive you to the airport? I can drive you to Portland, or back to Seattle even. Your choice.”
“My choice?” he said with a sharp bite to his words. “You’ll give me a say? That’s kind of you.”
I opened my mouth to apologize, to tell him I was sorry for everything, mo
re than he could ever know, but no words came out and I was left with my mouth gaping open.
“Listen, as far as I’m concerned, I could really just go for a beer. My flight doesn’t leave until Sunday night from Seattle, so perhaps we could just try and spend the evening here and go back to Seattle tomorrow.” He paused, still not looking at me. “I think I’d like to go to that bar you showed me on our way in to town, but I get it if you don’t want me to take your car, so I can call a cab.”
“Is it all right if I go with you?” It was painfully uncomfortable here in this house, so I figured leaving with him, going someplace neutral, might ease the tension. “I mean, I’ll stay here if you’d prefer, and you can just take my Rover. You won’t be able to get a cab out here.”
He sighed, but then spoke. “Just let me wash my hands and grab my jacket.”
Twenty minutes later we walked into Tilly’s, and the level of noise was overwhelming. There were people laughing, chatting, yelling across the bar at each other; but everyone was happy and smiling. It was a real slap in the face and a reminder that Riot and I were existing in a very awkward bubble.
I let my gaze roam around the restaurant and I finally locked eyes with Tilly. It took just a moment for her to register it was me, but I saw her face light up when it clicked, and I watched as she excused herself from behind the bar and made her way toward me. I’d only actually seen Tilly a few times over the summer, on random days when I’d met Ella and Porter at the beach for a day, but she was always welcoming and that night was no different. She came to me, arms open, and wrapped me in a hug.
It was instinctual to let myself relax into her embrace. Tilly was the mom of all moms and I didn’t have mine anymore, so when Tilly hugged me, I let her. And I let myself feel it. When she pulled away, after many more seconds than a normal acquaintance hug would last, it was still too soon.
“Riot,” I said through a breath, “this is Tilly. She’s Porter’s mom.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said to Tilly, reaching out to shake her hand. “Porter is the guy who just married your best friend, Ella, right?” he asked me.
Never Standing Still Page 12
