by H. M. Ward
“Then go get them, Em. I’m not in the mood.”
“Psh,” she says, swatting me. “You’re never in the mood. It just means you haven’t found the right guy yet—one who lights a fire in your panties and makes your heart bounce around in your chest until it feels like you’ll keel over and die.”
I stare at her blankly. I do feel like that about one guy. That is the problem. I laugh and shake my head, “Do me a favor and just take the guy you’re picking out for me, too. I seriously doubt he’ll mind.” I’m joking, but Emma has a devilish smile on her face.
“We’ll see about that.” She stands up and brushes the sand off her lean legs. Without another word she strides toward the group of guys playing volleyball. Her sights are set on a man that is clearly my type and not hers. I straighten and watch her in horror as she stops behind him. The guy turns and looks at Emma and then back at me. He nods, listening to her and then smiles at me. I return his smile, but feel foolish. Emma is a dead girl as soon as she comes back.
They talk for a few minutes. The guy is forced out of the game when his friends resume it without him. He follows Emma back toward our spot and says, “You’re friend here invited me to join you for a little bit.”
“Mmm,” I eye Emma and mouth, I’m gonna kill you, when the hot guy turns to look at his friends, but she just swats her hand at me.
“I’m Jesse. Jesse Oden.”
“Anna Lamore,” I reply feeling silly. Jesse looks like he’s in his early twenties. It’s clear that Emma is telling me to stick with guys my own age. I hate it when she does stuff like this. I decide to curtail the whole thing, “Listen, Jesse—I don’t know what she told you, but—”
He smiles down at me. “She didn’t tell me much of anything. Just that you were her friend and I was your type. So I thought I’d come over, say hi, and see if we hit it off. If not,” he shrugs, “no harm. Right?”
I’m shooting daggers at Emma, who’s standing behind him and nod slowly. Why does everyone need to prove a point with me lately? Am I that thick? Internally, I moan, but he’s too nice. I smile at him and nod, “Sure. Why not?”
As it turns out, we have a lot in common and soon I find I’m laughing and talking to him because I want to, and not for any other reason. Emma runs off into the surf after a few minutes and leaves us alone on the towel. Jesse sits down next to me. He is my totally type—dark hair, blue eyes, and completely breathtaking. His smile is so perfect he could be on a toothpaste commercial.
Goosebumps pop up on the back of my neck. For some reason I feel uneasy, but it has nothing to do with Jesse. I shiver, and brush them away. Turning, I look around through the mass of people. It feels like someone is watching me, but I don’t see anyone staring. There are people everywhere. It’s stupid to get spooked like this, but I can’t help it. I ignore the sensation and go back to talking with Jesse. He makes me smile.
“No way,” I say, shocked, pulling my feet closer to my bottom, “when did you graduate?” I wrap my arms around my knees as I talk.
“Last year. Oh, I know where it was! I sat in front of you in art history with Peters. I thought you looked familiar.” He is convinced he saw me on campus, but I can’t place him. That isn’t abnormal since the university is huge. So are the classes. However, in this case, I am just obtuse.
“Oh my god! That was you? That was you!” I laugh, shaking my head. “Small world, huh?”
“Apparently so. Good thing for us, right? I mean, what are the odds? Out of all the places to park and then set your towel, what are the odds it’d be by mine?” He flashes me that movie star smile. Jesse is so sweet.
“Well, it must be fate, because I have no luck.”
“I think you might have a little,” he leans closer to my face and brushes a kiss against my lips. I’m stunned, but I don’t move. A thousand thoughts rush through my mind and each one stems from Cole. I feel caught in the middle. Jesse is the kind of guy that I would go for. Emma did well, but I don’t want to give up on Cole.
I don’t kiss him back.
Jesse hovers for a moment, his warm lips waiting for me. When I don’t kiss him, he pulls back. Jesse smiles and runs his hand through his hair, looking at the waves in the distance, he says softly, “Guess it’s not the right time for us, is it?” Through lowered lashes I glance up at him and shake my head. “Well, whoever he is, he’s lucky. I hope he knows it.” He pushes off the towel and stands. “I really liked meeting you. If my luck changes, let me know.”
He hands me his number, and I take it.
I watch Jesse walk away and wonder what I’m doing. I just turned down an awesome guy after Cole made it clear he doesn’t want to be with me. Staring at the waves, I decide that I have to find out why. There has to be a reason. It makes no sense for Cole to have that little moment of truth scene and then douse it with outright rejection. There has to be an explanation. Part of me shies away and doesn’t want to hear it, but I can’t leave it alone. I can’t leave Cole alone. There’s something about him that captivates me, something worth fighting for.
CHAPTER 15
Emma drops me off at the new studio, and as I walk in a blue uniform catches my eye. The mailman is standing by the desk with a large envelope, alone. “Can I help you?” I ask.
He nods, “Thank God. Where is everyone?” Shaking his head, he thrusts the parcel at me and hands me a pen. “I was about to leave, but this needs a signature.”
“Thanks for waiting for me. I know you didn’t have to and I really appreciate it.” I smile at him and his gruff curtness seems to melt despite my appearance. I’m sure I look like I’m crazy—windblown hair frizzed out along with a cherry glow across the bridge of my nose—but he doesn’t seem to notice. It must be part of having a mail route in the Hamptons.
He nods once and says, “Sure thing. Have a good day.” He leaves me standing alone in the lobby with a fat envelope.
I’ve been wondering why there only seems to be three people working here. I’ve been assuming that I just keep missing the others, especially since Cole said the NYC crew was sent out here, but aside from the first few days, they seem to have disappeared.
I glance down at the letter in my hands. It is from J. H. Hashre, esq., and stamped TIME SENSITIVE MATERIALS ENCLOSED with an “open by” date of today. What is this? Looking at the envelope, I think about opening it, but it is addressed to Cole, not the studio.
As I walk through the building, I flip on lights looking for him. Regina isn’t around. She must have finished her work and went to dinner. I stop in the shooting room and look around. Memories of earlier in the day flood my mind. His hands on me, his lips. I want more of that—more of him.
“Miss Lamore,” Cole’s deep voice echoes through the space. He stands across the way on the other side of the shooting room in an adjoining hallway.
“This came for you. It looks important. Thought you’d want it.” I cross the room and place it in his hand. When he looks down at it, he stiffens.
“Thank you.” He turns to leave, but I grab his arm. Cole stops and looks down at my hand on his skin.
“Tell me,” I demand, my voice firm. I fold my arms over my chest and look at the side of his face. “Tell me how you could do those things, say those things, and then walk away like it meant nothing?”
His eyes meet mine, “Because we don’t belong together, Miss Lamore. Because it would be a horrible mistake to do more, to say more, than I already foolishly said. There’s no future here,” he gestures between us, “nothing to pursue. I apologize for not controlling my tongue. There’s no excuse for it.”
Each word feels like a barb in my heart. “I see.” My voice quivers slightly. I don’t understand. How is it a mistake? I have no idea, but from the look in Cole’s eyes I can tell there is no way to convince him otherwise. I lower my head and look at the floor, at his bare feet. Cole seems like he can’t wait to get away from me. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking anywhere—everywhere—but at me.
&nbs
p; Finally, I say, “Maybe I should work somewhere else?”
That catches his attention. His brow pinches together, “Did Sottero talk to you?”
“No, Cole. She didn’t. I just thought that maybe it would be too awkward to stay here, that I should—”
He shakes his head, “Anna, I won’t be here much longer. It’s only a few more weeks.” He taps the envelope against his thigh and I glance down at it. “I promise that it won’t happen again. Regina can show you a lot of what you need to know, and as for your skills—I think you’ll be perfect for this position. I really hope you’ll stay.” As he speaks his voice softens.
“Cole, I don’t understand why you want me to work here. There are more qualified people, honestly. And the staff…”
He looks up at me confused, “What about the staff?”
“Where are they? I thought you had more people. When we were in the city, you said they were out here, but now that we’re out here, there’s just Regina.”
His gaze falls to the floor and he breathes in deeply. Shaking his head he says, “There are some things going on, some things that require me to make changes. I made them. And I only kept the best.”
“Cole,” I whisper his name and see him respond to my voice. I want to touch him, to push his hair back and open that letter than hangs in his hand like a lump of lead. That has something to do with this, I can sense it. But, before I can say anything else, he turns away.
“There’s a shoot in the morning,” he says. “Better get some rest.”
CHAPTER 16
The shoot the next morning feels tense. Cole’s out of sorts and silent. I speak for him, and take over the shoot without him asking me to. At one point he hands me the camera. “Time to show off, Lamore. Do your best. I have what I need.” Cole moves to the back of the room and presses a button. Regina shows up and he disappears into the back, out of sight.
The client is patient. She knows of Cole and his work, and she trusts him. She doesn’t bat an eye at Cole handing the shoot over to me, which makes me even more nervous. Why does everyone think I can do this but me? After a few poses I feel less nervous. I start to see what I want to shoot and I forget that I haven’t shot on my own yet. I don’t worry about Cole yelling at me for messing up the session. He trusts me, maybe too much. I glance around wondering where he went.
The client and I chat about lots of things until she asks, “Has Cole shot you?”
Her question takes me by surprise. I nod shyly, my cheeks flaming, “As a matter of fact, he has. Although I haven’t seen the results yet.”
She grins, “I hope you show off his work. There’s something about the mind of an artist like Cole. I don’t know. It’s like he’s broken and it just makes me want to fix him. At the same time, if he weren’t so messed up, he couldn’t create such beautiful work.”
She laughs lightly and I stare at her. Is that what draws me to him? Cole’s broken. He was abandoned by his parents, leading life totally alone—a life that no one knows about. Cole has been on his own since he was eighteen, since that picture of him in the army uniform. And now something else is happening to him, something that is weighing on him. She is right. I want to fix it. I want to let Cole know he’s not alone.
The session continues and I steer the conversation away from Cole. Although I don’t know where he’s gone, I’m not sure if he can hear us. And a level of protectiveness washes over me when she talks about him like that. I don’t know what’s tormenting Cole, but I can’t make light of it the way she does.
When she leaves, I try to find Cole, but I only see Regina. After the client leaves, Regina moves to the front desk to answer the phone and return calls.
“Where the hell did Cole go?” I ask.
She looks up at me, “I tried to ask, but he took off without a word. He looked pissed, Anna. What happened?”
Wide-eyed, I say, “Nothing. We were shooting, and then he shoved the camera in my hands and walked out. I didn’t do anything.”
Irritated, I push through the front door and walk outside into the afternoon air. The salty smell of the ocean fills my lungs as I walk down the path behind the studio. My heart falls into my shoes when I see him. He’s sitting on a bench between two massive pines with his head in his hands, shoulders hunched toward the ground like he’s utterly defeated.
I’m certain he knows I’m there by the time I step next to him, but he doesn’t move. To see him like this consumes me with grief. It feels like there are two hands on my throat, pressing away the air. I slip onto the bench next to him. Looking at the scattered pines that stand between us and the ocean, I ask, “How long did it take you to pick this property for the studio? You wanted it for a while, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t move. After a minute, he turns his face slowly toward me, “How’d you know?”
I shrug, “It just seems like you’re familiar with this place in a way that someone who’s been here before would be. Maybe more than once.” He smiles but it fades too fast. He rubs his hands through his hair and sits up.
“I came here a few times when I was younger. I told myself that if it went up for sale, that I’d get it. Everything about this place reminds me of things I love.” He shrugs. “I didn’t think I was that transparent.”
“You’re not,” I reply. He arches a brow at me like he doesn’t believe me. “That’s the only thing that I figured out and I wasn’t even sure I was right. “So, do you want to tell me why you walked out of the shoot?” He blinks once at me and returns his gaze to the ground. The expression clearly says NO. “Okay,” I say, “Well, at least tell me you’re leaving next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” he says and glances over at me, “I’m going back to the city. You can do this. I don’t need me to be here anymore. Besides, there’s something that came up and it would be easier to deal with if I were at Le Femme and not here.”
My mouth hangs open and I try to snap it shut, but shock washes over me too quickly. After one solo shoot out here, he’s leaving? Cole says nothing else. I don’t know what to say. It feels like I should be excited, but I’m not. Everything feels wrong.
“So, it’s just me and Regina?” He nods and doesn’t look up. His gaze is on the ground, on the pebble path beneath his feet. “Cole,” he lifts his head and looks at me. I want to take him in my arms and hold him. “You don’t have to be alone.” He laughs when I say it, but it sounds so tormented that I want to cry. “I’m serious.”
“It’s not an option for some people, Anna.”
“Fine,” I say and his dark laughter gets cut short. “Let’s accept it. You and I are alone. We rely on no one. We sleep alone, if we sleep at all.”
“What are you getting at?” he asks.
“Just that life doesn’t have to be so damn lonely.” My eyes meet his and I can’t look away. Those endless pools of blue pin me in place. Inside my mind I’m pleading with him, begging him to let me in, but I say nothing. There’s nothing more to say. Standing, I turn to him and rest my hand on his shoulder, and pause. There are so many things I want to say. I feel the words in my mouth, but I say none of them. My hand slips off his shoulder. I walk away and Cole lets me.
CHAPTER 17
Weeks pass. I shoot at the studio and the only person to keep me company is Regina. I try to work, to take care of the clients as best I can, but my mind keeps returning to Cole. I can’t get him out of my head. Picking up my phone, I walk back into my room, and pull up his number. I’ve done this so many times, but I never press the button. As I sit down on my bed, I hold my thumb over his name. One touch and it will call him. I’ll hear his voice again. Sitting perfectly still, I know I can’t do it. There are too many things with him, things that can’t be said over the phone. I have to be there to convey them in person. Why I let weeks go by is beyond me. Maybe I am a coward. Annoyed with myself, I throw the phone on my bed and pull on a pair of jeans and a tank top. I yank my hair into a ponytail and head toward the garage for my motorcycle.
The ride into the city passes in a blur as I think about what I’ll say, what excuse I’ll give for showing up on his doorstep unannounced, but I can’t ignore it anymore. The closer I get to Manhattan, the darker and cooler it becomes until tiny droplets of water fall from the sky. The streets become slick as glass. The little sunlight that was left is gone and the street lights turn on. By the time I pull up in front of Cole’s building, the sky has opened up and I’m totally soaked. My black tank clings to me like a second skin. My jeans are holding an extra ten pounds of water, making them feel stiff and heavy. I park the bike and slosh to the door. Before I can step inside the doorman stops me.
“Cole Stevens,” I say and try to walk past him.
He’s standing under the portico, perfectly dry, and doesn’t let me pass. He glances at me once and says, “I’m sorry, but Mr. Stevens isn’t expecting anyone tonight.”
“I know,” I reply, pushing my sopping wet hair out of my face. The guy looks at me like I’m nuts. “I didn’t tell him that I was coming. Can you just tell him that I’m here?”
He shakes his head, “I’m sorry Miss. Better be on your way.”
I’m about to protest when I see the valet pull up in Cole’s black car. I turn toward the doors with a slow smile spreading across my lips. Finally, something is going to work in my favor. Cole will step outside and see me. We’ll talk and everything will be better.
But that isn’t what happens. Cole walks through the door dressed in a black tux. He looks stunning. My lips part as my jaw drops and it’s all I can do to keep breathing. The way its cut, like it was made just for him, showcasing every angle of his perfect body. His dark hair is smoothed back, away from his blue eyes. He extends his elbow and a woman in a red gown follows him out.
Just as reality slams into me, just as I realize her couture dress and shoes, her status—Cole sees me. The expression on his face falters as our eyes meet. I feel the desire in that gaze, the pull on an imaginary line that runs between us. That same line that’s been tugging me back to him ever since he left. But Cole doesn’t say anything. He keeps walking, and helps the beautiful woman into his car. When her door closes he looks up at me.
