by Susan Ward
I cross the sand.
“Krystal,” Maddy gushes and I plaster a smile on my face, but really, I’m not loving this; she’s had a few drinks.
Sinking down in a neutral spot between Maddy and Jacob, I start poking in the food boxes and purposely don’t say anything to him.
“Takeout and bonfire. That’s what we’re doing tonight?” I ask.
“I tried to wake you two hours ago,” Maddy says hurriedly. “But you got annoyed and slapped at me. I thought you might need to sleep.”
She says that suggestively, then falls back against Nick’s chest, laughing.
I struggle to not respond.
Jacob reaches for the food. “We’ve got some plain rice and steamed veggies for you. Madison said that’s what you’d want.”
So nice to know you thought of me.
Taking the box, I don’t answer him. I bypass the chopsticks he holds out to me, unwrap one of the plastic forks, and concentrate on mixing my food.
I take a bite and my stomach feels sick.
Madison and Nick go back to smiling and talking again.
I can feel Jacob’s stare on me.
“Is everything all right, Krystal?”
“Yep.”
I stab at my food again.
“I’ll get you something to drink.”
He didn’t even ask me what I wanted.
He springs to his feet and disappears into the house.
Madison shifts her gaze quizzically.
“I know pissed-off Krystal when I see her. What’s wrong?”
Not everyone has what you have, Maddy.
I flush. Where did that thought come from?
I shrug and relax how I’m sitting. “I’m a little groggy, I guess. Still waking up.”
She nods, relieved.
I hear footsteps closing in. A half-filled glass of wine is set next to me with an open bottle of chardonnay. Alcohol—good call because I need something to get through our bonfire night without being a complete crazy girl, but how did Jacob know chardonnay is the only booze I ever drink?
I chance a glance at him as he settles close next to me. He has that Jacob look—tentative and confused and very adorable. That surprises me since it was more than obvious that I was all good with us and why I thought we’d gone to my room before we went to sleep, and he’s the one who blew cold on me again.
“Thank you,” I say. “How’d you know I like chardonnay?”
“I watch things,” he says cautiously, but he’s smiling, pleased with himself the way guys are when they’ve gotten something right with a girl. He follows that by stretching an arm behind me and leaning into me with his palm planted near my hip.
It’s nice, and I let out a heavy sigh, debating what to do with this. Wine and his body language are sort of a peace offering, a guy making up in other ways than words. But I’m right to be annoyed with him. I hate having my emotions jumbled by a guy. But I do love the feel of him.
Fight with him or forget it? I want to do both—illogical—so I resolve to do neither and see how this goes.
Four hours later, I’m sitting between his legs, back against his chest, and drunk on laughter and him.
“This has been awesome,” Maddy says, slurring and loud, “but I think I need to call it a night.” She hops to her feet and Nick steadies her with his hands on her hips then stands up. She does sloppy kisses on my curls. “Night, K-bell.”
I smile up at her. “See you in the morning, Maddy.”
She beams, sways, and Nick catches her again. “Wouldn’t it be great if we all got together ten years from now, did this, and had it be this perfect? I really love you guys.”
Nick’s expression changes into good-humored indulgence. “I should have probably cut her off an hour ago.” He scoops her up and sets her on his shoulder. “Time for bed, Legs. You’re going to hate yourself in the morning.”
“Bed,” she murmurs, waving back me as Nick hauls her off toward the house.
When I look at Jacob, he’s laughing. “I usually hate it when girls get drunk, but she’s a cute drunk. Talky but cute.”
“Maddy’s always cute and talky.”
“You didn’t say much tonight.”
That wasn’t said as criticism, more an observation, but I flush, unsure if he’s wondering if we’re OK. Are we OK? The hours in the sand felt comfortable with him, but still, it’s a stupid thought to try to define where we’re at. We’re not anything, not boyfriend/girlfriend and not strangers, and that makes it harder to clarify what I should let happen once we leave the beach. Worse, I don’t know if I even have options because as good as tonight has been it hasn’t made him easier for me to read.
Do we go inside to sleep or…I hate that I don’t know the answer to this. “Sometimes I just like watching everyone laugh and have fun,” I say cautiously.
He starts grabbing our trash from the beach. “You ready to go inside?”
A question, but not really, because he’s picked up the fast-food containers and is kicking out the low embers of the fire with sand, moving his feet to carefully cover it.
Lights out on the beach; night over.
We go into the kitchen so he can dump his armload into the compactor, and then I switch off lights and head to the bedroom. As I pass Maddy’s door I can hear her muffled laughter through the wood. It makes me smile and it makes me envious.
I’m nervous when I get to my bedroom. Jacob closes the door as I pull off my sweater. I can feel his eyes on me.
“I really like you, Krystal. I don’t want you thinking that I don’t. Or that that’s why I’m going to sleep in another room tonight.”
His voice makes my stomach somersault.
Sleep in another room?
I whirl to find him hanging back, leaning against the door. His posture conveys he wants to stay but won’t.
I tell myself to play it cool here—hell, he just told me he isn’t going to spend the night with me—but the look in his eyes takes hold of my tongue. “I really like you, Jacob. You don’t have to sleep somewhere else.”
“I can’t stay in your room tonight. I want to, but I don’t think it’s good to keep this going.”
My eyes widen and my cheeks flush.
“I want you to stay.”
I sound feverish and decided. Feverish I am. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins from how Jacob’s looking at me. Decided I am not because I’m afraid Jacob is right—it’s not good for me to keep going—and that he feels this way as well is strong confirmation we’re both getting in too deep, too quickly and we should both pull back.
He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Good night, Krystal.”
I sink my teeth into my lower lip to prevent myself from speaking. It’s the right thing for both of us. He wants to maintain distance to keep both of us from getting hurt. He’s such a good guy. Not many guys would pass on sex to do the right thing. I should let him go, but it makes me more determined to get him to stay.
“I know I leave Tuesday, Jacob, but I’m really glad I got to know you. You’re an amazing guy, and if I was going to have a relationship with someone I’d want it to be you. Because we feel good to me. Better than good. This may not be going anywhere for either of us, but stay tonight because I want you to.”
I don’t know what’s on my face, but Jacob’s expression changes and I stare at him, breathy and anguished. I put it all out there hoping he’d stay and he’s going to leave.
I lower my gaze, disoriented and painfully vulnerable. Then he crosses the room, flattening me against him, and he’s kissing me passionately.
He takes me to the bed and between kisses and touches we take off our clothes, dumping them on the move. Our bodies feel like the surface of the sun, burning from first touch, and as he pushes his erection into me and fucks my mouth with his tongue, I shiver against his hardness running my slits. The daylight hours of holding back spiced stirring touches
and looks sends our arousal rocketing out of control.
We move in eager and desperate demand, twisting into each other and straining for more closeness. My head sways on the pillow as he covers my body in kisses and touches, stroking my entry with fingers and cock as he greedily consumes my breasts until I can’t take another moment without him in me.
I push up against the shaft at my entry, and he jerks back. My eyes fly open, my body screaming from the loss of contact. He reaches on the floor, grabs his pants, and my senses kick up knowing that the condom in his pocket means, even trying to keep distance from me, he wasn’t sure he could do it.
He eases off me enough to sheath himself, and panting and urgent, I wait until he plunges into me. I arch up from the bed, and he moves me in time with the thumping in my veins. I wrap my arms and legs around him, and whatever it is we’re doing, it doesn’t matter. It’s wonderful and I want him.
* * *
I stretch in bed, open my eyes, and then squint from the intense midmorning light.
I abruptly come awake and sit up.
Jacob is dressed and crouched in front of his bag, zipping it closed.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying not to sound alarmed, but hell, finding a guy trying to slip out in the morning after the night we had is not what I expected.
“I’ve gotta go,” he says, not looking at me. “My schedule was changed. I have to be at work in an hour.”
“You have to go now? I thought you were staying until Maddy and Nick head out.”
He looks around the room as if making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, and it hasn’t escaped me that he still hasn’t looked at me.
When he finally turns to face me, his features are taut and expressionless. Buckingham Palace Jacob again.
“I don’t have time to talk now,” he says, not meeting my gaze directly. “I work until six. Can I call you after that?”
Call me?
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were cutting out early this morning? You must have known before last night—”
I don’t get a chance to finish. He grabs his bag and leaves the room.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Jacob”
I toss my duffel into the back of the car, climb into the passenger seat, and take the coffee Brayden’s holding out to me.
“Thanks for picking me up, Bray.”
He doesn’t look at me as we finish the loop from the driveway to merge onto PCH.
“You look like shit,” he says under his breath. “Like you stayed awake for two days doing other things than sleeping this weekend.”
Clenching my jaw, I battle not to take the bait. Though having Krystal the subject of this kind of talk is like nails digging into my spine for me.
“Did you grab a change of clothes for me?” I ask.
“Yep.”
Sipping my coffee, I stare out the window and try to shake from my mind Krystal’s eyes when I left. It was a clean exit, or maybe it was just quick. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
I exhale loudly, trying to push out the remains of the morning from my system. Crap, I couldn’t have screwed this up more from beginning to end if I’d tried to.
With that nifty goodbye, I’ve made Krystal either hurt or angry. I’m not sure which. I doubt that it matters. I didn’t want to do either, and both complicate the mess I’ve put myself in.
“You fucked her, didn’t you?”
My gaze shoots toward him. “You don’t talk that way about a girl ever, but if you ever talk that way about Krystal again—”
“Whoa. Stop swelling up like you’re going to punch me or something. I’m trying to figure out what’s happening here. Your problems are my problems. My job’s on the line, too, remember? I want to know how much shit you’ve left us in.”
My mouth puckers as I shake my head. “It’s none of your business. Don’t ask again.”
“Whatever you want, Jake. But I’m not putting you before my job.”
He focuses on the road, his expression sulking, but that’s better than having him talking all the way to Pacific Palisades. Nope, don’t want Brayden in my head with everything else.
After finishing my coffee, I set the travel cup in the holder then lean with my face toward the window, eyes shut and forehead resting in the steeple of my fingers.
At the main house, I get out of the car at the front gate, go into the carriage house that’s been converted to the main security room, and head for the lockers to change.
After sitting down on the bench, I hit the Black Star app on my cell, log in, scroll the security status updates—every day a new hot list, everything from crazed fans, lunatics, and serious threats—then check to see what zone on the estate I’m working for the next seven hours.
Front lawn and side gates.
Fuck.
No way to avoid Krystal until the end of the day because she has to cross my patrol area to get into the house. And I absolutely don’t want to get into what I need to say to her on the front lawn within earshot of everyone.
I take my gun from my bag, clip it to my belt, dump my duffel in a locker, then put on my earpiece.
By four, my gut is in taut knots and I can’t stop checking the driveway for Krystal. I expected her hours ago since I hotfooted it out of the Malibu house early, but I guess my leaving didn’t change anything for her. She stayed the full day as planned with Maddy and Nick.
I’m glad I didn’t ruin her last day home, though it does make my stomach churn to know that my abrupt departure wasn’t anything for her.
Stupid, Jacob, to have spent the day worrying about aftereffects. You weren’t anything to her while you were there. You are nothing to her now—face the fact you won’t ever be—and, to coin a favorite phrase of Brayden’s, get over yourself.
Shift over, I’m making my way to the security room when my phone dings. I pull it from my pocket, hurry to the text, and then cringe.
Oh crap, I forgot about this.
CP: Can you come to the house, please?
Changing directions, I head up the front steps and ring the bell. Minutes pass without the door being answered and when it finally opens, I tense. Chrissie has answered it herself and doesn’t look happy.
Oh no, not good, Jake.
“Thank you for coming up,” she says politely, gesturing me in and closing the door behind me. “I’m glad I caught you before you left for the night. I’d planned to do this early, but I’ve had me a day.”
She makes a playful laugh, and I smile instead of trying to say something since it isn’t possible to talk while looking at her, even if I didn’t know I’d slept with her daughter.
She moves through the house without glancing back at me. I’ve never been inside the main house before. It’s not what I expect. It has a cozy and comfy charm, welcoming and not intimidating, more like Chrissie and less like Alan.
She enters the kitchen, pauses at the island, and turns back to wait for me, pointing at a barstool across from her.
“You’re off work, right?” she asks.
I nod and sit as directed.
From a cabinet she pulls out a bottle, then goes to another for two glasses.
“You’re probably wondering why I wanted to speak to you,” she says, focusing on filling the glasses with short pours of scotch. She lifts her face, locking me in her blue stare. “You do drink, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her tinkling laughter fills the air as she shoves a glass across the marble counter to me. “No, Jacob. I’m Chrissie. I’m not the Queen of England. You don’t have to call me ma’am.”
She swallows down her laughter, but her eyes are sparkling.
I take the drink even though I don’t want it because it feels like someone’s turned up the heat in the room and the warning is flashing through my veins that this discussion isn’t going to go in any direction I can anticipate.
Her cheeks
pink prettily as she hides her smile behind the rim of her glass. For a while, she studies me, then she settles on the stool on her side of the kitchen.
Her eyes widen and she plants her elbows on the counter with her chin in her palms. “You’re probably wondering what this is about,” she says seriously. “It’s nothing terrible. I realized we hadn’t talked before and I thought we should before you leave for New York with Krystal. How do you feel about that?”
I resist the urge to loosen my collar. “Which? Us talking or me going to New York with Krystal?”
Her amusement erupts with fresh gales. “I’m flexible. Why don’t you tell me both? This is about me getting to know you and”—her brows shoot up on her forehead, widening her eyes to the fullest—“you getting to know us better.”
I fumble for a response. “I plan to do my job to the best of my abilities as instructed.”
“That’s good to know. But that’s not really an answer to anything.” She makes a nonsensical expression that has the opposite effect. My already taut muscles grow tauter. “I wasn’t enthusiastic on the idea of you.”
Idea of me?
What the hell does that mean?
“You see—” Then she lapses into silence again, stretching my nerves tighter as she takes a painfully slow sip from her drink. “A bodyguard for Krystal was Alan’s idea. He worries a lot, and is pretty much paranoid and careful about everything. In case you haven’t figured that out by the number of you he has employed here. Ridiculous. I’ve always thought that, but you have to compromise in marriage, and this was a small thing to let Alan have his way.”
By how she’s staring at me I can tell she doesn’t know anything about the security concerns at the house. The daily threat list every guard gets every morning. The number of breaches and the real dangers to them that on occasion mix with the nuisance fans.
I sit back, stunned.
Alan doesn’t tell this woman anything.
No wonder she’s so freaking happy all the time.
“We fought about you from the moment Krystal decide to attend Juilliard,” she continues. “Alan is a protective man. Too much of that father thing with his daughters at times. He considers things that are never going to happen. He doesn’t want Krystal in New York alone because he thinks the problems in Western Europe are coming here sooner not later. He’s wrong, but that’s what he thinks.”
