Unable to Resist

by Cassie Graham

  “Duane, you didn’t have to do that,” Ann offers, looking appreciative.

  “I know, but I wanted to. It’s no big deal.”

  The waitress returns with my card and we head toward the door.

  Ann beams. “Well, thank you. It was very sweet.”

  “Yeah, man.” Jason slaps my back. “Thank you for dinner. I can’t wait for our second date.”

  We step into the black night to find Jason’s car. It’s cooled off a bit, not enough to call it cold, but it’s better than the hundred plus degrees I endured when we arrived.

  I sock Jason in the arm and laugh. “No way, next time, you’re buying.”

  “Alright, but someplace cheap. I’m working on a struggling actor’s salary.”

  He acts wounded, but by the car he drives I’d say money isn’t a huge deal.

  “Sure, sure, whatever you say,” I jest.

  Ann laughs as she slides into the back seat.

  “Where is your hotel?” Jason asks when he gets behind the wheel.

  I click my seat belt and give him the directions.

  It’s not too far from the restaurant, and within a few minutes we’re pulling up to the building—forcing me to tell Ann and Jason goodnight. Pulling my bags from the trunk, I heft them over my shoulder and head to the southwestern-style, wooden entryway.

  Movement catches my eye and I turn to see Ann getting out of Jason’s car, heading straight for me.

  “Hey, I just wanted to say thank you,” she trails off, “for today. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  I step closer to her and unintentionally touch her left with my fingers, causing my arms to break out in goose bumps.

  Damn reflexes.

  I right myself and step back. “It was my pleasure, Red.”

  Ann bites her bottom lip and nods her head.

  I wave one last good night, and enter the hotel lobby.

  Could my life get any more out of control? Sure as hell doesn’t seem like it. Meet this amazing guy who turns out to be my damn lawyer? Done. Have Brent come back into my life and claim to know who killed my dad? Check. Oh, and by the way, he thinks it’s his own father that did it. No biggie—cue sarcasm. I mean, holy shit, I need to sleep. For a month. Maybe two.

  “Ann, for real. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife,” Jason says over the car radio.

  I turn it down to hear him better. “What?”

  Jason rolls his eyes. “Ann, really, he’s into you.”

  I let a slight smile form with closed lips, but attempt to hide it from Jason. I turn my head to look out the window. I know, as much as I try, there are some things I can’t easily keep from him.

  Jason smacks my thigh with the back of his hand and sighs. “Don’t act coy with me, Ann Daniels. What’s going on?”

  I rub my forehead and pull out my ponytail holder, scratching the top of my head that is now sore in its absence.

  “Hell if I know.” That’s a lie. I do know. I’m falling for him. Not that I would admit it to Jason. It needs to be my secret, for now.

  “That shade of lie does not look good on you, Ann. How are you feeling?”

  Why does he have to be so damn perceptive? I could have been best friends with any man in the world and I choose the guy who can see into my brain and decipher my every look.

  Dammit.

  “I’m feeling—confused.” Yeah, that pretty much sums up my life. I’m living in a constant state of confusion.

  “That’s understandable,” Jason concurs as he slows to pull into the driveway.

  I always seem to forget how lavish and beautiful his home really is. His parents bought it when we were kids, and left it to Jason when they officially moved to L.A. a few years ago.

  Jason hits the garage button and the first door to the five-car garage opens. When he parks in the car’s nook, I look to my right and see his motorcycle—and his parents’ three other cars.

  I thought I had a lot of money, but they—they have a lot more than I could ever imagine. Why do they feel the need to have so many cars? I guess when you’re the famous power couple Sienna and Todd Mosley, you can have whatever the hell you want. Sienna and Todd have been starring in, writing and directing films since the early nineties. They have so many Oscars, they could fill a house with them.

  Needless to say, Jason’s family is well off.

  All that to say Jason isn’t that well off. He works extremely hard for what he has. Yes, his family left him the house, but everything else he’s worked for. That pretty car out in the garage? He bought it after saving up for five years. You should have seen the clunker he drove before. He was fortunate it didn’t blow smoke every time he turned the ignition. And air conditioning? That was laughable; I refused to ride in it in the summer. One could bake a cookie in the back seat. I’d rather walk, thank you.

  Jason grabs my bags from the trunk, and closes the hatch. “Duane left his jacket.”

  I turn to see Duane’s brown leather jacket draped over Jason’s arm.

  “Want to keep it and sleep in it tonight?” Jason teases, rubbing the jacket lovingly for good measure.

  Purposefully walking toward Jason, I snatch the jacket from him and give his arm a smack.

  Unlocking the garage door, Jason and I step into his gourmet kitchen. All stainless steel appliances, a walk-in wine cellar—this place is my heaven.

  Setting my purse on the island in the middle of the kitchen, I run my fingertips over the smooth surface of the marble countertop.

  “Want some wine?” Jason offers.

  “Sure, white please.”

  Jason disappears into the refrigerated cellar, leaving me to find the glasses. After locating them, I hop up on the counter and wait for him to return.

  Jason, like me, loves to read, so it’s no surprise when I find a pile of books at the end of the counter. I shuffle through the stack and find one that looks interesting. Bringing the pages to my face, I flip through, smelling that wonderful paper aroma. Each book has a scent that helps tell its story.

  “Still doing that, huh?” Jason asks while closing the door to the cellar.

  I look up and shrug.

  “That’s something I love about you, you know? You find beauty in all things. Even old crusty books.”

  I mock offense. “It’s not crusty, it’s character. Have some respect.”

  Jason laughs and shakes his head, filling our glasses. “Whatever you say.”

  He slides me my glass and I take a long gulp.

  “Can we just talk about how creepy it is that he smells like hay?”

  My eyes bulge and I spit alcohol all over myself for the second time tonight. Jesus, must be a new record. “Dammit, Jase.”

  He shrugs, yet again, and I suddenly feel the urge to kick him in the shin.

  “Don’t make fun. He smells good,” I state as I clean up my mess.

  “I’m not saying it’s a bad smell. He smells like our childhood. I just find it odd because ever since you were a kid, you’ve said it’s your favorite smell.”

  “How could you possibly remember that? I probably said that when we were twelve.” I ask, shocked.

  Unless he has to memorize lines, he can’t remember anything. I’m sure he couldn’t remember what he had for breakfast this morning.

  “It’s hard to forget. You’ve always been a little weird when it comes to that kind of stuff.”

  True. I went through phases during my childhood. But, the smell of hay has always been something that stuck.

  “We’ll talk in the morning. You need to get to bed,” Jason decides out of the blue.

  I salute him. “Yes sir.”

  Hopping off the island, my feet hit the wood floor with a clang and I head to my room.

  Picking up my bag at the base of the staircase, I notice there is a note tucked in the front pocket.

  In an elegant script it reads,

  I clutch the note from my best friends, breathing a sigh of relief, and make my wa
y up the stairs.

  The room is exactly as I left it seven years ago. The comforter is still folded back in the corner, and my black jeans still lay at the end of the bed. I’ve been looking for those jeans this whole time, too. Jason told me he hadn’t seen them. Damn him, they’re my favorite pair. Knowing him, he probably didn’t take the time to look.

  I move to the dresser and begin to open drawers, each one bringing another high school memory to my mind. The red sweater I wore on my first date with Kyle our junior year is the first to cloud my thoughts. He was my first and, I’m sad to say, my last boyfriend. We started dating shortly after the start of the eleventh grade and dated until we graduated. I was head over heels in love with him. Tall, blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen on this Earth. I swear, even the clearest diamond didn’t sparkle like his eyes did. He was athletic, played every sport known to man and did them all flawlessly. He was captain of every team and most players looked up to him. He was the All-American boy next door, and I was happy, really happy. He loved me, and I loved him. Things were perfect.

  Senior year seemed like a dream. I was the luckiest girl on the planet. I couldn’t imagine ever being happier. I had my boyfriend who loved me, and a best friend who was there for me in every way that a girl could need. The time flew by so fast—I wish I could go back and tell myself to treasure it—to appreciate the intensity of the joy in my life.

  It was the night of prom, and we had yet to have sex. We both felt we needed to wait until the time was right. Being together almost a year and a half proved to be a good amount time for us to explore the option. So, together as a couple, we made the decision to get a room.

  Dressed in my blue, strapless ball gown, and the sexiest undergarments I could find at Victoria’s Secret, I was ready to go.

  The night was a huge blur. Looking incredibly handsome in his tailored suit and tie, Kyle picked me up in his BMW and we headed to the convention center our school rented for the occasion. The DJ played everything the seniors wanted to hear, and Kyle and I danced all night long. The night ended quicker than I anticipated and soon we were being ushered out and told to go home—in our case, a hotel.

  Once we checked in, Kyle picked me up and carried me over the threshold. I giggled at his old soul. There wasn’t a day that would pass when he didn’t pull out a chair, or open my door. That’s just who he was.

  “This is going to be the best night of your life, Ann. I promise,” he whispered sweetly into my ear as he set me on the bed. The knot in my throat grew bigger and I nodded, bringing his mouth to mine.

  He was right. It was...unforgettable, indescribable.

  “I’m going to love you forever, Ann Daniels. This is just our beginning,” Kyle told me, as I lay sprawled across his chest in the early morning sunlight that filtered through the hotel window.

  “I love you, Kyle.”

  Kissing my head and squeezing me tight he muttered, “I love you too.”

  Holding tightly to the sweater, tears stream down my face as I remember that night. I wish I could talk to him.

  Digging further into the drawer, I find Kyle’s workout shirt, and bring it to my nose. Seven years later and I can still smell his cologne. The musky, woodsy smell always brought me to my knees. It’s a scent I’ll never forget.

  “What are you doing, gorgeous?” Jason asks tenderly as he leans against the doorframe.

  I hastily wipe the moisture away from my face and turn to face him. He sees straight through the fake smile I give him and rushes to me. He engulfs me in his arms and I sob into his chest.

  “I miss him so much, Jase. When is the hurt going to stop?” I cry, openly, heavily, for the first time in years.

  “I don’t know if the hurt will ever go away, Ann. Maybe one day the ache in your chest will be less prominent and you can finally find a way to love.”

  I pull back and wipe my nose. “I hope that’s true. I’m tired of being depressed.”

  “It’s been seven years, Ann. It might be time to move on. You’re still carrying all of this around.” He motions toward the drawer. “Plus, you have your dad’s situation to deal with. I don’t know how much one person can take.”

  He’s right. Of course. I know that, but I still have a hard time letting Kyle go. I don’t know if I ever will. How do you just forget your first love? Does anyone really do that? I have no reason to let his memory fade; everything good that happened in my life was because of him. He’ll always be a part of me. Any man who I decide to be with will have to accept that.

  “Just because you move on doesn’t mean it’ll taint his memory, Ann,” Jason says, reading my thoughts. “You have to know that.”

  “I know,” I lie. I don’t want to disappoint him. I just don’t know many men who would be okay with my past.

  Kissing me on the top of my head, Jason gives me one last hug and heads toward the door. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day. There are endless possibilities.”

  I give him a weak smile and finish unpacking, not bothering to stroll down memory lane anymore.

  The early morning brings a headache from all the crying, and a stiff neck from the awkward position I slept in all night. Craning my neck back and forth, I work the kinks out the best I can and jump in the shower.

  I dreamt of Dad again last night. This time wasn’t any different. He told me about the questions, and that I’ll find the answers there. Blah, blah, blah, whatever that means. I’m still just as confused.

  It’s the first dream I’ve had in a couple days, and I’m a little irritated. I was hoping they were done. Looks like I was wrong.

  Once I’m dressed and as ready as I can be for what the day has in store for me, I walk downstairs to the smell of coffee and cinnamon.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Jason singsongs from behind the oven. “I made you your favorite. french toast.”

  With spatula in hand and apron on, he looks like Suzie Homemaker. Err, Steven Homemaker? I don’t know. He looks very domestic.

  Shuffling my yellow flats across the floor to his side, I spring on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

  He turns his head and winks. “Sit down and I’ll serve you. Orange juice? I know you hate coffee unless it’s full of creamer, and you don’t need any more sugar. You don’t want to know the amount I put in this breakfast.”

  I smile and sit down at the island. “Juice sounds good.”

  Setting a plate full of buttery, french toast in front of me, Jason retrieves the OJ from the fridge and sits down next to me.

  “I’m going to propose something,” Jason states with a serious expression.

  “Are you going to ask me to marry you, Mosley?” I joke. “You already know my answer.”

  Jason throws his head back, laughing, the sound resonating off of the walls. “No, I’ll save that for another day. What I was going to propose is that we don’t spend so much time apart anymore.”

  I give him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

  He takes a drink of his coffee and sets the cup down. “I mean, maybe I should move to Nashville.”

  I drop my fork and it clangs on my plate. “Are you serious? Why?”

  Calmly, he brings his coffee cup back up to his mouth and he smiles, but it seems a little sad—like I’ve disappointed him.

  Shit, good job Ann.

  “I’ll take that as a no, then?” He questions.

  I attempt to recover my abrupt reaction. “No, no, of course I would love it, but I don’t understand. Why would you move?”

  “For you,” he says without hesitation.

  My mind races—I don’t want him to up and move his life for me. “Jason, I love you. You know that, but I would never ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t ask. I want to go. Arizona isn’t the same anymore. Mom and Dad are in California, and you’re gone. I have no one here.”

  I grab his hand and intertwine our fingers. “I’d love for you to come to Nashville, but what ha
ppened to Wicked?”

  Jason’s face lights up with a magnificent smile. “I got the role. They just called this morning. The show is five weeks long.” He stops and looks around the massive kitchen. “I want to move as soon as it’s done. This house doesn’t feel like a home when no one I love is here to share it.”

  Now, that is something I can understand. I lived in a huge house most of my life, and it always felt empty.

  “So, you’re really going to move to Nashville?”

  Jason beams. “If you’ll have me.”

  I bound from my seat and hurl myself into his arms. “I can’t wait.”

  As we finish our breakfast, chatting about Nashville and all of the reasons why I think he’ll love it, my phone buzzes.

  Duane’s raspy voice greets me. “Morning, Red. What are you up to today?”

  I smile at my nickname.

  “Jason and I just finished breakfast, and now we’re cleaning up. I don’t think we have anything going on.”

  He sighs and the sound of him shuffling around fills my ears.

  “I just got a call from Brent,” he says a bit cautiously, “and he wants to meet.”

  My heart stutters in my chest, and I shoot Jason a look. “Okay, when?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “I’m ready now.”

  “Okay, I need to go pick up my rental from the airport. Let’s say, an hour?” He suggests as he turns on a faucet.

  “That sounds good, need directions?”

  More shuffling.

  “Nah, Jason told me where it is, I think I can find my way. I’ll see you soon.”

  I smile. “Be safe.”

  He sighs and I imagine him smiling.

  “Always.”

  I end the call and clutch the phone to my heart.

  “So, I’m guessing that was Duane from the goofy look on your face?” Jason makes fun as he sits down on the leather sectional that takes up most of the living room.

  I nod my head and sit next to him. “Yeah, Brent wants to meet.”

  “You want me to come with you?”

  “No, I’ll be okay,” I say, shaking my head, “it’s just Brent.”