She stares at me and blinks. “So do something about it.”
That’s when it dawns on me. I’m not the one tied to the railroad tracks; she is. And I can’t do the one thing that will keep her from getting crushed. I can’t answer her challenge.
“Rosie, it’s not you. I just…”
“Just shut up,” she whispers hoarsely. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Your actions speak for themselves.”
She walks away and I want nothing more than to follow her. I promised myself that I would always protect her and now I’m hurting her. I wanted to leave that to someone else. I didn’t want to be the one to disappoint her, but somehow I am. I do nothing but fuck things up, personally and professionally. I can’t fucking win.
Chapter 13
Rose
The weather in Atlantic City is glorious. The whole ride in the limo from the airport to the hotel I have the window down and the breeze blowing my hair, as I take deep, cleansing breaths of the salty air. There’s something about ocean air that makes me feel magical and beautiful and melts my troubles away. Not that I have troubles, exactly. What I have is tension caused by humiliation. I’d been avoiding Luc since our little altercation at the bar a few nights ago. It was easy in Silver Bay. I just stayed home when I wasn’t working at Last Call. Of course that created a little bit of a different kind of awkward because Cooper was still at the house, working on renovating the barn into usable space, and after the altercation with Luc I’d left the bar with Kate, shutting the door on Cooper’s advances at the same time. He seemed to get that I wasn’t really interested and he stayed polite but distant now.
As for Luc, I was still helping him organize his charity event, but I did it through email. Anytime someone confirmed or the caterer or arena needed something, I emailed or texted Luc. He must have been avoiding me too because he didn’t stop by the bar anymore and he kept his responses to my texts and emails on point. No cute jokes. No friendly banter.
But now we were going to be forced to spend time together and I don’t know if we can keep ignoring each other and not have it become incredibly awkward for everyone. So far we hadn’t spoken—not on the car ride to the airport, not in the airport and not even when Cole handed us tickets for the plane and our seats were side by side. He just played games on his phone and I read my People magazine. When the limos showed up at the airport, I made a point to get in the one he didn’t get in. No one seemed to notice… yet.
The limos pull up in front of the hotel and as the staff rush to unload our luggage, Leah loops her arm through mine and leads me into the hotel. It’s amazing. It has little bits of East Coast charm like the large dark wood plank floors and the white lobby couches with the Wedgwood blue pillows and accent pieces, but the overall feel of the lobby is open and modern and clean. Cole and Devin head to the front desk to check us all in. Leah and Ashleigh are talking and laughing. Ashleigh had seemed a little stressed when we first met her and Devin at the airport, but now she seems to be loosening up.
Luc is standing against a dark wood pillar texting on his phone. I turn to talk to Jessie but she’s sitting on Jordan’s lap and they’re making out like high schoolers. I sigh.
“Big Bird, are you trying to get arrested for lewd conduct?”
I spin around and I’m smiling widely before my eyes even land on her. Standing a foot behind me, in a white maxi dress and woven wedge sandals, her long, dark hair loose and crazy with a cherry-colored Chloe tote bag on her shoulder is my sister Callie. She pulls off her oversized tortoiseshell sunglasses and wraps her arms around me as I basically jump on her and squeal with delight.
“Oh my God, I missed you so much!” I tell her happily.
“Missed you too, Rosie,” she replies, squeezing me tightly. Jessie untangles herself from Jordan and joins our hug. It feels so incredible to have them both here with me again. I never realize how much I miss my sisters until we’re together again and then it feels like I’ve been given back a limb I didn’t know had been missing.
Callie pushes us back and reaches for Jessie’s left hand. Jordan stands up and walks over slowly, hanging back a foot or so, letting us have our moment. Callie takes in the ring on Jessie’s finger. She glances up at Jessie, who has an expectant look on her face. She doesn’t need Callie’s approval, but she wants it.
“Well, look at you with your perfect man and perfect ring,” Callie whispers and Jessie beams. “I’m so happy for you, Jessie.”
They hug again and Callie looks over at Jordan and gives him a playful smirk. “You finally did something right, Garrison.”
“I’m not as dumb as I look,” Jordan replies with a grin.
“Thank God for that!” Everyone laughs. Callie calls out to Leah. “Enough with these two, this is your weekend! Are you ready to get crazy?”
Leah laughs and hugs Callie. “Now that you’re here, I don’t think I have a choice.”
Callie and Ashleigh hug too as Cole and Devin come back with a handful of key cards. They both hug Callie, Devin making a point of mussing her hair like he always did when we were kids. Cole starts handing out the key cards.
“Jordan and Jessie, room 614. Dev and Ash are 616,” Cole says and gives them each key cards. “Callie and Rosie are in 602 and Luc is in 604.”
I really want to complain that Luc is in the room right next to us, but instead I just take the key card from Cole and smile. Callie takes her card and then walks over and gives Luc a little shove. “Rosie and I are single and ready to mingle so you may want to sleep with earplugs in. In case we bring guys back.”
Everyone laughs at that except for Luc and me. When he walks away and I stare at the floor, everyone else stops laughing. Leave it to my sister to make things even more awkward.
“Okay, the plan for the rest of the day is to unpack and relax,” Leah, Cole’s fiancé and one of our dearest childhood friends, announces happily, a bright smile on her pretty face. “Then the girls meet for a girls-only night and the boys do the same. Tomorrow the girls are heading to the spa and the boys are golfing before a night out together.”
“And, break!” Cole calls out and claps, like we’re a football team he’s leading.
In our room, Callie and I catch up as we unpack. She tells me all about the TV pilot she worked on. It’s a CW show and it didn’t get picked up for a fall start but there’s a rumor they’re still negotiating to have it as midseason replacement next year. The producers and cast loved her so if it gets picked up there is a big chance she’ll get hired full-time as the wardrobe supervisor. It would be a great thing for her career, and something she’s always wanted, so I’m thrilled for her.
“So you and Luc aren’t talking?”
“Is it that obvious?” I ask as I hang the dresses I brought in the closet.
“Well, he was clear across the lobby when I came in, with a frown on his face, and you look like your pet goldfish died,” Callie laments, pulling her hair into a knot on top of her head.
“Yeah, he kind of freaked out when I flirted with Cooper.”
“Wait! Wait! Hold up! You were flirting with a guy named Cooper?”
I nod and fight to keep the red from my cheeks. “Yeah. He’s the contractor working on the house. But it went nowhere. I can’t have Luc and I don’t want anyone else.”
“Sweetie, if he flipped out seeing you with someone else, you’ve got Luc.” Callie looks excited, her big brown eyes glowing.
“Then why did he tell me he wants to be friends?”
“Because he’s been around Jordan too long and stupidity is contagious?” Callie suggests with a smile.
I sigh and flop down on the bed. “I did what you suggested. I dressed differently and I flirted and he’s definitely looking at me differently. Something changed between us and there have been moments when I swear to God he’s about to devour me and then… he doesn’t.”
“So why haven’t you devoured him?” she questions bluntly, and when I stare at her blankly she continues. “Suck him off. You
can own a man with a good, spontaneous blow job.”
A blush explodes across my cheeks and I cover my face with my hands. She is so overtly sexual, unlike Jessie and me, who need all the fluffy romantic stuff to really open up. I have no idea why Callie is so different. “I’m not you. I wish I was… but I’m not.”
“It’s okay, Rosie,” Callie says and pats the top of my head as she walks by on her way to the closet with an armful of dresses that are way shorter than mine even though she’s taller. “If you were like me, Luc probably wouldn’t be in love with you.”
“Luc is not in love with me,” I snap and sit up. “I don’t even think he knows what love is. There isn’t a romantic bone in his body. He wants to be my protector or something. It’s like because I didn’t have a guardian growing up he thinks he has to take care of me.”
“He knows you never needed anyone to keep you in line,” Callie explains as she walks over and glances out the window at our beautiful ocean view. “I don’t know what’s holding him back but I do know it won’t last forever. He’ll either fuck you senseless or spontaneously combust.”
“Then Luc should start carrying a fire extinguisher with him,” I snark. “Because I’m betting it’ll be the latter.”
“And you’re really not hot and bothered enough to make a move?” she asks as she flops down on her bed and rolls over to look at me with her big brown eyes filled with confusion. She really doesn’t understand. “All you have to do is screw him.”
“Isn’t that why Jessie and Jordan got all messed up to begin with? Spontaneous sex?”
“You’re not teenagers,” Callie reminds me. “Luc’s a physical guy—look at his hockey game. He leads the league in hits and is third in fights. Maybe he needs a little brute force. Maybe if you to climb him like a jungle gym, he’ll be forced to face his feelings.”
“Oh my God!”
“Just watch me this weekend and take notes.” She winks at me. “Because I intend to have some amazing sex with some random stranger.”
I shake my head at her but smile despite myself as I grab my swimsuit out of my half-unpacked suitcase. “I’m going to the beach for a bit.”
“Since I’m fairly certain all the couples are currently naked and not to be disturbed, I’ll join you.”
Chapter 14
Rose
Later that night, Callie and I dress up. I’ve got on a skimpy red dress that ends midthigh and scoops down low in the back, exposing most of my shoulder blades. My high heels are delicate, strappy Louboutins that Callie scored for me from a high-end consignment store in L.A. My hair is loose and I’ve curled the ends, although I don’t know how long it will last in the humid ocean air. Callie’s got on a short, tight black skirt and a silver strapless top with matching silver heels. Her hair is half up and teased and she has on heavy black eyeliner. She looks like the perfect rock-’n’-roll party girl, which I’m sure is what she’s going for.
We meet the other girls in the lobby. Jessie looks sexy as hell in a short, sparkly dress that scoops low in the front and gives her major cleavage. Ashleigh is wearing a tight, strapless blue dress and I notice she’s lost a lot of weight. She looks painfully thin now. Ashleigh and Jessie have added a bachelorette sash to Leah’s white ruffled dress and a giant fake tiara perched in her wheat blond hair.
We go to a sushi place for dinner and get tipsy on sake. From there the rest of the night is a blur. We hit up a casino, Callie wins five hundred dollars at blackjack and I win two-fifty on penny slots. Jessie has written a list of weird things Leah has to do, like sing a song to a stranger, get a guy to give her his socks, and other random stuff. It’s hysterical and Leah charms the pants off everyone. We grab drinks or shots at every casino or bar we hit up. By midnight we end up at a huge dance club a few blocks from our hotel. I don’t even know the name but it doesn’t matter. The music is loud and good and, according to Callie, there are a lot of hot men.
She starts talking to one—a tall, handsome brunette—at the bar. The rest of us slip into a booth and order a round of drinks—and that’s when the night starts to go south for me. Ashleigh, Leah and Jessie start talking about Devin, Cole and Jordan—and they don’t stop. It’s all “he’s so adorable when he does this” and “does Devin do this, because Jordan totally does” and “did you know when they were little…” Blah blah blah.
I have nothing to add to the conversation, which makes me painfully aware that I wish I did have something to add. Before I start to get too melancholy I decide to excuse myself. Two minutes later, I’m in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by strangers and I’m dancing like my life depends on it. It’s such a release—from my life and all the drama. I need this. Out here there’s nothing but music and movement and my brain just enjoys the swing of my hips, the sway of my arms, the bounce of my hair—and the looks from the boys. Dancing makes me feel like I’m pretty, I’m desirable and someone will love me—someday.
I feel someone’s body brush mine. It’s been happening all night—every time we danced at a club or bar. That’s what drunk boys in nightclubs do—rub up against pretty, drunk girls. But this time, for some reason, the feel of this stranger is exciting.
I don’t turn around as I feel him brush me again, this time pausing—keeping his frame against mine, moving his hips with mine. The back of my head brushes a broad, hard, flat surface—his chest. That means he’s tall. I like tall. I love tall, actually. And then there’s a hand on my hip. It’s light but still possessive—and I feel a thigh behind mine, between my legs. That football field of chest is up against my back again, like I’m leaning on a wall. I put more sway into my hips, making sure to brush him completely in the process. I wonder what he looks like. Please be beautiful, I think to myself. I need someone beautiful to think I’m beautiful. Someone who can wipe away my incessant need for Luc.
I feel something brush my hair—it’s his other hand, and it sweeps my long hair off my neck and around my shoulder. Then I feel breath tickle the back of my ear. He’s matching my dance moves now. His hips are pushing forward as often and as hard as mine are pushing back. Suddenly, I need to know who this is. I start to turn.
My eyes land on the wide expanse of blue shirt in front of me and float up.
Caramel brown eyes stare down at me in a face I have seen so many times before but with a look I don’t recognize.
Luc looks… predatory. Hungry. Like he’s a starving lion and I’m the gazelle that’s about to become his meal. I’ve never seen him look like this—it’s been close but he’s always held something back—but tonight he’s not and it makes my panties damp.
I don’t say his name or acknowledge we even know each other—maybe it’s because I honestly have never met this Luc Richard before. I just stare at him, my body still moving to the music, somehow unaffected by the shock and turmoil inside my heart.
He cups my elbows gently, guiding my arms up until they’re resting over his shoulders. Then he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me flush against him. He’s got one leg in between mine and his knees are ever so slightly bent. I keep moving my hips, grinding against him. It’s impossible to stop—and I don’t even want to try.
He splays his big hands flat against my bare lower back. I cross my wrists behind his head and my fingers can’t help but scrape through his hair. His eyes are barely open now. I lower mine to watch our pelvises push and pull and roll against each other.
I want to ask him what the hell he’s doing, but it’s a stupid question. I know what he’s doing—he’s dry-humping me within an inch of my life and pretending it’s dancing. I just can’t believe he’s doing it to me.
His hands leave my lower back, heading in opposite directions. His right moves up to my neck, his fingers traveling through my hair at the base of my neck. His left hand moves downward, and he very obviously, very aggressively, cups my ass.
Luc Richard is cupping my ass.
Sweet mother of God.
Now I can’t look up. I don’t w
ant to. Is he joking around? Is he doing this just to make sure no one else does—as one of his typical overprotective tactics?
My head turns sideways, my cheek grazing his shirt. My hands slide from his neck and rest on his wide, solid shoulders, gripping the muscles there—God, he has so many muscles. His hand on my ass pulls me into him and I grind harder. God help me, I want this contact so much. I’ve wanted it forever.
Then his neck bends forward and his head dips and I feel his lips brush against my cheek and head toward my ear. He’s going to speak. I feel his lips part. He’s going to say something—it’s going to be light and jovial and stupid and it’s going to ruin everything. This whole charade will come crashing down and I don’t want it to.
So before a word leaves his mouth, I spin. The movement is fast and unexpected and he stumbles a little as our bodies bump in an effort to reposition themselves. And then I try to walk away. I don’t want an explanation or an excuse for what we just did. I don’t want to know why he did it because his reasons won’t be the same as mine. He’ll say it was a mistake. He’ll say he was joking around. I just need to leave before he can break my heart and my ego—again.
But I only get three small steps before one of his thick arms wraps itself around my rib cage, just below my breasts, and he’s like a brick wall smashed up against my back again. This time his lips press up against my hair and he gets his chance to speak.
“I’m not done with you,” he growls, his normally slight French accent more prominent.
I stop. I’m stunned into immobility for just a second, and then I start to move against him again. If he wants dancing, I’ll give him dancing. I push my ass out and grind right into his crotch. My hands rise above my head and my eyes close as I absorb the feel of Luc—the love of my pathetic life—against me in a way I have always wanted but never had. He pushes into me, one hand on my hip, the other still flat against my rib cage. His head is low, pressed into the side of my neck; his stubble would be tickling me if my skin wasn’t on fire with desire. I drop my hands and reach behind me, running them along the massive solid expanse of his thighs. I arch my back slightly and push my ass into his pelvis again.
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