“I’ll let you know my decision soon. I won’t be pressured into making a choice before I’m ready,” I said, and quickly ended the call.
I wasn’t letting others steer my life anymore. Sink or swim, rise or fall, it would be my call. I might not be Diesel’s goddess anymore, but I was my own goddess. I breathed fire.
In the dining room, I ate a minimal breakfast of buttered toast and a scrambled egg that I had to make myself consume. I wasn’t nauseated anymore. It was just that I preferred fresh fruit with sunshine in each sweet mouthful, and thinking about that made me think about Diesel. Then I was too sad to be hungry.
After getting walking directions to the downtown area from the concierge, I put on sunglasses, pulled up my hoodie, and made my way out of the hotel. I turned the couple of corners as instructed that took me away from the sea.
Uphill, I walked briskly. It was cold. The wind carried a chill and the smell of pine. I definitely wasn’t in the tropics anymore.
The main street was charming. Unique shops with colorful awnings embraced lampposts with banners announcing the upcoming spring daffodil festival. I could see why my mom always spoke fondly of her life here, though a rusted car had been an inadequate shelter for her and Fanny.
Beneath the marquee of the local theatre, I stopped. A Streetcar Named Desire was the current play.
I imagined my mother around my age, working as a cook on the docks during the day and acting here at night. It couldn’t have been the dreamy existence she recounted. She must have had fears like I did. Doubts. She’d had no place to lay her head. At least I had shelter, food, and friends. So I didn’t have the man I wanted? I needed to focus on the good and stop feeling sorry for myself.
Chilled as a body-rocking wind blew in from the direction of the water, I exhaled a warm breath into my cupped hands and ducked into a nearby bakery.
“Welcome to Hot Chocolate,” said a freckle-faced teenage girl wearing a crisp white polo emblazoned with the name of the shop. “Help yourself to a treat from the sample plate. Menu’s on the board. I’ll take your order whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” I lowered my sunglasses to the tip of my nose to peruse the offerings.
“Holliewood. Holy shit.” The girl’s black pigtails jiggled as she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “What are you doing here? Are you filming a movie? I’m sorry about your bodyguard. Is Fanny with you?” She peered over my shoulder.
I swiveled to look behind myself too. It was startling the way some strangers knew my life details so intimately. It always threw me off-balance. So did the fact that my turn brought me face-to-face with a woman who looked so much like my sister, she could have been Fanny twenty years from now.
“Who are you?” I gasped, my eyes wide and my chilled fingers at my throat.
Chapter Fifty-Three
* * *
Hollie
“I’d hoped I would finally get to meet you one day, but I never imagined it would be here.”
Waverly Point leaned forward from her chair opposite me. She’d given me her name and steered me toward the shop seating area. I’d been so shocked, I’d given her mine in return, though obviously she already knew it.
“So, who are you?” The resemblance to my sister was uncanny.
“I wasn’t certain you wanted to know.” Resting her forearms on the wool pants covering her knees, she clasped her hands together and studied me. “You look so much like your mom.”
“And you look like Fanny. Your eyes are the exact same silvery shade of gray.” I set down the mug of hot chocolate that had warmed my hands, but I had yet to drink.
“She’s grown into a beautiful woman.”
“You knew her when she lived here with my mom?”
“I was there the day she was born. I’m your father’s sister.” Waverly smiled tenderly. “Did your mother not tell you about me or my brother?”
Numb, I shook my head. Shock at the sheer coincidence of our random meeting ran through me. Surprise at how simply fate had brought us together registered in my shaky voice.
“Can you tell me about my father? I want to know everything you’re willing to share.”
“William and your mother were inseparable. Your sister too, when she came along. She was a delight. I never could get enough time with my darling niece.”
“That sounds really nice.” But my mother had never mentioned her or any of it. I felt completely at a loss.
“The beginning was nice. They were light and love to each other while they were together.”
“Can you tell me about it? About them?”
“Of course.” Waverly straightened in her chair, and her gaze became unfocused as if she were seeing the past, and not the cozy spot in front of the big plate-glass window facing the street where we were sitting. “They met at the theater, actually.”
“He saw her perform?”
“He never missed a single performance once they were together.” She smiled softly. “I was the theater addict. William, not so much. But your mom changed all that for him. She changed a lot of things for him.”
“How so?”
Her lips flattened. “My brother was married when he met your mom.”
“Oh.”
“It was an arranged marriage. Cornelia had a well-connected family. She was everything our parents wanted for William, but she was a witch. And when I say that, I downplay it. She was awful. She was disloyal. The only night she probably was in his bed was their wedding night. It was no wonder they never had children. She made my brother miserable. He wasn’t looking for love when he met your mother, but he found it nevertheless.”
“How long were they together?”
“It was more like when were they ever apart?”
“How did that work? With him married, I mean?”
“He got your mom a day job cooking for the men who worked the oyster beds. They spent their days together in one of the storage cabins by the ocean that they pretended was a home, and at night, he would see her perform and then return to Cornelia, trying to convince her to accept a divorce.”
“Why didn’t she want one?”
“She wanted him to sign over Fine Point to her in exchange for the divorce.” At my blank look, Waverly explained. “It’s a very successful oyster company now. Unfortunately, my brother died before he got to see the full fruit of all of his labor.”
“He’s dead?” My heart, what remained of it, plummeted to my feet.
“He had an inoperable brain tumor and died within a year of his diagnosis. The end of his relationship with your mother wasn’t beautiful. It made me doubt everything I knew, everything we thought we all knew. I’m so sorry.” Waverly reached for and patted my knee. “I just assumed you knew. Abigail truly didn’t tell you anything?”
I shook my head, tears brimming that I blinked away. “I’d hoped to meet him. Samuel, my stepfather, well, I just recently learned he’s not my biological father and . . . he’s not a nice guy.”
“I’ve seen the stories in the news, but with the entertainment industry, I wasn’t sure what was truth and what was fiction.”
“He was verbally abusive to Fanny and me for years. Then he almost raped me.” It was easier to say the words after confiding the details to Diesel, but the emotions associated with them still ripped through me.
“I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”
Waverly stood and threw her arms around me. Her ready affection released the tears I’d held back.
“I came here looking for something that didn’t exist.” My words were muffled into her soft sweater. “For a father I hoped had wanted me. A . . .” I stumbled for a word to explain Diesel. “A friend of mine has a dad who’s loving and kind. I was hoping to find answers that would tell me I meant something to someone.”
I should realize by now that hope—and the other things that went along with it—weren’t for me.
“You were loved, dear one. You and Fanny. By your mother and your father. And
now . . .” Waverly drew back to carefully wipe the tears from my cheeks, and I saw that she had unchecked ones of her own. “If you will allow it, you have me.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
* * *
Hollie
In the hotel’s exercise room, I clicked up the speed on the treadmill. Swiping perspiration from my brow with a courtesy towel, I nearly tripped when I saw them through the wall of glass in front of me.
My sister led, and I could tell from the flash of her silver eyes that she was mad. The towel slipped from my grasp.
“Here you are.” Throwing open the door with the etched glass, Fanny swept into the modest space. The two men who entered behind her wore matching frowns.
Undeniably, the blond who resembled the mighty Norse god of thunder was good looking. But my broken heart only stumbled because of the one beside him who moved on land as gracefully as he did on his board in the ocean.
I wasn’t prepared to see Diesel so soon. The loss was too fresh.
Sharp shards of longing sliced my eyes as I swept them over him. The coppery skin over his handsome features was drawn tight. With residual anger, it seemed, or maybe only regret. He wore faded jeans and a heather-gray hoodie bearing the name of Karen’s surf shop.
Though Diesel was a compelling figure in the unfamiliar clothing, I missed his tank and board shorts and the memories associated with them—the island, the easy tropical breezes, the warm sunshine, the shared sunrises.
You miss him.
It felt like ages had passed instead of just days since I’d left. Each step had been so labored that had propelled me further and further away from him. The nights were tortured and restless.
Longing made my mind spin. So did remembering our last time together, how he’d tasted, and how breathtaking he’d looked wearing the pleasure I’d given him. In spite of myself, I began to throb with need.
Off balance, I swayed.
“Hollie.” Diesel rushed to my side. His voice seemed to be infused with longing that equaled my own.
Lifting me off the treadmill as effortlessly as he’d plucked me out of the ocean so many times, he drew me into him. My palms landed on his chest. Rescued and wrapped in his strong arms, I was where I most wanted to be but no longer belonged.
“Put me down.” I pushed against his rock-hard chest. The clothing covering it didn’t keep his heat from seeping into my skin. Nor did it stop his coconut-plumeria scent from tantalizing my senses, or me from desiring to burrow closer.
“Not a chance.” Ignoring my command or possibly heeding my physical cues instead, Diesel drew me closer with one arm while tugging on the thin cords to remove the buds from my ears with the other. “You’re talking too loud. What are you listening to?”
Rock with an aggressive bass beat blasted from the tiny speakers now hanging around my neck.
Fanny’s jaw dropped. Ash raised a blond brow. Diesel’s lips curved into a slow smile.
“Since when did you start listening to the Dogs?” she asked.
Since I fell for their bassist. I didn’t confess my obsession, but I was pretty sure everyone present already knew.
“The tempo’s good for working out,” I said, which was certainly true, but Fanny didn’t buy it. She rolled her eyes, knowing I normally listened to Barry Manilow or Elton John.
“Why are you here?” I asked, needing to redirect the inquisition.
“You left without saying good-bye,” Diesel said, and his arms at my waist flexed tighter.
“I said good-bye to the people who mattered.” I gave him an imperious stare.
He flinched, and his hold on me loosened slightly, but it was enough. I took advantage and backed away, even though my body and mind protested. I ached to reengage with his skin-tingling touch.
Drawing from the remaining reserves of my strength, I lifted my chin, turned from him, and focused my narrowed eyes on my sister. “I told you not to worry.”
“How can I not when you jet off to who knows where on your own without any protection?”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“You didn’t sound fine in your message.”
“Well, I’m fine now.”
Fanny lifted her auburn brows. “You were on the treadmill alone and unsupervised.”
“I had the safety clip on.” It had snapped off and stopped the belt like it was supposed to. “It’s okay to do aerobic exercise.”
I put my hands on my hips, noticing a pair of earth-brown eyes tracking the movement of my breasts in the tight sports bra that barely constrained them.
“I know. My doctor told me the same thing. In moderation. You don’t know moderation.”
“Wait a minute.” I cocked my head to the side, and the end of my ponytail swished against my damp skin as I studied Fanny. Her complexion had a certain glow as if infused by a serene light. “You’re pregnant?”
Smiling, she nodded.
“Oh my gosh!” I shouted. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true.” Ash stood straight, beaming with pride.
“Congratulations.” I returned my sister’s smile. “You two will be great parents.”
I tried not to look at Diesel as I shared my joy with them, but that was like trying to tell the waves not to be stirred by the pull of the moon. Even in my peripheral vision, I could tell that he appeared troubled by the couple’s news.
That was puzzling. I knew he cared for both of them, but maybe out on his island, he hadn’t heard how long they’d been waiting. Or maybe all the pregnancy talk reminded him why we had gone wrong.
I shouldn’t care. Our brief idyllic interlude was over. I was moving on. Diesel was moving on. He probably already had. Nausea clawed up my throat at the idea of him with anyone else.
“We’ll be great moms together,” Fanny said with a confirming nod, and I loved her for saying that with such confidence.
“You already know my opinion.”
Diesel’s deep voice gave me a full-body shiver.
“About my being a good mom?” I asked, turning to him.
He gave me a nod.
“That was before.” Tears pricked my eyes at the thought I’d most certainly lost that approval.
“That opinion hasn’t changed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I need to talk to you privately.” He phrased the words as if he expected me to acquiesce.
Glaring at him, I said, “I think we covered all the bases before I left.”
“We didn’t even get started.”
“What more is there to say?”
“A lot more.”
“I disagree.” I wasn’t sure I could weather more of his disapproval.
His gaze narrowed. “Are you afraid to be alone with me?”
“Of course not.” I lifted my chin.
“I’ll come by your room later.” His umber eyes glowed with determination.
“I have plans.” I felt like I’d been outmaneuvered, but I had a way out of the trap.
His chiseled lips flattened. “What plans?”
“Plans for dinner.”
Diesel’s frown deepened. “With who?”
“With my father’s sister. My aunt. Our aunt.” I turned to Fanny. “Would you like to go with me?”
Chapter Fifty-Five
* * *
Diesel
I stormed down the hall and banged on Hollie’s door. “It’s me. Open the fuck up.”
Impatience riding me, I stared at the wood. I hated the mileage she’d tried to put between us and the current physical barrier. One beat passed, then two, before I rapped on the door again.
Harder.
It opened a few inches, and the sight of her in a white bathrobe with her delicate fingers curled around the lapels at her throat took my breath away.
“Diesel.” She frowned but stepped aside as I barged past her to enter her suite. “I told you I have plans this evening.”
“I flew halfway across the world to come see you and spea
k to you privately. I don’t know what kind of mistaken idea you got because of what I did, but I’m not a big fan of putting things off. You made a mistake. I made one. We’re talking this through. We’re talking it through right now.”
Hollie cocked that brow at me, infuriating me and turning me on in equal measure. “It was only a six-hour plane ride and a short commuter flight.”
“Too fucking long is what it was with your sister chewing my ear off about my being too hard on you.”
“She shouldn’t have done that.” Hollie’s expression clouded.
Was she remembering my harsh words and the way I’d treated her, or something different?
“I’ll talk to her about it when we go to dinner together. I’ll make sure she understands.” Hollie let that hang, lifting her chin to the door that was behind me. “If that’s all you needed to say, you should go.”
“That most certainly isn’t all.” I stalked toward her. She looked like a confident goddess standing on a sea of beige carpeting, but I could see that her grip on the robe had tightened.
“What are you doing?” She lifted her chin and held her spot.
“Getting what I need.” I stopped in front of her. “Giving us both what we need.”
I reached out and plunged my fingers into her loose hair. Filling my fingers to overflowing with silken bounty, I lowered my head and pressed my mouth to hers.
The anxiety that had been riding me since I’d come out of the bathroom to find her gone eased as her lips eagerly parted for my seeking tongue. Her breath in my mouth tasted like strawberries and spring, and her moan as I deepened the kiss made me feel like I was the sun and she was a blossom that bloomed only for me.
My cock lengthening, I cradled her head in my hands and stroked my tongue against hers, reasserting my claim and reminding her how good we were together. Grabbing fistfuls of my hoodie, she arched her body into mine. I brought her closer, bending her backward, thrusting my tongue deep inside her mouth, then going shallower to languidly rub the tip to hers.
(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5) Page 139
