by Jayne Frost
I hadn’t.
But after thinking about it for the last twenty-four hours, I’d decided to move back into the pool house to avoid any weirdness.
Who was I kidding? The whole arrangement was weird. But I could take small measures to protect my heart.
When I returned a moment later, Miles wasn’t there. Grabbing the mug he’d left on the counter, I set off to find him. Halfway up the stairs, I heard music, and reversed my course.
Miles stood in front of the turntable in the den, focused on the spinning disc. “Going somewhere, little mouse?”
I took a seat on the sofa. “Just to the pool house.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly, but he didn’t turn around. “Why?”
I took a sip of my coffee. Much better than what I’d made the day before. But then, I was no connoisseur.
When the silence got too heavy, Miles chanced a peek over his shoulder.
“Why?” he repeated.
I stared into my mug. “Have you thought about what it would be like—having me in a room across the hall—if you brought someone home?” I flicked my gaze to his. “Because I have.”
“You think I’d do that?”
His tone was sharp enough to slice through my meager defenses, and I shrank against the soft leather. “I don’t know. I just thought…”
Hands on his hips, he let his head fall back, and glared at the ceiling. “I haven’t dated anyone in a long time. I had an arrangement with a woman who used to come by once a week. But I broke it off.”
The tic in his jaw told me I didn’t want to know, but I had to ask. “What kind of arrangement?”
“The kind where money was exchanged.”
“You paid for sex?”
It was more accusation than question and Miles flinched. “I paid her to leave when the sex was over. I don’t do girlfriends, Gelsey. Trinity and I…” Our eyes met, and he swallowed hard. “Let’s just say our arrangement worked for me at the time.”
Their arrangement.
I took another sip of coffee, the too hot liquid scalding my lips “So, Trinity was a…”
“An escort. She didn’t sleep with her clients.” He sighed. “Except—”
“You.”
Suddenly it became clear. Miles was already paying me. Albeit not for sex. And I was leaving in two months. No chance for entanglement. I was his new Trinity.
I wobbled to my feet. “I should get ready. I have rehearsal.”
Not exactly the truth. But I needed to get away.
“Gelsey!”
Ignoring the thundering footsteps behind me, I picked up my pace, fingers coiled around the package of Sour Patch Kids in the pocket of my hoodie. The evidence of my naivety.
Tell me something no one else knows.
I guess I got my wish, because I couldn’t imagine Miles revealed this particular secret to just anyone. No, he saved that little bombshell for me, so I’d know exactly what his proposal was all about.
I made a wrong turn and ended up in front of the gym. My studio. When I spun around Miles was right there, remorse written all over his face.
“Gelsey—”
“Why did you have to tell me?” I cried, backing away from him. “I get it. This, whatever it is, it’s nothing special. Couldn’t you just…”
Pretend.
That’s what I was doing.
His fingers coiled around my arm, and when I jerked, the candy fell out of my pocket and landed at his feet. Crouching to retrieve it, his shoulders curved inward as he ran his thumb over the wrapper.
“You’re special, Gelsey.” He looked up and those eyes. Sincere and stripped as bare as they were the night of the storm.
Catching my hand, he placed a kiss on my palm. “I’m sorry. Can we just forget I said anything?”
Could I?
A resigned sigh parted my lips. “On one condition. While I’m here, can it be just us?”
Just me.
Miles climbed to his feet and pulled me against him. “Yes. Just us.”
He pressed a chaste kiss to my lips that made me think stupid thoughts. And want stupid things.
Grinning like he’d just won a prize, Miles tossed the candy in the air as we strolled back to the den. “My turn,” he said as we took a seat. “Tell me something no one else knows.”
You’re going to break my heart.
Tucking the secret way down deep, I looked around. A photo on the wall caught my eye. Miles on a sandy beach. All smiles.
“I’ve never been swimming in the ocean.”
Miles
Standing in front of the window in Rhenn’s studio on the third floor of Tori’s mansion, I watched the breeze blowing over the water of Lake Travis.
Check it out, bro. I’m going to wake up every day to this sick view. Tell me I’m not a lucky motherfucker.
“Miles?”
Rhenn’s voice faded, replaced by the low hum of the party as Taryn peeked her head in the door. Her features softened when her eyes landed on mine in the reflection of the glass.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked quietly as she stepped inside.
“Do you remember when Rhenn bought this piece of land?”
Frowning, she rubbed her hands over her arms like she’d caught a chill. “Of course.”
I sank into the chair in front of the soundboard, fingertips skating over the dials. “How does Tori live here with all these memories?”
Ambling over, Taryn rested her chin on the top of my head. “I don’t know. For a long time, I think she lived in the past. But now that she’s moved on, I don’t think it hurts her as much anymore to be here. Did you see her tonight with Logan?”
I nodded, guilt swamping me when a tiny pebble of resentment lodged in my throat for my best friend. Taryn must’ve picked up my vibe because she tipped back and looked down at me.
“I didn’t want to like Logan at first either,” she admitted. “But I had this dream. Rhenn and I were sitting at the edge of the bluff, looking out at the water.” Her attention shifted to the window and her eyes filled with tears. “He told me he could finally rest, knowing that Tori’d found someone. He’d want her to be happy, you know?”
“I want that too. It’s just—”
“Hard. I get it.”
She rested her butt against the table while I looked down at my hands.
“What about you?” She nudged my foot with the tip of her high heel shoe. “Paige would want you to be happy too.” My head snapped up, and she gave me a watery smile. “I found her journal when I was going through her satchel. The one she used to carry with all her trinkets.”
“J-Journal?” The band around my chest tightened, stealing all my air. “I don’t understand. It didn’t…burn?”
“No. I guess it was thrown clear.”
Bracing my elbows on my knees, I bowed my head, willing myself to breathe. Taryn’s arms tightened around me.
“Was there anything in there…about…”
Us. The secret was so deeply ingrained, I couldn’t push the word past my lips.
“I was shocked when you told me. Even though…I think I always knew,” she whispered into my hair. “The way she used to look at you. But reading about it. She loved you so much, Miles.”
Not enough. Never enough.
Clearing my throat, I sat up straight, gently extracting myself from Taryn’s hold. I didn’t deserve to be comforted. Not about this.
“I loved her too.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, effectively ending the conversation. “We should probably get back.”
Taryn sighed, dipping into her clutch for a tube of lipstick. “I went through a lot of trouble making sure the press would get some juicy photos of you and Clarissa.”
“Who’s Clarissa?”
“Your girlfriend for the week. She was waiting for you by the rope line when you got here, and you blew her off.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, and Taryn stopped primping. “Miles.” Concern colored her tone. “What
don’t I know?”
“Probably a lot of things,” I joked. “I mean, it’s impossible to know everything, right?”
She propped a hand on her hip, not buying what I was selling.
“Fine,” I growled. “I’m kind of seeing someone.” I raised a finger in warning. “Before you ask, it’s not serious. She’s leaving for New York in a couple of months, and—”
“The ballerina!” Taryn clapped her hands. “The one who’s staying at your house? Oh, my God! She’s so cute!” I cocked my head, and she shrugged meekly. “Daryl might have sent a photo. And don’t get mad. It’s his job.”
“Not anymore.” I grinned. “Tori’s back. She can take custody. No visitation required.”
“Never mind about that. What about the ballerina?”
“Her name is Gelsey. I’m surprised you haven’t done a background check.” I slowly rose from my chair when she averted her gaze. “You did a background check?”
Taryn finally looked me in the eyes, somehow managing to appear formidable and humble at the same time. “Of course, I did a background check. You think I’m going to let some chick move into your house without checking her out.”
She shifted her feet, and my back stiffened in defense. “Well? Is she a serial killer or something?”
“No,” she huffed. “She’s just…really young.” Shaking my head, I made to scoot past her, and she grabbed my arm. “Hear me out. I know she’s twenty-one.”
I crossed my arms. “Twenty-two.”
“Twenty-two. But she’s a very young twenty-two. And—”
“Taryn…” I bit down my exasperation. “I told you it wasn’t serious. We’re just having a few laughs before she leaves for New York.”
I could tell there was more she wanted to say, but she pressed her lips together and nodded. Slinging my arm around her shoulder, I steered us toward the door. “Let’s get back to the party before your boyfriend sends a search party. I need to take off soon, anyway.”
“What’s the rush?” She assessed me with narrowed eyes. “Does it have anything to do with that favor you asked me for?”
Fuck
I shrugged noncommittally, ushering her into the hallway.
Hand poised on the light switch, I took a last look around, my gaze lingering on a photo of Paige.
Goodbye, sunshine.
“Miles,” Taryn growled, revisiting her interrogation when I closed the door. “What’s on Padre Island?”
Smiling, I looped my arm around her waist and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Just the ocean, sweetheart.”
Gelsey
“Excuse me,” I said to the driver, craning my neck to get his attention. “Can you please tell me where we’re going?”
He spared me a glance in the rearview mirror. The first one since I’d climbed into his car.
“No, ma’am.”
Melting into the seat, I pulled the phone out of the pocket of my hoodie and re-read the text from Miles.
Car service picking you up in thirty. Bring a bathing suit. We’re going swimming.
Glancing over my shoulder at the city lights growing fainter behind me, I muttered under my breath, “Swimming where? San Antonio?”
My heart leaped into my throat, and I sat up. “It’s not San Antonio, is it?”
“No, ma’am.”
“New Braunfels?”
The driver shot me a glare, and I shrank against the upholstery.
“Never mind,” I squeaked.
Asshole.
I understood the need for privacy, but this was ridiculous.
Pouting, I scratched at an itch by my hairline. Squishy. I wrinkled my nose when I noticed green clay under my fingernail. I was already in bed with a pore refining mask on when I got the message from Miles. Wherever we were going, I hoped no one would see me.
Not that there was much chance of that happening since we were in the middle of nowhere now.
A sinking feeling hit my stomach when we took the exit for Austin Bergstrom Airport. Instead of following the signs to the terminal, we took a right and stopped at a small building outside a wire fence.
The security guard took a card from the driver, then flashed a light into the back seat before waving us through.
My eyes widened when we coasted to a stop inside a hanger next to Miles’s truck.
And a plane.
I pressed my nose to the glass trying to get a better look, but it was too big. Not quite the size of a commercial airliner. But almost.
Miles hopped off the lift gate of the F150, slung a small duffel bag over his shoulder, and headed my way with a smile.
He peeked his head in the door. “Ready, little mouse?”
Dumbfounded, I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. Blinking up at him, I swallowed hard. “You said…you said we were going swimming.”
Looping his arms around my waist, he pressed a kiss to my mouth. “We are.” He smiled against my lips. “In South Padre.”
Miles
Gelsey stood motionless in the tiny bedroom, palm pressed to the window overlooking the beach. The light at the end of the walkway illuminated the shore, but I wasn’t sure how much she could see.
I slipped my arms around her waist, resting my chin on the top of her head. “Not what you were expecting?”
After my declaration at the airport, I’m sure she thought we’d end up behind the gates of one of the opulent mansions lining the shore instead of the small two-bedroom cottage.
Twelve hundred square feet. Less than the size of my bedroom in Austin.
“It’s perfect.” She spun around, her cheeks glowing. “It’s like the house in Hansel and Gretel. The gingerbread house.”
I laughed, eyes rolling up to the ceiling, which I could touch with the aid of a step stool. “You haven’t seen it in the light.”
But then, neither had I. Not in seven years.
She stepped out of my embrace, and I followed her the dozen feet to the small living room. “It’s lovely,” she said, rising up on her tiptoes to examine the knickknacks on the mantle above the fireplace. “Whose is it?”
Crossing my arms, I rocked back on my heels. “Mine. I bought it years ago. We used to come out here to go surf fishing.”
Sinking onto the old couch, she tucked her leg under her bottom. “We? Like your family?”
Cursing my careless slip of the tongue, I forced a smile. “Nah. Just my friends.”
She cocked her head, and I could practically see the questions forming on her lips.
Ducking around the breakfast bar, I pulled open the compact fridge. Which, thanks to Taryn, was fully stocked.
I killed a good forty seconds staring at nothing before emerging with a couple of waters.
If I thought Gelsey would fall for my lame attempt to change lanes, I was wrong.
“Do your parents live in Austin?” she asked, taking the bottle as I eased down next to her.
“Nope.”
It came out harsher than I expected. Dismissive. And when I lifted my gaze, I could see the confusion furrowing her brow.
“My mama lives in Florida,” I said on a sigh. “My dad…he’s gone.”
The invisible rope tightened around my throat. My warning to stop. But then Gelsey took my hand, and I could breathe. Maybe it was the rush of oxygen, or her fingers coiled around mine. Or maybe I just wanted her to know.
“He killed himself when I was fourteen.”
Shame that wasn’t mine accompanied the confession. And for a moment, I thought she could read it on my face. The history buried deep in Sheppard’s file. The mitigating factor that earned me three months in Millwood.
Family history of depression and suicide.
I braced myself for the onslaught of questions, canned responses on the tip of my tongue.
No, I didn’t see it coming.
No, he didn’t leave a note.
No, blood doesn’t wash out of carpets. They have to be replaced.
A minute passed before Ge
lsey climbed into my lap. And another before I could look her in the eyes.
She didn’t say anything. Because she didn’t have to.
You’re okay.
It was right there between us. Her whispered words from the night of the storm.
Her fingers trailed through my hair. And my arms circled her waist. She pressed her lips to mine, and it wasn’t comfort she offered. But permission. And I took it.
Gelsey
I don’t know what I expected. A mad frenzy. Clothes ripping and lace flying. But this was not that.
Miles eased us onto the mattress, slowly deepening the kiss we’d started on our way to the bedroom.
His mouth moved to my neck and my collarbone, lavishing attention on all the exposed skin. But he went no further. Not with his kisses or his touch. His hands stayed locked with mine, one above my head, and one at my side, our fingers entwined.
Clenching my eyes shut, I waited for him to tire of the leisurely seduction and move things to the next level. But he didn’t. And after a few moments, I finally started to relax. Taking control of the kiss, I sucked gently on his tongue.
A soft chuckle, and I felt his mouth curve against mine.
“What?” I whispered, my lids fluttering open.
He let go of the hand anchored to my hip and squinted to look at me in the dim light. “I was waiting for you to join the party.” His thumb swept over my swollen lips. “You were so stiff. I thought for a minute there you might break into a million pieces.”
My cheeks ignited, burning all the way to my hairline. “I’m a little nervous.”
He propped up on his forearm. “Nothing happens until you’re ready. You want to fool around all night, I’m good with that.”
Maybe if I were sixteen, Miles’s speech would be endearing. But at my age, all I felt was the sharp pang of embarrassment. Inhaling a deep breath, I turned my face into the pillow to avoid further humiliation.
Miles huffed and rolled onto his back, taking me along for the ride like I weighed nothing. I was now on my stomach, draped over him like a human shawl.
“That’s better.” Pinning an arm around my waist, he gazed at me with a stern expression. “This,” he motioned between us with his free hand, “doesn’t work unless you trust me. I gotta know what’s going on in that brain of yours.”
