“Excuse me.” I pull away from her, taking the few steps down the porch as fast as I can. It’s a wonder I don’t fall over myself. I’m no Forrest Gump, but the farther I run, the more impossible it is to stop.
“Ava,” Damon calls behind me, each echo of my name getting louder as he catches up to me. “Ava!”
I feel his proximity, and as magnetic as it is, I keep running until I’m at the edge of his parents’ manicured drive and he’s holding me prisoner in his viselike arms.
“Stop.” He turns me to face him, and when he tries to press me to him, I hold my arms out, pushing against his chest. “What happened?”
What happened?
My stomach twists, with my lungs wrung out.
What happened?
My heart is in overdrive, and I have no idea if it’s anger or frustration or whether I am just frayed to the core.
What happened?
“Did it ever occur to you that I’ve already done this shit before?” I snap. The tears that I’ve held back so many times finally fall. “With a man I was supposed to marry. Not my boss. Not some guy I fucked in a bar.”
His arms drop to his sides, setting me free. Only I’ve lost the power to run. It’s all coming out in treacherous tears, making me hate him even more for reducing me to this. My pride is gone. Broken. Something I’ve held together for so long. After everything with my father at Monroe. After Marsh…Damon was the one to burn it to the ground.
“I can get you a hotel,” he says, voice more gravelly than usual. Dry almost.
“Please.” It’s all I can manage.
DAMON
I guess she loved him after all.
Does she still love him?
Loosening my arms around her, I step back.
For all the shit that’s happened, this is what breaks her?
Maybe it’s time I cut my losses and let her go. I should let her go back to the people who have no appreciation for her capabilities.
Maybe that’s what she’s wanted all along—to go back to him.
I try to swallow down the bile the thought of her with him pulls from my stomach, but the longer I stand looking at her, the more impossible it becomes.
“I can get you a hotel.” I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice, and I hate her for it.
“Please.” Red-rimmed, teary eyes widen on mine. She really does look like a lost little mouse. And I’m the idiot who thought he could change that.
Chapter Thirteen
AVA
The hotel is an old colonial farmhouse, white clad with black shutters. The receptionist is nice, young, and I’m sure she believes we’re having some sort of sordid rendezvous. I’m not sure how because the atmosphere between Damon and me is glacial at this point.
“I’ll pick you up for the meeting tomorrow,” he says, looking at the ground between us.
I didn’t know that you can miss someone looking you in the eye until now. He’s always looked at me, even when I wished he didn’t. And now I wish he would, and he won’t.
“Damon…” I move a little closer, breathing in his warm ambery scent. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” His hand grazes my shoulder, and I swear that it tries to hold on, but it drops to his side as he turns to leave.
Watching him walk away feels like a sledgehammer to my heart. It doesn’t make sense for me to feel this way, not when he’s deceived me at every turn. Damon is always one step ahead and ready to pounce with his games. First the bar, then the blackmail…Robert and this whole thing with Warner. The only reason he wanted me for that is Lacie, or my friendship with her.
Damon is like some kind of omniscient and omnipresent being. Every time I think we’re on the same page, another surprise pops up.
He acts like an asshat, especially when he cares about something…someone.
Fran’s words echo around my thoughts, getting louder and louder and louder until my feet are moving of their own accord, tracing Damon’s steps back to his car.
The sky is clouding over like it’s about to pour down. The salt in the air coats my lungs as I suck as much of the cool air into them as possible.
And as his car rumbles to life, I pull the door open.
“Why did you bring me here?” The question bursts from me. “I’m not Fran. I’m not your friend.”
“I’ll call you back. Okay, Mom?”
“Of course, darling.”
Shit. I can’t fucking win today. If I ever meet this woman, she’s going to hate me.
I hope she doesn’t. The thought makes my heart stumble in its erratic pace.
Standing from his car, he shuts the door and perches on the hood. The wind is picking up a little like it’s brewing a storm. And the way he’s watching me, it’s like I’m it. The storm.
“Truce?” he asks.
“No. No more truces, Damon. Just be straight with me…no more games and surprises.” I edge closer to him, not enough to touch, but enough that when the wind whirls around us, his scent wraps itself around me. “Why didn’t you tell me? Give me some warning? I don’t even know what we are…”
“Can’t we just be me and you?”
“We are, Damon. I’m me and you’re you.” The air around us begins to mist as the sky darkens to a deep violet, shadowed with the grayest clouds I’ve ever seen. “You’re my boss, and I’m your employee. You’re the man that lied to me and then blackmailed me into staying. The guy that had me steal from my own family.” There’s a low rumble above us, the mist becoming thicker until it’s a hardening drizzle. “You kiss me like you care, but in the end, when you’re done, you’ll discard me.”
Damon nods, his head falling back as he looks up to the sky. He’s the most captivating person I’ve ever known. The rain trails over his face, rivering down his neck in glistening streams that soak through his shirt.
It’s cold and windy and I’m rattling in my skin, but I can’t bear the thought of walking away without an answer from him. The freezing rain heavies, and it doesn’t matter how tight I wrap my arms around myself, I can’t stop my shivers.
Glancing back to me, he leans forward, hooking his arm around my waist and pulling me to him. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen, and the pull between us is more powerful than I’ve ever felt it. I could try to fight it, but I don’t want to. I’m done fighting him and whatever this is.
Damon’s hand flattens on my back; the other smooths my wet hair from my face. This is my kryptonite. Moments like these where there are no words, only touches and breaths and stares.
“I wasn’t meant to like you,” he whispers, tipping my face up to his so his eyes bore into mine. “I wasn’t meant to care.”
With the way he leans over me, my blood rushes through me like hot oil, waiting for his kiss. Waiting for him to devour me with the hungry, feral look in his eyes. But his forehead touches mine, his gaze stamped on mine…and all there is, is me and him.
None of the past. Not even the future. It’s just him and me. Both lost in a moment where nothing else matters.
I have to ask myself if this is it. Love. Because I’ve never felt it before. I’ve never felt my soul belong like this. And so, there is a reason for everything. A journey to this perfectly imperfect, rainy, cold, and consuming moment.
“Would you have dinner with me? Only me and you…” The tip of his nose trails up the bridge of mine until his lips press to my forehead.
Nuzzling into the crook of his neck as he wraps his arms around me, I nod. “Yes.”
His chin dips down until his warm lips touch my cool neck. His teeth graze the same spot he bit down on last night. And all the air pushes right out of my lungs.
“Cheese, little mouse,” he murmurs, a hand pulling me flush to him as the other caresses my face, bringing it up so we’re eye to eye once again. Except he doesn’t hold my stare; his mouth finds mine, and all the wild hunger in his dark depths pours from him. And I take it. I drink every bit of it and let it fill me up until I’m certa
in I have no room left for anything else, barring him.
Damon wraps his arms around me, walking me around the front of the car to the passenger side as thunder starts to grumble loudly around us. Pulling away from me, he nips at my lower lip a couple of times before he focuses on getting me in the car.
“Don’t I need to get changed?” I ask as he finds the seat belt and buckles me in.
“Trust me?” He tugs at it.
“Okay.”
He chuckles, ducking back out into the rain and jogging around to his side. His normally neat hair is a wet mess, the short lengths sticking to his forehead. He looks almost a little childish with the content grin on his face. I can’t help the urge to trace his jaw, and when I meander over his stubbled beard, he sighs like this too is a perfect moment for him.
“I like it when you kiss me in the rain.” I like all his kisses, but I loved this one. I can still feel it everywhere. It’s like a living thing inside me like the thunderstorm building around us. Powerful and enthralling.
My fingertips tangle in the short lengths of his hair while I watch him drive. The quiet feels peaceful with the hum of the heating, the thrum of the rain, and occasional crack of lightning along the shore. I could live with him in this warm cocoon forever.
Chapter Fourteen
AVA
Oh my God.
“You told me to trust you.” I stare out at the lobster shack that’s all lit up in the storm.
“I did.”
“Are you trying to get us killed?”
Damon doesn’t answer my question, of course. He gets out and comes to my side to get me out too. I’m only just beginning to dry out thanks to the half-hour drive. I press the central lock as he gets to my side, already dripping.
“Open the door, Ava!” he yells over the rain.
“No. Na-ah!” I’m a mouse, not a fucking drowning rat.
We have a glaring competition through the misting glass, and then he does the most logical thing—he unlocks the car.
“You’re being sorely melodramatic about this,” he chuckles as he pulls me out of the car.
“This place looks ready to blow away.”
“It’s been here over thirty years; it’ll survive this storm just as it’s survived all the others.” We jog up the short steps to the wide surrounding porch. We’re barely out of the rain when he kisses me. It’s soft and quick, but it still makes me giddy, and I can’t hide my smile. “I thought you liked rain kisses.”
Rain kisses. I love them actually.
“You can’t use my words against me.”
“I just did.” He’s laughing as he pulls the door open, and the heat from inside blasts us. It’s like being back in his warm car, only it smells delicious and my mouth is watering for food and not the sight of Damon handling the steering wheel.
A few bistro tables line the wall opposite the food counter, but he takes me all the way to the back and through a curtained doorway that leads to the porch. Heavy clear plastic sheets are pulled taught over the open intervals, and it feels like we’re hanging off the edge of a cliff or something because there’s only sea ahead of us.
“You actually have a death wish.”
“Trust me, you’re safe. You’ll live to see another day and with a belly full of food.”
“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” We both turn to the opening we came through. A tall, older woman is standing there, wiping her hands on her apron with a big grin on her face. “Damon Coldwell, are you sure you’re in the right place?”
“I’m always in the right place,” he replies, his voice light and cheery. “Where’s Jo?”
“Right here.” She points at herself as she comes closer and whips him with a dishcloth from her apron pocket before she starts cleaning a table in the corner.
“I meant the other Jo.”
“He’s in the kitchen. Always in the kitchen, that man.” She shrugs. “Sit down. I’ll go grab a menu, give you and your lady friend a minute to get settled.”
“Ava, Jo-Anne. Jo-Anne, Ava,” he introduces us.
“Aren’t you pretty,” she coos.
“I guess so.” Damon pulls out the chair for me at the same time as I thank her.
“Pretty?” Scowling up at him, I trail my finger from the middle of his chest, down to the top of his jeans. “You should think I’m the most goddamn beautiful thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on if you’re going to save this date.”
“Don’t you worry, the food will do that.” He pulls the chair opposite mine across and sits beside me. “What would you like to drink? They have one beer, one white, one red, and one rosé. Oh, and vodka. That’s it. Nothing else. Except water and soda.”
“I’ll have whatever is good.”
Smiling, he takes my hand. Twisting the slim band on my middle finger, he asks, “Do you love him?”
The serious expression on his face deepens when I don’t reply straightaway, and his fingers thread through mine. I look at the plain ring on my finger, trying to figure out why it triggered such a question, but it’s only when he traces the white line from my engagement ring that I understand.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t even know if I did really.” I feel embarrassed admitting it, but it seems to relax him again.
“Why would you marry him, then?”
“I thought I did. Things between us were easy. We enjoyed some of the same things. My parents loved him, and he had all the credentials and potential… I…I don’t know. Why are you asking?”
Looking up at me, with the outdoor heater light reflecting in his eyes, he looks devilish. “Because I want to know if he’s competition.”
His seriousness is kind of sinister, and given how he handles things…
“Damon, I was more upset at the fact he stole my promotion than I was over breaking our engagement. I suppose that means I didn’t love Marsh. I don’t know, but if I wanted him back, I would never have let anything happen between us.”
Jo-Anne comes back with a menu, but he orders everything off the top of his head, without a second thought. And although it’s not the fanciest of places for a date, I love that it means something to him. That he loves it here.
When she leaves, he continues. “I don’t do competition.”
“Because you’re a brat?”
“I’m not a brat!”
“Really? Fran seems to think you’re a spoilt rich brat who won’t let anything stand in his way. Basically, boundary issues.”
We get our beers with red plastic cups and paper plates with cute tiny lobsters wearing chef hats.
“Fran’s a pain in my ass.” Sucking a long gulp of his beer, he takes in the view, darkness lined with breaking waves. “And besides, since she got knocked up, she’s all weird.”
“What?” I’m not sure how she’s kept that so quiet and hidden so well. But I am grateful she had the friends talk with me. After today, the last thing I’d want is to freak out about something I don’t need to.
“Don’t worry,” Damon laughs. “It’s not mine,” he adds with an exaggerated wink.
I take a pull of my beer, not bothering with the plastic cup. I’m in complete awe as the sky lights up a bright violet, the clouds a deep indigo as a lightning bolt strikes the sea. The thunder that follows it is so loud and surrounding that my heart feels like it’s being shocked to life. And as the wind sucks at the plastic holding the storm out, I squeeze his hand.
“Isn’t it amazing?” he breathes, lacing our hands together.
“Yes, it’s incredible.”
We watch every encore and new strike like we’re front row at our very own private show. Chef Jo brings our lobster roll and fries dinner out. He’s much like his wife—friendly and happy. And after Damon’s introduction, he disappears again.
“So, the trick is to just get as much in your mouth as possible.” He throws a fry into his mouth and eats it while he arranges the filling in his roll. “Come on, you’ve got to spread the filling evenly so that you don�
�t lose any of it. Don’t be shy, your mouth is big enough to run itself, so…”
“My mouth is big enough to run itself?”
“You and Fran have that down.” Putting down his roll, he chuckles. It’s playful and light…and I love it. He picks up mine and arranges the filling like his.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to touch other people’s food?” I smack his hand away and carry on with what he was doing.
“My mom taught me a lot of things, but there are no rules here.” There’s so much fondness in the way he speaks of his mom that it gets me all anxious over the prospect of meeting her in the future.
“Is she going to hate me? I hope she doesn’t feel I was rude or…or…oh God, she’s going to think I’m an awful person.”
“It’s not a big deal. She’s got Fran there with her unborn grandbaby.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just you blindsided me, and the only other guy that’s ever introduced me to their parents like that…I freaked out. My parents aren’t even talking to me.”
“Ava, it doesn’t matter, and if you really want to know, Mom was pissed at me.”
“She was? Why?”
“Fran couldn’t keep her mouth shut as per usual. I feel sorry for Grayson.”
Grayson. The name is familiar. “Hold on, she’s with the legal guy?”
“Yeah, he’s decent, and she deserves someone that will really look after her.” He shrugs, sucking the dressing from his fingers before he picks up a quarter-sized token. “So, every customer gets a song.” He nods at the corner. There’s an old jukebox plastered with stickers and surrounded by lobster memorabilia. “Go on.”
I take the token from him and wander over to the jukebox. The oldest disc on there is from the eighties. My favorite disc is from the seventies though.
The sound crackles once I select the song, and vocals fill the air soon after.
“No. No fucking way,” Damon calls from his seat, looking all affronted by the opening to ABBA’s “Take a Chance on Me.” “Of all the songs on there.”
Forbidden: A Romance Anthology Page 34
