Love Me Always

by Peyton Banks

  “Anxious?”

  Her eyes tapered, her lips pressed in a flat line. “You could say that.”

  “Well, let’s try and distract you, shall we?” He turned on the radio. “What sort of music do you like?”

  “Why did you offer to drive me home?”

  His fingers paused on the visor and he stole a quick glance in her direction. She sat with her legs tucked under her rear, her nightgown wrapped around her knees. Though her dark hair was still knotted, it lay in dry ropes around her face. There was an innocence about her that he couldn’t put his finger on.

  “Mr. Larsen?”

  He winced. “Bram, please.” He couldn’t have been more than ten years older than her. Hearing her call him by his surname made the gap seem larger.

  “All right. Bram. Same question.”

  “You needed a ride,” he said with a shrug. It didn’t seem appropriate to admit that he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind. But it wasn’t every day that he saved someone’s life. Of course, she’d stuck with him.

  “I could have called a cab.”

  He whistled through his teeth. “That would have been heavy on the pocketbook.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he murmured. “I was having a bad day at work and thought a road trip could help ease my mind.” Or perhaps remove her from it.

  “And that’s the only reason?”

  “Has no one ever done anything nice for you?”

  She winced and settled her head back against the seat. “Many times. But never for the right reasons.”

  He wondered what the “right reasons” were. “You seem bothered by something.”

  “Do I?” she murmured wistfully as she stared out the window.

  Bram smirked at the slight thread of sarcasm to her voice. “Did I do something wrong by offering to drive you home?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she turned toward him. He felt the weight of her crisp hazel gaze, and for a brief moment, he contemplated reaching across the front seat and taking her hand again. He could still feel the imprint of her palm against his.

  “No. It’s just hard sometimes, to figure out if someone has an ulterior motive.”

  He blinked. “What sort of people are you accustomed to dealing with?”

  She released a breathy chuckle, a sound he rather liked. Stop this, right now, Bram. Deadlines, he reminded himself. Impending due dates, contracts, and financial gain. Those were what mattered. Not fawning over a woman he’d rescued from the treacherous sea. Priorities.

  She sighed and shifted her weight once more.

  “Are you all right?” Finally, Bram bit out the question. Car rides could certainly be uncomfortable, but Mackenzie made it look downright torturous.

  Her eyes fluttered shut and without another word, she drifted back asleep.

  Bram gave a light laugh. He’d never seen someone crash so quickly. He might have thought she was faking if it weren’t for the light snore that slipped past her lips.

  With only eight miles remaining, he thought it best to let her sleep. Surely, her family would be upset when they learned about her adventurous day. One he still hadn’t had the opportunity to question her about. It seemed best to let her sleep and gain some strength before facing her family.

  If Bram had learned anything in his thirty-one years of life, it was that family was exhausting. He stole another quick glance in her direction, his mouth pursing at the sight of her troubled expression. Something bothered Ms. DeVane, and it seemed to plague her even while she slept.

  Throwing caution to the wind, Bram slipped his hand beneath hers and threaded their fingers together. He meant it as a silent show of comfort. Instead, it left him unsettled. Not only did his heart skip a beat at the feel of her soft skin, but her expression smoothed. Whatever worries she carried seemed to slip from her shoulders and she settled into a deep sleep.

  Bram had every intention of passing it off to a dream, until her eyes fluttered, and, with the barest of smiles, she squeezed his hand. Breath caught in his throat, he focused on the last eight miles.

  3

  Mackenzie snapped awake, her fingers trembling as she clutched the passenger-side door. If only the drive had taken a little longer; she wasn’t ready to face her family. Worse was the sight of her Mercedes already parked in the middle of the driveway.

  “Bram.” Her voice wavered as she turned to look at him. “Please, don’t…I mean…”

  His face softened as the corner of his mouth ticked upward. “Let me guess, you don’t want them to know about today.”

  What could she say? Her family had enough to worry about. She shrugged and glanced back toward the house. “It would only worry them.”

  “I’m still not clear on what happened, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re an adult and it’s your life. If you don’t want them to know about your near-death experience, that’s your call.”

  “Thank you.” She blew out a relieved sigh and pushed the tangled locks back from her face. If life were kind, it’d allow her the chance to sneak inside and shower before seeing any of her family. But life had always been particularly cruel to Mackenzie.

  “I guess this is goodbye, then,” Bram whispered.

  The disappointment in his voice astounded Mackenzie. With a hitched breath, she glanced at him and nibbled at her bottom lip. This was goodbye. It wasn’t as though their lives would cross paths again, not with the distance between their homes.

  Tears stung her eyes as she slipped her hand beneath his. “Thank you. Today…” She shifted in the chair and drew in a deep breath. “Today was a bad day for me…”

  He gave a faint laugh. “I’d say.”

  She popped open the door and was about to leave when Bram’s fingers tightened around hers.

  “Mackenzie…”

  Their gazes met across the car. It was unfair of her to hope that he had something more to say. It wasn’t as though they could ever be together, and such hopes were devastating.

  “I may be totally out of line here, or completely wrong… Hell, I don’t know.” He blew out a heavy breath. “But next time, come see me first.”

  “What do you mean ‘first?’” Her voice trailed off when he lifted a knowing brow. A chill swept through her body.

  There was no humor in his face, nor judgment—simply understanding. “I mean…” He slipped a small business card into her hand and curled her fingers around it. “Next time, before you do anything drastic, call me or come see me. My address is on the card.”

  A horrible medley of emotions filled her. He lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles, an intimate graze that dragged a broken sound from her throat. What did it matter if he’d figured out the truth? His opinion was of no concern to her.

  “Please.” His breath warmed the back of her hand. “It doesn’t have to be me you talk to, but I won’t turn you away, either.” His lips curved into a crooked smile. “Besides, I kind of like you.”

  The air rushed out of her lungs. How could something so simple as I kind of like you strip her bare? Such an innocent claim, yet one that pricked her heart.

  “Promise me.”

  Her teeth scraped her lip, but she nodded. “I promise.”

  Content, he released her hand and allowed her to exit the vehicle. Her knees shook as she made her way up the sidewalk. Just beyond the doors she would find her family. It wouldn’t be easy, admitting to them what she’d tried to do; she only hoped they understood.

  The hard edge of Bram’s business card cut into her palm and drew her to a stop. She gazed down on the matte charcoal and traced the curve of his name with her index finger. Bram Larsen. Beneath the glossed letters, it read Author.

  She whirled around on the sidewalk, only to find his vehicle ghosting away from her curb. Surely, he couldn’t be the Bram Larsen? She’d recognized his name when he’d first given it, but never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined it
to be him.

  With a hop to her step, she rushed toward her house and slipped through the door. The exclamations of her family were easy to ignore as she hurried to her computer, sat down, and typed in his name.

  Sure enough, it was his face that popped up on her computer screen. Bram Larsen, author of fourteen best sellers with nine adapted to film.

  She gave a light laugh and stared once again at his business card.

  Bram spun his keys around his fingers as he walked up the path to his house. It seemed so small against the large expanse of ocean behind it, but the sight of it still brought a smile to his face. Dusk had long since chased away the lingering sunlight, but there still remained a few hours of productive work time. With luck, he’d manage a chapter or two before resigning for the night.

  He slid his key in the door and turned it with a peaceful smile. Seemed the fresh air and impromptu trip had done exactly as he’d hoped. With a clear head, perhaps he’d make some progress with his current novel.

  As he stepped inside, his cell phone rang. Bram kicked his shoes off at the entry, then dug the phone out of his back pocket and accepted the call.

  “Yes?”

  Silence greeted him. With a frown, he glanced down at the screen and noted the different area code. Not local, then.

  He lifted the phone back to his ear. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  “I—I shouldn’t have called.”

  “Mackenzie?” He found it disconcerting how his heart leapt at the sound of her voice. Now was not the time to develop a fascination with anything beyond his current work in progress. Especially not a woman who was clearly suffering emotional issues.

  “I’m sorry. Forget I rang you.”

  “Too late.” He chuckled and set his keys down on the counter. “I just walked in.”

  “I’m glad you made it home safely, then.” It was odd hearing her voice over the line and not right next to him.

  “I did.”

  “I wanted to thank you, again. For everything you did. Not many would go out of their way like you did today.”

  “I truly hope you’re wrong about that.”

  Her laugh breezed over the line. “I just…I feel like an idiot.”

  He held his tongue. That was a topic of conversation he refused to weigh in on. He’d always felt that taking your life was unnecessary. But now that he’d met Mackenzie, he wondered about her circumstances. He knew nothing of her personal life, but at first glance, everything appeared top-notch. A large, overbearing mansion sheltered in the center of South Raymond, with a family she knew worried about her.

  “I didn’t realize who you were until I googled your name.”

  Ah. Bram’s mouth curled. So, she felt like an idiot for an entirely different reason then. “Don’t worry about it.” He chuckled as he flicked the switch on his coffee maker. “So few people ever recognize me. It’s the author shots. They never look like us in real life.”

  “I don’t know about that.” He listened as she shifted her weight and settled against something. A couch, he imagined. “Your eyes are the same. And the curve of your lips…”

  The line fell silent as Bram realized what she’d just admitted. A thrill shot through his heart—one he’d hadn’t felt in years. Clearly, she was studying a picture of him on one of his book flaps as they spoke.

  She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I just…I don’t know…I didn’t want you to worry about me. I’m fine, really.”

  “And your family? Do they have reason to worry?”

  Her shuttered breath broke his heart. “They know something is wrong. But I told them I didn’t want to discuss it.”

  Bram reached for his coffee cup and filled it with steaming goodness. “Maybe this is out of line and really, none of my business, but if you ever want to talk to someone about what is wrong, I’ve been told I’m a decent listener.”

  “Really.” He heard the smile in her voice.

  “No.” He laughed as he lifted his heated mug to his lips and blew on the drink. “In fact, my ex-wife often complained about my lack of listening skills. But in my defense, when all you talk about on a daily basis is your manicure or who’s having an affair with who, I’m within my rights to tune you out.”

  “Ouch,” she chortled. “That sounds painful.”

  “Mm. I’m not sure who it was more for. Neither of us got what we wanted out of one another, other than a daughter.”

  Mackenzie hummed a gentle response. “How old is she?”

  “Eleven. We had her young. Which was probably for the best since we didn’t last much longer than her birth.”

  “She must live with her mother?”

  Bram swallowed and glanced down at his coffee. “She does.”

  His tone must have given something away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a sore topic.”

  He shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “It’s my fault. My wife wasn’t the only one I didn’t pay enough attention to. And by the time I realized that, it was too late to fix it. I’m trying, though. Unsuccessfully, I might add, but I’m trying.”

  A brief hesitation passed between them before Mackenzie spoke again. “When she’s older, she’ll realize what she’s missing. Until then, just be patient.”

  Bram attempted to hide his discomfort with an uneasy laugh. “An expert in parenting, are we?”

  “No,” she breathed over the phone. “In being a daughter. My father and I weren’t the closest. But…things can change at the drop of a hat.”

  So, she was close to her parents.

  “Bram.”

  He lifted his gaze from his coffee cup. “Yes?”

  “The reason I called you…”

  “Ah.” Here it came. The reason they always sought him out. In his little town, he was quite the celebrity. And no matter where he went, people flocked to him with questions about his next book or movie.

  “I enjoyed spending the day with you. I was hoping we could do it again.”

  He blinked, stunned by her words. So stunned that he took a sip of his searing coffee and cursed when it burned his tongue.

  Perfectly wretched timing—he listened as Mackenzie stammered over her next words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel as though—”

  “It’s all right, Mackenzie.” He grabbed a cup and filled it with cold water. “I burned my tongue. That’s all.”

  Sweet laughter pealed over the phone. “I thought you were cursing at me.”

  “No, just my own stupidity.” He took a swallow and tipped his head back as he contemplated her request. “This doesn’t have anything to do with my work, does it?”

  She sucked in a breath. “No! I thought we could be friends. I could really use one right now.”

  This conversation was not going in his favor. First, he’d cursed at the poor woman and then accused her of being ingenuine. “Forgive me. Just something I have to deal with.”

  The tension ebbed. “I understand. I’ll also understand if you don’t think this is a good idea.”

  Bram took his mug by the handle and headed for his study. “Now, I never said that. I’ll actually be passing through South Raymond next week.” A lie, but one he felt no guilt over telling. “Would you like me to stop by? Perhaps we can go for coffee?”

  She giggled. “You actually drink that nasty stuff? It’s no wonder you burned your tongue. That’ll teach you.”

  Bram’s mouth fell open as he listened to his new friend rail on his choice of drink. “Well, now we can’t be friends. I’ll have you know that coffee is good for the soul.”

  Her laughter eased and he listened as she shifted position once more. “Were you really planning on coming through South Raymond next week?”

  Falling whim to the playful banter, he opted to tell the truth. “No. But I am now.”

  “Then I can’t wait to see you again. Does Thursday work for you?”

  It didn’t. His book needed to come first. Another trip to South Raymond was not in the cards for
him. Yet, he found himself tucking the phone against his ear and murmuring, “Absolutely. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving so you’ll know when to expect me.” Maybe with a little luck and a touch of magic, he could finish his book in the next week before their “date.”

  “I look forward to it. Thank you, Bram.”

  “No, thank you,” he uttered, but the line had already gone dead.

  He stared at his cell before adding her number into his contact list. His day had certainly taken quite the twist. One he didn’t mind in the least.

  4

  Bram rolled down the driver-side window and draped his arm over the door. The soft ocean breeze was refreshing after the last eight days hiding in his writing cave. However, he’d finished his book, so a celebration was certainly needed. And how better to celebrate than visiting his new friend.

  The last week had passed both torturously slow and fast at the same time. While the sun was up, Bram had worked his fingers to the bone, clacking away at his keyboard until the paint wore off. But the moment that sun set, he found himself glued to his cell phone, chatting away with Mackenzie until one of them—namely Mackenzie—fell asleep. It still surprised him how quickly she drifted off. Mid-sentence, even. Still, it was refreshing to have a friend again. Someone he could talk to and confide in. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone since his ex-wife, and if he were being truly honest, not even then.

  During their late-night phone calls, they’d spoken about everything, from their favorite movies to music. That they had extraordinarily little in common amused him. It only gave them something to work toward. Rome wasn’t built in a day, so why should they expect that of their relationship. If he’d learned anything from his ex, it was that relationships required constant work. The second that stopped, they often fell apart. This time, he had no intention of letting that happen.

  On the upside, he’d learned that Mackenzie was twenty-four, which wasn’t horrible. A seven-year gap seemed far more manageable than ten. And even though she was still quite young, it didn’t bother him. Age was just a number, after all.