If she was anything like the girl I’d once known, anyway. She always wanted to know everything. The amount of questions she used to ask would drive Jared crazy. Even teachers would get exhausted by it, but just like everything else about her, I found it fucking adorable.
With things how they were between us now, I knew that she’d never ask, or demand, like she used to. Maybe volunteering the information would be like an olive branch?
It struck me then that she hadn’t asked me a single question about myself since I arrived. Not one. No wonder things felt so different.
“That was my publicist, Jessie.”
“Oh,” she responded politely, but with an undertone of pretending not to care at all. That nonchalant attitude might fool others, but I knew better. “Everything okay?” Finally, a question.
“Everything’s fine.”
I knew that she wanted more details, but I wanted her to ask. I needed her to actually talk to me and if that meant withholding information to make that happen, then that’s exactly what I’d do.
I’d do whatever it took.
CHAPTER 9
Juliette
I stared at my clothes hanging in the closet. I did have one pair of jeans. My favorite pair. The perfectly-worn pair that highlighted the curves of my butt. When I’d packed for the weekend, I’d told myself that I was throwing them in just in case I needed them. But really the “just in case” was me wanting Romeo to see them on me.
This was the perfect reason to break them out. Who horseback rides in a pencil skirt? My hands were shaking as I unzipped my skirt and pulled it down my legs. I hung it up and grabbed the jeans. As I slid the Levis up my legs, my heart was thudding. When I grabbed my white V-neck, I realized my palms were damp.
Why was I this nervous about him seeing me in regular clothes?
I stared in the full-length swivel mirror that sat in the corner of the luxury bathroom. Two questions came to mind.
One, why did it feel like I was naked when I was fully dressed? And two, how ridiculous does my hair look in an up-do while in a T-shirt and jeans?
I might not be able to do anything about the first question, but I could definitely do something about the second.
My hands were steady as I lifted my arm and tugged out the bobby pins speared in my hair and then released the clip at the nape of my neck. My hair swooped down, falling to the middle of my back and I ran my fingers through it, shaking it out as I did.
A small grin tugged at my lips. I normally didn’t give much thought to my appearance, at least not in the way of how it would be perceived on a personal level. Business? Yes. Personal? No.
But now, as I stared at my reflection, I had to admit, I looked kinda hot. As tempted as I was to leave my hair down, I knew that I’d regret that decision within the first twenty minutes of our ride. I’d been blessed with Yaya’s thick, Greek hair, and it did not fare well beneath the sweltering New Mexico sun. I didn’t want to wear it up, or down, so I decided on a style I hadn’t worn since I’d been a server eight years ago. Grabbing my fine-tooth comb, I used the tail to part my hair straight down the middle.
I split my hair into two parts and French braided each side. The style had gained popularity in recent years thanks to the Kardashians, but as a kid my Yaya would style my hair like this so it didn’t get knotted. I’d enjoyed the style because it kept it out of my face and I didn’t have to endure the torture of brushing out knots.
When I was done I stood back and chuckled. I almost felt like I was wearing a Halloween costume of myself as a teenager. After the amusement passed, I realized that I no longer had the protection of the armor I’d carefully cultivated.
I took a deep breath and decided that it was better this way. If I was going to face my past it was better to do it as me. The real me. I grabbed my baseball cap and headed out to the stables.
When I entered, I caught Romeo talking to King Triton. “You’re a pretty girl.”
“He is pretty, isn’t he?” I corrected as I joined him.
Romeo shifted on his feet and tilted his head so he could see into the pen.
I chuckled at the look on his face. King Triton was well-hung even for a horse.
“Damn. He sure is, sorry boy. I can’t believe I missed that.” Romeo shook his head. “Hopefully, you won’t hold that against me on our ride.”
“You’re not gonna ride him. King Triton doesn’t do well in the heat,” I explained.
“No, he sure doesn’t.” Mr. Owens chimed in from behind us.
I turned to see the stable manager standing in the doorway of his office. He wore a faded pair of jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt, cowboy boots, and a hat. No matter what the weather, Mr. Owens’ wardrobe never changed.
He ran the stables and reminded me so much of my papouli. He was a no-nonsense, tell it like it is, old-school cowboy who said things like “piss or get off the pot.” He was in his seventies and was a retired rodeo star.
I’d met him on the first day that Liam and I toured the property when Liam was considering the land Oasis now sat on as his next potential acquisition for Sullivan Holdings. I’d immediately connected with Mr. Owens and the horses under his care.
It took me a moment to notice the strange look on Mr. Owens’ face. One I’d never seen before.
“Whoa, City Girl, I almost didn’t recognize you out of your fancy clothes.”
I smiled at the nickname. He liked to give me a hard time about coming to the stables in heels.
“Mr. Owens, this is Romeo Whitehall. Romeo, Mr. Owens runs the stables.”
The two men shook hands.
“Nice to meet you,” Romeo said.
“Are you the reason that this one’s loosened up and let her hair down?”
I could feel Romeo’s stare on me.
I ignored it, directing my question to Mr. Owens. “Did you get my email?”
“You know I never check those things.”
I did. Which made my job more difficult and was one of the reasons that I had to come to the stables in my “fancy clothes” so much. If I had a question or needed Mr. Owens to know something, I had to come out here to tell him.
“Romeo wanted to go out on a ride today,” I explained. “I checked and saw that no tours were scheduled. I thought we could take Tramp and Lady.”
“Sounds good to me.” Mr. Owens nodded. “You know those two love to sunbathe.”
They did. Out of all the horses, they were the two that thrived in the heat.
As Mr. Owens prepared the horses, I took Romeo on a short tour of the stables. Having him here was strange. This life was completely different than the life I’d had when he knew me. Those worlds never collided. My brother hadn’t made it out to visit me in the year since I’d moved to Oasis. He actually hadn’t made it out to visit me in the last three places that I’d lived.
Part of me understood. As an MLB recruiter his schedule was insane and he was always on the road. The last thing he wanted to do when he got time off was travel. But since we lost Yaya and Papouli we were the only family we both had left and I missed him. I’d gone to see him a couple times over the past few years when he happened to be scouting in a town that was within driving distance, but those visits were always short. I wished we both made more of an effort to see one another.
“And this gorgeous creature is Aladdin,” I said as I waved my arms out at the final stallion.
“King Triton, Lady, Tramp, Tinkerbell, Thumper, Minnie, Gaston, and Aladdin.” He pointed to each of the stalls. “I’m sensing a theme here.”
“The previous owner let his grandchildren name them.” I’d never really liked Disney movies after my mom died. They tended to run with that theme. But I did love the horses. I hadn’t ridden since I was a kid, though.
“Okay, they’re all set.” Mr. Owens led Tramp and Lady toward us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Romeo grabbed the horn, put one foot in the stirrup, and threw his other one over. He moved with a gra
ceful confidence that was sexy as hell.
Everything Romeo does is sexy as hell, I thought. I wasn’t wrong.
This weekend had only solidified why it had taken me so long to get over him and why I’d never actually been able to accomplish that task.
My new mission was not to face my past, but to protect myself from a future of falling even more in love with Romeo Whitehall. I just hoped I was up to the challenge.
CHAPTER 10
Romeo
“What is all this?” Juliette asked as we arrived at our destination.
It was the first time she’d spoken to me since we left the stables. We’d been riding for almost two hours and not a peep. I’d had plenty to say, but she’d remained quiet. I knew that if I pushed her too hard, she’d clam right back up. I needed to regain her trust.
The only way to do that was to make her feel comfortable and relaxed. Last night, I’d plied her with too many questions and she’d shut up like a clam that had been super-glued. Today, I had a new strategy.
“A picnic,” I answered what I could only assume was a rhetorical question considering how obvious it was.
We both stared at the movie-worthy scene laid out before us. A canopy shaded a red plaid blanket spread out on the ground. There was a basket that had sandwiches, fruit, crackers, and cheese.
“Please don’t tell me there’s a hot tub?”
“A what?” I had no idea what she was talking about.
“A hot tub,” she repeated. “You know, like The Bachelor.”
“The what?” I was still lost.
“The Bachelor. The TV show.”
“Oh, I don’t watch it.” But her bringing it up made me wonder…“Do you?”
“Who did this?” she asked, totally avoiding the question.
“I did.”
Her braids fanned out in the air as she spun to look at me, pinning me with her intense stare. “You came out and set this up?”
“No, but I paid the people that did.”
“Wow.” She shook her head. “You really are a rock star.” From her tone it was clear that it wasn’t a compliment.
And we’re back to the “rock star” thing. It wasn’t the reaction I’d hoped to get from her, but at this point I was just glad that she was speaking to me. I didn’t want to get into it now. This weekend was going by fast and she still had more walls up than Fort Knox.
“Are you hungry?” I asked as I dismounted Tramp and led him to the water that I’d made sure was set up for the horses where a second canopy was erected. I didn’t want them to have to wait in the sun while we ate.
Jules didn’t answer me but she did get off of Lady and led her to stand beside Tramp.
Beside me, I noticed her take several deep breaths through her nose and exhale slowly through her mouth. It wasn’t the first time that I’d observed her doing it.
“Is that a yoga thing?”
“A what?” She opened her eyes.
“A yoga thing, that breathing?”
She stared at me for a second. “It’s a relaxation technique.”
I wanted to ask her why she was tense, what was stressing her out, but I figured that it would be best to avoid inquiries about her and stick to neutral ground. “Jared told me that you made him go to a hot yoga class and he puked.”
Her full lips pulled into a smile and her head fell back. The laugh that escaped from low in her belly filled the desert air and my soul. If I could only hear one sound for the rest of my life, that’s the one I’d choose. As a musician, that was a bold statement. There was a melodic quality to her laugh that resonated and reverberated through me.
It was as if my body was tuned to the vibration of her laughter and when I heard it, all of my cells sprung to life. Seeing her smile, really smile, gave me life. If I was a character in a video game, her smile would charge my life force to full.
“Oh my gosh. I totally forgot about that. He was so cocky, too. You know how he is.”
I did. I’d been backup to his starting quarterback from the time the Pierce kids moved to town. Jared was just a natural athlete. He’d played ball at Texas A&M but had suffered an injury that killed his draft prospects. He could’ve easily gone pro in either football or baseball. He seemed to enjoy his job as a scout, but I sometimes wondered if being so close to the thing you were meant to do, watching it from the sidelines, was difficult for him.
“He only made it thirty minutes before tapping out,” she continued chuckling.
“He turned a little green just telling me about it.”
“Ahh,” she sighed. “That was the best.”
“I missed you.” It was the third time I’d said it and each time I saw her expression shift.
I hadn’t meant to declare my emotions any of the times that I had. It was just that I found I was having a difficult time keeping them to myself around her. I normally kept things to myself. I dated a psychologist once that told me I lived on an “emotional island” and the reason for my solo inclinations was that I’d been an only child whose mother took off. She said that I had abandonment and attachment issues.
Her diagnosis was completely unsolicited, I never asked her for her opinion on my mental health. Needless to say, our relationship didn’t last long.
Although, I had to admit, she wasn’t wrong about most of what she said. I didn’t talk to people about my feelings. I’d only ever shared things with Jules. With her it wasn’t even optional, it was compulsive. I just blurted things out.
She was the first person that I’d ever shared my dream of being a musician with. She was the first person who heard my first attempts at songwriting. She was the first person I told when I decided to drop out of college to tour with Valentine.
I remember I carried so much guilt about leaving my senior year because my dad had sacrificed so much, doing backbreaking, manual labor as a construction worker so that I had a college fund. I’d wanted to study music in school but he’d always dreamed of me getting a business degree, so that’s what I studied, and I’d been miserable.
I joined Valentine my junior year so I didn’t go insane, and within a year I dropped out of school. Then a year later our promoter told us that he’d booked us a European tour after we finished up the dates we had in the U.S. It was the European tour that I left on the day after Juliette’s eighteenth birthday twelve years ago tomorrow.
“Papouli would’ve loved this.” She spoke so quietly I almost missed what she’d said.
I watched her stare out over the desert vista as she reached forward to pet Lady and guilt overwhelmed me. This was one more subject she deserved an explanation about. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be at their service.”
I’d been in Australia at the time and hadn’t had the money to fly home. We didn’t see any real money from the band for the first few years and the money I had, I paid my dad back for the tuition I’d wasted.
“I got your flowers,” she said flatly.
“I wanted to be there, Jules, you know I did. I just…I didn’t have the money.”
Her eyes lifted to mine and I could see that she was searching for answers. She must’ve got the ones she wanted because the corner of her lips tilted in a slight grin. “I know. It was a long time ago.”
It was true that Juliette’s grandparents had passed ten years ago, but time was a funny thing. It still felt like yesterday that I was in the kitchen with Yaya and she was yelling at me not to let something burn or Papouli was telling me the plans he had for the Chevy Bel Air. He could talk for hours about his restorations, and he had. And I’d listened. Which was how I’d been able to finish what he’d started.
After Dominic found out the information about my mom, I’d had him track down Papouli’s car. It actually took much longer than the info on my mom had. But he’d found it in Florida. Thankfully, the owner was a Valentine fan, so he graciously allowed me to buy it off of him. I’d painstakingly followed each and every detail that Papouli had dreamed of.
The look on Juliette’s
face when she saw the car had been priceless, and it told me all the effort was worth it. She still didn’t know that it wasn’t just the same model and car that Papouli had, it was his car. She also didn’t know it was hers. The title was in her name.
I’d tell her when the time was right, but first, I offered her my arm to escort her to the picnic area. “Shall we?”
My heart thundered in my chest as I waited to see if she’d play along with the same gesture I’d made the first day we met. There was a moment’s hesitation before she lifted her arm and her fingers slid around my bicep.
It wasn’t a grand declaration of love, but it was enough. For now, it was enough.
CHAPTER 11
Juliette
I felt my mouth water and it had nothing to do with the delicious hummus that I was inhaling like I was in an eating competition.
Stop it! Stop looking at his hands!
There wasn’t much I didn’t like about Romeo but I’d specifically obsessed over his hands since the first night I met him. From the moment he’d extended one to me when I was curled up in that hay maze, I’d loved them. And my affection for them had only grown with the passing years.
Every instrument or game he played, my eyes were always glued to his hands. They fascinated me. The way they could command sticks as he beat on drums sent my heart pounding. When he gently strummed strings as he played the guitar my body felt his fingertips strumming me. Or when they glided over the keys of a piano, I imagined his fingers gliding across my nipples. Or the way they’d grip a bat or cradle a football with expertise and authority, I fantasized about him gripping my hips or cradling my body.
Romeo’s hands were so large, strong, and capable and yet, they could be so delicate, gentle, and skilled.
I couldn’t count the number of fantasies I’d had starring his hands.
“So, besides work and yoga, what do you love to do?”
Resisting Romeo (Steamy Weekends Book 3) Page 6