"They can wait a little longer," he grins.
I squeal and run back toward my bedroom. He gains on me instantly and scoops me into his arms, tossing me onto the bed. He comes down over me and kisses me. I squirm and laugh as he buries his head in the curve of my neck and shoulder, growling as he nibbles his way along my skin.
"I have to go to work," I insist. "And you have to get back to your hosts. People will talk."
He pulls back and looks down at me through narrowed eyes.
"I thought you don't care about what people think," he says.
"I don't. I've just always wanted to say that."
He kisses me.
"Alright. I'm going. Not willingly, I'd like to point out. But I'm going. I'll see you later."
He climbs off the bed and starts dressing.
"Maybe," I tease.
He drops back over me for another kiss.
"I'll see you later," he says again.
"I'll see you later."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gavin
Things might have gotten hot as hell in Scarlett's house last night, but the weather obviously didn't share the sentiment. More snow fell overnight, and it takes some convincing for my little rental car to decide it's ready to attempt the trek back to Beck's house.
The drive is decidedly slippery, and there are several touch-and-go moments when my tires go off in their own direction. Finally, I see the entrance to the land owned by Ruby's family. I'm confident now I'll make it back. It's possible I'm going to have to ask Jamie for a ride to the airport in his truck tomorrow morning and let the rental company know where they can pick up their car, but for now, I'm going to make it back.
Turns out, I was just lulled into complacency by getting out of the main town and onto the open land. A few minutes after leaving the main stretch of road behind me, my front wheels hit a particularly difficult patch of ice, and the car skids. I try it to fight it back into its proper direction but end up swinging the back end of the car around. Another correction sends the front in a diagonal toward the ditch.
If there's one thing I have to say for having a career as demanding and stressful as mine, it's that I'm not easily flustered. Remaining calm and in control in this situation means I don't panic and flail like so many other drivers. That's the thing. It's not usually the obstacle or ice, or even other drivers that really causes the danger in driving situations.
It's the panic and flailing.
I don't end up tipped upside down in the ditch or with the tail end bashed into one of the trees. Instead the car comes to a stop on the side of the road, digs its tires into the snow and ice, and promptly gets stuck.
I try a few times to get it moving again. I rock back and forth to hop it free and turn the wheels back and forth to try to encourage it to grip. Nothing I do does any good. I'm officially stuck.
Taking out my phone, I scroll through it for a few seconds before making a call. Five minutes later, I'm still sitting in the exact same position, staring at my phone, baffled. Tossing it into the passenger seat, I go back to my efforts to free the car. They are futile, of course, and soon I reach for my phone again. This time I call Beck. He doesn't answer his cell, and when I call Ruby, she tells me he's still asleep. She's not at home, having gone to pick up their son from the babysitter.
“Do you know if your brother is home?” I ask her.
“Jamie and Bunny left in their RV right after the party for their own Valentine's Day getaway,” she tells me.
“But yesterday was Valentine's Day,” I say.
“He knows that,” she says. “But Jamie will take any opportunity he can to go out in the RV. I'm not sure why he comes up with reasons anymore. It's like he hasn't quite wrapped his head around the idea that he is an actual adult and can do whatever he wants without having to explain it to people.”
“Aren't you still technically his handler?” I ask.
“Not his handler,” she protests. “Just a supportive influence that helps them remember his court dates and keeps him from disaster.”
“So much clearer,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Alright. Well, thank you. I'll figure something out.”
“Are you sure? I was planning on doing those errands after picking up the baby, but I can come back and get you.”
“No,” I tell her. “It's fine.” I peer through the windshield at tiny crystals of ice landing defiantly on the glass in front of me. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter.
“What?” Ruby asks.
“Not you,” I say. “Did you realize it's snowing again? You should probably hunker down.”
“You're probably right,” she says. “I hate driving in the snow with George in the car. Not that I've had terribly many opportunities to do it. But I still hate it.”
“You just stay warm and safe. Get home when you can.”
“Well, Beck will be up eventually. I think he just got one too many cinnamon heart moonshine cocktails in him last night. Are you sure you're going to be okay?” she asks.
“Absolutely. See you later.”
I hang up with Ruby and make one more call. When it's over, I toss the phone back into the passenger seat and rest my head against the seat to wait. I turned the engine off just in case the exhaust pipe is blocked, and a chill is starting to settle in. I will turn it back on briefly in a few minutes to knock off some of the cold if necessary.
Everything is so quiet. Shadow Creek is quiet as it is, but something about the snow compounds it. Like every snowflake is a tiny silencer muffling the sounds of the town. My phone buzzes beside me, and I pick it up.
“You almost survived the entire trip,” Marla says with admiration. “Just a little more than twenty-four more hours and you will be back on your way home.”
“And is the company still in existence?” I tease.
“Ready to welcome you back with open arms,” she says.
“That's a lie,” I tell her.
“It is, but I'm trying not to hurt your feelings,” Marla says.
The truth is; the people working for me probably see Marla as their savior in a way, for being the one to force me into my occasional breaks. We maintain a good corporate culture, and I've developed relationships with many of them, but to say I'm not an intense and demanding boss would be under-estimating me.
“I appreciate it,” I tell her. “And, to be honest, this was a lot of fun. Valentine's Day with the married couple by which all cheesy honeymoon resort commercials have been inspired didn't exactly sound like my thing at first, but I enjoyed myself. Having a chance to spend more time with Beck has been good for me.”
I conveniently gloss over the parts about Scarlett. That's not something I need her to hear about in the foreseeable future. Especially when I'm doing everything in my power not to dwell on how I feel about her or our time together. Or on walking away from her tomorrow. A rap on the window snaps my attention away from Marla describing an incident involving break room doughnuts and not having an equal number of filled options. I turn to the face peering in at me.
"Marla, I'm going to have to call you back. Why don't you call the doughnut shop and put in a standing order for the office? That way, you get to control all the fillings."
I never thought the heated conflict I'd be settling from a distance would be how to ensure the person responsible for the Friday morning doughnuts didn't mess up the flavors. Since I've never ventured into the break room to partake in the doughnuts, I haven't been privy to any of the apparent devastating raspberry jelly shortages.
Ending the call, I open the door.
“I told you this silly little thing wasn't going to get you through the snow,” Scarlett says with a grin.
“Why is it that the people in a tiny town in Virginia are so prepared for snow?” I ask.
“People in Shadow Creek are prepared for just about everything,” she shrugs. “Snow. Hail. Tornadoes. Hurricanes. Cicada swarms. Zombie apocalypse.”
“Zombie apoca
lypse?” I ask.
"There are a few people around here who have taken certain television experiences very seriously," she nods. "Some even organized training clubs."
"I'm not sure how I feel about that."
She shrugs. "As long as they don't start practicing on people who haven't died on their own yet, I'm good with it. So, are you going to explain this whole situation to me?" She indicates the car.
"Get in."
She walks around the car and climbs into the seat beside me. Snowflakes cling to her hair, and her cheeks are pink with cold. She gets more beautiful every time I see her.
"My car got stuck in the snow," I tell her.
"Enlightening," she rolls her eyes. "I did warn you about this car. You're just lucky I was at the office when you called."
"Yes. Did you know the snow plow doesn't work in the snow?" I ask.
"Mike? Yeah. That's just kind of him. Do you want me to bring you to the Jenkins house?"
I reach over and tuck a finger under her chin so I can guide her over to me for a kiss. "Not yet."
She lets out a happy moan with the kiss and deepens it. I sweep my arm around her and pull her closer, so she sits on her hip on the edge of my seat.
"You know," I say, nuzzling her nose with the tip of mine. "You never explained to me why February snow is so special."
Scarlett sucks my bottom lip between hers and smiles. "All snow is special. Besides, it gives an excuse to celebrate."
Our foreheads touch, and our smiles match. Our mouths catch again, and I draw her into a long, luxurious kiss. Her hand rests against my inner thigh and runs up to the bulge of my cock straining toward her through my pants. I slip my tongue into her mouth, which seems to encourage her. Scarlett's fingers release the button and ease down my zipper enough to reach inside and wrap her hand around my hardened shaft. She pulls it out, and I wrap my own hand around hers to tighten her grip and guide her in stroking me.
When she's picked up the rhythm, I reach my other hand over to her and slip it down the front of her pants. My finger finds her pussy already wet and hot. Dipping it just inside the entrance, I gather some of her wetness, my mouth watering at the memory of her taste across my tongue. She parts her thighs to give me more access, and we stare into each other's eyes. Our hands move in concert, beckoning and swirling, driving each other to the brink as the windows and windshield steam around us.
The thicker the steam on the windows, the louder Scarlett gets, until she's gasping and moaning at the exploration of my fingers through her dips and folds. Her sounds spiral my need further out of control, and my orgasm rushes up through my belly. At the same moment, Scarlett comes in a rush of silky fluid and heat around my fingers; I explode. She squeezes the base of my cock, letting me ride out the pleasure until we're both left gasping and trembling.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Scarlett
My body is still tingling as I drive up to Beck's house. There are barely any signs of the party here just last night. Ruby must have ensured the cleanup crew was ready the moment the last guest said their goodbyes and made their way out into the night. Beck steps out onto the porch as we climb out of the car.
"There you are," he calls. "I couldn't find you last night after the party."
"I'm sorry," Gavin says. "We didn't get a chance to find you before I brought Scarlett home."
"Hi, Scarlett," Beck says.
My cheeks burn.
Can he tell? He can tell, can't he? He knows what just happened in a useless tiny sports car on the side of the road, not a comfortable enough distance from his house.
When I said I don’t care what people would say, this isn't exactly what I had in mind. But Beck doesn't seem awkward. He smiles out at us, still wearing pajamas, and sporting hair that hasn't yet made a morning acquaintance with a brush.
"Hi, Beck." I gesture behind me in the general direction of the car. "Gavin's car got stuck in the snow. I came to help him."
"I knew that little tiny thing wasn't going to do you any good," Beck says. "You should do what I do. Have a couple of different car options waiting for you at the airport. That way you can choose when your plane arrives."
I flash a grin toward Gavin. "Told you." My smile fades slightly. "Well, the useless car part. Not the multiple cars and private plane part. I don't have a lot of input about that whole situation. I just have my one car, and it lives at my house."
Beck smiles. "Come on in. I'll figure out a tow truck to get it here. Do you want some breakfast?"
"No, thanks," Gavin says. "We already ate. But I wouldn't turn down a cup of coffee."
"No problem."
Beck gestures for us to follow him into the house. It feels strange to go along with Gavin. There's really no reason for me to still be here. I did my service rescuing the man from the snow. Lingering feels like it's going too far. I started to take a few steps toward the house with Gavin and Beck but hesitate. Gavin turns around to look at me.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"I'm actually going to go," I say. "I need to get this work finished."
"Oh," he says. "Alright."
"We made some plans for Gavin's last day in Shadow Creek," Beck says. "Hopefully this snow won't get any worse, and we'll be able to head out when Ruby and George get back home. Do you want to join us?"
I avoid looking at Gavin. I don't want to see the look in his eyes as he waits for my response to the invitation. We could go one of two ways. Either he will look hopeful that I’ll accept, and it will just make it harder to walk away from him. Or I'll be able to see the hesitation in his eyes because he doesn't want me to cling, and it will make its own cut. A different one, but a cut, nonetheless.
I need to leave now. I can't get any more involved in this. In him. Not when I know he's leaving tomorrow. It's not like he's being shipped off to some experimental colony on another planet that I know for sure won't be able to sustain life and will collapse in the next six months. It's entirely possible I'll see Gavin again. Probable, even.
But that's not what this is about. This was always temporary. Incredible, yes. All-encompassing, yes. But temporary. It's not going to do me any good to pretend it's anything else. If we see each other again, we will take it from there.
Beck waves and disappears into the house, then Gavin comes back toward me. He leans in for a kiss.
"I guess I won't be able to see you this afternoon," he frowns.
"You are their guest," I point out. "Technically, you're here to see them."
He smiles and brushes his lips over mine again.
"Yeah, yeah. I hear you," he says sarcastically, then smiles again. "Alright. Be careful going back to the office."
"I will."
I leave the house with every intention of going back to the office, but when I drive past Gavin's abandoned car, still stuck in the snow, that intention starts to fade. By the time I turn off the access road onto the main one leading back into town, I don't feel like working anymore. Fortunately, I have an in with my boss. I can take off and leave the office locked up whenever I want to.
Rather than going back to work and distracting myself with my responsibilities, I take the opportunity to have a firm talking to with myself. Sadness at hearing confirmation of Gavin leaving so soon creeps around in my mind, and I try to convince myself to get rid of it. There's no point in being sad about something I can't change. This isn't one of those movies where the protagonist can suddenly toss aside their lives before a meeting and head off into their happily ever after in two days condensed down into two hours. We both built lives before we met and will continue on with them now. I'm glad to have the memories of him.
"What happened to your living room?"
I just opened my front door, and I'm barely two steps inside my house when Sylvia's voice scares my stomach up into my throat. I drop my purse in the initial startling moment, then process it's her and press my hands to my chest to quiet my heartbeat.
“What the hell is wrong with you?
Again?” I ask, closing the door hard and locking it.
“I'm waiting for you,” she says. “Since you don't have a phone now, I don't really have many options for how to get in touch with you.”
“So, you figured a brief foray into breaking and entering was the best choice?”
“I neither broke nor entered,” Sylvia argues. “Well, I did enter. Obviously, I'm in here. But wholly and completely within the constraints of the law. You gave me a key. It's more a case of unlocking and entering.”
I nod.
“You're right. I'm sorry. I promise I'll get a new phone tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Well, that's one matter of business managed. Which brings us back to what happened to your living room?”
I look around and realize the aftermath of my night spent with Gavin is still spread around the living room. My mind was so clouded when I brought him into my bedroom to sleep, I completely forgot to clean up the remnants of our late-night snack and the throw pillows scattered on the floor.
“Would you believe performance art?” I ask.
“No,” she says.
“Existential, experimental art?”
“No. No kind of art.”
“Would you believe me if I told you Gavin spent the night here last night?”
I brace myself for the reaction. It's bound to be loud and potentially startling. But it doesn't come. Instead, I find my best friend staring at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. It's then that I realize she has popped herself a bowl of popcorn and is sitting with her hand nearly submerged in the pale yellow blooms. Large grains of coarse salt sparkle among the crispy puffs.
“He what?” she finally asks.
“We went to the party at the Jenkins house, but it really wasn't my thing.”
“What do you mean it wasn't your thing? How could a Valentine's Day party draped on the arm of a gorgeous man who swooped to your rescue when you first met him and enjoying unbelievable luxury not be your thing?”
“It just felt off,” I shrug. “It was gorgeous, obviously. The house looked incredible, and everybody there was beautiful. I even had fun. It just wasn't exactly my kind of fun. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would fall all over themselves for a night like that. I just tend to go for a simpler approach.”
Baby and the Billionaire Page 13