Always Love Me: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by Derrick, Zoey

  “What got into you last night?” Ryleigh asks as I take a seat on the barstool next to her.

  I laugh, “Xavier Tyler.”

  “Uh huh, I figured that’s where you ran off to.”

  The bartender comes over, and I order a vodka martini then turn back to Rye. “Jackass left me, alone, in his hotel room.”

  “Rebs, you do that all the time,” she reminds me with smirk on her face.

  “Yeah, that’s the point, I do that, not them.” She shrugs as she laughs. “I’ll just be faster next time. Or I won’t fall asleep, one of the two.”

  She looks sternly at me. “You’re going to see him again?” She can’t hide her shock.

  I frown. “No,” She knows me well enough. But as the word leaves my lips, I don’t feel the conviction in them. Truth be told, I haven’t stopped thinking about Xavier Tyler all day long.

  “I know that look,” she observes. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

  I squirm under her gaze. “Maybe,” I say softly. Thankfully, the bartender arrives with my drink, distracting me. “Keep ‘em comin’,” I tell him. He nods and disappears as I down almost half of my glass in one go.

  “That bad?” Ryleigh asks, missing nothing.

  I sigh, “Let’s just say, there was a lot of stuff unspoken last night. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but with him…” I pause, taking another long gulp of my martini, feeling it burn down my throat, “I wanted to know more.”

  “Skylar Rebel McKay, you actually like him!” she laughs and shoulder checks me.

  I go into telling her some of the details. Mostly about his tattoos and how he was every bit the Adonis his suit promised he would be. I also tell her how I felt tiny under him. She, being tall herself, understands that one. While neither one of us are breaking records in the height department, we’re a little taller than average. You’d be amazed at how many men we meet are actually shorter than we anticipate when the heels come off.

  She remarks on my outfit. “Walk of shame,” I tell her.

  She nods. Her shoulders are tense, and she’s already working on her third glass of wine. “Spill it,” I tell her as the bartender replaces my empty first glass with a second full one.

  She shakes her head. “I can’t talk about it, but I tried to offload my latest case, the one I told you about yesterday. I didn’t feel comfortable with it.”

  “And?”

  “I was told that I didn’t have a choice. That they were paying damn good money and they deserved the best. Rebs, I’m billing out at my highest per hour ever.” She shakes her head. “I’m just not sure it’s worth it.”

  “Reconsidering my offer?” I tease.

  She smiles, “Not today Rebel-bebble.”

  Our night continues, chatting away like we always do. I fill her in on the information I was able to dig up on Xavier Tyler and his company DXT Logistics.

  “They’re based in Alaska, if I recall correctly,” she adds.

  I nod. “They’re headquartered there. We handle their employee retirement plans, but it doesn’t go any higher. Anything else I’ve found so far has been whatever I can find on the internet. Which, aside from their website, isn’t much. There’s no detailed information on any of their clients, at least that I could find. I couldn’t spend all day working on it,” I remind her.

  “But you wanted to,” she quips.

  “That. I. Did.”

  We both laugh.

  I change the subject. “How long is this case supposed to last?” I ask her.

  She shrugs. “It’s going to be a long one. If we see a court room or trial date before the end of the year, I’ll be surprised.” She polishes off her fourth glass. Whatever this case involves is really bothering her, and I wish she could talk about it, but she won’t and can’t.

  “I think you need to start seeing that shrink again,” I say softly.

  “I agree.”

  Ryleigh isn’t one to blurt about her conquests, or even discuss much that’s bothering her. But a few years ago, after a very difficult case, I suggested she talk to someone. At least in there, while she can’t reveal much to me, she can at least try to speak to a professional. Sometimes, though, it’s not really about the case, but about the underlying issues that make the case so hard for her. I imagine this one isn’t going to be very easy for her.

  Chapter 9

  Skylar

  The rest of January passes in a flurry of business.

  As promised, I reviewed and approved two of the three acquisitions Randy wanted. I only returned the third for more information. I was having issues with the price of an aged boat that hadn’t seen a new engine in almost as long as it was old. Nothing like spending over a million on the boat just to throw even more money into it before we can get it in the water. The information was all there, compliments of Randy, and the plan of attack, including the new engine and how it could be ready for the king crab season in October. The sooner it goes into the water, the better, but new engines are rarely in the water long before other problems arise.

  On my business side, I had three trips out of town. Chicago, Atlanta, and Nashville. With Rebel Industries taking three new client on board, I’d call the trips successful.

  While Ryleigh and I chatted on phone or text, we rarely saw each other unless I showed at her place with takeout when I knew she was slaving away at home and I had a spare hour or two between business trips.

  We never talked about Xavier again.

  But that doesn’t mean I forgot about him.

  At the two-week mark, like clockwork, my period arrives, and I’m thankful for it. Yes, I use birth control, but I’ve never ridden a man bare until Xavier Tyler. My pussy constantly reminding me of that fact when I think about him on top of me, me on top of him and back again. After he revealed his hidden secret, we went two more rounds before I passed out. Oddly enough, after my haze of being pissed he bailed on me, I remembered that I fell asleep looking forward to morning sex with him.

  It never came.

  Cami and Tristan’s board position offer came through with the caveat that I didn’t have to decide until sometime in April. I wouldn’t have to travel to Phoenix or California every month, which is the best perk for me. While they host one of their biggest, most lucrative fundraising gala’s here in New York, they live on the West Coast and it’s where We Are One is based. Most of their board meetings are conducted electronically as they have several members spread across the country. Makes my decision a little easier. Not that money is an issue, but it’s a strictly volunteer position, therefore, the amount of time required is minimal. I forwarded the contract to Rye. She reviewed it and gave it her thumbs up.

  While I’m very savvy in business and am well aware of legal jargon, compliments of studying with Ryleigh in college, I leave the final approval to her.

  February in New York brings cold days and even colder nights.

  Business is crazy busy. Keeping my mind occupied and away from my impending trip to Alaska in the back of my mind and Xavier Tyler in the front of it.

  He never called.

  Truth be told, I didn’t expect him to.

  Though, a part of me hoped he would.

  The raging cold brings people into the bars to get warm. And a bevy of woman into my bed to keep me warm after the alcohol wears off.

  Normally, I bounce between the two genders, but lately, men don’t hold much interest for me, and truth be told, neither do the women. I end up spending the entire time trying to figure out how I’m going to get out of what I got myself into. Or I made sure to use their place, making it easier to fuck and leave. But I never left fulfilled. I never left feeling like I’d managed to move past the one thing I seemed to want most.

  God love Diem for bailing my ass out more than a couple of times before I manage to open another can of worms I have to slam closed.

  The last few days have seen several finalized contracts coming in for Rebel Industries and due to the impending increase in busine
ss, I nearly cancel my trip. It’s a feeble excuse and my last ditch effort to get out of going to Dutch Harbor.

  Today has been a bright, sunny, still cold, but slightly warmer than it has been the last couple weeks. It’s already dark outside, and it isn’t even dinner time.

  “Your schedule is all cleared,” Dawson says as he comes into my office.

  I nod, my flight for Seattle leaves in a couple hours. The stop is required for refueling. From Seattle, I’ll fly to Dutch Harbor. Between Dawson and Diem, the arrangements are set. Diem is already waiting for me downstairs, but I’m avoiding leaving.

  “I won’t be in service tomorrow,” I say for the hundredth time.

  Avoiding, procrastinating.

  “I’m aware, but I don’t imagine Rebel Industries is going down in a ball of flames in 24 hours.”

  I nod. I should laugh or smile at his comment but I don’t.

  “You’re stalling,” he says softly.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “I’m not cancelling this trip.” His voice is stern. He doesn’t move to sit.

  “No, I’m going, I’m going.” I groan.

  I packed everything up 20 minutes ago after taking another look at the house we’ll be staying in tomorrow night. Then I finally changed from my dark grey sheath dress into a long sleeve t-shirt and leggings, my knee-high boots over the leggings. I just need to get up and get my ass moving.

  “Skylar,” Dawson says more sternly, using my first name.

  I narrow my eyes at him, “I’m still your boss,” I remind him.

  “You are, and I love you for it. But right now, I’m Dawson, your friend, not your assistant,” he smiles sweetly at me. “I can’t promise this is going to be pleasant for you, but can you really live with yourself if you don’t go through with this?”

  I sigh. I place my hands on my desk and push up, “No, I can’t.”

  The truth in my words rings clear.

  He glares at me.

  “Alright, I’m going.”

  He bounces and claps as I grab my coat, throwing on the double-breasted pea coat over my t-shirt and I grab my Louis Viton large Neverfull GM that has my tablet, a sweatshirt, some plane necessities, including chargers, and toss it over my shoulder, then I grab my matching Néonoé purse and add it to the same shoulder. Lastly, I grab my laptop bag.

  I look at Dawson, “I’ll be working for a while on the flight. I suspect you’ll have plenty to do in the morning,” I tell him.

  “I always have plenty to do in the morning. I will forward anything of importance to you. Otherwise, I will see you on Monday.”

  I nod, “Thanks, Dawson.” I smile at him.

  He beams back at me, “Fly safe.”

  I leave my office to meet Diem and Scott in front of my building. Scott takes my bags from me, all except my purse, putting them in the back with our luggage. I settle in my seat. It’s rush hour, on a Friday, in New York City. Thank god, Diem is a genius as we slowly but surely make our way through the city. It could have been so much worse, but he knows some routes that take us a lot less time than it should. At least until we hit the bridge that takes us into Jersey and the airport.

  When we reach the airport, Diem pulls onto the tarmac and next to the plane. He hands me back my bags and helps Scott and the guys load our luggage, not that we have much. I board, saying hello to the pilots, thanking them for their time, and I take a seat. We have a stewardess on this flight. She brings me a glass of wine and I let her know what I’d like for dinner.

  The plane is gorgeous, a nice 16-seater, with a galley kitchen, a bathroom that most people who fly commercial would be envious of. It includes a shower and full-size sink. At the back, behind all of that, is a bedroom with a queen-sized bed. A true piece of beauty and luxury designed for longer distance flights. New York to Seattle is no picnic, but the plane can handle it.

  When we land in Seattle, I’m sound asleep in the bedroom. Exhaustion consumed me somewhere over the Midwest and I crawled in here. Diem and Scott had already passed out on the fold flat chairs. I wake up long enough to go to the bathroom as they fuel the plane. It’s a six-hour flight on a private plane. It’s three in the morning in New York, midnight in Seattle and only eleven in Dutch Harbor. We still have another seven hours to go.

  I can’t decide if I’m wide awake or ready to sleep some more, but I have the stewardess get me a Mountain Dew anyway.

  “Where can I smoke?” I ask her.

  She leans down, looking out the window, “Over there, by the building.”

  “Great, do I have time?”

  “As much as you need,” she smiles sweetly at me. It was a stupid question, I’m running this damn show, but I really don’t want to hold us up longer than necessary.

  She’s very attractive. On the shorter side with her strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun. She looks tired and I wonder if she slept, too. I hope she did.

  I grab my smokes from my purse and climb down the stairs, waving to Diem as I pass him in favor of the building. I don’t see Scott, but my guess is he’s inside dealing with the paperwork. Usually Diem handles all that, given he has a credit card tied back to me. I shrug it off when I see an ashtray sitting there, so I know I’m in the right place and I light up, taking a long drag. It’s definitely warmer here and not raining, thank god. But I’m still a little chilly so I pull my sleeves into my hands and tuck an arm under my chest.

  If Diem wasn’t 20 years my senior, he might actually be attractive. He has a very avuncular way about him. Always looking after and taking care of me, never judging me, and I never ask him to do anything immoral. Though my choices might not always be so. He’s been working for me for about eight years now. Never complains, and he’s always there. Then again, I pay him very well to do what he does. Which usually involves him sitting around more than doing something. Him and Kara share a built-in apartment attached to my loft. They share a common area, the kitchen and dining room. They both have their own bedrooms plus one more room (the loft is big enough to have a full staff, thus the four-bedroom house staff quarters). I know Kara uses her second room as a living room. Diem’s is a weight room, despite the very large one in the building I live in.

  I’m about halfway through my smoke when Scott walks out of the terminal and heads straight onto the plane. He doesn’t notice me and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Though Diem looks over at me a few times.

  When I return to the plane after finishing my smoke, one of the pilots comes out of the cockpit. He’s heading toward the back of the plane when he sees me, he smiles. “Everything okay?” he asks. The pilot is precisely the kind of man I would pick up in a bar and take back to my apartment. He’s attractive, built well with muscles that can be seen under his button-down.

  “Perfect, just couldn’t sleep anymore.”

  “We should be taking back off in about 10 minutes, give or take.”

  “No worries.” I tell him and he walks past me.

  Nice ass, I think as I watch him head for the bathroom. The door opens and Scott steps out. Sidestepping the pilot, he comes and takes his seat.

  Diem comes back on board as the pilot is making his way back to the cockpit.

  “All good?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “Absolutely,” he says nonchalantly as he sits in his chair.

  “Did you get some sleep?”

  He nods, “I did. I’m surprised, these seats are comfortable,” he chuckles.

  “That’s good.” I say as I pull my tablet from my bag in the seat next to me.

  The pilot, the one who just went back into the cockpit, comes over the intercom. “If you’re awake, buckle up,” he says with a hint of humor. “We’re clear for takeoff.”

  “You should get some more sleep.” Diem grins.

  “So should you.” I retort.

  He laughs, “I’ll work on that.”

  “Me too.”

  Once we’re back in the air, the hum of the engines and constan
t motion have me reclining my chair and pulling a blanket over me. Before I know it, we’re landing in Dutch Harbor.

  Chapter 10

  Skylar

  Diem deplanes, donning his jacket as he does. I can see the ground guys breathing.

  Dutch Harbor is cold this time of the year, plus it’s also five in the morning. It’s still dark as though it’s the middle of the night, and I can’t resist the urge to look to the sky as I deplane. There are a few overhead clouds, and I shiver against the cold, despite my jacket. Thankfully, I packed some of my warmest stuff. Once we’re on the water, I know it will be worse.

  Randy set it up for us to ride out to where Bearded Bean is anchored on one of our fishing vessels. There’s a little excitement running through me, remembering being a kid and being on the boat with my dad. Though, he never brought me to Alaska, it didn’t mean he didn’t take me out, through the sound and into the Pacific. These trips usually happened when the boat came out of dry dock for repairs. We would stay out a couple of days, and it was a lot of fun. It’s one thing to cruise through the ocean on a pleasure boat, but it’s a completely different experience when you’re on a 90-foot crab boat.

  I haven’t been on one since I was about 10 or so.

  I pull my hood up; it’s really cold.

  It should warm up later, at least on land, but the Bering Sea is a bitch. It will be windier and colder out there.

  There is a car, running, on the tarmac and Diem opens the door for me to climb in. It’s warm in here. I roll the window down and light up while Scott and Diem get the bags situated. Diem talks to the pilots, giving them their room reservation information and finalizing our plans. I can hear him explaining things to them. Scott climbs into the passenger seat when he’s done loading up.