“What worries you?” Remington asked, tilting his head to the side. “I’m just treating your secretary to lunch.” He shrugged and Lydia got the distinct sense he was baiting him.
“We have to go,” Lydia announced forcefully, done with whatever game Remington was playing. It was one thing for him to be a dick to her, she was used to that. But Merrick was his friend and this week was huge for him.
Merrick turned cool eyes to her, scanning her from head to foot. Finding whatever it was he was looking for, he released a breath and his shoulders relaxed. “Text me when you reach the cabin.”
“I always do,” she said.
Merrick’s hands skimmed down his suit jacket and checked the buttons. His hair was still a little flopped over his forehead, showing the youth he hid behind his expensive suits and perfect manners. Lydia bit the inside of her lip to keep from pointing it out. He was going to be just fine. He handled billionaires with ease all the time. She was the only one who could tell he was nervous.
“Will that be all, Mr. Jones?” she asked, saying all that didn’t need vocalizing.
“That will be all, Miss Larkin,” he replied, his nerves finally settling as they spoke the exchange they had started as a joke and kept up for pretense.
She left the office, hoping Remington would follow.
He did.
“So…” he asked as the elevator doors opened. “Lunch?”
***
Remington
“Is everything all right?” he asked, hoping to stimulate the kind of conversation they’d had the other night.
They’d left the Institute and she hadn’t said much of anything except to express a need to drive herself to the restaurant.
Which was where they currently sat, across from one another. Nothing fancy, a small bistro with French influence on the menu.
Mostly Remington was shocked as shit at himself. He’d woken up that morning and started getting ready without really thinking about it. He’d had a desire to see her again and had acted on it. He’d moved meetings and client calls around to make this happen.
He couldn’t explain it. Maybe because it was so rare for him to be wrong about someone. But also, because it wasn’t often he ran into someone in this town who wasn’t… Hollywood.
Or at least attempting to be.
It made a person stand out, usually not in a good way, when they didn’t follow the expectations surrounding them. There were billboards all over town describing and detailing all the negative attributes a clinic could fix or suck right off you in an afternoon. And most of the rooms he ended up in were full of people talking to each other, but not hearing one another.
And then there was Lydia.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Not in the way it might imply. She was just… different. Weird. A wild animal in a taxidermist’s showroom.
He liked the way she talked to him and he wanted to hear what else she had to say.
What else she knew.
“Yeah.” She answered with a lip twist. “Mostly.” She sighed and pulled her hair into a sloppy knot at her neck. “Just have a lot on my mind.”
The hot sun beat down on Remington’s back and he resisted the urge to take his shirt off.
He hated clothes. If it was socially acceptable to never wear any, he wouldn’t. His body ran hotter than others. Which increased sweat production. It rubbed and itched and stank. But he didn’t want to scare his new smart friend away because he decided to exhibit his slightly exhibitionist tendencies.
She already thought he was a vapid male model, a la Zoolander. Taking off his shirt would only cement those beliefs.
Her eyes unfocused as she blindly watched the patrons come and go and picked at her food.
He was just about to ask her if he’d done something to cause her silence when she pushed her plate to the side and landed both of her elbows on the table and leaned toward him earnestly.
“Am I off-putting?”
The reactionary laugh escaped him before he could stop it. She narrowed her eyes in question.
“In what context?”
Her delicate eyebrows turned down and her hazel eyes worked swiftly behind her glasses. Like she was discovering something new in him. “Initial impressions,” she clarified carefully.
Remington shrugged and reached for his drink. “Well, initially, I complimented your unusual eye color and then you refused to shake my hand. Though, my second impression of you was a few days ago and you were face down in the dirt and nearly shirtless.” His lips twitched as he waited for her affront or embarrassment or any kind of uncomfortable reaction.
He was disappointed.
Lydia grimaced slightly. “No, I mean after that.”
“When you were yelling and you shoved me? Or when you called my livelihood a pyramid scheme?”
She blinked at him once…twice. She sat back in her chair and her eyes drifted to the sidewalk traffic again. “So, yes. I am off-putting. In a big picture sort of way, not just first impressions.”
Her lips pursed and she crossed her arms over her chest. More in reflection than in petulance.
Remington regarded her. Often people would express a negative trait in themselves in order to get the listener to react with a compliment. It alleviated their guilt for whatever negative habit or action that had occurred and allowed them to continue in it. Because people, as a general rule, hate change.
But he wasn’t getting that impression from Lydia. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. It was right on the tip of his tongue to let her know his initial impression of her hadn’t been accurate at all and her “bigger picture” was much more complicated than a first or even a tenth meeting could possibly reveal.
But he didn’t say anything.
He let her consider the whole of her thoughts without interruption or argument.
“Merrick is restricting my access to the Institute for a week. He’s worried I’ll ruin our chances at getting the much needed financial increase to our budget.”
Remington schooled his features even as his brain hung on her use of “our” in her statement.
Interesting.
“Can he do that?”
“He’s my boss.”
“I thought you said you were colleagues.”
She shot him a sly and sassy smirk. “Colleagues in science, boss on paper and title.”
“So where are you going to work?”
She filled her cheeks with air and briefly held it there. “Remotely. We have a greenhouse in the mountains north of the valley. Close to the bluff. The winter interns will be there and I can check on their work. Really, it’s for the best. If he didn’t give me a task I’d probably wander too far and forget to come back.” Her eyes drifted to the side and she smiled absently. “Like any other stray.”
He caught on that final word and mulled it over.
“I know he’s just trying to keep me busy and not worry,” she continued, coming back fully to the conversation. “The execs will be around for a week, maybe longer. And if he can show I’m being a team player and doing what I’m told, we’ll have a better chance of getting the funds we need to keep doing… what we do.” She sighed and shook her head, unhappy acceptance flitting over her features. “I get it. I do. I just don’t like being bossed around. I chose the Institute because I thought it would give me the freedom I need to…ugh, never mind.”
“The freedom to do what?”
Her eyes snapped up to his and that guard he always sensed in her came on strong as ever.
He chuckled. “Larkin, do I look like I would know the first thing about what you’re working on? The little college I had was for an engineering degree. Not biology. You can tell me all of it and I still wouldn’t have a clue.”
She smiled shyly and her cheeks flushed pink. “Sorry. It’s habit I suppose. I’ve had studies stolen right out from under me. And felt so stupid after because I should’ve seen it coming.”
“People stole your wor
k?”
“It happens more often than you’d think.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Can we get our check please?” she asked the server as he walked by them.
It took a second for Remington to realize she hadn’t actually told him anything. Like trying to follow bread crumbs in the forest as the birds carried them away one at a time.
“You’re not too trusting with people,” he said, sitting back in his chair.
She cocked a smile at him. “It depends on the content and audience.”
He narrowed his eyes like he was offended and her smiled broadened.
“C’mon, like you’ve never been betrayed before.”
Remington opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, visions of Cressida sliding through his mind first. Followed by Sandy and ending with Jackie.
“Ahh, so the model can relate,” Lydia quipped with a small grin.
“I can guarantee you, Lydia, I’m not like anyone you have ever met.”
She studied him silently. Those analytical eyes, bright and curious as she observed and catalogued whatever she hadn’t noticed before.
Yet another example of why she was different. While her examinations were always disconcerting, none of them left him with the impression she had rendered any kind of conclusion. Just that she was learning something new.
It was the kind of feeling he could get addicted to—being seen.
But who wouldn’t?
“I’m more than a pretty face,” he reminded with a cocked eyebrow.
Her expression sobered and she licked her lips. “Oh, I am well aware that the most beautiful things in nature are also complicated… and dangerous.”
“I’m not dangerous.”
“And a lion isn’t a threat to a rain storm.”
Remington barked an unexpected laugh. “So, I’m a lion?”
“I didn’t say that.” Her smile turned sweet. “Just pointing out what the rest of the Serengeti already knows.”
He shook his head slowly, wishing he didn’t want so much. Wishing it hadn’t taken him a year to meet this person who’d been in his face. But not.
“When do you leave?” he asked.
“Today?” She squinted one eye.
“Do you have time to hang out for a little longer?” he asked, making calculations in his head and deciding he had the time if she did.
“Merrick would frown, but yeah, I have time.” She mimicked said frown and then ended it with a bright laugh. And he joined her because he could picture exactly what she meant about Merrick’s frown.
“You guys seem… close.” He narrowed his eyes, wondering if the answers would come best from her than from Merrick. With the way Merrick had shut down on him that morning, it was hard to say.
Lydia took her glasses off and rubbed the inside corners of her eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “Yeah.”
Another non-answer.
“I have a cabin up there…” He blurted without really thinking it through. As if the information itself wanted to be out there and hadn’t stopped to ask his brain for permission. He frowned and cleared his throat as he tried to think of a way to take the focus off it.
“Yeah?” she asked, interest shadowing her eyes. “See any fascinating flowers up there?”
He didn’t meet her eyes as he focused on the remainder of his food. “Maybe.”
Silence settled over the two of them and Remington’s mind wandered to the last time he’d been up there—two glasses, an empty bottle of wine, and waking up alone.
Maybe it was time to sell the place.
***
Lydia
For reasons unknown to her, Lydia found herself parking in the street outside Remington’s apartment.
It wasn’t anything like what she was expecting.
Truthfully, she had always assumed he lived in a huge expensive bachelor pad condo in Malibu. Did she picture him as Charlie Sheen with his own television show? Um, did she have to answer that?
What she didn’t expect was that he would live in an apartment in Studio City. And he had roommates.
She’d been over his press kit several times for things she’d had to put together for Merrick, Remington’s success wasn’t exactly on the nightly news, but it was common enough knowledge in the right circles.
Her eyes skimmed over the interior of his bedroom; video games, books, desk, detailed planner, motorcycle helmet.
She took a seat on the one chair in the room by the desk and chewed on her bottom lip as her mind tried to equalize what she thought she knew of him and what she was seeing.
Remington laughed at something one of his roommates said and closed the door behind him as he entered the room. He stopped in front of her and held his arms out to his sides.
“Fancy, right?”
She hadn’t realized it before, probably because of the concussion. But it was starting to come in loud and offensively clear.
He was going to mess her heart up good and proper.
“You live here,” she said flatly. “With roommates.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and she did not notice how it made his biceps bulge. He leaned against the wall with a shoulder, eyes on her.
But he didn’t respond.
Which seemed contradictory to every other time they’d been in the same room. He never shut up—constantly with something to share with the world.
“Why haven’t you asked me to come with you?” he asked into the silence.
“With me,” she repeated, knowing damn well what he was saying and needing a second to process it.
Remington dropped his head and shook it once, an exasperated puff expelling from his mouth. “If it was me, and I was going somewhere, I’d ask you to go with me.”
Lydia’s eyes went wide and she pressed her thumb and forefinger together as her heart pounded in her chest. She forced a snort and a smile to which he reacted by pressing his lips into a thin line.
“A couple of decent conversations and now we’re besties?” she asked, keeping her tone light. “Nah.”
“Nah?” he challenged, the brightness and mischief returning to his eyes.
She grinned. “Besides, I doubt I could afford your fee.”
His lips relaxed, one side curving up. “Friends and family discount.”
She picked up a Simon Sinek book off the desk and paged through it, pretending to read the words. “You don’t really live here, do you?”
His eyes crinkled with amusement and curiosity. “How do you know that?”
She snorted and exaggerated an eye roll. “Dude.” She pointed one finger at herself. “Scientist.”
He grinned. “I stay here when I’m in LA. It’s just… easier. Than finding my own place. Plus, I like knowing there’s always people here.”
“Do you have roommates all over the world?” she asked, some of the puzzle pieces becoming clearer. He didn’t like to be alone. The motivations for that could be numerous.
“Mostly.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I like being around people. They keep me grounded.” His voice turned rough with the last sentence and Lydia felt her heart lurch.
She shouldn’t be there. It was stupid. She shouldn’t be—spending time. It was only going to end up crushing her. Or kill her. Like a poison apple.
But she’d been poisoned before.
It was just the way she liked to do things. Full out and completely experimental.
Her fourth-grade teacher had called her an active learner. Her mom called it emotionally reckless.
Lydia called it being alive.
His face fell into somber contemplation even as his eyes didn’t drift from hers. But he wasn’t really there with her, he was somewhere in his head. Having a conversation she wasn’t privy to.
His straight white teeth bit into the fleshy side of his right thumb and she tilted her head to the side. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand where it slid into his pocket.
“I don’t want you to th
ink this is something that it isn’t.”
Lydia licked her lips as she smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not that kind of girl.”
His eyebrows jumped and he snickered softly. “They all say that.”
“You’ve just met the exception.”
His smirk softened. In the way people use to convey they think you don’t get it but they’re getting ready to explain it so hopefully your heart doesn’t end up wounded. “I just mean to say I’m definitely interested in friendship. But not more than that.”
Lydia sighed and stood up. “Ugh. It’s almost insulting you think that’s all women are after.”
“Are you leaving?”
They crossed each other in the center of the room and she avoided eye contact. Mostly because he’d pissed her off, but also because she was pissed at herself.
“Yeah. I have shit to do.”
“Are you mad at me?”
He wasn’t worried. Nope. He was amused. And a little bit smug.
She turned to face him, noting they had switched positions. Now he sat in the chair and she leaned on the wall.
“To be honest, I guess, yeah.”
His eyebrows arched, as if he hadn’t expected that answer.
She licked her lips and rolled her eyes. “I’m irritated. First of all, I get it, you’re hot. You know you’re hot. You made me blush in under a minute and I can’t really…” she held up her palm towards him and scrunched up her nose. “Look at you directly. Not for long anyhow.”
Remington crossed his arms over his chest again, smug, smug, smug, smug. And smiling!
“But I’m intelligent enough to not get carried away with all of… that.” She wiggled her fingers to include all of him.
His smile reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. And he was suddenly older than he had been a minute a go.
“I just want to hang out with you,” he said, his sincerity leaving a slightly broken pause in his words. As if he was afraid she’d say no.
A man like this, with everything in his reach, asking for friendship.
Was that her heart breaking or mending? She couldn’t tell.
He had no idea.
In Between the Earth and Sky Page 7