Beautiful Mine

by Jordyn White

  His hand grips my head and he pushes me to a shuddering peak. I let out a long cry of release as he works himself even faster. When he stiffens and moans himself, the waves of pleasure are pumping through me so hard I hear the blood pulsing in my ears.

  And still I hang on to him. And he hangs on to me. Our holds on one another stay firm as we ride it out together. It goes on and on, and when I come down, I come down slowly, throbbing with pleasure.

  And pulsing with shock. Because this makes things different now.

  As we gradually relax and slow, our grip on one another softens, but we’re still tucked into one another. His hand still cradles the back of my head. He strokes my hair lovingly, and puts a tender kiss on my shoulder.

  I become more his than I’ve ever been.

  By the time we get back to his place, I’m shaken. We walk into the living room, but instead of going up the stairs, I sink onto the couch, rubbing my forearms.

  “Are you okay?” He sits next to me. “You’ve been really quiet.”

  I’m looking at the floral vase on the table next to the chair, the satin throw pillow, the ornate lamp. I’m scared to tell him what I’m thinking.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This stuff doesn’t really seem your style,” I say, stalling.

  “Well, that’s because it’s not. It’s Lizzy’s style. This is her place.”

  I look at him full on, my mood getting even more serious. “Because you’re only here temporarily?”

  He’s watching me carefully, trying to figure me out. “I don’t want to get a place until I know what I’m doing.”

  Now it’s all starting to sink in. “So all this furniture is hers?”

  He nods. “What’s wrong?” he asks again, concerned but still trying to work out what’s going on.

  “Is there anything you own you couldn’t pack on your boat and take with you if you left?”

  He hesitates. The look on his face tells me he understands what this conversation is about now. “Does the car count?”

  I don’t know if that counts. He would have to buy a car to use here regardless of his ultimate decision, right? “Did you buy it, or are you borrowing it?”

  He sighs and takes my hand into his. “Neither. I inherited it.”

  “So you haven’t done anything to put down roots here?”

  “I’ve... spent the last eight months working here. That’s something.”

  I nod. “Yes. It is. But you don’t know if you’re staying or not.”

  “No. I don’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Why should you be sorry?” I try to ask like it’s no big deal, but my voice betrays my emotions and I’m starting to tear up. Shit. I didn’t want to do this. I turn my head away, blinking back the tears and trying to get myself under control.

  “Whitney...” he says softly.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make this difficult.”

  “You’re not...”

  “It’s just that I... I think I—” I abruptly stop myself from saying what I was going to say and just as quickly change tracks. “I know you said we shouldn’t start again because it would be too hard so I shouldn’t complain but I think I’m falling for you.” And there it is. The thing I wasn’t going to say just two seconds ago. I close my eyes and fall back against the couch. I press my palms to my eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you.”

  “No I....” He gently pulls my hands down from my face and holds my eyes. “I’m pretty fucking fond of you, too,” he says thickly. My heart starts to pound. “More than fond.”

  “I don’t want to say goodbye again.” I hate the pleading sound in my voice.

  “I don’t either.”

  I exhale in frustration. We didn’t want to say goodbye last time, but that’s not what I mean. “I mean, I really, really don’t want to say goodbye.”

  He puts his hands on either side of my face and hold my eyes. “I know what you mean. I don’t either.”

  He has my attention now. Does he mean what I think he means? “What are you saying?” I’m afraid to hope, but of course doing it anyway.

  “I’m saying... things are different now.” His thumb strokes my jaw. “Would you be open to a long distance relationship?”

  My heart lifts and my lips part as I exhale softly in relief, but I’m still holding back on the reins. My brain is spinning. What does he mean things are different? “So, the thing about not being able to make promises. You feel you can now?”

  He hesitates. I hold my breath. He takes my hands inside of his and looks at them.

  “I want to say yes, but the honest answer is I don’t know.”

  My heart falls. “So how are things different?”

  “They’re different,” he looks at me, “because before I would’ve said I definitely can’t make promises. But now... I don’t know. Maybe I can. Look, we don’t have to talk major commitments right now. But,” he looks at me earnestly, “I want to at least try things. Don’t you? No, I can’t make promises, but I don’t know if anyone could make promises at this early stage. Not even normal people.”

  I let out a small laugh. “Normal people, not hopeless wanderers?”

  He smiles. “Right. I mean, are you in a place where you could make the ultimate promise to me?”

  I don’t know. Maybe. But I see his point.

  “But I do know this.” He takes my face in his hands again. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Ever. This—” He strokes my cheek so tenderly I have to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I didn’t know this kind of feeling really existed. I can’t let you go, Whitney. Not again.”

  My heart lifts right out of my chest and I don’t want to stop it this time. “So it’s not goodbye?” I start to smile.

  He shakes his head, smiling too.

  I’m so relieved, I don’t just kiss him. I kiss him over and over and crawl onto his lap and give him a full body hug. He laughs and hugs me too, and when I pull back to look in his face, his eyes have a spark in them that I feel in my heart. We’re both past smiling. We’re beaming at each other.

  “This makes me so happy,” I say.

  “Me too.”

  “It’s a good thing I don’t live too far.”

  “It doesn’t matter how far away you are. I’d cross the globe for you.”

  I’m still grinning at him. “You’d cross the globe for a hat.”

  He laughs, then holds my face again and gets that serious look in his eyes. “You’re worth far more than a hat.”

  Chapter 21

  Connor

  I really hope I don’t fuck this up. But things are to the point where I have to at least try. The thought of Whitney leaving and that being the end of things was driving me crazy. Her actually leaving wasn’t great either, but we’ve made plans to see one another again next weekend, so that helps. Today’s Monday, so I only have four more days before I get to see her again. I’m taking off early on Friday and flying up there.

  I’m seriously considering buying a plane. Hell, the resort needs one anyway, doesn’t it? Okay, maybe not. We’ve survived this long without one, true. But if we had a private plane I could see Whitney anytime I wanted. I could send the plane for her anytime she wanted to come down.

  Back when I was living on the boat, I’d thought about buying a plane then too. It would definitely make overland travel a lot easier.

  But I’m not going to think about my wandering days. I’m going to see if I can do the roots thing.

  Even if the thought of a permanent commitment here is just as unsettling as it’s ever been.

  I don’t know why. I do like the work here, and it’s no small part of me that wants to stay. Rayce and Lizzy want me to stay. Whitney wants me to stay. So I’m going to try.

  Rayce comes into my office, holding a folded up newspaper in his hand and looking cross. Here’s a step I haven’t taken: I haven’t said anything about this to Rayce. All he’s wanted from me is a decision, or at least an indication o
f which way I’m leaning. I finally have something I can give him... but I don’t feel ready to tell him yet. I don’t know why.

  It might be because there’s still something restless inside me, gnawing at me. I hope not. Maybe I’ll tell him tomorrow.

  “Do you have the Haven Group report?” he asks. It’s not late. He’s just obsessing. He’s in one of his grouchy moods again. He didn’t use to be this way, but ever since Mom and Dad died...

  “I’m finishing it up now.” I glance at him. My hands don’t stop on the keyboard as I continue a sentence I’m writing. “I’ll send it over soon.”

  “Can you give me an ETA?”

  “Yes. The estimated time of arrival is five minutes after I finish it.” I can’t help it. It irks me when he acts like this.

  He huffs and plops the folded up newspaper on my desk. This time I do stop what I’m doing to see what headline he’s showing me this time. It’s been awhile since there have been any articles in the local paper about the resort, or us, and I’ve been more than happy to be off the radar.

  Before I even see which paper it is, I see the picture. It’s one of me and Whitney dancing on Friday night. It’s pretty hot, actually, and it’d make for a hell of a picture if it weren’t in the stupid paper.

  I don’t even have to look to know this is Rita Becker’s gossip column in the Voice, but my eyes skip over the byline to verify it anyway. Yep, there it is. Headline: “Wild Child Living Up to the Rivers Name?” I roll my eyes. It must be a slow day in Swan Pointe for the Voice to consider my dancing at Martini Ranch to be gossip worthy.

  Swan Pointe’s local Indie rag can be categorized by mostly intelligent (if sometimes scathing) editorial essays, trendy feature articles, thorough coverage of Swan Pointe’s Indie arts and music scene, and personal ads wherein local residents can find their next gardener, accountant, or masseuse willing to give them a happy ending. I’d like their publication a lot better if they didn’t pump up Rita’s ego by giving her regular print space.

  “Did you see this?” Rayce asks.

  “No.” I return to my report, wondering if I need to give Whitney a head’s up. I probably should. She won’t see it in San Francisco, but she should know about it anyway.

  “Aren’t you going to read it?”

  “No.”

  I’ll read it later. I’m just trying to be difficult. But he’s the one who came into my office with attitude. I haven’t even done anything to him today.

  “You should be more careful.” He gestures to the paper.

  “We were just dancing.”

  “Uh huh. At least have the common sense to go somewhere private, instead of, say, making out on the grounds for everyone to see.”

  I glance up. Someone must’ve seen me kiss Whitney in the labyrinth, but I’m too irritated to ask who. Whatever’s going on with him, I wish he’d get over it already and stop taking things out on me. Maybe he’s the one who needs a girl. Who the fuck knows.

  “We weren’t making out.”

  “That’s not what Olivia Walsh said. She came to Lizzy crying because she saw you and that girl making out in the gardens.”

  “Her name is Whitney, and why would Olivia Walsh be crying about that?”

  “Because she’s secretly in love with you.”

  “Good lord.” I roll my eyes. “Stop being such a drama queen. Do you want me to finish this report or not?”

  “You know, you represent this resort, Connor.”

  “Yes. I know.” I’ve heard this before. I’ve heard it for years, and I do know it’s important. I don’t take that lightly. But at the same time, you can’t let this kind of gossip bullshit get to you. Rayce knows this. But these days, everything gets to him. He never used to have such a short fuse.

  “People are watching us now. They’re waiting for us to screw up and prove we can’t do what Mom and Dad did here. We need to be careful.”

  I soften a bit at this. We’ve all felt the pressure of being handed our parents’ legacy years before we were ready. “Everything’s fine,” I say, letting go of my inclination to poke at him and really looking him in the eye. “The resort is fine. And the papers have moved on to the next story. This is just Rita getting her jollies.”

  He softens too. God, the way we have to tiptoe around each other these days. I miss like hell the way it used to be.

  I gesture to my computer screen. “Fifteen minutes, all right?”

  He sighs and nods. “All right. Thanks.”

  Ten minutes later I’ve sent Rayce the report and am on to the next thing.

  I’ve been feeling restless all morning and am resisting the urge to go the Activity Manager’s office to see if there’s a zip line guide who’d like a few hours off. Not that I ever have trouble convincing someone to give me part of their shift; I don’t want to take away from anyone’s income, so they still get paid. Working the zip line is one of my go-to strategies for when things get to be too much.

  You might think it’s Rayce who’s getting to me, but it isn’t. I mean, I don’t like how things are right now with us, but that’s not it. My itchy feet just get the better of me sometimes and I have to get out of the office. I’ll take a group down the zip line or run a kayaking excursion or something. Often I’ll have to work late to make up for it, but it’s worth it.

  I’ve been having more problems with this over the past couple months. More and more frequently I’ll wake up, like today, feeling like I’m going to go crazy if I can’t get the hell out of dodge.

  Lizzy’s called me out on it recently, too. About a week ago, we were all feeling the pressure building thanks to our upcoming meeting with George Hollister and my continued inability to make a decision about whether or not I’m here to stay. Lizzy confided something I found unsettling: “I fear one day I’m going to wake up and you’ll be gone.”

  I was offended at first, even though deep down I knew her fears were valid.

  She knew it too, and when I tried to protest she said, “Remember when you took your boat out?”

  Not counting my recent outing with Whitney, I’ve taken my boat out exactly one time since I’ve been home. At first, I told myself I wasn’t going out boating because I was too busy. Those first several months, that was true. We were beyond busy. After things settled down though, it became clear I was avoiding it. I kept it stocked and maintained. I could’ve gone down to the docks and taken her out any time I wanted. But for the longest time, I didn’t.

  Finally, I decided to try it. I took a weekend and went as far down the coast as I could and still be back in time for work on Monday. That trip did nothing but confirm my fears.

  I still remember the moment it was time for me to turn around and come back. I sat in the captain’s chair on the upper deck, both hands gripping the wheel, the rough sea winds whipping around me. I let my gaze go soft on the horizon. In one direction Mexico, South America. In another Hawaii, or Japan. I’ve never been to Japan. They were all calling to me from over the sea. But I’m needed here too.

  It was a tough battle to win.

  “I didn’t think you were going to come back,” Lizzy said.

  “Well, I did.” But she only looked more concerned. “I won’t do that to you.” I still didn’t know what my final decision was going to be, but I did know I couldn’t just abandon them on a whim like that. “I promise.”

  She didn’t look at all comforted. It was disturbing.

  “Don’t you believe me?”

  “I believe... you don’t want to.”

  That was too much. I still don’t know if it’s because what she was saying wasn’t true, or because it was. “You know, I’ve been here almost eight months, Lizzy. That’s not nothing.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve been here right alongside you guys, and yet that doesn’t seem to be enough.”

  “No, we appreciate it. It’s not about that.”

  “Then what is it about? Haven’t I done enough to show I can be dependable? I think I’ve come
through for you. Why does that mean nothing?”

  “It means everything,” she said, her voice breaking. I can still hear the way her voice broke, and the way her face looked. When she continued, she maintained her composure, but her voice still quivered a bit. “That’s part of the problem. We love having you here and—”

  “We?” I interrupted.

  “Yes, we. Rayce really missed you when you were gone.”

  “I think he’d be fine to get rid of me now.”

  “That’s not true. I know he’s been... kind of difficult lately.” When I gave her a wry look, she said, “Hey, you’ve been feeding into it too, kiddo.”

  “Don’t call me kiddo.”

  “Look, this hasn’t been easy for anyone, you know. And I know we keep telling you we’d need time to find a replacement, but the truth is, it’s more than that. We’re just... trying to prepare ourselves to lose you again and it’s hard not knowing when that will be.”

  That’s when I really felt like an ass. As if they haven’t lost enough already.

  At the pained look on my face, she said, “Don’t feel badly. I’m not trying to guilt you. That’s why I haven’t said anything, but I really think you need to make a decision with your head before your feet make it for you. It’ll be bad timing for everyone if that happens.”

  “Why do you both keep talking about it like you know I’m going to go?”

  She let out a humorless laugh. “Because. We know you and we see that wildness in your eyes. You’re starting to lose it, Connor.”

  Now, sitting in my office, with memories of Whitney still fresh on my skin, I’m determined not to be losing it. I have to find a way to tame my restless side. I have to find a way to make this work. Other people manage to have lives like this. I should be able to do it, too.