Make Me Yours (Men of Gold Mountain)

by Rebecca Brooks

“Really?”

  “He still kind of overlooked the fact that I’m not twenty and have, you know, responsibilities. A job. A kid to get home to. A life besides fucking in his hotel room.” She shrugged.

  Still, fucking in his hotel room had been kind of nice.

  She expected her friends to agree with her. But instead, they chided her for always being, in their words, so damn responsible.

  Like Claire was supposed to have called the babysitter and stayed longer at the Cascade. Like if Ryan had changed so much, she shouldn’t have just let him go.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said brusquely. “It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.”

  “But he left without meeting Maya? Even after he said he wanted to?”

  And now Claire felt bad for how she’d panicked and gone home. Had she overreacted? Maybe she should have given him more of a chance.

  But it didn’t matter. Like she said, he was gone.

  She tried to enjoy the rest of the evening and not show how much that simple fact made her heart hurt.

  But she knew no one was falling for the act—least of all her.

  Chapter Ten

  It wouldn’t take long for Ryan to pack. All he had to do was throw his clothes in his suitcase, grab his guitar, and hop on a bus to Seattle. Eddie had grumbled about rebooking him, saying there were barely any last-minute flights. He had to get his ass in gear if he had any hope of making that plane.

  So why was he standing there, staring at his clothes?

  He felt like he could still smell Claire on his pillow, still see the faint indentation her body had left on the sheets. Maybe he was making it up. Maybe he was actually losing his mind.

  But it felt like her scent was all around him, as much a part of him as a shadow or a second skin he couldn’t shed. Like he’d be haunted by her perfume on the plane, in the taxi, in his apartment where she’d never set foot.

  He’d barely survived getting over her five years ago. Back then, he’d told himself there was nothing he could do, as though he was helpless in his own life. As though he didn’t have a say.

  Now, he knew better. Now, he wasn’t so resigned. If he let her go, if he never laid eyes on his daughter beyond a single photograph, it would be his own damn fault.

  He reached for his jeans. But instead of folding them and putting them in his suitcase, he looked in the pocket for his phone.

  Eddie picked up after only one ring.

  “Please tell me you’re on your way to the airport,” he said without even a hello.

  “Not quite.”

  “But you’re about to be. Tell me, Ryan, that you’re about to be.”

  He could picture Eddie standing at his desk, taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

  “Something’s come up.”

  A long sigh.

  “Listen, Ryan. If you don’t want to do this, if you want me to say no to restarting Little White Lie and hook you up with a less demanding gig—”

  “No,” Ryan interrupted anxiously. “It’s just that there’s one more thing I have to do, and then I promise I’ll be back.”

  “We’re supposed to have a meeting with the studio.”

  “Tell them… I don’t know. Tell them I was hit by a bus.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Come on, I’m sure you can think of something.”

  “To keep these guys interested? You’ve got to strike now, not wait around until everyone forgets about your tour. You don’t get this band back together, I guarantee you every one of those players is going to get poached by someone else. They’re with you for now, but that’s not going to last forever.”

  “I’m just saying you’re good at this. I know you can think of something.”

  Eddie made a frustrated noise. “It’s not personal, Ry. You gotta think like a businessman.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Ryan said, trying to find his shoes. Everything was scattered across the floor—a reminder of how he and Claire had torn each other’s clothes off last night. He was sure Eddie was saying something important. He just wasn’t entirely sure what.

  “What the hell is going on up there, anyway?” Eddie asked.

  Ryan opened his mouth, thinking of how to explain what had happened, from the moment the lights came up on stage to the photograph he’d seen. About how there was suddenly something in his life besides albums and tours and the size of the checks Eddie cashed for him. Something even more important than seeing his name listed again with Little White Lie.

  But he didn’t want to hear Eddie’s usual pep talk about keeping his eye on the prize and making his way to the top. He didn’t want Eddie to remind him how dangerous it was for Ryan to slip backward instead of looking ahead.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Just give me a few more days, okay? A week, tops. I promise I’ll be back then.”

  He heard another phone ring in the background and could guess that Eddie had to go. But he didn’t pick it up.

  “You’re okay, right?” he asked as the phone kept on ringing.

  “Don’t you have to get that?”

  “Just answer me, Ryan. Be honest.”

  Ryan stopped pacing and sat on the edge of the bed. “Of course I’m okay.”

  “You’d tell me, right? If there’s any problem? If there’s anything I need to know?”

  “I’m fine, Ed. You worry too much. I just need a little more time.”

  “We don’t have a little more time.”

  “I promise I’ll get a ticket as soon as I can.”

  He hung up to Eddie’s protests and finally started packing his bags. But not to head to Seattle. What he needed was another hotel—one he could actually afford.

  He was still going back to Chicago, obviously.

  But not until he met Maya.

  Which meant not until something important between him and Claire changed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Claire sat at her desk sifting through bills and tried not to think about the weekend. About how much her thighs had ached, and how long it had been since anything had felt so good.

  Priorities, she reminded herself sternly.

  Her daughter, her clients, and somewhere in there, herself. A few hours with Ryan made for a fun, crazy coincidence. They didn’t exactly change her life.

  And her life was here. In this office she’d made for herself, without any help from a man who’d once convinced her to drop everything to support his career.

  Not that it had taken much convincing. But she knew better now.

  She’d intentionally overbooked herself for the week. Maybe if she said yes to every single person who asked to be squeezed in, she could afford the babysitter she was going to need if she wanted to date again with any regularity. One night with Ryan between her thighs had affirmed that dating was something she did want to do more of before she died.

  More importantly, maybe keeping busy would stop her mind from constantly circling back to the feel of his hands on her, the way everything in him was so rough and hard and tender all at once. Back to the memory of how great he could be when he wanted to.

  She needed to focus on feeling that way toward other men. It wasn’t like she could just have some reunion every five years when he popped into her life and then went on his way.

  She needed someone who’d want to stick around and be there for Maya. She needed someone she could have an actual future with—not just a complicated history.

  She’d made the right call in not letting herself get back into bed with him. She’d feel his long, lean muscles press against her back as he stroked her hair, and then it would have been even harder to crawl out of the big, warm bed, slide on her damp underwear, and make her way home, alone.

  Work. She had to focus on work, and her life, and everything she’d become since she left Ryan. She was trying so hard to be that person, she barely looked up when Sonia said there was a delivery for her.

  “Leave it wherever�
�I’ve got a client about to come in,” Claire said, flipping through files.

  But Sonia didn’t move. “I think you might want to see what it is.”

  Claire heard the note in her voice and finally looked up. The petite woman was dwarfed by a giant basket in her hands.

  “Jesus!” Claire cried, the exclamation popping right out of her. “Um, put it on the desk. Here.” She tried to clear some space, but the basket completely took over.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I think it’s a present.”

  “I can see that.”

  With its fat pink ribbon and insane packaging—and were those roses in with the wine, chocolates, and bath salts?—it was officially the most indulgent, over-the-top gift she’d ever received.

  “Remember that guy who booked the walk-in appointment the other morning?” Sonia asked.

  “What about him?” Claire said warily, putting down a container of lavender bath oil that promised “floating calm.”

  “He likes you,” Sonia said with a smirk.

  Claire couldn’t meet her eyes without feeling her face turn bright red. “He used to,” she clarified. “But he lives in Chicago and is already home, so I really don’t—”

  “Did you read the note?” Sonia interrupted impatiently.

  “There’s a note?”

  Sonia pointed to a card snuggled in the arms of a teddy bear. Great, just what Maya needed. More toys.

  “Did you read the note?” Claire asked as she plucked the card from the bear’s fuzzy arms.

  Sonia grinned. “Somebody’s got to look out for you.”

  Claire made a face, but she opened the note anyway and read.

  You need a break. Let me give it to you.

  And then a phone number.

  Even if she no longer had his cell phone memorized, she recognized it instantly, a blast that took her all the way back to New York.

  She shook her head and closed the card. Like hell she was going to get into some long-distance phone sex marathon with someone who wasn’t in her life as more than fantasy. Ryan may have been right—she did need a break. But the break wasn’t him.

  Sonia folded her arms. “Girl. If somebody sent me one of the Cascade’s hand-curated gift baskets, no way would I have that just-stepped-in-dog-shit look on my face.”

  Claire’s mouth dropped open. “What did you say?”

  “Your face—it’s like, who is this guy, and how come he can’t do anything right? Those bath bombs are expensive. I’ve been eyeing them ever since they added them to the Cascade’s spa. I know we’re not supposed to like them,” Sonia added quickly. “Competition and all.” She paused. “But they seriously smell amazing.”

  “No.” Claire shook her head. “Before that. What about the Cascade?”

  “That gift basket,” Sonia said slowly, like Claire was the kindergartener and Sonia the one who needed to repeat herself eighteen billion times a day. “The Cascade—you know, the hotel?” Claire nodded. “Their concierge service works with the spa and the gift shops to curate specialty gift baskets. Usually expensive shit for clients who hold their meetings there. And, in your case, one groveling man who has it bad for you.”

  No. It couldn’t be. Sonia had no idea what she was talking about.

  Claire pulled out her phone and texted the number Ryan had given her.

  How’s Chicago? she asked.

  I wouldn’t know, he wrote back right away.

  And then, before Claire could kick her heart back to beating again, the next message came up on her screen. Pick a day this week. Any day. I’ll cover lost wages. Plus interest.

  What are you talking about? she typed.

  How’s Wed? he asked, ignoring her question.

  She pulled up her schedule on her computer. The names all swam before her. She had no clue what she was doing.

  Wed is fine, she texted, even though she had no idea.

  Text me directions to your house. I’ll pick you up at 9.

  After-school gets out at 5, she wrote back.

  Got it. See you then.

  She stared at the phone until she realized that not only was Sonia looking at her, but so was her next appointment, who couldn’t tell which was more interesting—the shocked look on Claire’s face or the ginormous gift basket with every kind of upscale product known to Washington.

  “Ganache?” she asked the woman.

  “How’d you get so lucky?” she said with a laugh, taking one of the creamy chocolates Claire offered.

  I fell in love with a man who was wrong for me when I was too young to know I deserved better, Claire thought with a pang to her heart.

  But she looked at the picture of Maya smiling on her desk, and the words didn’t come out. Chocolate filled her mouth, sweetness and cream on her tongue, and she wasn’t sure what was happening to her, that Ryan Thomas could pop up in her life again and just like that she was back in his hold.

  Chapter Twelve

  Wednesday morning, Ryan drove over to the address Claire had texted him. He’d picked up a rental car, moved to a more affordable hotel, and stopped responding every time Eddie called, emailed, or texted him to ask what was up. He knew pissing off his manager and the guys in Little White Lie wouldn’t help his comeback. But he didn’t want to change a thing.

  Not if it meant he didn’t get to experience this—Claire running out to meet him, Claire smelling of morning and coffee and lavender soap, Claire laughing in the car, peppering him with questions about where they were going.

  He mimed zipping his lips shut. He wasn’t going to spill no matter how much she asked. She’d always loved surprises, and he hoped she still did. Nothing beat the way she exhaled when she sat back in the passenger seat and let herself enjoy the scenery, knowing she didn’t have to take care of anything.

  But when he pulled into the trailhead and parked, she bolted upright and whirled on him.

  “You’re kidding me,” she said.

  He laughed and pretended to scan the trees, as though he hadn’t heard. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  “That depends.” She fixed him with a look. “What exactly do you have planned?”

  But he only shrugged. This was way too much fun.

  “Are we hiking?” she asked. “You didn’t tell me to wear hiking boots.”

  All he’d said was for her to wear something comfortable, and she’d taken him seriously, looking dead sexy in leggings and a soft V-neck T-shirt. It wasn’t the slinky black number she’d tortured him with the other night, but it didn’t need to be. He wanted to tear it off her all the same.

  But he had to stay focused on why they were here—which wasn’t to have sex in a woodsy parking lot off a gravel road. Although, he wouldn’t say no to that if she insisted. Clearly, no matter where they were or what he told himself, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

  When they got out of the car, he popped the trunk, grabbed the backpack, and swung it over his shoulder, ignoring Claire’s protests that she should carry it since he was still recovering. Luckily, he’d remembered her shoe size, and he’d rented climbing shoes and all the other gear they needed. Plus a few extra clothes in case she needed them, and plenty of water and snacks.

  “What’s in there that’s so heavy?” she asked warily.

  He smiled. “Just follow me.”

  “Should I text someone our coordinates in case I don’t make it out alive?”

  “No cell service here.” He winked.

  “Great.” Her sigh blew the stray strands of hair off her face.

  “You’ve already taken the day off,” he said. “What’s the worst thing that could happen if you trust me?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “Fine, don’t tell me,” he teased. “But I promise to be worth your while.”

  He couldn’t miss her grin. If he had to guess, he’d say she already found him worth hanging around—at least for now.

  Which was exactly what he’d hoped f
or.

  The morning had that cool, fall bite in the air, but even through the trees, the sun was strong. He set off on a narrow, wooded path that threaded gently upward. He’d done his best to memorize where they were going so he wouldn’t have to consult a map and give everything away. Hopefully. Getting lost wouldn’t exactly convince Claire she could put herself in his hands, let alone trust him with Maya.

  “You’re not taking me climbing, are you?” she said as they set off. “Because you should know, I have two feet, and they both remain firmly on the ground at all times.”

  “That’s not true,” he said, flashing her a wicked grin and checking her on the hip as they walked. Even if he’d wanted to keep this day responsible and chaste, there was no way that was going to last. He knew from her flush that they were thinking of the same thing—him lifting her up against the wall of the hotel room, his hands bracing her under her ass, her wrapping her legs around him with a whimper as he pressed against her.

  “You love having your legs up for me,” he whispered, even though they were so alone he could have shouted and no one would have heard.

  “How much longer, at least?” she demanded, trying—and failing—to cover the blush he’d managed to tease from her.

  “As long as it takes.”

  She rolled her eyes like he was being a pain in the ass, but really, he was just quoting his sponsor. “How much longer? How much harder?” he’d ask.

  The answer was always the same. As long as it takes to get there. As hard as it is to make it work.

  But when they arrived at the base of the tall granite cliff, there was no more hiding what he had planned.

  “No way,” she said as he stopped and dropped his pack in a clearing. “I’ll watch you. I’ll cheer as loud as you want. But if you think I’m going to Spiderwoman my way up that thing—”

  “You’ll feel me behind you with every inch you take,” he said. Because he was evil like that, and she knew it.

  “Ryan, I’ve never done this before.”

  “I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”

  “And I don’t want to die.”

  “I’m not going to let you die, Claire. That’s nowhere on the list of things I want to do to you.”