Chased by Love (Love in Bloom: The Ryders): Trish Ryder

by Melissa Foster

  Boone drew in a deep breath. The muscles in his jaw jumped repeatedly. He released her hand and stared out into the darkness for so long she worried he was going to give up altogether.

  He finally turned to face her, his dark eyes filled with warmth and torture. She hated asking him to delve into that torture, but knowing it was gnawing away at him from the inside out pained her.

  “I can’t look at you and say the things I want to say,” he finally admitted.

  “Pretend I’m not me.”

  “Not possible.” He kissed her softly. “No one else comes close to the person you are.”

  She sighed. “You are so not the guy I thought you were.”

  “I’m going to take that as a good sign,” he said. “When I said you became her when we rehearsed, what I meant wasn’t that I actually saw her. I ached at the prospect of you becoming her, getting lost in drugs. I was too into you even back at the set in LA to separate the two.”

  “You were into me back then?” She waved her hand. “Wait. I can’t get sidetracked, but I love knowing that. Luckily you won’t have to worry about me and drugs. I can promise you that’s something I’ve never done or will ever do. But now that I know about Jude and Destiny, your reluctance makes sense to me.”

  “Thanks for understanding. It’s a helpless feeling. They say you can lead a horse to water and all that, and it’s true. Jude has it all. He’s got fame and money, friends and family, and he still can’t resist doing drugs.”

  “But you know you can’t control that, right? You can help him get into rehab and be there for him, but only he can actually make the change.”

  He nodded again. “Like I said. Helpless.”

  “But you are helping by being supportive, even if you feel helpless. I don’t know what happened with Destiny, but you said you helped Jude get into rehab twice, and you’ve got people looking for him now.”

  “It’s a cycle, Trish. A cycle that doesn’t seem to have an end, and it’s frustrating as hell.” He pushed to his feet and paced again. “When I see you lying there, acting like you’re drugged out, I want to scream. I want to beg you not to fall into that darkness. It’s fucked up. I get that.”

  Trish rose, watching in silence as Boone fisted his hands and his face twisted in anger. Thank God. You’re feeling. You’re getting it out.

  “And then my head races back to when I heard about Destiny, and I went to her parents’ house ready to kill them. But you can’t kill people for being fuckups. Cage and Jude and my other buddies dragged me away, which was good, because who knows what I might have said. I was a stupid kid.”

  “You do,” she said softly. “You know what you might have said.”

  His nostrils flared, and he whipped around, staring into the field again. “She was their daughter. When you’re a parent, your selfish needs have to go. All of them. You take on the responsibility of a child, and that child depends on you.”

  He leaned on the railing, and his head dropped between his shoulders. His fingers curled tightly around the aged wood, and Trish’s heart ached for him. She wanted desperately to go to him, but she sensed that this was exactly what he needed. Even if he didn’t realize it, he was probably letting out what he’d been holding in all these years.

  “My parents were only seventeen when they had me. Even as kids they knew how to put us first. They knew how to love us and teach us to do the right things—even if Lucky skirts that line, he doesn’t cross it. He knows. My mother and all of us taught him that much.” He cocked his head, and his arm blocked all but his tormented eyes.

  “The thing is, I know if I’d said anything to Destiny’s parents, it wouldn’t have mattered. How could it? They were users. They knew she was doing drugs and they didn’t change or try to help her.”

  She went to him then, unable to stay away for a second longer, and wrapped one arm around his waist. “It sounds like they were helpless, too,” she said softly. “They were addicts, and you know from dealing with Jude, who has much more than it sounds like they ever did, that addictions aren’t tied to intelligence, age, or social status. Addictions are powerful, and once they take hold, it’s a wonder anyone can break free from them. They were as helpless as you were, just in a different way. It doesn’t mean they had an excuse. It just means that maybe they weren’t equipped to do anything differently.”

  She ducked beneath his arms and slid between him and the railing so she could put her arms around him. “I don’t have all the answers, and I’m saying maybe a lot, but have you considered forgiving her parents? It’s really hard to carry around all that anger. You said you feel like a monster is trying to claw its way out of you, and I think you’re probably right. But you’re chasing the wrong demon.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I THINK WE deserve a break.” Boone shifted the groceries they’d just bought and unlocked the passenger door for Trish. It had been three days since they’d talked about Destiny and her parents and what they had come to call the scene. Although Boone didn’t think he had the scene down pat yet, he had come a long way. Their talk had given him perspective, and that allowed him enough distance to approach the scene differently.

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Trish climbed into the car while Boone put the groceries in the backseat.

  “Getting groceries is not a break. It’s a necessity, despite how little you’re eating.” He sat in the driver’s seat and leaned across the console to kiss her. She grabbed his shirt, and heat spread through him like wildfire with the possessive move. He loved the way they were so in sync. Whether they were in the bedroom, rehearsing, or taking a walk around the yard, they’d begun to sense each other’s moods.

  “You have done an incredible job of pouring your emotions into the scene lately.” She touched her cheek to his and whispered, “Didn’t we take a sex break this morning?”

  “And last night.” He nibbled on her neck, and she tipped her head back with a sweet sound of appreciation.

  “God, what are you doing to me? You’ve turned me into a binge nymph.” She laughed. “It’s like a binge eater, but the only cure is more Boone Stryker.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He kissed her just below her ear and inhaled her sweet feminine scent. “You smell good enough to eat. Maybe we should go find a back road to park on and make out like a couple of teenagers.”

  She nipped at his earlobe. “Oh, you are a naughty boy.”

  “Only with you, beautiful.” He kissed her again. “Or we can go to the country music festival at the creek and make out later. Or make out while we’re there.” He waggled his brows, pulled a flyer from his back pocket, and handed it to Trish. “There was a stack of flyers by the register.”

  She scanned the flyer. “Sounds like fun. The festival, and the making out part. Oh! I have a great idea!”

  “Last time you had a great idea you tricked me into telling you things I didn’t realize I felt.” He tugged her in for another kiss. “God, I love your kisses.” Pushing his hands into her hair, he took the kiss deeper.

  “Forget my idea,” she murmured. “This is better.”

  She clung to his neck and rose off the seat, arching her whole body into his. It took all of his restraint not to climb over the seat and take her right there. She moaned, loud and needy, into the kiss.

  “You’re killing me,” he growled against her lips.

  She tugged him harder, pulling him halfway out of his seat. “Don’t stop kissing me. We don’t need to go further, but kiss me,” she said breathlessly.

  He glanced out the window, glad they’d parked at the far end of the lot. He reached across her lap to hit the recline button. They kissed as he climbed over the console. His knee hit the door and his foot got stuck between the dash and the console, causing Trish to burst into giggles.

  “We should have rented a mobile home,” she teased as he came down over her.

  They managed to push the seat back, giving him more leg room. She scooted up, and they both groan
ed when their bodies aligned perfectly. They kissed and ground their bodies together until he was out of his mind with desire. He pushed a hand beneath her shirt and teased her nipple through her lacy bra.

  “Oh God, I love that.” She arched into his hand. “Use your mouth.”

  “You are sinful.”

  He peeked out the car window, noting that they were still alone on their side of the parking lot, and lifted her shirt. He pulled the lace down and sealed his mouth over her breast. She wiggled and squirmed, and he sucked harder.

  “Oh, oh, oh!”

  Hearing her so lost in him she couldn’t form words spurred him on. He ground his hips harder, reveling in the mind-numbing friction, and stilled when she began her own momentum, allowing her to ride him through their clothes. The car filled with her needy moans and whimpers.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me. Come good and hard.”

  She grabbed his ass and held him firmly where she needed him most, and he continued devouring her mouth and breast. Seeing her on edge, hearing her heady gasps, feeling her trembling for him, sent desire thrumming through him, pounding beneath his zipper, aching in his chest. When she cried out, bucking and shaking, he took her in another desperate kiss. They kissed until she was sighing with pleasure.

  He smiled down at her. “You’re amazing, beautiful girl.” A rosy blush bloomed on her cheeks. “Hey, I mean it. You’re smart and sexy and I adore you.”

  “I can’t believe I just did that in the parking lot,” she whispered, but her smile told him how much she enjoyed it.

  “Are you kidding? That was so hot, I nearly came.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nearly is not the same.”

  “Is that an offer? Because I’d happily bury myself deep inside you and make you come again before finding sweet redemption in my own release.”

  Her mouth gaped.

  “Too much, huh? Sorry.” He rose onto his palms, and she snagged him by the collar. A spark of wickedness flared in her eyes.

  “Do you have a condom?”

  “I like where this is headed.” He patted his wallet. “It just so happens I loaded up for my very feisty girlfriend.” He peeked out the window.

  “Is there anyone out there?”

  “Not a person in sight.”

  She tugged him into a wet and wild kiss. They didn’t even try to restrain themselves as they tore at each other’s pants and wrestled them down to their ankles. In seconds he sheathed his eager length and buried himself to the root. Her inner muscles squeezed and he groaned.

  “Do that,” he commanded. “A lot.”

  Their bodies and mouths crashed together. Sounds of flesh smacking, groans, and pleas—Harder. More. So good. There!—echoed off the windows. Sweat beaded their skin; raw passion burned through their tangled limbs. Trish bit into his shoulder, sending exquisite pain down his chest, and rivers of passion flooded his veins. He gripped her ass and lifted, taking her deeper, harder.

  “Gonna come,” she cried. “Oh God!”

  He buried his head in her neck, groaning out her name as he surrendered to his own heart-pounding release.

  He pushed up on his palms and gazed at the sensual, loving woman beneath him, unable to believe they’d found their way into each other’s arms.

  **

  THEY STOPPED AT the farmhouse to put away the groceries and shower and then loved up Sparky. Boone left another message for Jude. He called his brother Lucky and asked him to see if he could find out where Jude was hiding out. Trish asked again if he wanted to go look for Jude, but Boone explained that it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  They followed the directions on the flyer to the creek where the music festival was taking place and parked in a small lot up the hill. They followed the sounds of music through the woods down to the water. The scent of damp earth and carefree summer days filled the air as they neared the creek. People gathered along the rocky edge of the creek, drinking beer from kegs and carrying red plastic cups. Two bands were set up at either end of a small clearing, taking turns playing covers and songs Trish hadn’t heard before.

  Thankfully, no one recognized them, and they were able to enjoy the afternoon. They danced and mingled and eyed each other flirtatiously from across the grass.

  Trish noticed two busty girls wearing cutoff jeans shorts and cowgirl boots eyeing Boone. A wave of jealousy swam through her. If Fiona were there, she’d tease her about being jealous, because Trish was a gorgeous actress, but it didn’t matter whether the women eyeing Boone were hotter than her or not. Girlfriend claws had a mind of their own, and though she’d never really liked anyone enough to feel jealous, her claws were out in full force over Boone. She was tempted to march over and claim him with a blatant PDA, which she knew he’d love. She’d noticed the way his eyes darkened when she asserted herself sexually, or to snuggle, or even hold his hand.

  One of the pretty gawkers flipped her hair over her shoulder and blinked flirtatiously at Boone. Boone flashed a practiced, kind smile. A vastly different smile from the predatory, sensual smile that landed on Trish one second later. Her heart went a little crazy as he stalked toward her with long, purposeful strides. His eyes sent the clear message, They can look, but you get to touch. Every step made her ache to be in his arms. A shiver of warmth whispered down her spine.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” he said with a noticeable country twang, and slid an arm around her waist. “Come here often?”

  “I haven’t come here yet,” she teased. “But I had a good time in a parking lot around the corner.”

  He pressed a kiss beside her ear and whispered, “You are a dirty, dirty girl.”

  She was impressed by his ability to dive into cowboy mode so seamlessly, which gave her another idea. Ever since their talk, Boone had been doing a much better job of getting into his character while they rehearsed his most difficult scenes. She had every confidence in his abilities, but she could tell he wasn’t quite as convinced. She eyed him curiously, thinking about how they could take his acting to the next level and get him to own it.

  “Your dirty, dirty girl has an idea.” She grinned up at him, knowing he would hate the idea of rehearsing in front of an audience, but what better way to hone his craft than to dive in and sink or swim?

  “If it’s the kind of idea you had in the car, I’m all in.” His gorgeous eyes sparked with heat.

  She looked around, debating her idea. She could ask him about doing a few lines in character, but she knew he’d nix it, mostly because it would require her to look like a druggie. Her heartbeat sped up as she mulled over the idea of slipping to the ground in character and forcing him to step up to the plate.

  He leaned closer. “What’s that look in your eyes?”

  I’m getting up the courage to suddenly become a drugged-out Delia. She smiled innocently. “What look?” Before he could answer, she said, “I’m sorry, but I’m Delia.” She fell gracefully to the ground, feeling an icy chill coming from Boone.

  “Christ, Trish,” he said under his breath as she stared blankly toward the sky. He crouched beside her. “What am I supposed to do now?” he said in a hushed, annoyed tone, with a hint of embarrassment.

  Staying in character, she didn’t look at him. She waited with her heart in her throat, silently urging him on. He took her hand; his was shaking a little.

  “How could you do this?” He cursed under his breath. “After everything we’ve been through, how far we’ve come?”

  She wanted to cheer him on for nailing the emotions, but he was doing so well, she wanted to keep the ruse going. She lay limply as he scooped her into his arms. Her head lolled back, but not before she caught a glimpse of the tortured look on his face. Her chest swelled, and her heart ached at the depth of emotions she saw there. She was sure part of that torture was the mere fact that he’d been thrown into this without any warning, but it was working. People began to take notice, closing in on them as he gathered her closer, pressing her limp body against his ches
t.

  “Goddamn it, baby. Don’t you die on me. Don’t you die!” He spoke through gritted teeth, every vehement word hitting her square in the center of her chest.

  “Hey, dude. Should I call 911?” a guy asked.

  She had a flash of panic about headlines—Actress Trish Ryder Faints at Creek Party—but she wasn’t about to back out now. Not when he was doing such an amazing acting job.

  Boone’s hand went to the back of Trish’s head. He pressed her face to his shoulder. “No. I’ve got her, thanks.”

  “Is she okay?” a woman asked. “Did she pass out?”

  “She’s…uh…yeah,” he lied. “She passed out, but I’ve got her.” He hurried up the hill. “Damn it, Delia, don’t you fucking die.” He spoke low enough for each word to hit Trish with the impact of thunder, but quiet enough for only her ears. “Don’t you fucking die on me.” His voice cracked with emotion as he picked up his pace, running toward the car.

  Trish heard rapid footsteps following them. “Hey! Is she drunk? Sick?” a woman called after them. “I’m a nurse. Maybe I can help.”

  “Christ,” he muttered.

  Trish wrapped an arm around his neck, catching the dark frustration in Boone’s gaze, and a second later, a frisson of amusement.

  “I’m okay,” Trish said in a woozy voice. “I haven’t eaten since early this morning. Silly me.” She batted her eyelashes at the worried stranger and ran a hand through Boone’s hair. “My honey has been telling me all day to eat something, but you know, we’re recently married, and I lose track of just about everything but him.” She leaned up and kissed Boone’s cheek.

  “Are you sure, sweetie?” the woman asked.

  “Oh yes, thank you. Plus”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“I’m pregnant. We just found out this morning, which is why I was too excited to eat.”

  Boone’s eyes sprang open wider.

  “Right, honey?” Trish said in her sweetest voice.

  “Sure,” he mumbled, then louder. “Yes. Just found out. I’ll get her right home. Thank you, but she’s in good hands now.” He turned away from the woman and moved quickly toward the car. “Pregnant?” he whispered.