"About what exactly?" she asked. She ran her tongue along the top of her lip, and it made me instantly hard.
"Come upstairs and I'll show you," I said.
***
River slid into bed beside me.
"I don't know why you're sneaking up to that window, all stealth-like and shit," I said.
"I just wanted to see if they'd left."
"I'd just assume they didn't."
She slipped into the bed beside me. "It's frustrating."
"I would guess so," I said. "But maybe stop taking it so damn seriously."
She rolled onto her side, propped her head up on her hand. "It is serious."
"No," I said. "It's not. Getting shot at is serious. Getting blown up, that's serious. Missing your kid's first steps because you're deployed, that's serious. Photographers following you around because they want to talk about your breakup? It's not fucking serious."
River exhaled, averted her eyes. "I'm one of those spoiled Hollywood brats, something I never thought I'd be. I'm like, a total dick."
"Nah," I said. "You're not a total dick. More like half a dick."
"I've been really selfish," she said.
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Happens to the best of us."
She was quiet, her forehead wrinkled in the middle. "It's weird, all of this, you know? The whole fame thing. I never thought I would be famous. It just happened. And it was amazing, back then, you know? Going from not knowing where my next meal was coming from to having more money than I knew what to do with."
She scrunched her forehead, was quiet for a minute.
"But then, it didn't actually change anything, with my mother and my sister, you know? Like, it didn't change who my mother was, the kind of person she was. It just gave her more funding."
I didn't say anything, just waited for River to talk.
"The magazines, they sell this story about me - it's this fairytale version of me, you know? Rags to riches, it sells. But it leaves out all the shit parts, the parts about what it was like growing up in a hick town, with a mom who brings home pretty much anyone, who doesn't give a shit what asshole guys get near her kids."
I realized the implications of what River was saying, the kind of hell she was raised in, and felt a surge of empathy for her. I just didn't know what to say, especially after I'd basically called her spoiled.
"Then, somewhere along the line, the fame thing just started spiraling out of control," she said. "I went from being just another actress making a lot of money to being a brand, you know? It was all of a sudden. You become this commodity, and then there are people pushing and pulling you in different directions, calculating how much everything you do is worth. Every decision you make is based on that- the net worth of your next move. And everyone is watching."
"It's just a job," I said. "Not who you are. It doesn't have to define you."
"Did you feel that way about your job?"
I exhaled. "No," I admitted. "EOD was who I was. I joined when I was seventeen. Been fucking working around explosives even before that."
"Why?"
"My father," I said. "Mined the side of the mountain back behind my house for years when we were kids. Blasted away at that shit little by little."
"So then you went into diffusing bombs," she said.
I nodded. "I knew how to do it. I was comfortable with it."
"Do you ever regret it?"
"EOD?" I asked. "Fuck no."
"But you lost your leg doing it."
"So?" I asked. "I meant what I said before. It's just a fucking leg. Not the end of the world. Most of the guys out there, the grunts and shit, they go into it figuring something will happen. Better you lose a limb than die, you know?"
"Do you ever wish you did something different, though?" she asked. "Took a different path or something?"
"Regret's a waste of time," I said. "Your path is your path, for better or worse. It is what it is. You don't know what's going to happen in life. You've got right now and that's it. Can't change the past, can't predict the future." I paused, realizing what a pompous ass I sounded like. "That's my two cents worth of philosophizing for you. That's about all it's worth, anyway."
River ran her finger across my chest. "Anyone ever tell you you're a wise man, Elias Saint?"
I laughed. "Not one fucking time," I said. "Are you regretting where you are now?"
"Here, with you?" she asked. "No. Being in Hollywood? I don't know."
"When's the last time you were really happy?" I asked.
"Here, now," she answered, without hesitation.
"What about before that?"
River looked thoughtful. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe...when I was a kid, I'd take my sister down to the creek near our house sometimes and we'd wander along the edge, skip rocks, look for frogs. It was nice. We'd stay away from the house for hours, mostly when it wasn't safe to go home."
"How old were you?" I asked.
"Oh God, I don't know," River said. "Maybe eight or something?"
"And that's the last time you remember feeling really happy?"
She shrugged. "I think so...That's kind of pathetic, huh?"
"Yeah, pretty much," I said. "Maybe you ought to do something about that."
"You think you can?" she asked. "Make your own happiness, I mean?"
I shrugged. "I don't know," I said. That was the million dollar fucking question.
"What would you do, if you could?"
"If I could make my own happiness?" I asked. "Bottle that shit and sell it."
River rolled her eyes. "I mean, what would make you happy? What would you do, if you could do anything?"
"Don't laugh," I said.
"Okay."
"I weld shit," I told her.
"Like, metal?"
"Yeah," I said. "Got into it in the Navy. It's a hobby. I don't know what the hell I could do with it, but if I could get paid to do it, that's what I would do."
"What do you weld?"
"I've made all kinds of shit," I said. "Some, when I was deployed. Got pieces of scrap metal and stuff, made furniture, stupid stuff, to make life more comfortable."
"So you'd make furniture, if you could do anything in the world?"
"Yeah," I said. "And, I mean, there's this other idea I have, but it's dumb..."
"Tell me."
I suddenly felt vulnerable, like I was revealing some big part of myself. "A lot of the prosthetics are getting really life-like," I said. "Which is cool and all. But I want to do the opposite. I think they could look more like art pieces or something."
"Like industrial art," she said, nodding.
"Yeah. I have some ideas I've been sketching."
"Can I see?" River sat up.
I nodded toward my bag. "There's a notebook in there," I said. "If you want to look at them. I mean, they're not anything big. I don't even know if they're something that can be done, anyway. Just some things running through my head."
River pulled the notebook from my bag, and joined me, sliding up against me. She opened the notebook, and I held my breath, waiting for her reaction.
She flipped through the pages, looking at my sketches. Finally, she looked at me. "Elias, these are really good. This is a really cool idea," she said. "Actually, I've got this artist friend, Abby, in L.A. She knows people who do laser cutting and shit, kind of like the things you've got drawn up."
"It's just something I was thinking about, anyway," I said. "A dream. What would you do, if you weren't an actress?"
"When I was a kid, I wanted to be a teacher."
"What kind?"
"Elementary school," River said. "I like kids. And I'd feel like I was doing something important."
"More than romantic comedies?"
River sighed. "It's stupid, I know."
"Why is it stupid?"
"Because it's ridiculous. I've been given this incredible opportunity millions of people would love to have, and I'm so ungrateful that I want to just th
row it away to do something else. It's obnoxious."
"Life's too short to do something you don't want to do."
A rap on the door downstairs interrupted us. I sat up in the bed, and reached for my prosthetic, while River scrambled out of the bed and slipped into a t-shirt and pajama pants.
"Fucking photographers again?" I asked, as River peered out the window.
"A cop," she said, glaring at me. "Probably because of the shot fired earlier."
I was already sliding into my jeans. "Don't look at me," I said. "That was all Cade."
"Like you wouldn't have done the same thing," River said.
"I'd definitely have done the same thing," I said. "But that shot was Cade's."
Downstairs, Jed waited on the front porch. By the time we pulled open the door, Cade and June were already crossing the meadow toward the house.
"River Andrews," Jed said. "I didn't think the name Beth Winters suited you."
River crossed her arms across her chest, her jaw clenched.
"Can we help you, Sherriff Easton?" I asked, my words more polite than my tone.
"Well, now, I don't know," Jed said. "We received a report of a weapon being discharged out here on the property, and I thought I'd come out to make sure no one is being harmed, especially as we've got a celebrity in town. Obviously one with questionable taste in men."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" River said.
"Were you invited in, Jed?" Cade stood behind him. "I don't recall ever telling you that you had an invitation back on my property again."
Jed turned toward Cade, his expression colored with irritation, followed by something that looked like embarrassment when he saw June approach. "There were reports of a shot fired," he said.
"Didn't hear any shots fired," Cade said. "Did any of you?"
I shook my head. "Nope."
"You got a warrant, Jed?" Cade paused for a minute. "Didn't think so. Get the hell off my property. You have ten seconds to leave before I get my shotgun."
A slow smile crept over Jed's face. "I should take you in for threatening an officer of the law, Cade." He spit on the ground beside him. "But I'll attribute that outburst to your guilt over Stan's death."
Cade clenched his fists, and if June hadn't have stepped in, one of us would have hit Jed, I'm sure. I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about when it came to Stan, but the way that fuckstick looked at River before and the way he talked, shit, I figured it'd be worth the assault charge.
"Cade," June said, her hand on her arm. "Don't. It's not worth it."
But Jed was backing down. Apparently the guy had a sense of self-preservation. "My father, Jed Easton Sr., would like to pay his respects, Ms. Andrews, as the mayor of this town, and welcome you to West Bend." Jed was nearly to his car before he turned around. "I trust your visit will be a short one."
He backed down the driveway, stopping to say something to the paparazzi gathered at the end before driving down the road. I could see a few of them snapping photos of the four of us standing outside and motioned Cade and June inside.
Inside the house, June set down Stan, who immediately toddled over to River. She bent down to pick him up. "How are you, gorgeous?"
"What an asshole," I said, half under my breath.
"You have no idea," June said.
"What did he mean about Stan?"
Cade's expression darkened. "Stan was my father. I hold Jed responsible for his death."
"Jesus H."
"He'll get what's coming to him," June said, her eyes flashing with anger. "Eventually. You know what they say about karma."
Stan toddled over to Cade, and Cade picked him up. "You shouldn't have any more trouble with the reporters on the property at least, not with the Sherriff being out here too. For now, anyway."
***
CHAPTER TWENTY
RIVER
“Come here,” Elias said. He took my hand in his and led me toward the bed, picked me up and sat me on the edge of the mattress. He was so close to me, his erection practically begging for my attention. I stroked him gently, and he groaned, the sound barely audible, except to me.
He found a condom and rolled it onto his length while I watched, admiring the way he made it look sexy. I found every movement of this guy’s sexy. I’d never felt that way about anyone before. I wasn’t stupid enough to think it was anything but lust; but as far as lust-filled experiences go, I hadn’t had many and I hadn’t expected to have many, not with all the baggage I was carrying. But Elias was starting to challenge the assumptions I'd made about lots of things.
He entered me, one hand cupping my ass cheek where I had begun to slide off the mattress, and the other stroking my breast while his movements grew quicker. “Fuck, you feel so good, River,” he groaned.
I lost track of everything but us- there was nothing else that mattered except him fucking me. No reporters outside, no worries about what I was going to do or what was going to happen after this, no fear about when I was going to have to return to Hollywood.
He slid his hand to my face, and slipped the edge of his thumb in my mouth, his palm against my cheek. I sucked on his finger as he brought me higher and higher with his cock, the whole time thinking about how he would feel in my mouth.
“Shit,” he said. “The way you suck my finger…”
Hearing him say that pushed me over the edge. I warned him, my voice barely more than a whimper. “I’m going to come.” The orgasm overtook me, not giving me a chance to wait for him, and I came hard, crying out.
He followed, thrusting into me one final time before I heard him yell.
Afterward, Elias leaned forward onto me, his head near my shoulder. "That was round one," he said. "Rest up, because I've got more planned for you."
***
Elias stroked the top of my forehead, pushing my hair back from my face. "Are you going to tell me how you got the cut on your leg?" he asked, abruptly.
My heart raced. "That's out of nowhere," I said.
"It's not from shaving," he said. "I noticed before and didn't say anything."
"I hadn't done it in a long time," I said.
"Did you do it because of Viper?"
I laughed. "No," I said. "Just when I'm feeling...overwhelmed, I guess."
"I don't like it," he said. "The idea of you hurting yourself."
He didn't say anything else, leaving everything else unspoken. I lay against his chest, breathing in deep, something about the way he'd said it comforting to me.
"You seem so...certain...about shit," I said.
Elias stroked my arm, his fingers trailing lightly along its length. "Can't help but be certain about some things in life," he said.
I knew it was crazy, how I was feeling. I barely knew Elias, not really. But I was starting to feel certain when it came to him, too.
And I didn't know what to think about that.
***
Lying on the bed, I reached on the bedside table for a condom, and felt him behind me, taking it from my hands. He pulled me down beside him, and I heard the crinkle of the foil wrapper.
"Come here," he said, guiding my hips against him in a spooning position. He slid easily inside me, and his palm covered my breast, his thumb on my nipple, as he began to slowly fuck me. His breath was warm on the nape of my neck, and be brought me to the edge quickly, surprisingly quickly.
"I've never liked being inside anyone as much as I like being in you," he said, as his movements became more urgent.
“Oh my God.” I gasped the words, barely aware of anything else except how he felt inside me.
“Fuck,” he said into my ear, his voice raspy. “I want to feel you come on my cock right now.”
As soon as he spoke the words, I let go. I was barely aware of anything else, even his touch, his hands on my breasts, pulling me tightly against him as he came inside me with a vengeance.
As my orgasm subsided, I felt his mouth on my neck, kissing me as I came down. He murmured softly near my ear. "I really
can't get enough of fucking you. You fit me like a glove."
I flushed warm at his words. I didn't know what it was, just that my body craved his touch, couldn't get enough. "The feeling is mutual," I said.
We holed up in the bed and breakfast for the next week, with June and Cade popping in every so often. I was content there with him, happy to be playing pretend house or whatever it is we were doing.
I wasn't sure what this was, only that I was happy.
The thing was, I knew it couldn't last. And I had to tell him that I'd run from the set, that any day now, someone was going to show up, looking for me. I kept meaning to, but it never seemed like the right time. Instead, we avoided the internet, pretended the outside world didn't exist, and spent all of our time talking and laughing and fucking.
It was perfect.
But that's the problem with perfect. It never lasts.
***
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RIVER
"What is it?" I asked. I sat on the sofa in the front room of the bed and breakfast, my legs tucked underneath me, flipping through a novel I'd borrowed from June.
"Hey. I need to go out for a few minutes," Elias said, looking at his cell phone. His voice was calm, steady, but I could tell his thoughts were churning. "I have to take care of something."
"Is it serious?" I asked.
Elias shook his head. "Probably nothing," he said. "I don't really know."
He was lying. I could tell, as soon as the words came out of his mouth. His voice sounded strained when he lied to me.
I wondered what the hell he was doing that he had to cover up where he was going.
"Okay," I said, my tone clipped. "Will you be long?"
"No," he said, then, when he saw my expression, "It's not anything weird. I promise. I'm not going to hook up with a chick or something like that. I'll text you the address in case there's an emergency. I'll explain later. You have that new cell phone we got, right?"
I shrugged, trying to appear more nonchalant than I felt. "Okay, Mr. Mysterious," I said. "You go do whatever it is you're going to do, rescue a cat in a tree or whatever. I have the cell phone. I've got my book here, anyway. It's kind of nice being able to relax."
Luke: A West Bend Saints Romance Page 33