I exhale. “So you’re close to your parents?”
“Sure.”
His gaze goes dark when he says it, but before I can figure out why, he takes the bill, and without even glancing at it, hands a credit card to the server.
“Thank you for the lunch,” I say as we stand up.
“Thanks for agreeing to come out with me.” His smile is warm and real until we stand up and he glances out the window. “Shit.”
His body stills, and he clasps my wrist to keep me from moving toward the door. “Jasalie. Wait.”
I look up at his face, which is once again filled with tension. His jaw’s clenched, and his eyes have gone flat.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just a bunch of paparazzi. They must have followed us from the hotel and called in backup. I knew they’d find their way here from L.A., but I thought I’d have another day free of this.” He glances down to where his fingers are still circling my wrist, and the heat between us jolts through me.
Our eyes clash, and I widen mine as I unconsciously step into him. His free arm goes around my waist and he brings me closer. “Just stay inside while I go get the car, okay?” he says into my ear. His lips brush my earlobe as he speaks, and a traitorous shiver goes through my body.
Damn it.
I pull back from him quickly. “Um, sure. Let me give you the keys.” I hand them over to him, and he says he’ll pull around to the back exit.
He’s walked about five steps when I change my mind and decide to catch him.
“Hey,” I say as his hand touches the door handle. “How about we get our first photo op out of the way? This will give me a true sense of what I’m in for if we go forward with our weekend deal.”
Dylan’s dark eyes fix on me. “Are you sure that’s what you want? It’s not easy—I’m warning you.”
I don’t see how it could be harder than living on the streets as a teenager. But I don’t say that out loud. “I’m sure. Let’s go for it.”
“Hold onto me.” He puts out his hand, and I hesitate. “You think I’m scary, Jasalie? Trust me when I say I’ll be the least of your problems in about ten seconds. Take my hand, or we go out the back.”
“So bossy,” I grumble, but I do what he says.
He interlaces our fingers together, and squeezes my hand gently. “Here we go. Don’t answer any of their questions, don’t feel the need to smile if they ask for it, and don’t slow down. Okay? We’re just going to walk right by them and go directly to your car.”
I nod, and Dylan opens the door.
And shit, he was right.
I wasn’t prepared for the blinding flash of lights, or the loud calls of, “Dylan! How you doing today? Who’s the lucky lady? Can you stop for a quick picture?”
Dylan steps in front of me, shielding me as much as he can with his body. But the lights have already done their damage, and the white spots dancing in front of my eyes won’t go away. Good thing I’m not claustrophobic because the photographer on my left is really crowding into me.
“Let us through, please.” Dylan’s voice is hard and authoritative. “Thanks, guys. Clear a path.”
“Who’s the lady?!” Several of them call out again. “Tell us who she is, Dylan, and we’ll let you go!”
I stop, tugging on Dylan’s hand. He shifts around to face me and shakes his head at me in clear warning.
But I just want them all to shut up. I put my hand on Dylan’s chest and lean into him with a smile as I say to the paparazzi, “I’m his date. You can put that in your stories. Now leave us alone, please.”
The flashbulbs are going at a lightning quick pace now. I keep a half-smile on my face and my hand pressed to Dylan’s chest just long enough for the men to get their shots, and then I put my hand up. “Photo shoot’s over, boys. Have a good day.”
I start walking again, and Dylan hustles me away and into the car.
Once we’re inside, I wait for him to let me have it. But he surprises me when he breaks into a laugh.
“You’re amazing, Jasalie,” he says, his eyes filled with…admiration?
“You’re not mad?” I say. “I did the opposite of what you instructed. Bill usually gets really pissed off when I do that.”
“Well, I’m not your boss,” he says in a slow, sexy tone that has my thighs clenching. “Am I?”
I shake my head.
He glances in the rearview mirror. “But I need to ask you to put your hometown skills to good use and drive us somewhere the vultures can’t follow.”
Dylan’s request hangs in the air like a firecracker.
I fasten my seatbelt and turn on the car. I could take him to see the cacti or to that art museum I’ve been curious about. The problem is, I don’t know how to get to either one.
I reach for my phone to glance at the city map.
“How long has it been since you’ve lived here?”
Dylan’s calm voice cuts through the silence inside the car.
“A…a little while.” I wave my hand vaguely in the air. “You know time is relative.”
I zoom out of the parking lot and turn left without checking first for oncoming cars. Luckily, the road is clear, but I narrowly miss the median strip as I speed up and head for the stoplight. I drive four blocks, blind with an unnamed emotion that’s bubbling up from inside my chest and threatening to burst out of me.
I feel Dylan glance over at me, but I ignore him and turn right.
After passing three street signs I don’t recognize, I drive onto the sidewalk. I hastily jerk the wheel and return the car to the street. I was really only on the sidewalk for a few feet, but unfortunately, it was enough time to terrify the one man who happened to be there at the same moment.
“Jasalie, whoa.” Dylan touches my arm lightly. “Why don’t you pull over up here, and let me drive?”
“Dylan, I’m fine.” I refuse to look over at him as I careen down the road and turn left. “See, this street here should take us to Broadway.”
Only it doesn’t. And I don’t realize that until the damn thing just randomly ends.
I stop the car at the dead end and look out at the desert beyond. I can see a street across the sand and cacti, about a hundred feet away as if the city had planned to complete this route someday but never got around to it.
I’m so busted.
Silence takes over the car with the low hum of the motor the only thing potentially stopping Dylan from hearing my pounding heart.
“You’re like the worst tour guide ever,” he finally says in a light tone. “Maybe if your rental had GPS you could have done a better job of faking it.”
I glance at him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“On the other hand, I’m seriously considering offering you a job as my driver, seeing how easily you just shed the paparazzi.”
I manage a weak laugh.
His expression turns serious. “You’re not really from here, are you?”
I exhale. “I really was born here, but I spent most of my life in L.A. So I’m not that familiar with Tucson.”
“Well, it’s no big deal. We can figure it out together. Unless you had a place in mind you wanted to go…”
“Actually, I do. Somewhere no one else will think to look for us. It’s not exactly a tourist trap.” I reach for my phone and type in the only local address I know, the one I’ve memorized. Why I trust Dylan Wild to accompany me I have no idea. Maybe because he’s a stranger, and in three days, I’ll never see him again. Without allowing myself to analyze it further, I hand him my phone. “You can be my copilot and tell me when to turn.”
Fifteen minutes later, we pull onto a residential side street on the outskirts of town.
Number Twenty-One. I read the address on the mailbox across the street, and I put the car into park so I can get a closer look.
The house is painted a pale green with yellow shutters. It’s an adobe-style home and has seen better days. An older model sedan sits in the short driveway, but no one’s
outside. A few kids are playing basketball in the driveway next door, and the ball bounces across the lawn and lands by the wheel of the sedan. A little girl jogs over to retrieve it, and I watch the way her blond curls bounce as she runs and how her little legs carry her effortlessly back to her home.
To her home. With her family.
I want to be able to do that, to give my mother back her home and to maybe heal the part of my heart that broke in half when she left me as a child. I can save her. She couldn’t save me, but I can save her.
Shit. Coming here was a terrible idea. An ache starts in the back of my throat and threatens to engulf me. I turn my head away from the house and stare out the windshield as I wrack my brain for funny memories, neutral memories, anything I can think of to stop me from breaking down in front of Dylan.
“Um, do you know someone here?” he asks me eventually, after five minutes of silence.
I start the engine back up. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted our time.”
But his hand is lightning quick to gently catch my wrist before I can put the car into drive. “Do you want to talk about something?”
I turn my head to face him. His eyes have lost their cockiness and are filled with…kindness and warmth. Concern.
I nearly start to bawl when I look into Dylan’s eyes. Because no one’s ever looked at me that way before.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve shifted in my seat so I can put my arms around him. His sharp inhale reveals his surprise, but he quickly pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around my back.
I bury my head in his neck and inhale him. Not just his amazing smell but him. Because he feels like my opposite in all the ways I need him to right now: strong, solid, and stable.
He holds me close, running one hand up and down my spine. I know he means for the gesture to be soothing, and it starts out that way, but before long the warm pressure of his hand through the thin fabric of my blouse is too much.
I want more.
But I can’t. Not without some sort of a plan. My experience with Joel taught me what I should have already known—no relationship can stand the test of time, and the sooner I emblazon that fact into my brain and heart, the better off I’ll be.
I pull away from Dylan abruptly and return to the driver’s seat.
He clears his throat and looks at me. His eyes burn into mine, and I nearly hurl my wanton body back onto his lap. Instead, I look over at my mother’s house.
And I make a decision. It may be the worst decision I’ve ever made, to agree to take money in exchange for being someone’s date. But the reality of my mother becoming homeless and me turning down a way to help her doesn’t sit right with me. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try. So I will.
I turn to Dylan and tell him yes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Yes,” he repeats, his eyes shuttered from me so I can’t read his expression.
“Yes. I’ll be your date in Tucson. I’ll help you out with your charity, and you can help me out with my…financial situation.”
He hands me his phone. “Type in your bank account number and I’ll have half the money wired over by tonight.”
I tap on the screen and hand him back his phone. “But no sex for money.” I don’t want to have to say more, but our crazy chemistry forces the next words out of my mouth. “If we have sex, like you said, that will be on our private time. It’s not part of this deal.”
His lips part as his gaze shifts to my mouth. “Of course. If I kiss you, I can promise you it will be because I want to, not because of any charity or deal we have in place. There will be no confusion between the two.” His eyes darken as he raises them to meet mine. “I do want to kiss you, Jasalie. I have since I first saw you. Just so we’re clear on that.”
I swallow hard. “Thank you for your truthfulness. But let’s be brutally honest, shall we? I can handle the truth, Dylan. I’m not some delicate flower who will wilt at the first taste of rejection.”
Dylan furrows his brow. “I don’t get where you’re going.”
“You have a life outside of Tucson, obviously. And so do I. Just because we both happen to be from Los Angeles doesn’t change the fact that we’re two consenting adults meeting at a hotel in the middle of Arizona.”
Dylan frowns. “Ri-igh-t. I still don’t get where this is going.”
“Exactly,” I say. “And that’s why we make a pact so we don’t ever need to worry about where this is going, how it’s going, or if it’s going anywhere at all. You yourself said the whole arrangement was no strings attached.”
“I did say that.” Dylan puts his hands to his head and pulls at the short strands like he’s fully agitated. “I just…to bring anyone into my world would be the most selfish thing I could do. I like you, but to promise that this will go anywhere…I just can’t do that.”
“So you agree with me then. We may just stay friends, we may decide we hate each other, or we may”—I can feel how flushed my face gets, but I storm forward anyway—“whatever we may do over the next few days, what happens here, stays here. In Tucson. In the hotel. No strings and no promises. Deal?”
Dylan goes quiet at my proposal. He looks out the window and then down at his hands. Eventually though, he looks up. “Are you dating somebody back home?”
I contemplate not answering him, but I don’t really see where that will get me. So I shake my head no.
“So whatever happens between us here, we can agree for these few days that what we have is exclusive?” he confirms. “Neither of us will date anybody else while we’re in the hotel?”
“Sure.” That’s easy for me.
“Then yes, but I have one condition,” Dylan says.
“What?”
“We make a real effort to get to know each other. Even though we know it’s going to end, we don’t hold back this weekend.”
“But…” I never let anyone get close to me.
He’s searching my face, his expression stubborn and determined. “That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.”
My brain screams at me to leave it.
But what comes out of my mouth is, “I’ll take it.”
His jaw visibly relaxes, and he smiles at me. “Let’s start now. We’ll go back to your room and watch a movie for the afternoon. Away from cameras and reporters and the public eye. I don’t think touring Tucson is working out so well for either of us. Do you agree?”
I hesitate. Being alone with Dylan is scary. Eating lunch at a restaurant was one thing, but two hours alone in a hotel room feels like it’s bringing everything to a more intimate level.
I pause and turn away. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable.” I say it almost in a whisper.
“Jasalie.” Dylan touches my knee, and I look back at him. “No ulterior motives or anything. I just want to spend time with you. I promise you can trust me.”
The truth is, I actually do trust him. The person I don’t trust is myself. I’m so insanely attracted to him I have to resist kissing those mesmerizing lips of his right now.
But no matter what happens, we have a finite amount of time together. I’m leaving here in just over three days after all. How much can happen in seventy-two hours?
“I’m not sure,” I say as I turn the key in the ignition.
I pull out of the neighborhood, and we end up behind an SUV at a red light. A little girl is in the back, kneeling up on the seat, facing us. She stares at me and makes a monkey face. Without thinking about it, I stick my tongue out at her and wave.
Dylan laughs. “You surprise me every second.”
I smile. “Every second? That’s a lot.”
“I’m serious. You’re spontaneous. You’re funny, at least when you feel safe. You’re beautiful, but you don’t know it. You’re tough, but you have the softest heart underneath it all.”
I snap my head in his direction. “How the hell can you be sure of all of that? We barely know each other.”
“I feel like I get you is all.” D
ylan reaches over and puts his hand lightly on my thigh, just above my knee. Then he squeezes.
I grit my teeth as parts of me completely ignite. The throbbing between my legs is so intense I nearly cry out.
I push his hand away. He hesitates and then slowly puts it back. I let it stay this time.
As we drive, out of the corner of my eye, I notice him lean back and relax against his seat. His hand feels so damn good on my thigh. And I find myself saying, “I pick the movie.”
I can hear the smile in his voice. “Works for me.”
A single cameraman greets us when we step out of the car in the hotel parking lot. But hotel security is there to escort him away, and Dylan ushers me inside the hotel quickly. I’m nervous Lilla will see us in the lobby, or the elevator, or the walk down the hall to my room. But she doesn’t. In fact, the lobby’s nearly empty when we arrive.
As soon as we get inside my room, I drag the small armchair over to the bed and take a seat on it.
“You can have the bed,” I say.
Dylan smiles. But he doesn’t say anything. He sits down on the end of the bed, close to the television, and I use the remote to access the movie options.
“Hmmm. Drama or comedy?” I ask him. “Or something else, like the kids’ section?”
“Let’s go for comedy,” he suggests. “I don’t like sad movies.”
Neither do I. In fact, I hate all dramatic movies for the most part. Too depressing.
“What’s under that towel?” he asks as he points at my hidden ball of clay.
“Oh.” I’m self-conscious for some reason. It’s like Dylan’s already learning too much about me way too quickly. “Just some clay. I sculpt now and again.”
“Really?” His eyes brighten. “That’s cool. What’s that one?”
“It was something, but I smashed it,” I say. “So right now, it’s nothing.”
I flip to the comedic choices.
Dylan (Wild Men) Page 6