by Darcy Burke
He came forward and pressed his palms against the marble counter. “I couldn’t, but I don’t want to regret not trying. You aren’t at all what I expected in my life, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t want what I want or need.”
Her adrenaline spiked. “And what do you want?”
He came around the counter and stood in front of her. His eye contact was still sketchy, but she knew it didn’t mean anything when it came to sincerity from him. “I want you. I . . . need you.”
His words burrowed into her heart like a cat hunkering down in a soft blanket for a nap. But she wanted to be absolutely clear about what they were doing. “Tell me what this means. I’m not sure how to do this. I live here. You live in Ribbon Ridge.”
“I was sort of hoping we could make that work. I’m used to being alone—I like it, in fact—so when you need to be here or on location, I’ll be in Ribbon Ridge. When you’re not working, you can come be with me.”
She could see that happening but wasn’t sure how much she’d like being away from him. She’d missed him in the last week. “How will that look? We’ll sleep in separate rooms at our house or wherever, or maybe separate beds, like on an old sitcom.”
His brow wrinkled. “Is that what they did?” Understanding lit his eyes. “I think I remember that on I Love Lucy reruns.” His mouth curved up at the corner. “Actually, I thought we might try sharing a bed.”
“For the whole night?”
He looked her straight in the eye, summoning butterflies to her stomach. “For the whole night. I’m ready tonight. I brought a bag.” His eye contact faltered. “It’s in the car. I left it there in case you said no.”
She laid her palms on his chest. “No way would I say no.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. Maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.
EVAN OPENED HIS eyes abruptly. The bed felt different. Because it wasn’t his. He took a deep breath and rolled to his back. Alaina had a king-sized bed, which is what he had at home. He typically liked to sprawl and assumed he’d bump into her all night long. Except he’d slept like the dead.
Which wasn’t hard to believe, given how long they’d had sex; they’d been making up for lost time, apparently.
He picked up his phone on the nightstand and looked at the time. Not yet eight. He turned his head and looked for Alaina. She was over on the opposite edge of the bed, her back to him. Had he driven her over there with his movements? This is why he didn’t like sleeping with people—as much for their comfort as his.
He scooted closer to her, then planted his elbow in the mattress to rest his chin on his hand so he could look down at her profile in sleep. She was so pretty. Her long lashes curved against her buttermilk skin, and her dark honey-gold hair tangled against the arch of her neck. Her mouth was closed, her lips plump and pink, ready to be kissed.
He liked this. Waking up next to her. It seemed the experiment had worked. Not only could he sleep with someone, he’d liked it. No, not just someone—Alaina.
He moved closer and spooned her from behind. She sighed softly and nuzzled backward against him, her ass perfectly hitting his half-stiff cock and driving it immediately to full arousal.
He ought to let her sleep. He knew she had an important meeting later this morning, but he couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. She wore a tank top and loose-fitting pajama bottoms. He had on boxers, but he was doing his best to bust out of them at present. Maybe he should take a cold shower . . .
Her touch on his thigh startled him, driving all thoughts of a shower from his brain. She massaged him through his shorts, then found his cock. She tucked her hand inside of the half-open flap and found the base. Curling her fingers around his shaft, she stroked him. Up. Down. Back. Forth. He closed his eyes and let ecstasy take over.
“Get a condom,” she said, her voice deep and throaty with sleep or lust or both.
He rolled away from her and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. He shucked his shorts and slipped the latex over his cock. When he returned to her and saw she hadn’t moved, he worried he might’ve dreamed her response. But that was absurd.
Then she pushed her ass—which was now nude—back toward him, and he knew it was real. He slid his hand between her thighs and found her soft, wet heat. She was more than ready, and so was he. He lifted her leg and positioned himself at her opening, then thrust into her. Her muscles stretched and gripped him tightly as he moved. He closed his eyes in sheer bliss.
She bent her upper leg, and he pushed his knee up over her bottom leg. She rocked with him, thrusting her hips back and forth in gentle waves. He reached around her and found her breast, tweaking her nipple through the ribbed cotton of her tank. But it wasn’t enough, so he pushed the fabric up, baring her flesh. He cupped her breast, squeezing its soft fullness and relishing her answering moan.
She pushed back. He thrust forward. He felt her orgasm start with the clenching of her muscles around him and heard it from the sounds emanating from her throat. She reached behind her and clutched his thigh, digging her fingers into his flesh.
He drove into her faster, and her cries increased. When she next pressed back against him, reality splintered away from him as he came. Light and sound ceased to exist. He didn’t know where he ended and she began, and he didn’t care.
As he came back to earth, he was most aware of an incredible sensation of lightness, of utter happiness. He didn’t know if it was love, but he hoped it was. Yes, he hoped love felt just like this.
She rolled to her back, her shoulder butting up against his chest as they caught their breath. “I could wake up like this every day. How did you sleep?”
“Great. Surprisingly.” He loved the way her face brightened when she smiled in response. He felt like the most important person in the world when she looked at him like that.
She touched his cheek. “I’m so glad.”
“Did I drive you over to the edge of the bed? I can be a bed hog.”
She laughed softly. “I wouldn’t know if you were. I’m an edge sleeper. I think it’s because I was always ready to jump out of bed at a moment’s notice when I was younger. Our trailer caught on fire while I was sleeping when I was six, and I’m not sure I slept very soundly after that.”
“What happened?”
She looked at him curiously. “Most people freak out when I mention that, but you barely batted an eye. Actually, no eyes were batted at all.”
He winced. “Is that bad? I don’t always react the right way, sorry. But why would I freak out? You’re obviously fine.” He looked at the far wall. “God, I’m so bad at this.”
She leaned up and kissed him. “You are not. I was just making an observation, not a criticism. It was a fire in the kitchen, and our neighbor, who was far less inebriated than my mother at the time, responded quickly with a fire extinguisher. It wasn’t terribly traumatizing, but it was a valuable lesson in self-preservation when it came to living with my mother. She’s not the most aware person.”
“Are you sure she’s not on the spectrum?”
She laughed, and her eyes danced. “I don’t know. She has a host of issues, but I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Honestly, everyone has a trait or two that looks like autism, it’s just the combination, intensity, and consistency that forces a diagnosis.”
“I see. I’ve wondered . . . How do you feel being different?”
“That’s such a tough question to answer, especially to a neurotypical person.” He threw the covers back and scooted off the other side of the bed. “Let me clean up for a second before I try to tackle that.” He made his way toward the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
“Are you hungry?” she called after him. “I’m starved, and I’d love to take you to my favorite breakfast place.”
“Sure. I’ll get dressed.”
Ten minutes later, they were both garbed in extremely casual clothes—him in athletic shorts and her in yoga pants. She wore an oversized sweatshirt, and her hair was
scraped into a ponytail. She’d dabbed on a little bit of makeup and grabbed her purse from the top of the dresser. “Ready?”
He nodded, following her downstairs and through her elegantly appointed house to a four-car garage, which housed two cars—a sedan and an SUV. “Which one are we taking?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “I was going to take the Jag, unless you’d rather take the Highlander?”
“It’s a hybrid?” he asked.
She nodded. “I just got it a couple of months ago, and I love it.” She dug in her purse and tossed him the keys. “You drive.”
He opened her door, and she flashed him a smile. “I’ll never get tired of that,” she said.
Good, because he’d never get tired of doing it for her, not when she lit up like that.
As he climbed in, she pushed a button to remotely open the garage. “Just drive out the gate and take a left.” She glanced up and down the street before he turned out.
“What are you looking for?”
“Just checking to see how many paparazzi are here. It’s early, but they’ve been pretty hard-core the past few weeks.”
“Since that story about you broke?”
“Yeah. Oh, there’s Ronnie.” She pointed toward a beat-up red Fiat. “He spends most of his time stalking me.”
Evan turned left onto the street and glanced at the rearview mirror. “What a jerk. Why doesn’t he get a real job?”
Ronnie followed them, but Alaina wasn’t concerned. “He’s not so bad. He’s pretty decent about what he sells to the tabloids.” She laughed. “He doesn’t give them anything where I look bad.”
“You know who takes what pictures and what they sell?”
She nodded. “Pretty much. But I have no clue who got that shot of me leaving the clinic. I just know it wasn’t Ronnie.”
She gave Evan directions to the diner, which was only ten minutes away. She was taking a bit of a chance going out in public with Evan, but Ronnie would keep a respectable distance and only tourists approached her for autographs.
She directed Evan to park in the tiny lot behind the diner. “It says ‘no parking,’ but I get special treatment.”
He smiled faintly. “Of course you do.”
“We can go in the back and get a table away from the window. The owner of the place doesn’t let paparazzi inside, so we won’t be disturbed.”
She waited for him to open her door, then took his hand as they walked across the lot to the back door. She went inside and had to let go as they entered a narrow corridor. She paused at a doorway to a small kitchen. “Morning, Jose. I brought a friend along.”
A small Latino man came to the doorway. He grinned at her and nodded up at Evan. “Morning, Alaina. You want your regular?”
“Yes, please.” She turned to Evan. “Jose’s huevos rancheros are to die for. Seriously. I’d pit him against Kyle any day.”
“Sounds good,” Evan said. “I’ll have the same.”
“Who’s Kyle?” Jose asked, wiping his hands on his apron.
“My brother. He’s a chef.”
“And soon to be famous, as he’s about to be splashed all over the Travel Channel,” Alaina said.
“Have a seat, and I’ll send Isa out with some water and coffee.”
“Thanks, Jose.” Alaina turned and led Evan into the small dining room and over to a table nestled in the corner.
Evan looked around the space. It held maybe fifteen tables, two-thirds of which were occupied by patrons. Immediately a few heads turned and registered their presence—rather, Alaina’s presence—with whispered comments and a couple of pointed fingers. One woman, maybe in her forties, lifted her cell phone and tried to surreptitiously take Alaina’s picture.
“Do they really think they’re being secretive?” He didn’t bother keeping his voice down as he glared at the offender.
Alaina touched his hand. “It’s not a big deal.”
He dragged his gaze away from them and tried to focus on Alaina. His shoulder twitched. He didn’t like this kind of scrutiny.
She twined her fingers with his. “Hey, are you okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
He didn’t want to be uncomfortable either. Come on, he could do this. He could have breakfast with his girlfriend, for crying out loud. Girlfriend? “Are you my girlfriend?” he blurted.
Her eyes widened briefly, then she laughed. “Yeah, I think so. I think that’s what we kind of decided last night.”
“Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”
A middle-aged Latina woman arrived with two glasses of water and a pot of coffee. “It’s good to see you, Alaina. It’s been a little while.” She poured coffee into Alaina’s mug and looked at Evan. “Coffee for you?”
He nodded.
“Isa, this is Evan. Evan, this is Isa. She’s Jose’s sister. They run the restaurant together.”
“Nice to meet you,” Evan said.
She smiled broadly at him, displaying a gap between her front teeth. “Same. Do you want cream?”
“No thanks.” He sampled the coffee. It wasn’t as good as what he drank at home, but then, most things were better at home, in his opinion.
“Back in a bit with your food,” she said before heading to another table to take an order.
The woman who’d taken the picture with her cell phone approached their table. Evan tensed.
The woman all but ignored him as she smiled tentatively at Alaina. “I’m sorry to bother you when you’re out to breakfast, but could I trouble you for an autograph? I’m such a fan, and it’s my first time in Los Angeles. I just couldn’t go back to Utah and say that I saw you without telling you how much I love your movies. Really. You’re amazing.”
Alaina smiled, and Evan realized it was just a bit different from the way she smiled at him. All this time he’d been comparing her to what he was used to in the movies, and he’d even wondered if the Alaina he knew had been real. Now he knew. Real-life, genuine Alaina was completely different. And she was his. His shoulders, which had gone completely stiff, relaxed.
“Thank you so much,” Alaina said. “What do you want me to sign?”
“Here, I had this envelope in my purse.” She laid it on the table along with a pen.
“And what’s your name?” Alaina asked, picking up the pen.
Evan occasionally had OCD tendencies, and right now all he could think was whether that pen was sanitary. Hell, for all they knew, this woman was trying to poison Alaina with a tainted writing instrument.
Paranoid much?
“Holly,” she answered.
The pen scratched over the paper as Alaina wrote something and signed her name. She handed it back. “Here you go.”
“Thanks. I don’t suppose I could take a picture with you? Maybe your friend could do the honors?” She glanced at Evan, and his tension immediately ratcheted up again.
Alaina seemed to notice because she said, “Actually, we have a very short amount of time for our breakfast this morning, so I’d like to get back to that. Thanks for understanding.”
Holly opened her mouth, then snapped it closed again. She nodded and went back to her table. Once there, she began yammering at the man at the table and darting glances toward Alaina.
“She looks irritated,” Evan said.
Alaina glanced at the table, but kept it quick. “Yeah, I think she’s peeved, but whatever. You looked like you’d rather light yourself on fire than take a picture of us, so there was no way I was going to put you through that.”
“I would’ve done it.” He might not have liked touching the stranger’s phone, but he would’ve. For Alaina.
The corner of her mouth lifted. “You are so sweet.”
Breakfast came a moment later, and she’d been right in her assessment of Jose’s huevos rancheros—they were fantastic.
“Great eggs,” Evan said. “How’d you find this place? It looks like a hole in the wall from outside, though those are usually the best place
s.”
“I concur. I met a director here a few years ago, and I was hooked.”
He scooped up a bite of eggs and salsa from his plate. “Very Hollywood—power breakfasts and lunches, right?”
She laughed. “As it happens, I have a lunch this afternoon. I’m actually kind of nervous about this one. It’s a big movie with a huge director.”
“Like Spielberg-big?”
“I’m not sure anyone’s Spielberg-big, but this guy’s pretty amazing. I know you’ve seen a bunch of his films.”
“Are you not mentioning his name because it’s a secret?”
She swallowed the bite she’d just taken and shook her head. “It is hush-hush—I like to keep everything I’m mulling on the down-low until it’s official—but not from you. It’s Christopher Nolan, and he’s my dream director.”
“Wow, he is amazing.” They discussed the script she’d just read yesterday in low tones for a few minutes. He could feel her excitement. It was the way he felt about his job now.
“When would you start shooting?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I’d guess this summer.”
He thought about his summer plans—Sara’s wedding, beer festivals they were working on, the Ribbon Ridge Festival. If Alaina was off filming, she’d miss all of that. Wait, was he planning a summer with her? Last night, they’d only discussed her next trip to Ribbon Ridge this coming weekend.
They finished their breakfast, and she insisted on picking up the tab. As they prepared to leave, she said, “We forgot to go back to the question I asked you earlier in bed. About feeling different.”
Yeah, he’d totally forgotten, but it wasn’t unusual for him to lose the thread of a conversation, especially in an environment or situation that could overstimulate him. “It’s obviously more pronounced when I’m out in public, which is maybe why I’m such a homebody. Situations can be tough to navigate—like that woman asking for your autograph. It should be no big deal, right?”
“Not necessarily. Lots of people wouldn’t want to be bothered with that.” She got up from the table, and he joined her. “In fact, I’ve been with some people who get downright pissed off.”