by Cruise, Anna
“Friend of a friend,” I said, collapsing into one of the chairs. “Guy needed to get rid of it. Was upside down on it. Friend knew I was looking for a place down here. That was it.”
She nodded and stared at the water for awhile. I waited, my right knee bouncing. A couple of times she started to say something, then stopped. Finally, she turned and sat down on the wall.
“How do you feel about apologies?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
I was confused. “Are you offering me one?”
She laughed, then shook her head. “No. I'm not.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
She set her hands on either side of her, bracing herself on the wall. “You're going to apologize to the guy you fought with at the bar.”
My stomach knotted. “The fuck I am.” She'd caught me completely off guard.
“The guy's dad is making some noise about a lawsuit,” Gina said. “Against you and the tour.”
“So?” I said, irritated. “Let him. I didn't do shit. That chick either set me up or was just stupid. But all I did was defend myself. I didn't start it.”
“No, but you finished it,” she said evenly. “And no one knows his name. But they know yours.”
“I don't care,” I said. I was pissed. “I didn't do anything wrong.”
She held up a hand. “I'm not saying you did. I believe you. I really do.”
I watched her. Her mouth was set in a firm line but her eyes were soft. Pleading. I wasn't sure if she was playing me or not, but I thought she was telling the truth. She did actually believe me.
“But here's the thing,” she continued. “Like I said, people know your name. Not his. Regardless of whose fault it was, it's going to get attached to you. No one's going to care who started it. All they're going to remember is that you were in a fight.”
I looked away from her. I didn't say anything.
“If you take the first step,” she said, her voice lowered. “It does two things. One, it makes you look like the bigger guy here. You're taking responsibility and apologizing for something stupid and that's going to reflect well on you. And, two, if the family does file suit or decide to talk to the papers or whatever, we can undercut that by saying you've already apologized and as far as we're concerned, it's over. It'll kill any momentum they're looking for and it'll die.” She paused. “But it has to start with you.”
My knee vibrated like a jackhammer. “I didn't start it. The chick came on to me. I tried to walk away. He swung first.”
She nodded. “I'm not disputing any of that. I think it was one of two things. The girl saw you, blew off the guy and tried to hook up. The guy got pissed and he should've gone after her, not you. Or they were all in on it together and tough guy thought he'd take a shot at the most famous person he'll probably ever be in the same room with. None of that is your fault. None of it.”
My knee kept bouncing. She sounded like she believed what she was saying.
“But bottom line is you're Kellen Handler,” she said. “You have a reputation. People are going to think it was your fault. Just you doing another stupid thing.”
I flinched at her words. Had I been living in a fucking cave for the last six months? Had my reputation really gotten that bad? I'd been spiraling so badly from Jay's death that I hadn't cared what I did or who saw me do it.
“It doesn't matter what the truth is,” she said. The wind tossed her hair and she tucked the wayward strands behind her ears. Diamond studs winked at me, big ones, and I wondered if they were real. And who the hell had given them to her.
“The truth almost never matters in situations like this,” she continued. “And sucking it up here and making the apology to some asshole is going to do a lot more good for you than making a morality stand and saying you were in the right.”
I stood up, more to stop my knee from banging up and down than any other reason. I walked over to the wall where she was standing. The waves were still crap but I didn't care about getting out in the water. I had other things on my mind.
“I've made a pretty big fucking mess of things, haven't I?”
Gina smiled at me. “A little. But it's nothing we can't fix. I promise.”
I shoved my hands in my shorts pockets and stared at the patio floor. A butterfly flitted by and Rip made a leap for it. I picked him up and waved the butterfly away and over the wall. “I just have to say I'm sorry?” I asked her. “That's it?”
“Probably shake his hand,” she said. “Absolutely not punch him in the face.”
I smiled. “No?”
“No.”
I sighed. Rip squirmed and I set him down. “OK,” I said. “I'll do it.”
“Good.” She looked relieved.
“If you answer one question.” She owed me. I was bending over backward to do all the things she wanted me to do. And yeah, I got it. Ultimately, I was doing it for me. But it didn't change the fact that some dark-haired chick who'd somehow managed to get under my skin was calling the shots.
Her shoulders stiffened. “I'm the one who asks questions, not you. I don't think...”
“Look, if I have to spend all this time with you, I think I should get to know a little bit about you,” I said. “That only seems fair.”
“I didn't know it was so painful to spend time with me,” she retorted and for a split second, she sounded hurt.
“It's not.” I shifted so I was standing closer to her. The breeze lifted the scent of her shampoo and it tickled my nose. “But I want to know who I'm hanging out with. Who's bossing me around. So far, I know two things. Your name and that you used to live in the ocean.”
“What?” She asked, her voice incredulous.
“Well, you pointed to the water and said you lived there.” I grinned. “Thought maybe you were a mermaid or something.”
“Ha. Ha.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm but at least she didn't sound hurt or pissed off anymore.
“No?” I asked innocently.
A smile tugged at her lips, a smile she was trying hard to hold back. “Fine. One question. I'll answer and then you agree to the apology. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Ask away then.”
I hesitated for just a second. There were a dozen questions I wanted to ask her. A hundred. But I stuck to the one front and center in my mind. “My question last night. You never answered it. Did you used to live down here?”
“Nope,” she said, standing up. “Not ever.”
“Well, then why did you say that you...”
“One question,” she reminded me. “I said one question.”
“Come on.” I cocked my head and smiled and she immediately blushed. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and touched her arm. My fingers grazed her skin and I might have imagined it but I thought she leaned into my touch. “Pretty please.”
She took a deep breath and shifted away. Not in a get-the-fuck-away-from-me way. But she didn't look at me and she'd tightened her hands into fists. I didn't know if it was because she didn't want to talk or because she was reacting to me.
“You'll have to earn the next one,” she said, her voice soft. She looked up at me then and I drew a sharp breath. There were no tears, no anger but there was something there, something that made my breath hitch in my throat and my mouth close up as her eyes met mine.
I could have powered a city with the electricity that surged between us. I didn't think. I just reacted, reaching for her again.
But she sidestepped me, pushing off the wall and heading toward the sliding door. “I'll be back at five to bring you the shirt and tie.” Her tone was business-like, professional. “Read the speech a couple more times.”
I shook my head in confusion. Had I just imagined the last few seconds? I'd gone two nights without sex, not two months, but maybe I was already in withdrawal. Maybe I was inventing reactions, hers and mine, because whatever had sparked between us just a minute earlier had completely flamed out.
“H
ey,” I said, my voice sharp.
She froze but didn't turn around. “What?”
I wanted to just bring it all out, ask her what the hell was going on. I didn't play games. I'd never needed to. I knew who she was and I knew we should keep things professional. But I rarely did what I was supposed to do.
“I'm gonna earn another question tonight.”
FIFTEEN
What the hell was I doing?
I berated myself over and over as I tore through the racks of ties. I was in some upscale men's shop in Fashion Island, searching for a shirt and tie for Kellen for the banquet. I scanned the silky ties as I thumbed through them, trying not to obsess over what had happened on his patio only an hour earlier. The way he'd looked at me. Smiled at me. Touched me.
I expelled a deep breath. He was Kellen Handler. The biggest womanizer on the planet. There was no way he could be hot for me. None. And yeah, he was drop-dead gorgeous and his smile turned my knees to jelly but I couldn't let him get to me. I couldn't be attracted to him. Not now. Not ever.
But I couldn't stop thinking about him. There was something sincere in his voice, in his eyes, something that hinted that there really was more to him than the public persona I'd read about. He was damaged. Like me. He'd been hurt. Like me.
Stop, I told myself. He's a job. Nothing more.
I found a tie, a blue paisley one that matched his eyes. Next to it was a gray one, drab with thin black stripes. I debated for a second, knowing the banquet would be filled with girls more than willing to throw themselves at his feet. They'd see him all dressed up and awkward in his coat and dress slacks, but still filled with the confidence he always seemed to carry, that blue tie an extension of those eyes. And I knew what they'd be fantasizing about. Stripping the charcoal suit jacket off his torso. Ripping that tie off of him, pulling it slowly from his neck. Securing it over his eyes, tying it just tight enough. Doing all manner of things to him, things that I couldn't ever remember doing. A soft sigh escaped my mouth as I let the fantasy play out in my mind. But it wasn't some surfer chick blindfolding Kellen. It was me.
“Can I help you?”
I dropped the tie and it fell back into place on the rack. A gray-haired man in a suit stood next to me, a smile on his face.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” he asked, his voice smooth. His cologne was overwhelming.
Yes, I thought. A way to turn off the images in my head.
I forced a smile. “I think I'm alright. Thanks.”
He motioned to the blue tie. “Good colors. Is your husband blue-eyed?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “I'm not shopping for my husband. And yes, he does.”
If he noticed that I was both flustered and irritated by his question, he didn't show it. Instead, he turned to a stack of dress shirts, pulling out a dark blue one. He plucked the tie off the rack and held it against the shirt.
He looked at me and smiled. “Goes nice together, don't you think?”
It did. And I knew then that I wouldn't dress Kellen in anything but that. Even if it meant that every girl at the banquet would be salivating after him. They would be, anyway, I reminded myself. He was that beautiful.
I paid for the shirt and tie, filing the receipt in my wallet so that I could add it to my expense book. Men's clothing was not cheap.
Twenty minutes later, I was back in my hotel room. I pulled the clothes I'd just purchased out of the bag and set them down on the bed. The shirt was packaged and I knew it would need to be ironed before Kellen wore it. I was already pretty sure the guy had never used an iron in his life. I peeked into the closet and breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted the iron sitting on the top shelf. I grabbed it and plugged it in and wondered if I could add an additional charge to his bill for ironing his clothes.
I thought back to our conversation on the patio. Not the part where he touched me, where he looked at me with those half-lidded eyes and that sexy smile, his head cocked in just such a way that I thought he might lean down and kiss me. No. I pushed that firmly out of my mind and focused instead on his reaction to our conversation about the apology I was asking him to give. At least he hadn't fought me too much on it. His points were right and were exactly what I'd expected to hear. He might've pulled the trigger too quick in punching the guy, but I was certain that he'd been targeted and hadn't really been in the wrong.
Other than getting drunk and trying to hook up with some airhead. My stomach rolled a little at the thought.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand and I grabbed it, thankful for the diversion.
Anthony. My youngest brother.
I tapped the speaker button. “I'm surprised you're awake this early.”
He snorted. “It's mid-afternoon.”
“I know.”
“Shut up, sis.”
I chuckled. He'd always been a midday sleeper, a product of rising early, scouting early morning waves before anyone else could beat him to it. He and Leo used to get up before the sun, fumbling around in the dark, grabbing juice and whatever they could stuff in their mouths before heading out in Leo's VW bus. They'd come home mid-morning, eat and fall back in to bed.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
“What're you doing?” he asked.
“Working,” I said. I'd torn the packaging off the shirt and arranged it on the ironing board. “Like usual.”
“Like usual,” he repeated. “On what?”
I hesitated. “Just same old stuff.”
“Gotcha,” he said.
I picked up the iron and ran it across the fabric. “And are you working today?”
He laughed. “I'm between jobs, Gina. You know that.”
He was two years younger than me and hadn't held any single job for longer than a few months. Retail, restaurants, landscaping, surf lessons. He'd done it all, but couldn't get anything to stick, mostly because he didn't like taking orders or having his surfing schedule messed with. He managed to scrape by, but I think it was harder than he let on.
“Hey,” he said, and I could tell by his tone that he was changing the subject. “You going to see Leo this week?”
A small chill ran through my body. “I don't know. I've got something kind of big I'm working on.”
“It's his birthday,” Anthony said.
“Duh.”
“You need to go.”
I flipped the shirt and pressed the iron to the collar. “Don't tell me what to do, little brother.”
“Just sayin'.”
I knew it was Leo's birthday. I'd celebrated it with him for twenty-three years. But I also knew what seeing him would mean.
“We can go together,” my little brother said. “If you want.”
“I'm gonna have to check my schedule,” I said. He started to say something but I cut him off. “And, no, that's not an excuse. I'm not lying about my week being busy.”
“Fine,” he said. “But still. You should go.”
“Let me call you tomorrow and we'll see, alright?”
“When's the last time you went?” he asked, a hint of accusation threaded in his voice.
The line buzzed. I cleared my throat. “His birthday last year.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then, “I was there two weeks ago.”
“Good for you.”
More silence. I slid the iron down one sleeve, smoothing out the creases.
“Just try and make it happen, alright?” he asked.
“I will. I'll call you tomorrow.”
I pushed the speaker button and ended the call. I finished the shirt, trying to ignore the fact that my fingers trembled as I glided the iron across the smooth, blue fabric. I grabbed a hanger from the closet and hung the shirt, buttoning the top button to secure it. I didn't think about Kellen wearing it. And I didn't think about taking it off of him either. I didn't think about Kellen at all.
My mind was cluttered with other things. The past. With Leo and Luke. All of the memories settled over me like a big black rain cloud. D
ark and suffocating.
And I didn't have an umbrella.
SIXTEEN
“Jesus Christ,” I said. “You're trying to choke me.”
“Stop being a baby,” Gina said. “And hold still.”
I wasn't being a baby but it was the only thing I could think of to say. Because she was standing an inch away from me, her arms around my neck, her breath blowing on my face, and the only thing I wanted to do was crush her to me.
She'd knocked on my door right at five, armed with a shirt and tie for me, wearing a dress that, the minute I saw it, I wanted to rip from her body. I'd stood there, my mouth open but if she noticed, she didn't say anything. Instead, she breezed past me, thrusting the shirt and tie in my arms as she walked by.
“Go change,” she'd said.
And I did.
She was now trying to use the tie as a noose around my neck. But I was having a hard time thinking about how uncomfortable it was. Mostly because I was trying to concentrate on keeping my dick from standing at attention while she was right there.
She adjusted the knot at my throat, her fingers brushing against my chin, her eyes locked on my chest. She fiddled with it a bit more before taking a step back. “There.”
“It feels tight.”
“It's supposed to,” she said. “Ties aren't meant to be comfortable.”
Nothing was making me feel comfortable at that moment. Not the tie, not the suit, not the fact that I was headed to a banquet where I was the guest speaker, and definitely not the fact that I was insanely attracted to a woman who most definitely was off limits. And who very likely was also definitely not interested. Because she hadn't said a word about how I'd looked when I'd stepped out of the bathroom, suit and shirt on, my usual mop of hair carefully brushed. I'd even gone so far as to slap some lotion on my face.
“That's stupid,” I said.
“I don't make the fashion rules,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “I just follow them.”
“I don't like following rules.”
“I'm aware.” She raked me over with her eyes. “Alright. You look pretty good.”