by Zart, Lindy
A high wave hit them, plastering them with cold water, and she pulled back with a small shriek. Lance laughed, and the surprise in her eyes turned to delight as she laughed with him. Her dress was soaked, clinging to the curves and hollows of her frame. His body tightened, his nostrils flared, and Lance gripped her shoulders to keep his hands from more intimate parts.
He felt dazed in her presence, knowing she was his, for however long he was given—or took.
“What now?” she asked, breathless.
Her eyes sparkled. He put that light in her eyes.
“Hmm,” Lance murmured, bringing her fisted hand to his mouth. It was cold and wet, and tasted like salt. “How about we find our shoes and go for a ride?”
“But we—our clothes are wet,” she said, shivering.
“We could always take them off,” Lance offered.
She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re insane.”
“Not yet, Maggie,” he promised. “But I could see myself going there, real fast. You make me crazy, wanting you like I do.”
Her lips parted and her eyes became unfocused. “Lance, you can’t say things like that.”
“I can.” He tugged at her hand. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll be good.” He glanced at her as they walked. “I know a place where you can practice driving.”
“I haven’t practiced driving in months. I’m sure I’ve forgotten all the important things I need to know by now. I’ll probably wreck or something.”
They left the water, the air cool as it slowly worked at changing their clothes from wet to damp messes. Chilled and yet somehow feverish, Lance fit his hand around Maggie’s, the simplicity of their joined hands monumental to him. Her small hand shook inside his.
“I won’t let you wreck—not unless you want to.” He paused on the beach to look at her, the sky above them a kaleidoscope of clouds and stars.
“Why would I want to wreck?” she questioned softly, looking at him like she didn’t understand him.
Lance smiled, the blackness of it reflecting his thoughts. “Sometimes crashing is the only way to deal with things.”
She frowned, doubts flitting across her face. “You worry me.”
“Good.” He nodded. “I should. When I stop worrying you, you know you should get away from me as fast as you can.”
“Why would you say that? What do you mean?” She took a step back, caution stiffening her shoulders. She looked posed to run, should he say or do one wrong thing.
Lance gripped her face between his hands, staring at a face that should have been plain but wasn’t. It was her eyes, and her innocence, and her goodness—she was stunning.
Breaths shallow and fast, he said thickly, “When you stop worrying, Maggie, it means it’s too late for you. It means you’ve given me your heart. It means you’ll get hurt.”
“You act like you’re some monster. You keep warning me away and then you keep pulling me back. You’re just a boy. A messed up one, but still a boy,” Maggie said, voice shaking.
A twisted smile tried to form to his lips and he bit his lower lip hard to keep it at bay, tasting blood. “Maggie, I’ve never been just a boy. I was never allowed that. I was born with expectations and responsibilities.”
“Poor Lance,” she taunted, crossing her arms.
He shrugged, looking down at the sand. However it sounded, what he said was true. His dead mother wanted him to be an actor. Out of guilt or love for a woman he couldn’t save, his father pushed it. Lance spent his childhood being told the most important thing in his life was something that wasn’t even real. Acting wasn’t a career—it was a life, an unrealistic one, and one decided for him.
Maggie brushed the back of her hand across his cheek.
Lance jerked from her touch, eyes downcast.
“You’re not lying.”
He met her gaze, saw the sorrow and wonder in the rise of her eyebrows and the frown on her face. “Of course I am. It’s what I do.”
Lance took off at a fast pace, shaking away the gloomy thoughts. He found their discarded shoes and carried them as he strode for the Jeep. What would you be, if you could pick? Hell if he knew. Lance was to the Jeep and had been for a few minutes before Maggie got there. He handed Maggie her shoes. Part of him had wondered if she’d follow or ditch him entirely and go home, maybe call up safe and dull Jeff. His jaw clenched at the thought.
Lance needed a distraction. Knowing his preferred method of going about it would most likely result in him getting slapped again, he decided on a more acceptable one. She would drive his Jeep, and maybe, if he was lucky, she would kiss him again. It was better than nothing.
He removed his car keys from the pocket of his jeans and dangled them in front of her face, a disarming grin in place. “Ready?”
“Lance, I’m serious,” Maggie hedged even as she walked closer, a worried expression on her face. “I don’t think I should drive.”
“You finished Driver’s Ed, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you passed, right?”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh.
“Get in.”
He opened the passenger door for her and smiled as she climbed inside. Maggie rolled her eyes and faced forward. The drive was ten minutes long, and when they reached the parking lot of an old, abandoned cheese factory, Lance put the Jeep in park. The building rested on the edge of the pavement, glowing gray and eerie under the moonlight.
Lance watched it a moment, wondering what memories haunted the place. Structures were funny that way—they took on the life of those once inside them, the past echoing through the walls. His dad’s house was like that. Even though he didn’t have a single recollection of his mother, she was still there, in that house Max Denton refused to sell.
“Why do you have that look on your face?” Maggie asked quietly, touching his shoulder and causing him to jump.
“What look?” he asked, keeping his eyes lowered from hers.
Her hand fell away. “I don’t know. Sad, or maybe hurt.”
He looked at Maggie, refusing to address that. She already knew more about him than most people. “Ready?”
She chewed on her lower lip, eyes wide as she stared at him. “No.”
“It’ll be fun. Don’t be a wimp, Maggie. Show me your wild side.”
Anger took the place of unease on Maggie’s face, and Lance’s breaths picked up in response to the heat that flared to life in her eyes. “Why are you pushing this?”
“Because I want to see you out of control and reckless. It turns me on.”
Maggie choked as she inhaled, coughing until she caught her breath. “I thought that was my shampoo,” she said unevenly.
“Your shampoo, your voice, your words. Everything about you, actually. Even the thought of you.” Lance admitted, “You’ve turned me into a hormonal mess.”
Shaking her head, she stepped out of the vehicle and moved to his side. Maggie leaned down and said, “I’m sure that was the case long before I came along.”
Lance got out, waited for her to get in, and shut the door. “I’m sure my condition’s worsened since I met you.” He jogged around to the passenger side and got in, tapping his palms against the dash. “Let’s go. Show me what you got. You trust me, right?”
She nodded jerkily.
“Let me trust you.”
Lower lip between her teeth, Maggie held still with her hand around the keys. Then, with a quick look at Lance, she started the Jeep.
“Look at you, starting the Jeep. What will you do next?” he softly mocked. “I dare you to put it in drive.”
Eyes narrowing, she did, pushing her foot down hard on the accelerator. The Jeep took off, Maggie’s gaze set forward and her face a mask of determination and fear. Lance studied her profile as they raced toward nothing. That was the perfect analogy for his life. He was always running, always heading for something, and it was never what he wanted, because he didn’t know what he wanted.
Her.
He wante
d her.
Lance glanced at the pavement, seeing the end of the parking lot approaching. After that, it was a line of grass and then a street inhabited by parked and moving vehicles, with houses beyond that. They didn’t want to head that way.
“What do I do?” Panic sharpened Maggie’s voice. “What do I do, Lance?”
“Maybe you should try turning.”
Maggie jerked the wheel to the left and the car swerved.
“Slowing down first is always a good idea,” he said calmly, his pulse tripping. Lance noticed his hands were fisted and he relaxed them.
She hit the brake and they lurched to a stop before she took her foot off again and the Jeep inched forward.
Lance laughed and she shot him an apologetic glance.
“Keep going,” he urged.
Maggie released the brake and the vehicle crept forward. She turned the wheel to the right and it took a good minute for the actual turn to come to fruition.
“I’m horrible at this,” she said with a sigh.
“Give it more gas.”
Maggie complied and the Jeep picked up speed, then stalled when Maggie thought it was going too fast, then picked up speed again, only to slow down. Lance’s body jerked forward and back as he fought not to laugh. She took a deep breath and turned the wheel to the left, then to the right, and they swerved across the parking lot like a large, slithering worm.
“What are you doing?” he asked conversationally.
“I don’t know. I suck at this,” she cried, flinging up her hands.
“Hands on the wheel.”
A glower tightened her features, and Maggie listened.
Construing his expression to nothingness to keep from smiling, Lance said, “I think we need to try different scenery. Driving in circles isn’t teaching you anything. We should be on an actual road.”
“No. No way. This—that’s illegal. I’m done. No more driving for me. It isn’t safe. You can’t make me.” Maggie shook her head, fumbling with the gearshift. She put it in park and jumped from the Jeep.
The beams of the headlights illuminated her as she stood in front of them, hands on her hips. With the tangled mass of her damp hair and the unrestricted view of her body the lights allowed, Lance went motionless. She looked ethereal, and wrathful. Every curve was visible, every dip or hollow dry clothes hid was right there for him to see. He wanted to rip her clothes from her body and kiss the salt from it, and then he wanted to be inside her. Craved it. Ached for it. Needed it. Knew it wasn’t going to happen. Everything was too new, barely there, tenuous.
Lance swallowed once, twice, three times, before he could get his body to cooperate with his head. Namely, to tame itself down, and then, to get out of the vehicle. Stalking toward her, Lance loomed over her with a menacing look on his face. He didn’t speak, his silence loud. Lance knew he shouldn’t push Maggie to do something she didn’t want, and that made him want to do it more. He wanted to see her wild, and he didn’t care how it happened.
Maggie needed to show him she felt like he felt. Reckless. Partially mad. He couldn’t be the only one that wondered if he could be driven out of his mind by the emotions plaguing him. It was mean and immature and Lance relished the thought of wholesome Maggie giving in to her bad side.
Everyone had one—they only had to realize it.
Face tilted up as she met his gaze and held it, she finally demanded, “Are you trying to intimidate me?”
“Is it working?” Lance’s voice was low, and edged with barbs.
Her eyes, in that indescribable shade, and glowing when the light hit them, glared into him, into his jaded being. “I want to go home.”
“Okay.” He stepped back and motioned to the Jeep. The engine thrummed, waiting for someone to have a little fun with it. “Drive us home.”
Making a sound of frustration, Maggie kicked at a piece of gravel. “Forget anything nice I’ve ever said about you. I take it back.”
“Have you said nice things about me?” he wondered, grinning.
“You’ll never know, because I just took it all back.”
Lance shrugged. “Your choice: drive home, or take some back roads.”
“How about I just walk?” Haughty and angry, Maggie crossed her arms and aimed her feet in the wrong direction of the apartment buildings.
He watched her, waiting until she was clear across the parking lot to call out, “You’re going the wrong way!”
“Lance Denton,” she screamed as she whirled around, her face hidden by night but the rage clear in her tone. “You are an awful person!”
Maggie then proceeded to have a temper tantrum, punching the air with her fists and having a kick-out as she shouted unintelligible words Lance was glad he couldn’t make out. He watched her, entranced by her rage. She ranted away, gesturing wildly above her head as she marched one way, stopped, chose another path, and continued on. It was comical to watch, and even more than that, breathtaking. Lance decided it was best Maggie didn’t realize how entertaining he found her, hanging back in the shadows as her meltdown reached its peak.
“You want me to drive?” she shouted, striding toward him. “All right! I’ll drive.”
Maggie reached him, her face red and eyes alight with deadly intent. Lance swallowed, wanting her to use that passion on him any way she deemed, even as a trickle of unease slid down his spine.
She pointed at him and he flinched. “Get in the car.”
Damn. Lance’s pulse picked up and he inhaled sharply, liking her present bossy, domineering attitude. He practically ran to the Jeep and dove onto his seat, snapping the buckle of the seatbelt with large doses of enthusiasm. It was hard to keep the glee from his face when Maggie got in, slamming the door and attacking the gearshift after buckling her own seatbelt.
Once in drive, she wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel and squeezed—Lance was sure she was imagining it was his neck she gripped so tightly. He fantasized it was something else and his mouth went dry.
“I’ll drive this stupid car,” she muttered, jabbing a finger against the radio buttons and finding a hard rock station. She turned the dial and the small space was filled with head banging mayhem.
Lance’s trepidation grew and he rubbed the back of his neck, pressing his lips together to keep from talking—or shouting. His eardrums throbbed from the guitar and drums pounding out of the speakers.
Maggie’s foot slammed against the pedal and the car shot forward. As she sharply twisted the wheel to make a left hand turn, a car slowly drove by in the other direction.
“Don’t hit the car!” Lance braced himself as the Jeep went in the other car’s lane.
“I’ll drive how I want to drive,” she yelled over the music, shooting him a glower with eyes that shone with an unholy light. “You told me to drive, I’m driving.”
Lance groaned and slunk down in his seat, placing a hand over his eyes. Great plan, really great plan. Idiot.
Maggie punched the radio off a minute later.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, ears ringing.
“That car turned around, and is following us.”
“What?” Lance shot up in the seat and twisted around to view the white car steadily gaining on them. Cursing, he looked from the car to Maggie, swallowing a mouthful of dread. “It’s a cop.”
Her eyes flew to his.
“Watch the road!”
“What do I do? Tell me what to do!” The car rode too close to the curb. “I’m pulling over.”
“The hell you are! Get back in the lane.” Trying to think, Lance stared at the road and said, “Take the next left.”
“I’m pulling over, Lance,” she insisted, voice high.
“Maggie,” he said roughly, clapping a hard hand to her wrist to keep the wheel straight. “If we get pulled over, you will not get your license, understand? And mine will be taken away. Keep driving—and in a straight line, please.”
“Whatever happens, I blame you.”
Lance glanced over h
is shoulder. “You can blame me all you want, just drive the damn car like you think you know what you’re doing. Blinker,” he hollered when she started to turn. “A blinker would be nice here!”
Maggie’s lip wobbled as she flipped on the blinker. “This is all your fault. And mine. I let you get to me. Why did I do that? I’m going to hell. I’m going to get sent back home. I’ll never act again. My parents will lock me in my bedroom until I’m twenty. My life is over.”
Lance stared at Maggie. “Don’t be melodramatic. Take the next right.”
“Where are you taking us?” she yelled, eyes riveted to the road.
He thumped the back of his head against the seat. “You’re going fifteen miles an hour. Speed up.” Lance’s leg bounced in agitation and he looked behind them. The police vehicle was closer. “Speed up now.”
“Why?”
“Because I think we’re about to be pulled over.”
“So I pull over, right? Don’t I pull over? Why am I not pulling over?”
“Maggie,” he said in a calm voice. “I don’t want to worry you, but if we don’t lose the cop in about two seconds, things are going to get real bad. The next right goes out of town. Take it fast and then you drive like the wind.”
“You have the worst ideas. The worst,” she snapped, taking the turn and progressively accelerating.
“Shut up and do as you’re told,” he warned, his face and voice cold.
It was necessary for him to keep her composed, no matter how rude he had to be about it. He was on edge, and Maggie was making it worse, for both of them. One more ticket of any kind and Lance was in serious shit. His dad had threatened to make him move back home if he got in any more trouble.
Lance would rather chew off his own foot than live in the house that was a shrine to his mom. Maybe if his dad was ever around, it would be tolerable, but business kept him gone half the week, and even when he wasn’t flying around dealing with clients, he was either in his office or court. It was the price they both paid for his father’s success as an influential celebrity lawyer.