by Lane Hart
I know exactly what she’s saying. Cheryl doesn’t think it would be good for her friend to see me again, for us to start something up, and Riley end up getting hurt again. And she’s right, I don’t want to hurt her. I want to help her.
“How about this,” I offer, even if my gut and cock strongly disagrees. “She’ll be my assistant and nothing else. I’ll be…very professional. That’s it. Hands off.” I whisper the last two words so Sara can’t hear, in case she’s standing nearby. “Riley gets the experience she needs to apply for other jobs, and I get help around the studio.”
“You think that’s…feasible?” she asks in disbelief.
“Yes,” I answer, even if I’m pretty sure it’s a lie. “Talk to Riley, see what she says. If you have something to write with, I’ll give you my phone number to pass along to her if she has any questions or concerns.”
“Fine,” Cheryl gives in reluctantly. “Okay, I’m ready.”
I call out my number to her which she then reads back to make sure it’s correct.
“Thanks, Cheryl. Tell Sara I’ll talk to her later,” I say before I end the call, not capable of dealing with any more of my daughter’s badmouthing, especially not when it’s about Riley.
Then, I’m filled with even more anxiety than usual while I hold the phone in my hand and wait.
Stabbing my fingers through the front of my hair, I keep wondering if Riley will agree to come down here again, and if so, will I really be able to keep my hands off of her?
Chapter Eighteen
Riley
As soon as Cheryl comes back into the apartment, I can tell by her wince that she doesn’t have good news.
“The spoiled little brat refused to help me?” I guess, patting the seat beside me on the sofa for her to join me and then spill.
“No, I was right. She agreed, with the hopes of sending you off, far, far away.”
“And? Did she call…did she call him?” I ask, unable to speak his name. It’s bad enough I say it in my dreams.
“She did,” Cheryl answers with a slow nod.
“Well? Will he check around and see if anyone is hiring?”
“He told her about an assistant position that’s available right away,” she informs me.
“Like a paid one?” I exclaim excitedly.
“Yep. But it’s not permanent full-time, only for a few months –”
“Great! Where? With whom? How do I apply?” I question her.
“It’s yours if you want it, no application needed.”
“Seriously?” I practically squeal. This is great and should give me plenty of time to look for a permanent position and save money. “What type of work will I be doing?”
“You would be in a photography studio.”
“Yes!” I exclaim, throwing both of my arms in the air. While I celebrate, I notice that Cheryl still doesn’t look happy for me. She looks…hesitant.
“So, what’s with the frown?” I ask her, lowering my arms. “This sounds too good to be true and that’s because it is, isn’t it?”
“Brace yourself,” she warns, telling me it’s bad. I grip the armrest to hold on tight. “It’s with Brody.”
Wow.
Hearing his name, knowing I have an opportunity to see him again, I’m not sure if I want to cheer again or throw up.
“Does this mean…does he want…do you think…” I try to form a coherent thought, but it’s impossible.
“Nothing has changed, Riles! If you go down there and start sleeping with him, you’re gonna get hurt all over again!” Cheryl warns.
“Maybe this time will be different,” I say, but I don’t even begin to convince myself.
“No, it won’t be different! You know that. He knows that. In fact, he promised to keep everything professional.”
“He told Sara that?” I balk. “And she’s actually okay with me going to work with him?”
“No, he told me that. And Sara is probably over there ready to spit fire,” she replies with a roll of her amber eyes.
“You talked to him?” I whisper, my eyes bugging in surprise and jealousy.
“Sara was talking shit about you, and he must have heard me in the background, so he told her to give me the phone.”
“You…you talked to him?” I repeat in awe. “How did he sound? Did he sound good? Was his voice deep and rumbly on the phone, like a sexy grizzly bear?”
“Yes,” she answers simply with her lips curving in a smile. “His voice is as hot as he is.”
“Yeah,” I agree with a sigh, remembering his deep baritone.
Reaching into her jean short pocket, Cheryl pulls out a slip of torn notebook paper and holds it up between her finger and thumb. “He gave me his number to pass along to you –”
I jerk the scrap of paper from her grip before she can finish her sentence. Ten scribbled digits written in pen have never been as sacred as the ones in front of my eyes.
“Don’t do this to yourself, Riles. It’s gonna end badly; probably worse than before,” Cheryl warns, but I’ve already made my decision.
“You know I’ve been fucking miserable for weeks. This is a chance to see him again, without the sex or seeing him naked messing with my head. Maybe I can finally get closure, while I actually earn some money and experience in a field I love.”
“There’s no talking you out of this, is there?” she asks with a huff that blows her hair around her face.
“No.”
“Then I guess you better start packing,” she replies.
I launch myself at her, hugging her excitedly before I go pull out my luggage from underneath my bed and start throwing things inside. I place the small piece of paper with Brody’s number on top of the dresser so I won’t lose it.
This time, I’ll need to pack up pretty much everything I own, since it’s not just for a week of vacation. I’ll be gone for months. Months! Which is when a thought occurs to me.
Where the hell am I going to stay?
Eyeing the sheet of paper on the dresser, I try to decide whether or not to call Brody. I do need to figure out my living arrangements before I go. If I call him right now, will I look too desperate? Yes, because I am. I want to talk to him so badly I could explode.
No, this time will be different. I won’t give in to his incredible good looks, or his sweet words, or the way he touches me and makes me feel so good… Nope. None of that. I’ll work for him as his assistant, keeping myself busy by being an exemplary employee. In my free time, I’ll enjoy the beach and apply for jobs. There won’t be time for any hanky panky to happen.
Except at night, when I’m alone in my bed, in the same city as Brody, wishing he was with me or I was back in his bed…
I need to find one of those metal chastity belts from the medieval period that women would wear. The kind that required a key to get to the goods. Although, I bet that made using the restroom awkward.
But I don’t have one of those devices, so I need to mentally strap a metal cage around my cunt and throw away the key. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
And tomorrow, I’ll call Brody and casually talk to him about the position. Not the one in which we’ll fuck, but the job he has available.
This is gonna work out fine. And in a few months, when I find my perfect job, I’ll be glad to have gathered the courage to take this opportunity.
Besides, I freakin’ love the beach. It’s my favorite place in the world.
Or maybe that’s Brody’s beach house, and I’m getting the two confused.
Chapter Nineteen
Brody
I carried my phone in my hand all over the house last night and slept with it beside me, just in case Riley called. She didn’t.
This morning, I’ve checked the settings a dozen times, making sure it will ring loud enough so that I won’t miss it.
But doubt is starting to creep into my mind around lunchtime, when I still haven’t heard from Riley.
Maybe she doesn’t want to work for me. Or
ever see me again.
I know I hurt her back in June. Each of her tears that last night were like mini daggers repeatedly stabbing me in the chest. It’s probably for the best that she doesn’t want to come back. Honestly, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep my hands off of her, which isn’t fair to her.
Yeah, if she does call, that’s what I’ll tell her, that this probably isn’t going to work…
Around two o’clock, when my phone rings, I quickly excuse myself from the couple I was photographing on the beach for their engagement photos, and step away to answer it. My fingers fumble to get the phone out of my pocket and answer it in time.
The number on the screen isn’t familiar but it’s from the Piedmont’s area code, where the girls go to school.
“Hello?” I say, hoping I wasn’t too late and she’s hung up.
“Hi, Brody,” Riley answers, sounding so sweet and sexy through the phone that I nearly fall to my knees in the sand. Fuck, I’ve missed her voice.
“Hey, how have you been, Riley?” I ask, trying to speak to her normally while keeping the nervousness out of my voice.
“Good. I’ll be better if you really have a job for me,” she says, sounding so hopeful that I can’t possibly take this away from her.
“I do,” I tell her, and then I launch into the specifics, trying to convince her to agree to take it. “It’s likely just full-time for now, until the hours gradually dwindle as the season winds down. You would be printing out internet orders and preparing them for shipping, helping with in studio sessions and on locations; weddings and whatever. There should be plenty of time for me to show you the ropes too, so that you can put it all down on your resume.”
“Sounds great,” she replies after my longwinded enticement. “So, when would I start?”
Fuck yes.
“As soon as you want,” I tell her, hoping I don’t sound as anxious as I am for her to be back down here with me.
“I guess that depends on how soon I can make living arrangements.”
“Living arrangements?” I repeat in confusion, combing my fingers through my hair. “I just thought you could stay at the house.”
“Brody,” she says, her voice heavy with exasperation. “You and I both know that’s not a good idea.”
“Well, it’s free, so you could save money on rent. It’s right on the beach, which I know you love, and you’ll have the whole second floor to yourself, other than the kitchen, fully-furnished of course, unlike most apartments you would be renting.”
“I don’t know…” Riley sighs, not sounding the least bit convinced. But the idea of her not staying with me is so godawful that I tell a fib. Just a tiny one.
“There have been some break-ins in the area recently, a few during the night while people were home, so I just wouldn’t feel safe with you staying someplace else,” I hold my breath, hoping that my lie will be enough to make her cave.
“Oh,” she mutters. “But are you sure that my staying at your house won’t be a problem?” she asks and I know I have her. In fact, I nearly break out in a celebratory dance.
“It won’t be a problem. And we can save on gas by carpooling back and forth to the studio.”
“That’s true,” she agrees. “And my car isn’t entirely reliable…”
“What do you mean?” I ask in concern. “Is it safe to drive down here? If not, I can come get you.”
“No, Brody. I’ll be fine,” Riley assures me, and I can hear the smile in her voice. God, I’ve missed that fucking smile. “So, I guess I’ll see you on Friday?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” I reply with a smile before she hangs up.
Afterwards, I realize in my excitement that I forgot I have appointments on Friday afternoon.
Shit.
Rather than cancel, I save Riley’s number in my phone, which reminds me that I don’t even know her last name. And then I send her a text message, telling her I’ll be at the studio until probably four on Friday, and give her the address so she can come by if she gets into town before then.
Riley quickly responds with her thanks and she would like to see the studio anyway, so she’ll make sure she gets there early.
I’m so hyped up that I nearly forget Greg and Melissa are waiting for me for their photos. Thankfully, the couple is so in love that they don’t appear to have minded the alone time when I get back to them. They’re making out like teenagers and as I snap sweet candid images of them without them noticing; they remind me just how much I want what they have.
It’s been more than twenty years since I was in love with a woman or in a serious relationship. Even after what happened with Holly and getting my heart stomped on, I still haven’t given up on the idea of spending the rest of my life with one woman. So what if I struck out the first time? That doesn’t mean I’m doomed to fail at it again. I just haven’t found anyone who I’ve been willing to take the plunge for.
Or, maybe I’m more damaged than I think, and I’m the problem. My walls could be built higher than I originally thought, and over time, I’ve likely added more height to it, not taking them down for fear of getting hurt again.
Is that the real reason that I pushed Riley away?
I know Sara’s opinion on her now more than before, and I’m certain that Sara would have nothing to do with me if she found out that I had already slept with Riley. Trying to have a more serious commitment would no doubt come between me and my daughter, damaging our relationship until it’s beyond reparable.
So, no, it’s not just my fear that made me end things with Riley before.
I wasn’t there for Sara during her childhood, so she deserves to have me in her life now, even if she doesn’t make it easy for me to be close to her. First and foremost, I’m a father. That’s not negotiable for anyone, not even Riley.
Chapter Twenty
Riley
The four-hour drive to Topsail Island flies by. In fact, I get there way too fast, before I’m ready to face Brody again after the last seven or eight weeks apart.
His studio is at the end of a small strip mall with three other businesses. There are several cars in the lot, including his nautical blue Toyota 4Runner.
I park my old car a few spots away from him and toss my keys in my purse before I walk up to the studio. The front has full glass windows covered in thick horizontal blinds, giving bystanders a teasing glimpse of what’s inside. A small “OPEN” sign hangs on the door, so, taking a deep breath, I pull on the door handle and step inside.
A tinkling bell announces my arrival.
The front of the studio has a few chairs for waiting clients, and the majority of the two opposite walls are practically covered in framed photos. Cool air from the air conditioner is a welcome treat on my sweaty skin after roasting in my car most of the way here. The damn AC has been broken for months, and I’ve been too cheap to fix it. Every dollar of my student loan is sacred and the little bit leftover is about to run out.
“I’ll be right with you,” Brody’s deep voice calls out, causing my heart rate to skyrocket into tachycardia levels.
I’m not able to reply, or move my feet yet, so I just cling to the shoulder strap of my Target purse and glance around the open space at the photos. The length of the longest wall to my left is full of images of nature. On the opposite side, there’s a section of pictures with couples and children, and the final section is of women in white dresses and men in tuxes – brides and grooms on their wedding day. All of the photos are beautiful, but the ocean stills are by far my favorite.
“Hey, can I- Oh. Hey, Riley,” Brody says when he comes out of one of the back rooms and stops abruptly, a thick black strap hanging around his neck, a camera in his right hand.
“Hi,” I say, drinking him in like he’s a cool glass of lemonade.
After seeing him dressed so casually our week of vacation in tees and shorts, I’m not expecting him to look like this. Wearing a royal blue dress shirt rolled up to reveal his tan, muscular forearms, and d
ark slacks that hug his long legs, he looks much more sophisticated, intimidating, and…edible.
Brody doesn’t say anything for several long seconds, and I realize it’s because he’s eyeing me up and down the same way I am him. And I can’t imagine he’s impressed with my now wrinkled, sleeveless white summer dress. Any make-up I applied this morning before I left the apartment has long since melted off my face, thanks to the August heat. My hair is likely one long, massive, frizzy mess, and reaching for a strand, I suddenly wish I had stopped at a rest area to change and freshen up before I came in here. What the hell was I thinking?
“You look…hot,” Brody finally says, causing both of my eyebrows to raise. “I mean, temperature wise,” he amends.
“Yeah, it’s really humid out,” I agree, and I sound so stupid, I instantly want to take the words back.
“Well, do you want to go on to the house and start getting settled in or do you want to sit in on this shoot I’m finishing up?” he asks.
I want a shower and a redo of this meeting with you, I think to myself. But I came here to learn and I’m pretty sure my deodorant is still holding up for the time being, so I tell him, “I’d like to stay.”
“Great! Then come on back,” he says with a jerk of his head toward the room he just came from.
I follow him down the hall, expecting to see a family or a couple having a photo session. Instead, there’s a tall, leggy blonde in a black skirt suit who looks like she fell off the pages of a magazine and into his studio. Awesome.
“Maryanne, this is Riley…” Brody pauses in his introduction because he doesn’t know my last name. Wow.
“Yates,” I inform him.
“Riley Yates,” he repeats. “She went to school with my daughter back at Madison, and she’s going to be my assistant for the next few months.”
“Hi,” I say in greeting, staying back out of the way so I don’t block the light.