by Lori Wilde
I frowned and then swallowed the saliva collecting in my mouth. Great. There goes another potential job down the toilet. If they’d been questioning my art skills, my academic record, my criminal reference check, I would pass with flying colors.
Even my driving record was flawless. They landed on the one area where my past left a lot to be desired. My psyche.
Stained with a history of questionable actions stemming from past traumas. At least that was their latest diagnosis from the last psychologist I was sent to. Before Granddad took ill. Before Grandma died in her sleep. Before my life fell into utter ruin...once again. I cleared my throat. “So, do you think I need psychoanalysis?”
She peered at me through her rectangular spectacles. “I think it’s very rare for a twenty-one-year-old to have gone through life unscathed by events that haunt them.”
I nodded as a silence fell between us. Now it was just plain awkward. What was there left to say really. Should I just collect my things and thank her for her time? Search for yet another summer job? What was one more medical bill to add to the pile. Grandad’s hospital stay had already racked up a small mountain.
“Ms. Dultry, you seem on edge. Is something weighing on your mind?”
Might as well be honest, if I’m not getting the job anyway. “Nothing at all really. I’m just not accustomed to having a psychological profile performed for a job I haven’t been given. Honestly, when my friend Kenzie had suggested this, I had no idea this was what would be included.”
The woman pursed her thickly glossed lips. “You have indeed been offered a position. I apologize. I assumed you’d been informed.”
This time I frowned. I’ve been hired? But I didn’t even have a second interview. Kenzie said the interview process was grueling. Took several sessions to complete.
I used the momentary lull to inhale deeply. “Sooo, just to clarify, you’re saying I have the job?” I realized I sounded a little out of it, but I wanted to be sure I’d heard correctly. Nothing said insane like showing up for a position on Monday morning that you didn’t actually hold. Plus, it meant relocating to the campus to live on-site for the entire summer. I needed to be sure.
“Do you want the job, Ms. Dultry? Life is about choices, and it’s yours to make.”
Was it really a choice? If it were a choice, I’d already have the money I needed to find the best care for my granddad. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be submitting myself to a Q&A about parts of my life only my closest friend knew about. If I had a choice, I’d be enrolled in college and picking out my first semester courses. No, this was no choice. It was my only option.
“Yes, I want the job.” I blurted it out before she misread my hesitation.
“Good.” The trace of a question lingered in her gaze. “Then yes, you have the job.”
I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and smiled. My spirits soared. Only three months until the end of all of my financial problems.
“An official offer and information packet will be couriered to your home this afternoon; you should receive it by no later than tomorrow. Move-in for the staff residences is one week from today.”
I pictured the stack of bills I’d left on the kitchen counter. It never occurred to me there might ever be good news mixed in amongst the final notices and past-due collections.
Her voice shifted ever so slightly. “Of course, there is still the one condition.”
Annnnd my spirits crashed back to earth and burst into a ball of flames. Slowly, I raised my eyes to lock with hers. I nibbled my lowered lip then took the plunge. “What’s the condition?”
“You agree to continue to meet with me as we have today, during your time here at the school.”
I fell back against my seat, my stomach immediately re-knotting itself. “What? But— why?”
Miss Strange leaned forward and gave what should have passed for a smile but fell short. “Because, Ms. Dultry, you are a gifted individual. You may have talents and capabilities beyond which you’ve demonstrated, even to yourself”—she paused as her pseudo-smile faded—“and because I can help you stop the nightmares that haunt you at night.”
Chapter Six
My blood ran cold. How did this woman know about my dreams? I mean, maybe she didn’t really know know. Maybe she was just guessing because I looked extra tired. But the concealer Kenzie gave me did a decent job of hiding the dark circles under my eyes, so how could she know? The question was about to fall from my mouth, when she rose abruptly.
“I believe our CEO has returned,” she said suddenly, as though sensing something I clearly hadn’t. “And I’m certain he’ll want to meet you before you leave. You will report to me during your employment, Ms. Dultry; however, he is the owner of this academy, so it would be wise for you to keep that in mind.”
The only thing I could keep in mind was how she knew about my dreams. No one other than Kenzie knew about them, and there was no way she’d spill that info.
“Follow me, please; he is in the atrium.”
Kenzie was still in the waiting room when Miss Strange and I walked by. A million questions lit up her face as we passed her and walked out the front door. There was no time to answer them now, especially since I had none.
Was this meeting just a formality or part of the interview process? Miss Strange had already assured me I had the position, but considering the bizarreness of the entire morning, anything was possible.
I walked as fast as I could behind her. Her heels were higher than mine, yet she managed to walk twice as fast. With my two left feet stumbling over the uneven path with every step I took, I barely managed to keep up. I followed her into a round glass building with a domed roof, sort of like a solarium or maybe a greenhouse.
It virtually glowed with greenery, and although the sun was beating down full force now that it was past midday, the inside was relatively cool. There was a midsized indoor lap pool to the side, in the center a stone frog spouting turquoise water from its mouth. The worn floorboards creaked as we walked over them; they had to have been well over a hundred years old.
She motioned for me to come forward, then handed my file to a man sitting at a desk. His back was turned as we entered, but as he heard the papers hit the wood, his leather office chair slowly swiveled in our direction.
“Troy, I thought you should formally meet our newest recruit,” Miss Strange said.
So, not another interview. One question answered. A dozen or so more to go. Gauging from the partial side view of him, there was no way this guy was anywhere near a hundred. More like an over-achieving twenty-something-year-old…with a great profile.
“Troy is the CEO of Wanderlust Academy,” she went on, repeating more of the details I’d already read about.
His chair completed its 180, and Troy stood up to face us.
Electric shocks zapped through me, and I froze as our eyes tangled. There, staring back at me through chocolaty bedroom eyes, was the only guy I’d ever had a one-night stand with. Almost.
As he rested his eyes on mine, his smile faded a little, and his head angled to the side. An inquisitive look passed through his eyes.
Or maybe I imagined it. Perhaps I had inquisitive confused with disinterest.
But once Dr. Strange had finished her introductions, I could still feel him staring, not at me...more like directly into me.
His eyes lingered on my face, as if he was memorizing every detail. Self-consciously, I swiped my tongue across my teeth in case there was leftover spinach from the veggie wraps stuck between them. Normally, I would pull my gaze away first with any prolonged direct eye contact, but there was something about the way he responded when he looked at me that held my gaze glued to his.
This was the Troy Bellisaro I’d read about in the pamphlets?
We met at an after-party for my night school sculpting class. It was over a year ago, but he was unforgettable. Everything from his heart-stopping smile and velvety voice to his chiseled abs and arms to curl up and
die for. We never did get around to exchanging full names.
I watched transfixed as he stood up. That night he’d been all business-casual, suit jacket over jeans, dress shirt, no tie. But here, he was dressed in a black t-shirt that showed off a hint of his tattooed bicep, olive cargo shorts, and Birkenstocks. He walked that irresistible line between nice guy and bad boy. In a flash, I was transported back in time, recalling every detail of our encounter. Talking at the party. Leaving the party. Heading back to his place...
His sinfully sexy dark-chocolate gaze held mine as he extended his hand. “Hi. Troy Bellisaro.”
Oh. My. God. He’s introducing himself...doesn’t he remember me? What the... “Um, hello.”
“You’re Nora.”
Maybe he does remember me. Or maybe it’s not really him.
“And you’re teaching the summer arts program.”
It was definitely him. Even his voice still resonated in my bones. My face flushed with heat; my mouth dried up, and my tongue felt swollen.
“It’s good to meet you,” he said.
Good to meet me?
This was bad.
Catastrophically bad.
Iceberg-dead-ahead bad.
I swallowed and stuck out my hand because what else could I do? It wasn’t like he’d said, ‘Hey, Nora, so great to see you here.’ He was either playing it cool or had completely forgotten me.
“Likewise,” I said, which was pretty hard to do around the thickness of my tongue and tightness of my throat. I stared, not blinking at his surreally gorgeous dark hair and a body that could make a girl choke on her own tongue.
Which is what it felt like I was doing now. I kind of slipped into a trance. The angles of his face were highlighted by the dappled sunlight streaming through the many windows. I was officially lost in a sea of gorgeous dark eyes, tousled hair, and kissable lips...that were still moving.
Oh God, he was still talking...to me. He was talking, and I wasn’t listening. My heart slammed against my chest. And then a second time when his beautiful lips stopped moving.
Crap. He’s waiting for me to answer. Say something idiot. Say anything. I froze.
He frowned. “Is that your way of telling me it’s none of my business?”
Wait, what? “No.” I sputtered. “Sorry, actually I, uh, didn’t hear what you said. Sorry.”
He stared at me for a moment. Likely trying to figure out if I was genuinely hearing impaired or just an idiot. Of course, if he went with the latter, he’d have nailed it.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then smiled. “Let’s start over. I’m Troy. I head the marionette program.”
“Nora Dultry.” Even though we already met, like a year ago. I was the girl next to you in your bed that night.
When I was finally able to force my gaze away from his physique and make eye contact again, my face flushed with heat. “So, you actually run the program?” I asked, clearing my throat. “I mean, I thought you were just the CEO. That’s what it stands for, isn’t it? The one who runs everything…” Groan. Inwardly, I roll my eyes. “Not literally, of course.”
“I’ve never been very good at sitting in an office all day. I need to get involved; that’s the only way to tell what’s working. Know what I mean?”
“Mm-hmm. That makes sense.” I was nodding my head so vigorously, I felt dizzy.
Troy and Miss Strange exchanged a look.
Was it always this steamy in here? A bead of sweat rolled down my neck. He was already scorching me with his hot smile and smoldering good looks…the amped up temperature was just overkill.
“I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot of each other this summer, Nora.”
He was so calm and professional, and that only made me more nervous.
“Sure. I mean I assumed we would since you’re into puppets and all.” I pointed at him. “I mean, not that you’re into them, like in that way. I just mean, we’re both tied up with them. I mean the strings. Puppet strings. Personally, I don’t like being tied up. With strings. Literally—”
Ohmygod. Face meet palm. Just. Stop. Talking. I pressed my lips together, mentally calculating how long I could hold my breath if I just dove into that pool right now. Would he still be standing here looking at me like I was an escapee from the psych ward when I resurfaced? Probably not. Human instinct was to retreat from the certifiably insane.
I bit down on my lower lip. His gaze slipped to my mouth briefly before returning to my eyes.
“Troy, you have that meeting with the whole food supplier,” Miss Strange interrupted. She glanced at me with her disapproving eyes. “We only serve healthy, organic food at the academy. No junk food, tobacco, drugs, or alcohol use is permitted. As stated in your information package.”
“Really?” I stared from one to the other. “No s’mores? What kind of summer camp doesn’t have s’mores?”
Troy smirked.
Miss Strange didn’t. “That kind of fare would be grounds for dismissal, Ms. Dultry. One’s body is one’s temple.”
And again, I found myself stealing another look at his temple. Remembering it all too well.
“You’ll find all of our rules and regulations in the acceptance package. Including the one that specifically states there will be no fraternizing or entanglements amongst the staff. Physical, romantic, or otherwise.”
I gave a nod to underline my understanding. No naked Twister with coworkers. Got it. I didn’t say that out loud, but my face still flushed when I caught Troy’s expression.
He handed me a thick white envelope. “Just some general info,” he said.
I could feel his eyes on me, and my core temperature started to heat as I took it. Those were some big expectations inside. It even felt heavy. Despite my discomfort I managed a small smile, which he returned, revealing the perfectly white teeth hidden behind that seductively crooked grin.
“We’re very glad you’re here, Nora,” he added. “Your smile alone will be a nice addition to our summer program.”
I was dangerously close to swooning. Did people actually swoon anymore? You can’t swoon, idiot. He’s seen your smile before and doesn’t remember it.
“Welcome to Wanderlust. I look forward to seeing you again, Nora.” He gave me another half-smile.
Was it a hey, I get it, you’re just nervous having seen me practically naked smile? Or was it a hey, I get it, you’re the type who eats the paste smile?
He’d turned and taken his cryptic smile with him before I could figure it out. My heartbeat refused to return to normal as I stared at the shimmering blue pool.
Even here, in the throes of glamping paradise, I couldn’t get it together. I needed an escape hatch. And possibly a defibrillator. Life in the real world was hard. In my dreams it could be as easy as I wanted. No awkward moments. No strange glances. No forgotten one-nighters.
Only the comfortable, familiar embrace of a tangle-free love I’d recognize anywhere. So what if Darcy wasn’t actually real; every relationship had its sacrifices.
Chapter Seven
Back in my apartment, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling for what seemed like hours. All I could think about was Troy and that night. What the hell was wrong with me? A gorgeous guy wanted to be with me, and I ran?
I’d Googled Troy Bellisaro the second we’d gotten home.
Throughout his twenty-four years, he’d trained in several successful multi-million-dollar companies, under the corporation Masquerade Studios. Wanderlust Academy was left to him through an inheritance, according to Wikipedia. There was a lot about his business endeavors, nada about him socially. Everything matched the info I already knew.
He was super gorgeous. Super rich. And super forgetful. The last part I’d decided for myself based on the fact he didn’t even remember me after what was the most unforgettable night of my life. In a good way, and in the worst way possible.
I exhaled out a long breath, lacing my fingers behind my head. Excitement mixed with a weird sense of dread kept me awake so long
that I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep, until Darcy stole into my dreams.
He was the picture of a dashing rogue, dressed as he always was in a dark coat and tails, while I was in a flowing white nightdress.
“I don’t remember this place,” I whispered to him as he took my hand and led me toward a frozen lake. “Where are we?” I stared at the fresh snow beneath our feet and coating the trees and shrubs surrounding us. Pale-blue moonlight cast sharp shadows across everything it hit.
His hand felt cool in mine, and he held me tight as we moved closer. “Don’t be afraid, I’ll keep you safe,” he assured me in his warm British accent.
I pulled my hand away, marveling at how I didn’t feel cold despite our icy surroundings. I stooped down to gather a handful of snow and mashed it into a ball. Flinging it at him, I laughed and tried to run, but he caught up, looping his arm around my waist. He twirled me around in the air before setting me down in front of him.
“This place could be your home,” he said, his voice dark and earnest. “Our home.”
I shivered. I don’t remember him sounding so intense, but the idea wasn’t unappealing. Staying here, in this dream world with him…it wouldn’t be so bad.
“Never doubt my ability to keep you safe, Nora.” He took my hand and brought it to his lips.
A flock of blackbirds took flight from the tree next to us, cawing and screeching their warnings into the night. Another shiver rippled across my skin as I gently pulled my hand away.
“This place, it could be our place. If you will allow me to stay by your side.”
“You know I can’t stay here, Darcy,” I said, but I was wondering if that was actually true. Until now, there was nothing I wanted more than to stay here with him, but now…something new was on the horizon, and that gave me hope.
His gaze bored into mine. “You doubt my ability to take care of you?”
“I don’t need taking care of,” I said, and he recoiled, taking a step back.
I loosed a quiet breath. “But I do feel safe with you. I just…” I had nothing else to offer, no other explanation for my reluctance to stay here in this beautiful dream.