The Last Girl (Sand & Fog #7)
Page 19
She sank down on my bed. “Khloe, let me be safe rather than sorry.”
“I’m not even warm, Mom. I feel good. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
She tilted her head and stared at me. Great. I could either explain why I was tired or do what she wanted.
“All right.” I took the thermometer and shoved it in my mouth. I tapped my foot while I waited for it to beep. I held it in front of my mom. “98.5. We good.”
Chrissie smiled. “We’re good. Do you want lunch or to go back to sleep?”
“Sleep.”
She kissed my cheek and left the room. I scrambled to find my cell lost within my blankets.
Arrogant Prince: I have a son with her. He’s eleven.
Cheeky Girl: You’re a father? Whoa. If he’s eleven, you were young.
Arrogant Prince: I wouldn’t call myself a father. I’m not permitted to see him.
Cheeky Girl: Do you want to?
Arrogant Prince: Very much. But it’s better I don’t.
Cheeky Girl: ???
Arrogant Prince: He doesn’t know I’m his father. It would only hurt her family.
Cheeky Girl: I’m sorry.
Arrogant Prince: Can I just come to your room and talk to you? I really despise text.
Cheeky Girl: Not today. I look scary.
Arrogant Prince: You never look anything but lovely.
Cheeky Girl: A lot you know. Sleep-deprived is not my best look.
Arrogant Prince: You were lovely last night when I woke you. You were lovely when I left.
Cheeky Girl: Wasn’t sleep-deprived then.
My bedroom door opened. “Khloe, I’ve got your lunch.”
Mom brought me lunch even though I said I didn’t want it. I smoothed my blankets across my lap. “Thanks, Mom. This looks good.”
Once she was gone, I went back to my phone.
Cheeky Girl: I wasn’t in love with Zane. I like him though.
Arrogant Prince: Have you ever been in love?
Cheeky Girl: Once. When I was young. He dumped me.
Arrogant Prince: Tell me who he is and I’ll thrash him for you.
Cheeky Girl: It doesn’t matter. It was one of those high school things. It felt like more than it was.
Arrogant Prince: No one since then?
Cheeky Girl: No. Plenty of lust, no love.
Arrogant Prince: Don’t do that.
Cheeky Girl: ???
Arrogant Prince: Revert to being flippant.
Cheeky Girl: You fell into the lust cubby when I first met you.
Arrogant Prince: First? Not now?
Cheeky Girl: Nope.
Arrogant Prince: What cubby am I in now?
Cheeky Girl: TBD
Arrogant Prince: To be determined?
Cheeky Girl: Yep.
Arrogant Prince: I would say you like me, moving toward something more.
Cheeky Girl: A bit arrogant?
Arrogant Prince: Not at all. Just because you spin me doesn’t mean I can’t tell what you’re really thinking.
Cheeky Girl: Fine, what am I thinking now?
Arrogant Prince: That you really want me in your bedroom with you now. Even sleep-deprived you’re beautiful, Khloe. You never look scary. That isn’t why you don’t want me there.
Cheeky Girl: I need to sleep now, Damon.
Arrogant Prince: Pleasant dreams, KK.
Chapter Thirty
THAT EVENING I FELT rested enough to have dinner with my family. I was nervous about seeing Damon after the showdown in my bedroom and texting. I was worried perhaps I was starting to get comfortable being more myself with him and, as yet, I was undecided if that was something good. It wasn’t something I’d tried with a man before: a willingness to let him get to know me.
The unavoidable attraction of a likeable man was a dangerous trap. Opening your heart to such a man was a trap. Desire was the fuel that drove a woman toward both. And Damon inspired all three in buckets.
When I checked my phone there were no new notifications from him. My initial feeling was one of relief. I wondered if he needed a bit of a breather from the deep-dive sharing as much as I did, and if so, that was fine by me.
I took a shower to wash the sleep from my body and mentally girded my loins to block what I now called the Damon effect. I spent a half hour drying my hair so it fell in soft waves instead of tight curls, applied only concealer and a bit a mascara to my eyes, and slipped on a basic black lounging-around-the-house kind of evening outfit. I looked cute but not sexy, which was exactly the look I was going for.
Taking a deep breath, I left my bedroom to find where my family was waiting for dinner. Both dining rooms were empty. That left either the kitchen or the patio, and if I were a lucky girl it would be the kitchen. But, of course, I wasn’t...
Damon stood on the patio near the pool, a glass of white wine dangling from his long fingers. To my dismay, he hadn’t slummed down for chez Manzone. He’d dressed in his customary crisp shirt and expertly tailored slacks, though I noted there was no tie or jacket. It was probably his notion of a comfortable compromise to fit in while here.
His fingers every so often ran through his hair, keeping it a bit tussled as always. His back was toward me, but I could tell by his posture he had that slow, lazy, sexy smile that claimed his face when he was lost in thought. The smile that never failed to render me speechless and red-hot lava inside.
It was funny how quickly I’d learned to read his mood by his posture. I wasn’t the only one with body tells. He was thinking of me and a bit nervous, I thought, though making a supreme effort not to show it.
I sighed and for a few seconds gazed out at him, savoring the view. Then, as it did me no good to continue ogling Damon, I let my gaze wander and, yes, there was a table set for dinner on the patio. My stomach began to anxiously churn when I noted it was set for two and my parents weren’t out there.
I might have gone back to my bedroom, but Damon glanced around, whirled toward the house, and set down his wine when he saw me. I moved forward, suspecting Damon had somehow arranged a private dinner for two at chez Manzone.
I went out the doors as he walked gracefully over to me.
“You look stunning,” he murmured as he leaned to touch his lips briefly against my cheek. “A day of sleep definitely agrees with you. I approve.” Taking my arm, he led me to the table and pulled back my chair.
“Where is everyone?”
Damon’s eyes widened as he slid into the chair across from me. “Your parents went out. Didn’t they tell you?”
Out? As in Chrissie left the house twice in one week? “No. My mom failed to mention it.” I shook my head as I lay my napkin across my lap.
“Would you like some wine?”
Well, at least he was asking me—Mom wouldn’t do that. “Please.” I frowned. “I didn’t see Lourdes in the kitchen and Dad’s gone. Who cooked? Or did they order in for us?”
Us. My cheeks heated.
Damon kept his gaze fixed on the golden liquid filling my glass. “I was a bit restless this afternoon. I’m not used to this much inactivity. I offered to prepare dinner.” His eyes shot to meet mine. There was nervousness in the amber glow. Nervousness? “Perhaps that’s why your parents are eating out tonight.”
Self-deprecating laughter followed that, and I focused on the silver lids as he carefully took the covers off the serving platters. “Maybe I should text and find out where they went. This doesn’t sound promising, Damon.”
“I think that would tend to ruin your dad’s—how should I put this?—game. I know it would ruin mine.”
My gaze shot back to his and it happened. The persistent white-hot charge and pull between us went from simmer to full boil. I shifted uncomfortably beneath his scrutiny, my heart beating so fiercely it was hard to keep my cool.
I took a long sip of my wine as my common sense kicked me in the head. I needed to be more cautious around Damon. He affected me too strongly. Emotionally, not just in my
body, but all of me. Damn it, I didn’t know what I was doing, or even if I should stay.
His satiny baritone filled my ears, but I could hardly hear it above the thrum of my heart. “I admit I made the offer having never cooked before. But your father said, ‘Make Khloe’s favorite. It doesn’t take culinary expertise for that.’ But you’ll have to be the judge of that.”
With both my thoughts and senses reeling, I set down my wine and put my napkin beside my plate. “I’m sorry, Damon. I’m not very hungry tonight.” I wanted to get out of there, away from whatever he was trying to do and away from him.
He watched me intently, his eyes hooded. “Why are you leaving?”
“Because I can’t do this, Damon.”
His brows shot up, surprised. “This?”
“Candlelight gourmet dinners made by a guy, to be eaten on the patio beneath the sunset.” I gestured angrily toward the table. “I don’t do this. I don’t do any of the romance junk. It gets a girl messy inside, thinking things she shouldn’t think. Wanting things she can’t have, eventually only to throw another heartbreak on the heap. I don’t know why I agreed to even try this with you.”
“Really? Well, I think you can manage tonight. I think you can manage anything you set your mind to. But at least take your hamburger, eat it in your room, and text me later to let me know if it was all right. I worked very hard on it.”
Hamburger? My mind was spinning. I looked at the platters and blushed scarlet. Khloe’s favorite. I blinked at him in shock. “Jeez, Louise. It’s just dinner. Not date-date dinner.”
“Date-date dinner?” His eyes were bright with humor. It made him look so beautiful. “I’m not sure what date-date dinner is. But will you please sit down and eat?”
I sank heavily back onto my chair again.
“Thank you,” he murmured graciously and served us.
I started to eat because it prevented me from talking. I chomped away on the burger he made me—it was delicious, with cheese, bacon, avocado, and all my favorites—and only nodded at whatever sporadic table chatter came from Damon’s mouth.
“These aren’t half bad,” he murmured. “Is it all right for you?”
I nodded, impassive.
I was reaching to refill my wine when he said, “The cuisine and the location don’t make a date. It’s what two people feel when they’re together. That’s romance, and you can’t stop it as long as you’re able to feel. Your only option is to figure out a way never to feel, otherwise you spend a lifetime giving hurt to yourself. Trust me, Khloe. That’s something I know very well. I don’t recommend it.”
He reached for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Sparks leapt from our touch and I knew then Damon was right. And even more terrifying, he was figuring out the puzzle pieces of me and working solutions around them.
“There are limits to what I can do,” I responded spontaneously, without thinking.
“We all have limits, Khloe. I can barely manage mine now.”
I looked at him.
His eyes caressed as they looked at me.
The minutes ticked by.
Even as reserved as he was, he was so passionate and mesmerizing that I couldn’t rein in my heart or take my eyes off him. I lifted a brow, silently telling him to continue, though I was sure I didn’t want what he would tell me.
“My promise to you,” he said quietly. “Friend zone until you say otherwise, and leaving in seven days unless you ask me to stay.”
The thought of him leaving was surprisingly painful.
Instead of walking with Damon that night, I excused myself and went to my room.
I SAT CRYING IN THE middle of my bedroom floor, not even sure what I was crying about. It was a draining, hard cry—my mom claimed those were the kind we needed to have from time to time to season our hearts—but I didn’t know. I didn’t cry, not ever.
My emotions were a tornado being chased by my thoughts, and there was no rhyme or reason to any of them. It was an inconsistent stream of the past and Damon, other disappoints, hurts, and him that flew through my mind and body like battering rams.
I wasn’t sure how long I was there before my bedroom door opened. I didn’t need to look up to know it was Damon. I listened to him cross the floor, not bothering to try and hide my tears from him, and felt him lowering to sit on the carpet across from me.
“Let me hold you, Khloe,” Damon said gently, lifting me off the carpet and placing me on his lap. I turned in to his chest at first contact. “Let it out. It’s all right, my lovely girl,” he cooed softly into my hair, gently rocking and stroking my back. He didn’t know why I was crying, but somehow he was everything I needed as those emotions I had long denied poured out of me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, only to cry harder and hug him as tightly as he was hugging me. “First I ruin your dinner. Then I do this. I don’t know why you bother with me.”
“You’re not a bother,” he whispered.
We sat like that forever until I was finally all cried out. Then Damon carried me to my bed, set me in the center, turned off the lights, and left a hair between us as he settled beside me.
I was the one who turned in to him so he could hold me, and slowly I drifted off into an empty, quiet sleep.
Some hours later, I woke with a jolt and found Damon gone.
Chapter Thirty-One
MY MOM DABBED HER FACE with a towel then relaxed back in her chair on the cliffs and gazed out at the sunrise. “Ah, I am feeling my age today.”
I rolled my eyes. “What you’re feeling is more like a night out partying with Dad. Where’d you guys go?”
“You know how your father is. He’s a trip to the moon and back in less than eight hours. That man never slows down.” She said that dramatically, her cheeks cute-cute pink, and I gave her the yuck expression. She laughed under her breath as she poured our coffee. “We flew to Santa Barbara. Had dinner. Visited with your grandfather and Linda. Walked our beach and came home. Your ordinary old people’s night, baby girl.”
“You and Dad aren’t old.”
“Ah, we’re not exactly young. Well, I’m not but your dad thinks he is. But the heart gives you what you need to keep up with what you want to keep up with.”
“Will you stop that? You’re in a wicked mood. I don’t need to hear these things, especially after an hour balancing my energy at dawn.”
She stifled a laugh and tried to look apologetic, but it wasn’t working. She was almost giddy with the afterglow of my father and it was nice seeing Mom being so happy. It’d been a long time since she’d been this way when I was home.
“Did dinner go well with Damon last night? You missed quite a show yesterday afternoon. He looked like a fish out of water, though I don’t expect he’s spent a lot of time in the kitchen. It was so sweet of him to offer to cook dinner for you two after Alan told him we’d be gone for the night.”
She held out my coffee cup to me and I arched a brow. “It was all right. You can’t ruin a hamburger.”
Her head tilted as her lower lip pushed out. “That doesn’t sound very good. I thought you’d enjoy an evening without your dad and me underfoot.”
“Well, you were wrong. You’re never underfoot.”
She smiled and began preparing my breakfast plate from the tray Lourdes had set out on the cliffs.
“Why are we having breakfast out here?” I asked.
“It’s beautiful this morning and it’s just the two of us today. Your dad’s going to sleep until noon and Damon left early. A little before four. We were coming in the door and he was going out.”
“Out? At 4:00 a.m.?”
She shrugged, handing me my plate. “He always leaves early. I think it has something to do with trying to slip in and out without the tabloids discovering he’s here. That’s what your father says.”
I started picking at my eggs with a fork. “Do you know what Damon does when he leaves the house? He’s always busy during the day, but I don’t know doing what.”
“Maybe I will.”
Chrissie pulled up her legs to sit cross-legged in her chair and balanced her plate on her thighs. “I think it’s been good for him to be here with your dad. I feel so bad for Damon.”
“How so?”
She stared at me in surprise. “It must be awful to have your family cut you off. One day he’s a prince, the next out there an ordinary man trying to figure out shit. Cut off from everything, even the money, though they expect him to live by their rules. Alan says it’s fortunate he had an inheritance from his mother. Security is expensive, baby girl; that’s one thing your dad definitely knows. And being alone in the world isn’t a safe place for him without it. The baggage of the monarchy goes where he goes whether the Saxes treat him like family or not. Alan’s very fond of the king, but I don’t think I like him. How do you cut off your own child?”
“Damon said the relationships in his family are more businesslike than familial.”
The corners of Mom’s lips turned downward. “That’s awful. If that’s true, it’s remarkable he became such a good man.”
Wrong, Mom. Damon was an exceptional man. Perhaps the kindest man I’d ever known other than my father—I frowned—or maybe I was reading him wrong because he was so handsome and charming. Then a safer thought occurred to me: maybe he wasn’t kind at all, but simply bored and amusing himself with the challenge of trying to get me in bed.