by K. Bromberg
“Colton!” I jolt him out of his thoughts. He whips his head up, startled by my urgency. I know I will regret this later, but I decide to go with my instinct. I decide to be impulsive and act in the moment. “I’m off in ten minutes,” I say, and he looks at me as if he is not following my train of thought, so I continue. “I owe you a date, so let’s go on a date.”
He shakes his head as if trying to make sure I said the words he heard. “Oh— okay,” he stumbles, and I love the fact that I’ve taken him by surprise. He starts to rise, the corners of his lips curving. “I don’t have any reservations or—”
“Who cares?” I motion with my hands. “I’m not high maintenance. Simplicity is rewarding. I’m good with a burger or anything really.” I watch his eyes widen in disbelief. “Besides, you paid enough for the date, who needs to drop a bunch of money on food that we eat anyway?”
He stares at me for a beat, and I sense that he is trying to figure out if I’m being serious or not. When I just look at him like he’s being dense, he continues. “You are incredible. You know that right?” His simple words go straight to my heart, I can tell that he is being sincere.
I flash a grin over my shoulder as I head to my quarters to grab my things and freshen up. “I’ll be right back.”
I return in moments to find Mike staring awestruck, shaking Colton’s hand in the kitchen. Colton turns to me when he hears me come in. “You ready?” he asks.
I hold up my finger indicating one second. “I’m outta here,” I announce to the boys as they rise to give me hugs goodbye. I think the presence of Colton and my acquaintance with him has suddenly elevated me to rock star status, judging by the way they’re hugging me so tightly.
As I’m receiving my hugs, I notice Colton walk over to the couch and squat down in front of Zander. He says something to him, but I can’t hear what.
AS COLTON AND I STROLL out of the house, an odd feeling of calm settles over me. I think this may be the best approach for a date with Colton. I’ve caught him off guard so he can’t do any extensive planning. Extensive planning might equal overstated indulgences and premeditated seduction. Two things that I definitely do not need. It’s hard enough to resist him as it is.
“We’ll take my car,” he says, placing a hand on my back, the warmth comforting me as he steers me toward a sleek, carbon-black convertible parked at the curb. The Aston Martin is beautiful and looks as if it is meticulously taken care of. It looks like it can really fly, and for just an instant, I imagine getting behind the wheel, flooring the pedal, and leaving all my ghosts behind.
“Nice ride,” I grant him, although I try not to show any interest. I’m sure he’s used to women fawning all over him and his car. Not me. Let the games begin, I think.
“Thanks.” He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide onto the black leather, admiring the crafted interior and utter opulence. “I thought it was a beautiful day to drive with the top down,” he says, rounding the back of the car and sliding in next to me. “I just didn’t realize I was also going to be taking you out in it, too. An added bonus!” He says, giving me a megawatt grin as he puts on his sunglasses.
I can’t help but flash him a smile back. “Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned pickup trucks?” I ask as he leans forward, opening the glove box, brushing his arm across my thigh and laughing loudly.
His touch is electrifying, even when it is accidental. He pulls out a worn, molded baseball hat with “Firestone” emblazoned across the bridge and puts it on his head, his dark hair curls out from under it at the nape of his neck. He pulls the brim down low enough to touch his sunglasses.
I guess this is his “incognito” look, but all I can think is he looks sexy as hell. All smoldering, edgy bad boy wrapped up in a drool-worthy body. I’m seriously fucked here if I actually think that my willpower will prevent me from giving in to any request from him. He reaches over and gives my thigh a quick squeeze before pressing a button on the dash in the center console.
“Don’t worry, I have a truck too.” He chuckles before the car roars to life, the vibration of the engine reverberating through my body and sending a thrill through me. “Hold on!” he says as he zooms out of the neighborhood, the excited look of a little boy on his face.
Boys and their toys, I think as I watch him from behind my aviators. I shouldn’t be surprised by his skill maneuvering the car—this is how he makes his living—but I am. I shouldn’t be turned on by his complete competence as he weaves smoothly in and out of traffic, the car accelerating quickly, but I find myself wanting to reach out and touch him. To connect with him, despite knowing that’s a dangerous line for me to cross.
The roar of the engine and the whipping wind are loud enough that talking is not an option. I sit back, enjoying the feeling of freedom as the wind dances through my hair and the sun warms my skin. I lean my head back and give in to the urge to raise my hands over my head as we zip onto Interstate 10 heading west.
I glance over to see him watching me, a curious look on his face. He subtly shakes his head, a diminutive smile on his lips before he looks back toward the road. After a beat, he pushes a button and music pours through the speakers.
The song ends and another begins. I throw my head back, laughing at the song. It’s a catchy little pop tune that I have heard on Shane’s radio enough times. In my periphery, I notice Colton give me a quizzical look, so despite my average voice, I belt out the chorus, hoping he hears the words.
“You make me feel so right, even if it’s so wrong, I wanna scream out loud, boy, I just bite my tongue.” I raise my arms over my head again, letting myself go, reveling in the thought that I am telling Colton how I feel without telling him. This is so unlike me—singing out loud, letting loose—but something about being with him, sitting next to him in this flashy sports car, has rid me of my inhibitions. As we exit the freeway, I finish the chorus with gusto. “It feels so good, but you’re so bad for me!” Colton hears the words and laughs good-naturedly at them.
I continue singing the song, with less gusto since the car’s purring engine is quieter now that we are on Fourth Street. He suddenly swerves abruptly and parks the car with adept precision along the curb.
I glance around trying to figure out where we are as he pushes a button in the sleek dashboard and the sexy purr of the engine ceases. “You okay to sit tight for a sec?” he asks, flashing me an earnest grin that affects me more than I care to admit.
“Sure,” I answer, and I know at this moment that I am saying yes to so much more than just sitting patiently in the car. I push the fear out of my mind and vow to embrace the idea of feeling again. Of wanting to feel again. I flick my eyes from his, down to his mouth and back up, salacious thoughts running rampant through my mind. His smile widens.
“I’ll be right back!” he announces before unfolding himself gracefully out of the car and standing to give me an incredible view of his ass. I bite my lip to suppress the urges whipping through my body. He glances over his shoulder and laughs, knowing full well the impact of his actions. “Hey, Ryles?”
“Yeah, Ace?”
“I told you you wouldn’t be able to resist me.” He flashes me a disarming smile before hopping up on the curb and walking briskly down the block, long legs eating up the sidewalk without a look back.
I can’t help but grin as I watch him walk away. The man is captivating in every way and the epitome of sexy. From that boyish grin that disarms me in seconds to his sexy swagger that says he knows exactly where he’s going and what his intentions are. He exudes virility, evokes desire, and commands attention all with a single look from his stunning eyes. He’s edgy and reckless and you want to go along for the ride hoping to get a glimpse of his tender side that breaks through every now and again. The bad boy with a touch of vulnerability who leaves you breathless and steals your heart.
I shake myself from my thoughts to admire the view of Colton’s broad shoulders and sexy swagger as he strides down the sidewalk. He tugs down on hi
s baseball cap before he walks past two women. They both turn their heads as he passes by and admire him before turning back to each other and giggling, one mouthing the word, “Wow!”
I know how they feel, multiplied by a hundred. I watch as Colton stops and disappears into a doorway. I can’t see the sign above the entrance on the worn down façade.
I pass the time admiring the sleek interior of the vehicle and watching people walk by the car and stare at it. The ring of Colton’s cell phone sitting in the console startles me. I glance down to see the name Tawny flashing across the screen. A pang of irritation flickers in me before I rein in my jealousy. Of course he has women calling him, I tell myself.
Probably all the time.
“We’re all set,” Colton says, startling me as he places a paper grocery bag behind me. He walks around the car and slides into his seat. As he buckles his seatbelt, he notices his phone’s missed-call message on the screen and thumbs to it. An enigmatic look crosses his face as he sees the caller’s name, and I chastise myself for hoping he would scowl when he saw it.
A girl can dream.
Within moments we are back on the road and headed up the Pacific Coast Highway. I’m admiring the sight of the surf crashing on the beach with the sun in the background slowly ebbing toward the horizon before I realize that we’re pulling into a nearly empty parking lot. I’m surprised there are so few people here considering the weather is unusually warm for this time of year.
“We’re here,” he says, pushing a button that has the top of the car lifting and closing in over us before he turns off the car. I look at him, surprised; I was hoping for a non-romantic “date,” and yet he has brought me to my favorite place on earth—a near-empty beach just before sunset. He simply is not playing fair, but then again, he doesn’t know me well enough to know my preferences, so I just chock it up to luck on his part.
He grabs the bag behind my seat and exits the car. He then collects a blanket from the trunk before coming around to my side. He opens the door with a playful flair as he reaches for my hand to help me out of the car.
“Come,” he demands as he tugs on my hand, a thousand sensations overtake me as he pulls me toward the sand and surf. I am giddy with the fact that he continues to hold my hand in his even though I’ve followed him. The rough calluses on his palm against my smooth skin are a welcome feeling, almost like being pinched to make sure I’m not dreaming.
We walk out onto the beach past a pile of towels and clothes that I assume belong to the two surfers in the water. We walk in silence, both taking in our surroundings as I try to figure out what to say. Why am I all of the sudden nervous over Colton’s intensity? Over his proximity?
When we get about ten feet from the wet sand, Colton finally speaks. “How about right here?”
“Sure, although I would’ve brought my swim suit if I’d known we were coming to the beach,” I say, my nerves giving way to stupid humor as it usually does. If I could roll my eyes at myself right now, I would.
“Who said anything about suits? I’m all for skinny dipping.”
I freeze at the comment, eyes wide, and swallow loudly. Odd that the idea of stripping down naked with this ruggedly handsome man unnerves me, despite the fact he’s had his hands on me.
His perfection next to my ordinary.
Colton reaches out with his free hand and puts a finger under my chin, raising my head so that I can meet his gentle eyes. “Relax, Rylee. I’m not going to eat you alive. You said you wanted casual, so I’m giving you casual. I thought we could take advantage of the unusually warm weather,” he says, releasing my chin and handing me the brown bag so that he can lay a large Pendleton blanket on the sand. “Besides, when I get you naked, it’s going to be somewhere a lot more private so I can enjoy every slow and maddening second of it. So I can take my time and show you exactly what that sexy body of yours was made for.” He glances up, eyes flashing desire and mouth turning up in a wicked grin.
I sigh and shake my head, unsure of myself, of my reaction to him, and how I should proceed. The man can seduce me with words alone. That’s definitely not a good sign. If he keeps it up I’ll be handing over my panties to him in no time at all.
I fidget under the intensity of his stare and from the direction my thoughts have taken. “Take a seat, Rylee. I promise, I don’t bite.” He smirks.
“We’ll see about that.” I snort, but I oblige him and sit down on the blanket, distracting myself from my nerves by unzipping my ankle boots. I pull off my socks, free my feet, and wiggle my toes, which are painted fire-engine red. I pull my knees up, and wrap my arms around them, hugging them to my chest. “It’s beautiful out here. I’m so glad the cloud cover stayed away today.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he murmurs as he reaches into the brown bag from Fourth Street. “Are you hungry?” he asks, producing two packages wrapped in white deli paper, followed by a loaf of French bread, a bottle of wine, and two paper cups. “Voila,” he announces. “A very sophisticated dinner of salami, provolone cheese, French bread, and some wine.” The corners of his mouth turn up slightly as if he is testing me. As if he is checking to see if I really am okay with a casual, no-frills dinner in this land of Hollywood glitz, glamour, and pretension.
I eye him warily, not liking games or being tested, but I guess someone in his shoes is probably wary of others. Then again, he’s the one begging me for a date, although I’m still not sure why.
“Well, it’s not the Ritz,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes, “but it’ll have to do.”
He laughs loudly as he pulls the cork out of the wine, pours it in the paper cups, and hands one to me. “To simplicity!” he toasts good-humoredly.
“To simplicity,” I agree, tapping his cup and taking a sip of the sweet, flavorful wine. “Wow, a girl could get used to this.” When he eyes me with doubt, I continue, “What more could I ask for? Sun, sand, food—”
“A handsome date?” he jokes as he breaks off a piece of bread, layers it with provolone and thin-sliced salami, and hands it to me on a paper napkin. I accept it graciously, my stomach growling. I’ve forgotten how hungry I am.
“Thank you,” I say. “For the food, for the donation, for Zander …”
“What’s the story there?”
I relay the gist of it to him, his face remaining impassive. “And today, with you, is the first time he’s purposely interacted with anybody, so thank you. I’m more grateful than you will ever know,” I conclude, looking down sheepishly, a blush spreading across my cheeks as I’m suddenly uncomfortable again. I take a bite of the makeshift sandwich and moan appreciatively at the mixture of fresh bread and deli fare. “This is really good!”
He nods in agreement. “I’ve been going to that deli forever. It’s definitely better and more my speed than caviar.” He shrugs unapologetically. “So why Corporate Cares?” he asks, his mouth parting slightly as he watches me savor my food.
“So many reasons,” I say, finishing my bite. “The ability to make a difference, the chance to be part of a breakthrough such as Zander’s today, or the feeling I get when a child left behind is made to feel like he matters again …” I sigh, not having enough words to express the feelings I have. “There are so many things that I can’t even begin to explain.”
“You are very passionate about it. I admire you for that.” His tone is earnest and sincere.
“Thank you,” I reply, taking another sip of wine, meeting his eyes. “You were quite impressive yourself today. Almost as if you knew what to do despite me telling you to leave,” I admit sheepishly. “You were good with Zander.”
“Nah,” he denies, grabbing another piece of cheese and folding it in the bread. “I’m not good with kids at all. That’s why I’m never having them.” His statement is determined, his expression blank.
I’m taken aback. “That’s a bold statement for someone so young. I’m sure at some point you’ll change your mind,” I reply, my eyes narrowing as I watch him, wishing I still had the option to make a cho
ice like his.
“Absolutely not,” he states emphatically before averting his eyes from my gaze for the first time since meeting him. I can sense his discomfort with this topic—an oddity for a man so confident and sure of himself in all other areas of life. He looks out toward the tumultuous ocean and is quiet for a few moments, an unreadable look on his rugged features.
I think that my questioning statement will go unanswered, until he breaks the silence. “Not really,” he says with what I sense is a resigned sadness in his voice. “I’m sure you experience it first hand every day, Rylee. People use kids as pawns in this world. Too many women try to trap men with them and then hate the kid when the man leaves. People foster kids just to get the monthly government stipend. It goes on and on.” He shrugs nonchalantly, belying how affected he is by the hidden truth behind his words. “It happens daily. Kids fucked up and abandoned because of their mothers’ selfish choices. I’d never put a child in that kind of position.” He shakes his head emphatically, still refusing to meet my eyes, his gaze following the surfer riding a wave in the distance. “Regardless, I’d probably fuck them up as much as I was as a kid.” He breathes deeply with his last statement and removes his cap with one hand while running his other hand through his hair.
“What do you mean? I don’t understand,” I falter as I start to ask without thinking. This conversation has unexpectedly gotten heavy quickly.
Annoyance flashes across his face before I watch him rein it in. “My past is public knowledge,” he states, my furrowed brow showing my confusion. “Fame makes people dig out ugly truths.”
“Sorry,” I say, raising my eyebrows, “I don’t make it a habit of researching my dates.” I hide the unease I feel with this conversation in the sarcasm of my tone.
His green eyes lock onto mine, his clenched jaw pulsing. “You really should, Rylee,” his steely voice warns. “You just never know who’s dangerous. Who’s going to hurt you when you least expect it.”