Frayed

by Kim Karr

  Her fingers entangle with mine and they fit perfectly in my hand. When I open the gate I cover her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” she asks.

  “You’ll see.” I lead her to my bike and grab the helmet off the seat before I remove my other hand.

  “We’re not riding on your bike up there. I told you . . .”

  I pull my hand from my behind my back and hand her the green helmet I stopped and picked up on my way over. She jumps up and down and the excitement she exudes over the smallest things—the way she clasps her hands together and bounces when something makes her happy—it gets me every time. I wish I knew how to get that reaction all the time.

  Stepping closer, I push away the hair from her eyes and slip the helmet on her head. Once I do I dip my head down and kiss her, but just her cheek. I pull away before the urge to slide my lips and cover hers becomes impossible ignore. Then I strap my own black helmet on and hop on my bike. She circles to the left and does the same. When she gets on she wraps her arms around me so naturally my heart rate speeds at the contact.

  With a quick turn of the ignition switch, I shift into neutral and kick-start her to life. S’belle breathes loudly in my ear and I can sense the rush she must be feeling. The short ride up the curvy road urges her closer. It makes me feel that she’s finally living in the moment, not overthinking everything. Each downshift is met with just the right amount of throttle as I carve each turn perfectly and her body sways into mine. I can smell her lemony scent, hear the puff of her breath, feel the warmth of her body against mine. My muscles tense with each movement she makes.

  She holds me tight as we ride like the wind up to what has become one of my favorite places. When I feel her resting her chin on my shoulder, I suck in a breath. But when her hands slide down to my thighs for a moment before she realizes it and pulls them back up, I grin like a fucking idiot because I know the walls are finally coming down.

  CHAPTER 12

  Still Into You

  Bell

  The sun is shining bright and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. I take my time walking down Hollywood Boulevard looking around at the many businesses and shops. Funny thing is I’m not really looking at them, though, because all I can see is Ben. I can’t get him out of my head. We talk all the time, we text all the time. Up until this week, we’ve spent all of our free time together. What was supposed to be a friends-only relationship to ward him off seems to have spurred him on.

  Today it hit me that it seems like forever since I last saw him, which was Sunday night. He picked me up and took me to gaze at the view of LA from Mulholland Drive. It was stunning and riding on his bike was absolutely dreamy. He’s told me many times he’s not a romantic, but he doesn’t see what I see.

  I pull on the showroom door and step in, looking around. It’s all put together in a very trendy modern metallic palette. My gaze darts to a blur of waving arms, and Josie’s wide eyes direct me to the break room. I look at the time—ten thirty. I lift the coffees and nod to my desk. She shakes her head. That can only mean trouble. I follow behind her, noticing Tate’s door is shut.

  “What is it?” Quickly, I close the door behind me and set my stuff on the table.

  “He’s on the warpath.”

  “Why?” I ask mildly, leaning back against the glass door.

  “Romeo Fairchild is in his office. He came in for his meeting with you thirty minutes ago. But, um . . . well, you weren’t here. I tried to call you.”

  I set the coffees down and pull my phone from my purse. Shoot, she did call. I must have been on the phone with Ben and never noticed. I set my phone on the table. “The meeting is tomorrow, not today,” I insist.

  “Well, tell that to Mr. Eleven.”

  “What?”

  “He’s an eleven on a scale of one to ten. You should go out with him.”

  I gape at her. “Josie, are you out of your mind? You call me in here like I’m about to get fired and then tell me I should date our engaged client. The one whose wedding we’re planning.”

  “Oh, Bell, I see how he looks at you. He practically fucks you with his eyes every time he’s in here.”

  “Josie, honestly. And besides, I think he screws anything that moves.”

  Her hand flies to her mouth. “Bell Wilde, I’ve never heard you talk like that. I like this new wild side.”

  I laugh at her. “You should have known me before I found direction.”

  “Is that like finding God?”

  I ponder her question. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  She blows a piece of blue hair out of her eyes. “Oh, and I almost forgot, that really hot brother of yours, the one who’s, you know . . . married”—she rolls her eyes—“stopped by already too. He said to let you know he had a few things to take care of and would be back to take you to lunch.”

  Suddenly Josie’s eyes grow even wider than when I first walked in and then there’s a slight tap on the glass behind me.

  I swallow and mutter, “Is that Tate?”

  Her eyes confirm my suspicion without her having to say a single word.

  My nerves start to buzz as I turn around and push the door. There stand Tate and Romeo.

  “Miss Wilde, you decided to join us at work today. I’m so glad,” he says sternly but he’s still conducting himself civilly.

  My eyes shift to Romeo’s. Aerie is right—he’s a stunner. And Ben is right too—he’s a snake. His look is aristocratic but bad boy at the same time. Dark brown wavy hair, a sexy, slender frame with broad shoulders, and boy, does he know how to dress! I thought Tate dressed with style, but Romeo is in a whole other league. Today he’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt, his gray tie crisply knotted around his neck, and he looks every bit as put together as Tate if not more so.

  He speaks before I do. “Bell, I have to apologize. I realized after I arrived that our meeting is tomorrow, but Tate insisted I wait for you to get here.”

  My eyes shoot back to Tate’s. He’s a man who gives his work more than one hundred percent, but the problem is he can’t give any aspect his one hundred percent attention. So he has me take on the more complex clients—the needier ones. And Romeo, he’s needy all right. But I’m not sure if his need isn’t to get me into a bathroom and have his way with me.

  “Even though our appointment was for tomorrow morning, since you’re here we can go over any of your concerns now if you’d like,” I say to Romeo.

  “Excellent. Today is a much better day for me and Laney is driving me crazy over selecting a band. She’s practically terrified that if we don’t nail one down we’ll be stuck with a DJ.”

  Tate nods. “I’ll leave the two of you to iron out your fiancée’s concerns. And, Josie, has the announcement been sent to the paper so the wedding columnist can be notified?”

  Josie’s blue hair moves like a wave as she skirts past us. “Mr. Wyatt, that is next on my list of things to do.” She doubles back and grabs the cup marked MOCHA off the table. “Thank you,” she mouths, and hustles out of the room.

  “I’ll be in my office if you need me for anything, Bell. And, Romeo, it was a pleasure talking to you.”

  Romeo smooths his tie between his thumb and finger. “As always, Tate.”

  “Why don’t we go to the conference room?” I ask him when it’s just the two of us.

  “I think here is fine.”

  “Okay, let me go grab your file and I’ll be right back.”

  “Of course,” he says, his eyes staring at the ruffled edges of my chiffon blouse that just happen to be right over my breasts.

  I scurry out of the door. The conference room is visible from the showroom with a glass wall as the partition, but the break room is around the corner and not visible. Josie’s comments have me all kinds of paranoid now. I take a deep breath—he’s just a client. Stop reading more into it. Tate’s door is closed—thank God. I pass Josie’s desk and she shoots me a wink. I roll my eyes.

  My desk is cluttered with linen samples, venu
e décor photos, centerpiece ideas—all pertaining to the Blair/Fairchild wedding. Laney Blair has yet to set foot inside this office. I haven’t even met her. It’s all a little strange that Romeo is my only contact, but he seems determined to pull off this wedding in record time. I grab the folder marked BANDS and my wedding file and head back toward the break room.

  This time when I enter the room I can smell coffee percolating and my eyes flare to the counter—he made coffee? Wow, that’s a first. A client making his own. The beep of my phone rivets my attention to the table and right to Romeo’s prying eyes.

  He knows I caught him and with a smile says, “Would that Ben Covington happen to have gone to high school in Laguna?”

  I feel myself flushing. Why? The heat between Ben and me has to be evident on my face. “I think so,” I say, my voice shaky.

  “He’s your boyfriend?” he asks inquisitively.

  I drop my phone into my purse. “We’re just friends.”

  “Right,” he says with a smirk that says friends with benefits. What the heck did Ben text? And up until now Aerie and Jagger are the only people aware of whatever is going on between Ben and me. Talking to Romeo about it doesn’t seem right.

  I carefully place the folders and files in my hands on the table. “So bands, your fiancée has a valid concern—”

  He cuts me off. “I went to high school with Ben. He was a surfer, had a girl, and seemed like a rebel. He had one guy friend I remember him hanging with, and he stayed clear of my crowd.”

  I feel an anger rise inside me and I want to tell this arrogant guy that Ben’s not pretentious, and image has never mattered to him. But I don’t—of course instead I try to drop the subject. “I didn’t know him then. But anyway, there are only a few bands that have your wedding date open. Do you want to listen to them with your fiancée and let me know what you think?”

  “Sit down. Please,” he says.

  When I do he stands and goes over to the coffeepot, opening the cupboard above and pulling out a mug. “Would you like a fresh cup?”

  I pull my own coffee from the tray and take the lid off. “No, I’m good, thank you.”

  “Do you have sound clips for us to listen to now?”

  I do, but they’re on my laptop, which is at my desk.

  “I’m not in a hurry,” he says, taking a seat next to me.

  With my purse in hand I again leave the room, but this time I make a stop in the restroom. I grab my phone from my bag quickly and read Ben’s text.

  I’ll be by to pick you up at 7. And if you even think of saying no, I’ll still come by to swing you over my shoulder and carry you to dinner. I might even have to spank you.

  Oh my God, Romeo read that! The air flies out of my lungs, but it’s not from embarrassment. A sudden burst of excitement hums through me as I read his text again. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know where the lines are. I entered into this determined to push him away, but all I’ve seemed to do is pull him closer. And that makes me happy, really happy.

  The rest of the morning moves at a snail’s pace. Romeo and I listen to the available bands, review the other finer details, discuss songs, and the cake—ultimately he leaves the decision making up to me. It’s as if I’m planning my own wedding.

  Toward the end of our meeting, Josie pokes her head in the door to get my attention.

  “Your brother’s here to take you to lunch. Do you want me to tell him to wait?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” Romeo says. “We’re finished here. I think I’ve taken enough of Bell’s time.”

  We leave the break room together. I gather what I can and he kindly takes the rest. My brother is sitting on the other side of the showroom in one of the chairs at the table set for two looking down at his phone with a smirk on his face that tells me he must be texting Dahlia.

  I plop my stuff on my desk and Romeo does the same. Tate’s still in his office with his door closed—I can only imagine what storm is brewing. I look up at Romeo and extend my hand. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear back from the bands.”

  He eyes dance with amusement as he leans in a little too close and then shakes my hand. “Sounds like a plan.”

  I look over my shoulder in time to catch my brother’s assessing eyes. He gets up and strides in our direction.

  “Hey, I was hoping you have time for lunch.” River grins at me.

  “Sure. I’d love to.” I smile back at him.

  “We were just saying good–bye.” Romeo turns on his heels, but he stops. “Son of a bitch. You’re River Wilde, aren’t you?”

  River nods.

  “We spend all morning looking for bands and you neglected to tell me who your brother is?” Romeo says to me.

  River’s look turns questioning. “What am I missing?”

  “Bell has been trying to find a band for my wedding on really short notice and I never put two and two together.”

  “Romeo, my brother isn’t in a band anymore,” I hiss in his direction.

  “Such a small world. I went to high school with your wife,” Romeo says to River, ignoring me.

  Oh my God, he’s going to tell River about Ben. My body tightens and suddenly the room seems to be shrinking.

  River grabs my hand. “Hey, Bell, are you okay?”

  I blink up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You look really pale.”

  “Honestly, I haven’t eaten yet today.”

  River shakes his head at me. “Come on, let’s get you fed.”

  He extends his hand to Romeo. “Nice to meet you, man. Good luck with your wedding.”

  Romeo nods and River puts his arm around me, knuckling my side. “You need to take better care of yourself.” And when we get outside he turns to me and asks, “Who was that asshole?”

  “He’s a client and the governor’s son.”

  “Well, I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

  I sigh, just thankful Romeo didn’t let Ben’s name roll off his tongue.

  I’m distracted all through lunch with my brother and when I finally get back to my desk, I plop down exhausted. As I browse through my e-mails, my mind wanders to Ben and the reality of the situation. He will never be welcome in my family—there’s too much baggage there, not just Dahlia but with me. So what the hell am I doing with him? Why can’t I just break it off? It’s time to find a way to let him go.

  CHAPTER 13

  Kinks Shirt

  Ben

  Life has a way of sneaking up on you. I’ve been content focusing on my career ever since I started Plan B. It keeps me busy and keeps my mind on what’s important and off the things that aren’t. But this week I’ve had a hard time concentrating. My mind keeps wandering to her. I know we can’t keep going on like this. We can’t keep walking the line between friends and more, because if we do the both of us will explode.

  Walking to her apartment building, I spot her immediately. She looks like a burst of sunshine on a cloudy day. She’s sitting at one of the tables in her courtyard waiting for me, and when she stands to open the gate I quickly reach around and open it first just to be closer to her faster.

  She rolls her eyes at me and says, “Such a rebel.”

  I shrug. “Takes one to know one.”

  She laughs. “Touché.”

  “You look fucking fantastic,” I say, purposefully dragging my eyes up and down her body.

  Her smile grows even wider and the air suddenly becomes denser.

  I draw her in and embrace her. She lets me, even allowing my lips to linger in the crook of her neck. I can hear her breathe me in and I have to stop myself from grinning like a fucking idiot.

  I slide my palms down to her ass, touching every curve I can along the way. With a slow hiss of breath I say, “Hi there.”

  “Hi,” she says with that innocent voice that always seems to come out of nowhere and jump-start my already aching need to take her. Which is what I want to do right now, right here.

&n
bsp; “Pizza?” she says, pulling away just as my fingers start to circle around to her hips.

  Fuck! I need to play it cool. Don’t chase her away now. Rechanneling my thoughts, I rub my stomach. “Sure, sounds good. I’m pretty hungry.”

  “I know a great place and we can even walk.” Her voice tapers off and she seems distracted.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Just a crazy day. Glad it’s over.”

  I straighten and look in her eyes. “Want to talk about it?”

  She stiffens. “No. Not now.”

  I nod and grab her hand to lead her out of the courtyard. We eat and end up meandering down Sunset for a bit afterward. Just as the sky turns dark we head back to her place with coffees to sit in the courtyard.

  “So, what happened at work today?” I ask.

  “Oh, really it’s nothing. Tate has me doing two really big weddings next month and the clients are very needy,” she says, sipping her decaffeinated coffee with so much milk and sugar I doubt it even tastes like coffee.

  “I thought you were going to quit soon.”

  “I was planning on it at the end of the year but haven’t really gotten my own business off the ground. And these weddings are huge. I’ll have the potential to make so many contacts through them I really want to impress them.”

  “I don’t doubt you will.”

  “Tate is just such a micromanager that sometimes I feel like the clients know he’s babysitting me.”

  “Tell him to go fuck himself.”

  She laughs. “I wish I could some days.”

  “He’s such a dick-wad, I wish you would.”

  She shakes her head. “You don’t even know him. Why do you dislike him so much?”

  “I don’t have to know him. I don’t like the way he treats you or the sadness I see in your eyes when you get off the phone with him. And besides, he has the hots for you.”

  “No, he doesn’t. We broke up over a year ago.”

  My eyes shoot out of my head and before I can stop myself I’m bolting out of the chair. “Are you fucking kidding me? You slept with him!”