Do I want to tell him my secret? Would he understand? Or would he laugh at me? Or worse, would his face show pity?
“And if I don’t want to answer a particular question?”
“This isn’t the Inquisition. What I’m trying to say is I want our relationship to be built on honesty.” He arcs his eyebrow in a conspiratorial lift. “Is Vincent your lover?”
I swallow. “What? No, he’s my best friend, and gay.”
H shrugs. “Sometimes boys who like boys like girls too.”
“No, he doesn’t. I mean, he only likes boys…men.”
“Are you dating anyone?”
“What’s with the dating questions? No, I’ve told you I don’t date.” I press my hand against his chest.
“Hmph.”
“What about the woman you had dinner with? Is she your girlfriend?” I ask.
“That was a business meeting. We were reviewing property listings. No sex involved.” His lips form that perfect panty-dropping smile. Does he practice it in the mirror? “You don’t strike me as a woman who’d have sex with a man she’s not dating, but…”
“I’m not.” I’m comforted he doesn’t suspect the truth. “You know.” I lift my eyebrows. “I could be a lesbian; ever think about that?”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Now you’re insulting my intelligence. If you’re a lesbian, then I’m a virgin.”
I squirm with the mention of the V word and decide to counterattack and veer him off the subject. “Why didn’t you call me? Why send the daisies without a note?”
His phone vibrates on the table, tearing our fragile connection like wind through a spider web. He snatches it and reads the screen. “I need to take this.” He tilts his head toward the front door and goes out on the porch.
I hear him talking and his voice rises a few times, but I can’t discern any words. I gather it’s not a pleasant call. While he’s busy, I clean up the dishes, put away the leftovers, and switch my clothes from the washer to the dryer. He’s still not back, and I don’t hear him talking any longer. I peek out the screen door to find him standing on the porch, staring out into the night.
“Come on out,” he says. “I need you.”
He needs me? I do as he asks and stand beside him and wait.
“There’s been a development. Jason completed rehab.”
I’d assumed he was already out.
“The studio’s insisting on a reshoot. It’s a contractual obligation. Jason doesn’t have a choice.”
“Here. Jason’s coming back.” My hands shake, and I wrap them around my chest. I want to curl up into a tiny ball and disappear. “That’s why he sent the earrings.” He could have any woman. Why does he want me? I’m nobody.
“There’s more.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t tell you before because I thought he wouldn’t be back. Jason’s done this before. Become fixated on a young woman who wants nothing to do with him.”
I know what he’s going to say next and I don’t want to hear it.
“She was only sixteen at the time.”
A wounded cry escapes my lips. I lean against the railing for support.
“Tell him to go so we can play with the razor,” Charlie whispers.
Why must I have these thoughts in his voice? I slam the door shut inside my head, knowing no matter how hard I try he’s always waiting for a crack to slip through.
“I promise you, you’ll be protected. I know you’re scared. It’s a valid emotion given what happened.” He places his hand over mine. “I’ve contacted Jason’s agent and made it known we’re a couple, and I will take any contact with you as a personal affront and act accordingly. I won’t allow him to hurt you.”
Anger, like steam kept too long under pressure, erupts. “Only because you want to fuck me.”
Roy shifts his weight back on his heels. “Don’t put me in the same category as him.”
“Tell him to go. You, me and the razor will release tension together.”
“No!” I respond to my thoughts and find Roy staring at me like I’m crazy, which I guess I am. Standing here, having a conversation with a dead man. “Don’t pity me.” I turn my back on him, unable to meet those cold green eyes. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. It was wrong. I’m wrong. You don’t need to say we’re a couple. I don’t want to make trouble for you, and...”
“I don’t pity you, and you aren’t making trouble for me,” he says matter-of-factly. “There are no strings attached to my protection.”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m afraid you’ll bolt if I tell you the truth.”
Roy afraid? Impossible. When I face him, he keeps his eyes focused toward the woods. He’s nervous, I realize. I guess he’s human after all. I know how hard it is to open up to another person. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I tried to forget you.” Finally, he leans his hip on the railing to face me. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t. You’ve shadowed my thoughts for a long time.” With only his fingertips he traces a line from my wrist up and over my shoulder and slides around my collarbone to finally spread his fingers around the side of my neck. “I need to touch you, to be with you, to care for you.”
Roy needs me, fucked-up Daisy Aldridge? I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. All I know is my tension melts under his touch. How is it possible he can cause so much warmth with only one hand?
“You make me weak.” Slowly, he pulls me into his warm embrace and without thinking I nuzzle against his hard chest. I’m safe, cared for, cherished, in his arms. “And,” he continues, “I’m significantly older than you.” He lifts my chin until our eyes meet. “I’m thirty-two.”
Eleven years. That is a lot. I could say I’m mature for my age. Or age is only a number. But age is important. And, I know how sheltered I am living in Middleburg, and my small world is nothing like what he’s accustomed to.
He leans back when my hand nears his face. “Please,” I entreat, needing to touch him. His beard is softer than I thought it would be.
“I’ll be shaving it off.”
“I like it.” His eyes pierce my soul. “Does it tickle?”
“Kiss me and find out.” He gently runs his fingers through my curls and pulls my head to meet his lips.
I grab hold of his shirt to pull him further down to me. “Yes,” I whisper.
His lips are soft and taste of wine. He groans. Warmth blooms through my chest. His right arm slips down to wrap around my waist. Suddenly, I remember another man with harsh hands yanking my hair and forcing me to kiss him. I try to still my heart, try to calm myself, but I’m too lost in the memories and struggle against Roy.
Instantly, he releases me and steps back.
I stumble and grab hold of the wicker chair to steady myself. “I’m not…” I reach out to his chest, my hand hovers between us until he steps in and my hand rests on his hard abs. “I’m sorry. You’ve been kind.” My hand drops. “I wish…I’m not capable.”
“Tell me.” He’s staring at me like he’s searching for a missing puzzle piece. “Is it my size? Is there another man? What is holding you back?”
I’ve been deluding myself thinking anything could happen between us. “I’m frigid,” I blurt out.
I expect him to laugh, or walk away, but there’s only silence. When I finally can’t take the suspense any longer, I raise my head to see his kind eyes.
“Why would you think such a thing?”
It’s the truth, my truth. “We better get inside before the mosquitos eat us alive.”
“Tell me why you think this.”
Like telling him would make things right? If only it were so simple. “It’s the way I am.”
“No.” He opens the door for me. “There nothing frigid about you.” His hand presses against the small of my back as I walk through. “Maybe you’ve had some shitty sex and it’s messed with your head. You’ll have to trust me when I tell you that won’t be the case between us.”
I stop and look i
nto his eyes. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me.”
He leans in to whisper in my ear. “I like a challenge.”
Chapter Six
“Baby girl, why you holding out on me?” Vincent’s painting his toenails neon pink on the shop counter. “Roy spent the night? That’s it?”
“In the guest bedroom, and this morning he made coffee and left.”
“No sex?” He paints the nail of his big toe and fans a magazine over it to dry the polish faster. “Why not? It’s not… I mean, you still aren’t broken up about Charlie, are you?”
I pretend to read the Excel spreadsheet in order to keep my expression impassive. “Nothing to do with him.”
“’Cause you know that accident wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.” The web of my secrets entraps me.
His hands fly up in exasperation. “Then why? This sexy beast of a man is sleeping in your house. Naked.” He shivers dramatically. “And you don’t think maybe I should join him? Have I taught you nothing?” He exhales a whistle. “What I wouldn’t give for a little of that.”
“I’m not ready,” I protest. “And he was hurt.”
He turns his head from side-to-side. “Probably the first time he’s been turned down. Not a bad strategy.”
“I’m not playing games.”
“True, but he’s assuming certain things about you.” He wiggles his toes. “Does he know?”
I give up and close my laptop. The previous week’s accounts will have to wait. “Know what?”
He uses a pencil like a microphone and sings in his best Madonna impersonation, “That you’re a virgin.”
I can’t help but laugh. “No.”
“You better tell him.”
If I tell him, he might not want to have sex with me. Did I think that?
“You know, pants can’t hide what he’s packing.” He leans back against his hands. “I bet he has to jack off with both hands.” He jumps off the counter and walks around bent over and bow-legged. “You’ll be like old lady Carter when he’s done with you.”
“Stop it.” I throw my pen at him and miss. Roy’s definitely packing, as Vincent calls it.
“Just saying.”
“He told me he’s thirty-one. What does he even see in me?”
He leans against the counter. “You have no idea the way men react to you. Trust me, I know these things. You’re beautiful, and kind, and…” He looks me over. “You’ve got this mysterious vibe about you. Why wouldn’t Roy be interested?”
“I don’t know. He’s overpowering and handsome and intense. I’ve never met anyone like him.”
“It’s obvious the attraction is mutual. Go with it. See where it takes you.”
I know Vincent’s right. “He’ll be here soon.”
He feigns interest in passing tourists. “To do what?”
“Look at a few properties for sale.”
“In Middleburg?”
“He wants a home near his D.C. office.”
“How bicoastal of him. I’d say he’s found something he likes in Middleburg and it’s not the real estate.”
“I don’t think he’ll remain interested in me long.”
Vincent bats his dark lashes at me. “If he’s smart, he will.”
I had been ten years old, riding shotgun with Reggie on deliveries when I met Vincent. From that day forward we’ve been fast friends. It’s hard to think of a more unlikely pair, but there you have it.
“…the parties are going to be epic.”
I’m half-listening as he prattles on about his extensive social life while I organize the pickups for tomorrow and place them on the middle shelf behind the counter.
“…best male actors in Hollywood are gay.”
“Not everyone is gay,” I mutter.
“Remember, I told you Jason King was—”
“What?” A package slips from my hand.
“Oh, right.” He comes around and places the dropped parcel on the shelf for me. “I didn’t tell you. I went to a little soirée with those movie people. Mr. King showed quite an interest in me.” He pulls out his phone and points the screen at me. “I got a text from him this morning. I’m invited to a private party next week.”
“You can’t go.”
Vincent places his hands on my shoulders. “What’s gotten into you? Of course, I’m going. There can’t possibly be a party without moi.”
“I don’t think Jason’s a good man.” Vincent looks at me like I’m having a stroke. “I mean, you know, there’s been gossip.”
“Gossip.” He laughs. “I’m sure there has been, love. He’s deliciously wicked.” Vincent slaps his butt. “And a switch.” He dramatically flares his eyes like a silent movie star.
“You really need help, you know that, right?” Would Jason use Vincent to get to me? “I thought you were going to New York.” How can I deflect him from this? “This stupid party will be provincial compared to what’s going on in the clubs.”
Though Vincent and I are best friends, we don’t inhabit the same worlds. He flits back and forth between continents while I remain rooted in Middleburg like an old oak tree.
He gives me his best side-eye. “True.” He turns his head. “Perhaps I should warn you against what’s opening the door.”
We’re conspirators, caught when Roy walks in.
“Good afternoon.” He extends his hand to Vincent. “Nice to see you again.”
“Roy.” Vincent returns the handshake.
“Will you be accompanying us?” Roy asks.
“Oh, I’m sure it will be a lovely time, but I have a prior engagement.” Vincent plants a kiss on my cheek and swaggers to the front door. “Ta-ta, baby girl. Don’t do anything I would.”
“Baby girl?” Roy lifts his eyebrow.
“Nickname.”
He doesn’t press. “Are you ready?” He gives me a quick once-over. His eyes remain on my breasts for a few ticks too long.
I’ve abstained from my usual attire of shorts and Mangler polo to wear a summer dress. It’s rounded neckline showcasing my ample cleavage. Though the calendar says autumn is almost here, the weather hasn’t gotten the memo. Today’s temperature is forecast to reach into the mid-eighties with 70 percent humidity.
I nod and fetch my purse, and meet him at the front. His hand is warm on the nape of my neck as he accompanies me to a black Range Rover.
“How’s your shoulder?”
He closes my door, walks around, and slips into the driver’s seat. “Better.”
“Did you take your pills?”
“You and Scott seem unable to comprehend I can take care of myself.” He pulls onto Route 50 West towards Upperville. “What were you and Vincent talking about so intently?”
“Vincent’s interested in someone and he…”
“He what?”
“This guy sounds sketchy. Vincent’s really into him and…” Is he? Or is it just fun to hang out with the cool kids? Probably the latter. Still, I’d like to know what the term means, and I want Roy to explain it. Or, rather, I want to see how he deals with it because if I’m to tell him the truth, I have to know I can trust him. I swallow. “He said this guy was a switch. Do you know what he’s talking about?”
Roy takes his eyes off the road for a moment, giving me a curious glance. “Yes, I’ve heard the term.” He taps his finger on the leather-wrapped steering wheel.
“Is it bad?”
“Hang on, let me pull over.” He crosses over Mosby highway onto Atoka Road and parks in the General Store lot. Turning to face me, he starts, “I think he means it as a sexual term.”
He’s waiting to see if I still want to know. I nod that I do.
“It has a few meanings. A person likes both top and bottom during sex or an individual who is both dominant and submissive.”
Did not expect that. A nervous laugh escapes. “Kinda like being ambidextrous.” I sink farther into the soft leather seats. Dominant, submissive. What exactly does that mean? “In a rel
ationship?”
He starts to speak, stops, gazes out the window for a moment, and starts again. “It’s more role-playing during sex. There are…more extreme versions, but in general, while having sex one person is dominant, and…well, this can take different forms.”
I haven’t seen Roy at a loss for words before and I enjoy it. “Such as?”
“The dominant may inflict punishment or restraint.”
“Oh.” I scrape off some nail polish stuck on my cuticle. “It’s not just a gay thing.”
Roy’s lips quirk. “No, Daisy.”
“Vincent faints at the sight of blood. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. The last time I asked him to kill a spider for me, he relocated it outside instead. Maybe he meant something else?”
“Perhaps, though I doubt it. Most people don’t advertise their sexual habits.”
No, I guess they don’t. “Are you a switch?” It’s a valid question, though slightly intrusive. Okay, it’s highly invasive, but I did see him naked and he’s the one all about honesty.
“No, Daisy, I am not.” He reaches across and places his hand over mine. “I don’t want to be dominated nor do I want to dominate. For me, sex is about pleasure. I derive pleasure from giving and receiving.”
I press my lips together. He’s not upset or angry or dodging my questions. “But if I wanted some of those things…with you, it would be okay?” I hear his sharp intake of breath.
He leans in and runs his hand around my neck, cupping the back of my head, and brings his lips to my ear. “If it’s something you wanted, needed…yes,” he purrs, placing soft kisses down the sensitive line of my neck, over my collar bone and at the line of my cleavage, where he stops. He must feel my heart beating against his lips. I don’t want him to stop and almost protest when he separates from me and clears his throat. “If it would make you feel better, I can run a background check on this guy Vincent’s seeing.”
“Oh God,” I whisper and struggle to catch my breath. “What?”
“You’re worried about this guy. I can see if he’s been in trouble.”
Who cares? Why did he stop? He’s composed and straightening his tie while I’m disheveled inside and out. “Didn’t that affect you?”
Secrets In Our Scars Page 7