Dare Me Forever (A Solana Beach Book)

by Paige Edward

  I paid and grabbed the package. I loved how Pamela always wrapped customers’ purchases in thick, decadent tissue paper. It was the perfect touch. I made a mental note to pay more attention to that in my store.

  I needed to grab a coffee and then haul ass to the store. I was really pushing the five minute thing. I walked over to Groundworks and pulled open the door, rushing to order my drink. While I waited at the counter for them to call my name, my thoughts drifted back to Ryan. I wondered where we would have dinner. What we would do after. I grabbed my vanilla latte and was headed back across the street towards my store when I saw Hunter coming towards me.

  “I just went to find you at the store, but obviously you weren’t there.” He looked at me sheepishly as he stood before me. I entertained the thought of just walking past him, but no—that was a little too mean, even for how annoyed I was with him. Hunter looked at me, noticing that I was bouncing back and forth on the balls of my feet, obviously eager to extricate myself from this situation, and grimaced. “I wanted to explain, to apologize for the other night.” He looked around us at people milling about, walking past us to work.

  I may not be feeling mean, but that didn’t mean I was going to go out of my way to make him comfortable. If he felt awkward talking about what he did, maybe he shouldn’t have done it in the first place. I had been charitable going out with him—the least he could have done was not be an asshole again.

  But I also didn’t need to have this conversation in front of the Groundworks regulars, who I probably knew or at least saw fairly often. Sighing, I gestured at him to follow me back to the shop.

  As I unlocked the door, I hoped Hunter’s explanation would be quick and painless. I just didn’t really want to get into it with him.

  Hunter put his hand on mine. “Amy, what I came to tell you. I’m sorry. I was just stressed about this game I’d lost and stuff at work and seeing you again--well it’s made me confused. I just keep remembering our past, and how easy it was between us. It’s never like that. When we were good, it was amazing.” He paused.

  This was not what I was expecting at all. One minute, treating me like a booty call, and the next minute apologizing and evoking our past.

  I rubbed my forehead, and pushed my bangs back behind my ear. I hated to admit how good it felt to hear these words. It was like a hurt I thought had long since healed, was just now being totally soothed. Now I knew what people meant about getting closure. You could do everything in your power to get over someone, to move on, ignore the sadness, but nothing replaced the experience of someone remembering what you remembered, of someone regretting the way they’d treated you and finally telling you to your face.

  Hunter looked at me, trying to gauge my reaction to what he had said. I must have looked a mess, frowning as I stared at him, my thoughts moving too fast to piece together. As much as I had dreamed of this moment ever since we broke up, the fact of the matter was I wasn’t eighteen anymore. It had been almost six years. I knew I was over thinking again. Hunter traced the line between my eyebrows.

  “You always did think too hard,” he said smiling. He was right. I needed to go with my gut. And my gut was screaming Ryan in neon lights.

  “Amy, I really need to talk to you about something, but it’s sort of involved and private.” He gestured towards the customers that had just walked into the store. “Would you meet me at Fletcher Cove tomorrow?”

  The cove was an old hangout spot of ours. It’s this beautiful out of the way beach near the park we’d gone to a lot when we were younger, mostly with friends for cook-outs and chilling out. We’d also had more than enough hot make-out sessions there. I hesitated. Had he extended the invitation with the memory of our hookups in mind? Because it wasn’t going to be like that. Or was he just trying to be friendly? I didn’t owe him anything, and if he wanted to tell me something he could tell me right here.

  “Hunter, just tell me now. No one is listening.”

  “I can’t.” His voice was shaking.

  “Ok,” I said reluctantly. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t take long, and it was on my way to work.

  “It’s a date.” He looked relived.

  CHAPTER 24

  Amy

  After I closed the shop, I texted Jamie to invite her over. Hunter’s interest was making me a little insane and Ryan was on my mind so much that I wanted to do something simple—something that didn’t involve any guys, no matter how hot they were. We decided to meet at my house, order in pizza, and veg out. I already had on my favorite sweatpants that said SO CAL on the butt, and a soft tee-shirt I’d had since I was a teenager.

  We both had a secret love of Dance Moms, and tonight there was going to be a two hour long special! Popcorn and Oreos sat on the coffee table in front of my sofa in an all-you-can-eat buffet of junk food. The pizza would come in thirty minutes.

  Jamie texted me that she’d be right over, and I settled in on the couch. Sometimes all you need is a night in with your bestie. I left the door unlocked so Jamie could let herself in without me having to get up—that’s how lazy I was feeling.

  “I’m so excited to watch this,” Jamie yelled as she came through the door with two bottles of white zinfandel cradled in her arms. I laughed. More than anyone I knew Jamie was such a big fan of the Dance Moms girls, rooting them on through solos and duets as if she were their mom herself, fiercely believing in the show’s outrageous set-ups, as contrived as they may be. It’s like she is still a teenager and I love how unapologetic she is about that. I handed her the bowl of popcorn as she sat down.

  As we watched the last ten minutes of the show before, she caught me up on the potential new love interest who’d been coming into her bar. His name was Alex and he’d asked her out on a real date—different from most of the guys she hooked up with, and I was glad.

  “And he is really interested in me—my personality and interests and everything—not just doing me.” Jamie’s eyes glistened. “Plus he’s a little older too, which I like.”

  Then it was my turn. I filled her in on most of what had been going on, although not everything. I kept the sexual part of my and Ryan’s relationship private. It was so much more powerful and intense than anything I’d ever experienced that I wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  “With Ryan I feel like I’m playing with fire,” I said, “but I can’t resist him. Like a moth to a flame. He is sweet and tender too, but the attraction and the wholeness I feel with him, well, it scares me shitless.”

  Jamie smiled at me. “That doesn’t mean it’s bad. Everything you’ve said makes him sound amazing. It just seems like you’re standing in your own way.”

  “I know, but I just can’t get burned.” I split an Oreo in half and ate the plain side first. “I’m too afraid. And then Hunter is all over me lately. And I hate that it feels good. Like I’m vindicated or won somehow.” I trailed off.

  “Who says you can’t see them both and play it out?”

  “I feel guilty when I’m with Hunter. I don’t want to be with him, and I don’t know how he keeps getting me to see him. I weirdly feel like I’m cheating on Ryan, even though nothing is official. And I’m not even doing anything wrong. Not to mention that Jennifer person who was hanging onto Hunter like a magnet. He said they’re not dating, but there’s definitely something weird going on there. I don’t want to get involved in anything messy, even a friendship with him seems like it might be too much.”

  Jamie nodded, seeming to understand. She opened her mouth to say something else, but thankfully, the show started. I didn’t want to dig too deeply with her. I needed to figure this out for myself.

  The familiar theme music came on the speakers. Jamie reached over and turned up the volume to an almost deafening level. I love watching TV with her, because she doesn’t talk through the show. We talk every commercial break about the dance studio owner, Abby Lee Miller, and her latest tantrum, but we have a firm agreement not to bug each other while watching. Don’t want to kill the mood.

/>   We sat in companionable silence, but halfway through the opening scene, my phone rang from where I’d left it in my bedroom. Usually I’d just ignore it, but the possibility that it was Ryan wouldn’t leave my mind. As much as I wanted to see which girl would be at the top of the pyramid this week, I wanted to talk to him more.

  I sprang off the couch and ran to my bedroom. After snatching my phone off my bedside table, I rushed back not to miss anything. Jamie gave me a look, raising one of her eyebrows.

  It was Ryan calling. My heart may have missed a beat when I saw his name appear on the screen. I’d call him back at the break. As I turned back to the show, watching the same girls get chosen as favorites while the usuals got picked on, my attention kept wandering. I had it so bad. I don’t think I’d ever gotten up in the middle of an episode.

  The commercial couldn’t come soon enough, but I’d promised myself to wait. Plus I couldn’t handle Jamie’s inevitable teasing if I didn’t.

  The minute the screen switched to a commercial about Velveeta cheese, I dialed voicemail. Ryan’s sexy voice was delicious even recorded: “Hey, Amy. Just wondering what you are up to. Call me back. I don’t think I can wait much longer to see you. Tomorrow evening you’re mine.”

  I had to call him back. Jamie rolled her eyes dramatically, but couldn’t hide her smile. I walked a little bit away from the couch—too hard to be sassy with an audience.

  “Hi,” I said once he picked up. “So tomorrow night I’m yours? What if I’m busy?” I asked playfully. I had to make him work for it, even a little.

  “I promise whatever you have planned, this is better.” I didn’t doubt it for a minute.

  “So what do you have planned?”

  “You’ll just have to wait and see.” He didn’t wait for me to confirm before pressing on with his plans, “So tomorrow at 8. I’ll swing by your house and pick you up.” It wasn’t a question and I loved how he took charge.

  “I’ll try to be home.”

  “Ha. I fancy you, Amy. Till then.”

  I hung up. When I turned around Jamie was staring at me.

  “I’ve never seen you look like that, Ames. Your eyes are bright, your skin is flushed. And you only spoke to him on the phone for two minutes. He must be incredible.”

  He was incredible. I just hoped I could keep my shit together and not get overwhelmed and fuck it up.

  CHAPTER 25

  Amy

  As I waited for him to pick me up the next day, I was able to put my finger on one of the things I loved most about Ryan. He surprised me, and I didn’t remember being surprised since I was a little girl, before Dad died and my mom fell apart, before the responsibility for Luke rested all on my shoulders. When my dad was alive, he used to make things exciting, like surprising us by taking us to the ice cream store after dinner, or having a pizza party making night. I’d had a magical childhood before he’d passed on. Talking about him with Ryan at the beach, had made me miss him all the more. But I also loved that Ryan got to know who he was through my memories.

  Ryan picked me up and took me to the fanciest restaurant right off of Ocean Avenue, a sweet Italian place that I’d always wanted to try, but would never dare spend the kind of money it took to eat there.

  “This is an incredible surprise,” I said as I stepped out of his Mercedes. “I’ve always wanted to come here.”

  “This is dinner, not the surprise. Be patient.” His eyes twinkled.

  The maître-d took us to a choice table on the balcony. Ryan must come here a lot, as we had the best table in the restaurant by far. The heat of the day had dissipated with the sun, but the night air still tingled with a bit of warmth. Ryan ordered us a bottle of wine, and held my gaze as I lifted the glass to my lips.

  As I was about to take a sip, he said, “A toast, to serendipity. To you.”

  I raised my glass in response, already feeling color rising to my cheeks although I’d had nothing to drink. Our classes clinked together softly, creating a gentle ringing that hung in the air even after we had put our glasses down. I took a taste. It was a delicious red, but even more delicious was the way Ryan was looking at me across the table. He looked deep into my eyes, his gaze gentle but focused. I felt like he was really seeing me, the inside of me, and was happy with who he saw. He rested one hand on the table. I couldn’t stop thinking of what it would feel like to have that hand all over my body. I’d never imagined being so attracted to someone I’d just met, but it felt deeper, truer than a physical infatuation. It felt like destiny.

  Softly, his foot began rubbing mine below the table. Ryan had slipped off his loafer, and was slowly tickling his foot up my leg. I couldn’t stop anticipating where his foot would land—it had been so hot under the table at the fundraiser. I could feel the inside of my thighs tingling in anticipation and excitement.

  The server came to the table. Ryan continued his slow crawl up my leg. Teasing me, leisurely, gently. I tried to keep my face relaxed, but his deliberate assent was making it hard for me to breathe normally.

  Ryan ordered for us both, an array of appetizers and entrees. I wasn’t used to someone ordering for me, and part of me wanted to protest that I could do it myself. But he was obviously used to such decadence, ordering oysters, pancakes with caviar, some young mozzarella with tomatoes, that I decided to hold my tongue for once. I was excited to eat, but how I could handle a long meal, when all I really longed for was sitting across the table from me?

  “Did you grow up eating like this?” I asked him.

  “Not even close. It was just my mum and me from the time I was a kid. It was more often bangers and mash on a good day.” He was speaking in a light way, but there was a seriousness underneath his words, a sadness that I could sense in his tone like an extra note added to the chord, not detracting from the music, but adding an extra something that was hard to put your finger on.

  “Bangers? Is that even a food?”

  “Or sorry, sausages for you Americans,” he said teasingly.

  “Where exactly did you grow up?”

  “Brighton. The definition for urban blight at the time.” His voice was steady, and his jaw was tight, even as he tried to sound casual.

  “And your parents?” I was so curious about him and his life.

  “My dad stuck around until I was six months old, and then took off to who knows where. I had a good mum, but with working all the time, trying to make ends meet, she wasn’t around. I started working for us as early as I can remember. Helping neighbors with their chickens in exchange for eggs. Running errands and delivering messages. Doing any and all odd jobs to help make our lives’ easier.” He looked away.

  “So if I ever need someone to help me with my chickens, you’re my man?” He smiled back at me. I could see he wanted to steer away from the more serious stuff from his past. I didn’t want to push him. I understood how it felt. Sometimes you just couldn’t dig up that old pain.

  “My Dad was the cook in our house,” I said, swilling my red wine in my glass as I spoke and admiring its long legs dripping slowly down the sides. “He made a mean meatloaf. My mom couldn’t stand the kitchen, but I’d spent so much time with him in there, after he died, I took over the cooking. Maybe some time I’ll make you something.”

  “I’d love that.”

  As each course was presented, Ryan made sure I tried some of each delicacy. He fed me each bite slowly, slipping the food into my mouth, watching me enjoy it. As we moved through the expensive bottle of wine, I felt my head growing lighter and my body more relaxed.

  Finally, it was time for dessert. Chocolate covered strawberries and a bottle of champagne. I picked up one of the lush berries and slowly licked the chocolate off the fruit, making no effort to hide the red juice dribbling down my lips. Ryan’s eyes grew wider as he could tell what I was thinking about. He gestured to the waiter for the bill. I smiled and pressed a napkin to my lips.

  It couldn’t come soon enough for either of us. As we waited for the check, he leaned over
and whispered in my ear “I can’t wait to taste you.”

  Outside the restaurant, waiting for his car, I could barely constrain my eagerness. If I could feel this kind of passion from the caress of his cashmere sock on my bare calf, what kind of ecstasy could he bring me when he touched my other parts? He’d made me come wildly on the beach, in my dreams, after that fundraiser, and now hopefully, I could feel all of him inside me again. The car pulled up and we both got in.

  “Take off your panties,” Ryan whispered as soon as we pulled away from the restaurant. I hooked my finger around my new lacy pink g-string and pulled, shimmying to get them off my high-heeled feet. I finally yanked them free. Ryan grabbed them and put them to his nose. “You smell so sweet.” Inching his hand along my thigh, he drew figure eights up to the edge of my sex. I felt my nipples harden as he continued his slow climb. He gently rubbed me, softly squeezing my mound. I shuddered in anticipation.

  “I want to get you home so I can see you,” Ryan said. I couldn’t wait. I could hardly keep my breathing steady. I’d never felt so turned on, so excited, so quickly.

  We turned off the road, and down a long cobbled drive. It was the Somerset Hotel. I stuffed my new pink panties into my purse. I’d only been to the hotel once, to deliver a few dresses when I worked at Curve. But I’d left the dresses with the concierge in the lobby and had never seen much more of the interior. What I had seen though was gorgeous.

  Ryan braked at the valet and explained to me that he was staying at the hotel while he renovated his house. He practically ordered me out of the car to his suite. Little did he know how willing I was. Nothing could keep me away.

  As we entered the elevator, all I could imagine was what kind of pleasure awaited me in his room.