Together Again

by Aria Ford

  “Well, I like it here,” I said defensively. “Half the country wants to come down here for summer, after all.”

  “Yeah. California dreaming,” he grinned. I laughed.

  “Exactly.”

  We ate in silence for a while. I looked at my watch.

  “Oh heck,” I said, noticing it was almost one. “I’ve got a meeting just now.”

  “Oh,” Rodney looked at the clock behind me, and nodded. “I should go too. I promised Blake we could go over a few things before the meeting on Friday. He’s going to present the section about the program checks. I promise I’ll keep it brief,” he added as he saw me roll my eyes.

  “Great,” I nodded. I finished my sandwich and stood, heading for the counter to pay. He came up with me. “Put it on my tab,” I told the guy behind the counter. He nodded.

  “Thanks, Mr. Beckham.”

  “Sure.”

  I was on my way to the door when I walked into a waiter with a tray.

  “Oh!”

  “Sorry,” I said shortly. “It was my fault.”

  I looked down at my shirt—it had collided with the salad and oil and salad dressing now made a spreading stain somewhere near my pocket. I swore.

  “Sir! I’m so sorry…please. We won’t charge you for the meal…” The waiter looked horrified.

  I sighed. “Look…I walked into you. Let’s just forget about it. Right?” I closed my eyes momentarily, wondering what on earth I was going to do about the stain. I had to be at a meeting in twenty minutes.

  I walked briskly out, fuming mad but trying not to show it. Rodney was behind me somewhere, being careful not to attract attention to himself. I was pacing up the street toward the office, making plans. I’ll just stop off on the way and buy a new shirt. It doesn’t have to be something good, just something that doesn’t have mustard on it.

  “Whoa!” I exclaimed, walking into yet another person.

  “Oh!”

  I stared down at the person I’d just walked into. I kept staring.

  “Bethany?”

  “Kyle.”

  Her voice was tight and her brown eyes were cloudy, an expression somewhere between surprise and shock. I tried to get a grip on myself.

  “Sorry,” I managed to say tightly. “I was in a hurry.”

  “I was just coming to find Rodney. He said he’d meet me here around one,” she said, looking round distractedly.

  “Oh.”

  I turned around to find Rodney at my shoulder with a sheepish grin on his face.

  “Bee, hi!” he said. “You brought my charger? Thanks.” He smiled at me sheepishly. “I forgot my phone charger at home. Asked Bee if she could bring it here. Silly me.”

  “We all forget things,” I said absently. I was looking at Bethany. She looked up at me with those big soulful eyes.

  “Well, then,” Rodney said brightly. He looked a bit confusedly at us. “Bee?”

  “Sorry, what?” she blinked at him distantly. “Oh. Charger. Yeah.” She fished in her purse and those long tapering fingers produced the charger. She handed it over to her brother, her pale and plump lips making a little “o” shape of inquiry. I felt myselftense in spite of myself.

  “I’m just off to the store,” I said, taking the plunge. “I needed a new shirt urgently.” I looked down at my shirt with a sad face.

  She saw the stain, a little smile pulling the corners of her mouth up. “You messed yourself?”

  I blushed hotly. “I walked into someone,” I said.

  “Oh.” she nodded. “Well, I guess I’m off, then,” she said, looking from me to Rodney. I frowned.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “That way,” she nodded. I looked and noticed an outlet of Old Navy that way. Not a bad place to stop and get a shirt.

  “I’ll go that way too,” I said quickly.

  Hell, man! Relax. She’s going to think you’re weird. Breathe in. And out. In. And out.

  She raised a brow at me.

  “I want to buy a shirt,” I explained quickly. “In there.”

  She nodded. “Good plan.”

  “See you,” Rodney waved. I nodded. I’d forgotten about him for a moment.

  “In a few minutes,” I said, looking at my watch. “I’ve got to go.”

  Bethany nodded.

  Even though we hadn’t said a word about it, we both walked together in the direction of the sign. I glanced sideways at her. She was wearing a light sundress, patterned with blue flowers. I felt my cock harden as I drank in the sight of her full breasts, her long shapely legs beneath the knee-length skirt. I wanted her so much.

  Getting oil on my shirt, I thought as we headed through the busy post-lunch time street, was easily the best move I’d made all day.

  Chapter 5: Bethany

  I walked along beside Kyle, feeling like I’d suddenly woken in a very weird dream. Of all the things I absolutely had not expected, bumping into him in the street would have been top of my list. What were the chances?

  “You have a meeting now?” I asked.

  “One thirty,” he said succinctly. It was one o’ clock now. I felt my heart patter in urgency.

  “Hell. You’re sure you’ll have time?”

  “The office is there,” he said, inclining his head up the street. “I’ll make it.”

  We walked on. I couldn’t help being aware of his closeness, the feel of that muscled body right next to my own. The guy must live at the gym after hours, I thought, shivering at the thought. I wondered what his body looked like under that crisp white shirt. My cheeks flamed with delicious shame.

  Bethany Hayworth! Stop it. I tried to stop the naughty grin that crossed my face.

  “Whoops,” I said, as a particularly quick-paced guy in a business suit almost walked over me. Kyle reached out a hand to steady me.

  I tensed and his hand dropped to his side as if he’d touched hot coals.

  Again, I felt that strange annoyance. I wasn’t so scary, was I? I was offended by his reaction, and also a bit wistful as my arm tingled with the aftershock of his touch.

  “Sorry,” he said, tight lipped. “Some of these guys need to learn manners. I…oh!”

  We both stepped around a kid on rollerblades and as I looked up I noticed a wide expanse of graffiti on the boards around a construction site.

  “Oh, look,” I said, pointing. “Just what we were talking about.”

  I had the strange experience of seeing him look shocked. He stared at the boards with an expression that I couldn’t read. Then he shook himself, as if shaking off some bad dream.

  “Oh yes,” he said. “Like our talk on Saturday, right?”

  “Right.” I nodded, smiling. “Look, sorry if I was a bit…well…a bit much,” I added, feeling shy. “I’m very passionate about my art.”

  He frowned at me. “Too much?” he said. “Where did you get that from?”

  It was my turn to frown. “I don’t know,” I said. “Everywhere, really.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” I looked at my hands, embarrassed. “You know…guys think it’s weird when a girl goes on and on about some idea or other. I guess,” I added, shrugging confusedly.

  “No,” he said. He was looking at me with a strange intensity, those gray eyes soft. I swallowed hard as the touch of them seemed to touch my soul.

  “No?”

  “You’re not weird,” he said gently. “I don’t know how you think that. I…uh, excuse me,” he added, as he looked around. We were close to the store now. “I got to run. Listen, you have a card or something?”

  I frowned. My mouth was suddenly dry. “Here,” I said, reaching automatically into my handbag, finding the front zip-up compartment where my business cards were kept. I handed him one. He took it, looked at it with a smile, then grunted in satisfaction.

  “Thanks,” he said. He slipped it into his jacket. “I’d better run.”

  “Bye,” I said softly.

  He nodded once, twice, and then ducked into t
he doorway.

  I stood where I was.

  What the hell just happened?

  I didn’t move until a kid on roller-blades swerved around me, yelling in dismay. I nodded and stepped back, still too surprised to move. I shook myself.

  “Come on, Miss Hayworth,” I told myself firmly. “Let’s go.”

  I found my way back along the street, heading in the direction of the bus stop.

  I arrived at Mom’s home in the suburbs in a dreamlike state. I drifted up the sidewalk and through the front door in a daze.

  “Bethany? That you?”

  “Yes, Mom,” I called out heading up the stairs to my room.

  “When you come down, could you look at what I got for the party? I want to decide between two dresses—I’ll take the other one back. I just had to ask you.”

  “Okay,” I called down cheerfully. “I’m coming right down.”

  Mom worked mornings only at the office now. She was a coordinator for a big logistics company, but she’d taken on a less-demanding schedule now that she was sixty. It was nice to have her with more free time than when we were kids.

  “I like the white one,” I said after she’d tried on both dresses.

  “Mm. I also thought it was better,” she nodded, head on one side as she looked at herself in the mirror.

  I frowned. “You’re going to wear the red jacket with it?”

  “I think so,” she nodded. “Or the peach. Which is better?”

  “The peach. The contrast with the white is just a bit lower,” I nodded.

  “You never stop being a designer, do you?” She chuckled. She gave me a kiss on the head as she wandered over to the dressing table where her clothes were piled.

  I smiled. “I guess not.”

  We went through to the living room for tea.

  “How was work?” I asked.

  “Oh! It was okay—hectic, but not too hectic. I was talking to Camilla, and she was telling me that…”

  As Mom talked about work and her colleagues, I listened absently. I was still thinking of Kyle. What the heck was all that about? I would not understand that guy, I told myself firmly, if I lived to be a hundred. Talk about mixed signals! There were weather stations in Texas that have an easier job predicting what’s coming next than I was with this guy.

  “And then I…sorry, sweetie? You look sad.”

  “Oh.” I shook my head, embarrassed that I’d missed a lot of what Mom had been saying. “Sorry, Mom. I was just distracted. What were you saying?”

  “Just telling you about how we’re going to be cutting back on delivery times in winter,” she said. “It wasn’t important. You’re worried about something.”

  “I’m not worried,” I said truthfully. “I was just trying to figure something out. Sorry,” I added, finishing my tea quickly. “I guess I should probably go get some work done.”

  “Sure,” she said, shrugging. “I’m down here if you want to talk. Just doing my tax. I’ll be in the study.”

  “Great,” I replied. I stretched and stood up, heading upstairs.

  Upstairs, I sat down at the desk by the window, looking out over trees and rooftops. I had a sketch pad and started drawing some ideas. Oddly enough, after that talk with Kyle, I felt quite stimulated, and the ideas started to flow. I was deeply involved in the work when my phone made a noise.

  I frowned. I looked at the time. It was five thirty, or thereabouts. I had been working for around three hours! I reached across.

  And stared.

  Hey, Bethany. This is Kyle. Thanks for the card.

  I felt my heart thumping. Kyle Beckham had sent me a message? No way.

  Cool, Bethany. Be cool. Nothing to stress about. I added the number as a contact, then stared at the phone, wondering what on Earth I could say back.

  Hi, Kyle. I wrote. Nice to hear from you. Stay in touch.

  I sent it with my cheeks burning. I had no idea whether that was a good thing to say or a bad thing. I felt so awkward. What was he going to think?

  “Come on, Bethany. You’re thirty-two, not fifteen. Get working.”

  I made myself put the phone in my handbag, pick up my pencil. As I tried to gather my shattered focus, my phone sounded.

  “Oh!”

  I reached for it quickly. Why would it be him? It’s probably just the phone company notifying you of something. I pulled it out quickly and stared at the screen.

  You’re in town until the weekend?

  I messaged back quickly.

  Yes. Leaving on Sunday. Why?

  I frowned. He was typing a reply already. I felt my heart thud as I waited for it.

  Will you be around for lunch tomorrow?

  No. What? Kyle was asking me for lunch? That was just so surreal. Maybe I was fifteen.

  I messaged back at once. I don’t see why not. Where and when?

  I regretted the formality of my reply the instant I’d sent it. But it was too late to change it. I sat there fretting while he wrote back.

  At Waddington’s?

  Sure. It was near where I’d met Rodney earlier today. Near where I’d walked into Kyle, in fact, so I could easily find my way there.

  Sure. See you at twelve thirty?

  The reply flashed back. Sure.

  I wasn’t sure what to reply to that, so I didn’t reply anything. I sat looking at the screen with a confused frown on my face and my mind reeling.

  What the heck just happened? I shook my head to clear it.

  “Okay, Bethany,” I told myself firmly. “You just got asked to lunch by Kyle Beckham. Nothing to worry about.”

  I let out a slow, steadying breath. I was nervous, I realized. I hadn’t been on a date for a while. And I had absolutely never been on a date with a guy I liked quite as much as I liked Kyle, let’s face it. I sighed.

  I went over to my suitcase. I had two things in there that might work for a lunch. A pair of gray slacks that could be dressed up to pretty smart with a nice shirt. And a less formal dress, similar to the one I had on today. I sighed.

  “Mom?” I called down the stairs.

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Are you finished working? I might need to ask your opinion on something.”

  “Sure, baby,” she called cheerfully. “Bring it right down.”

  I lifted the clothes and headed downstairs. “Which is more approachable? Slacks, or the dress?”

  I was determined to make a good impression tomorrow.

  End of Sneak Peek, click here to read the full story: The Rebel

  UNBROKEN

  PROLOGUE

  My mind fed me images of his hard, muscled body. I remembered him pressed against me. His arms were draped around me as he crushed my lips with his, and my breasts were flattened by his weight.

  I eagerly drank the images. Him pushing inside of me. His hard cock filling me, satisfying me.

  “Where did he go?” I asked my reflection, since there was no one else in the room to ask.

  Big brown eyes, red lips, straight nose. I looked way more confident than I felt.

  My reflection was assured and strong. I snorted. She’s on magazine covers and centerfolds? What does she have to fear? If only the girl in the mirror could share my confusion and pain.

  Nope. She was refined and polished. That was my job, after all. I modeled makeup for the breakaway brand Petals. Not for the first time, I wished my confident appearance matched up with the real me. In magazines and in my portfolio, I looked aloof, confident, stylish. Inside, I was the total opposite: the insecure, shy girl from a strict home. The girl who stuttered in interviews and whose legs went wobbly in front of an audience.

  No one knows about that.

  My crippling fear of people was my weak spot. Only the people I really trusted knew about it. That was only two people: my brother Lance, and him. The guy who I had loved and lost. Lost, as in really lost. I didn’t know where he was.

  I sighed, blowing a strand of dark hair away from my lips and reaching for my hairbrus
h. I had a shoot this morning. No wonder I was getting a bit nervous. As it usually did, being nervous led to thinking about him and the electricity he coursed through my body. He was the only person who could replicate my fears and make them into something good. Now, there were only nerves and no electricity, no fire.

  I turned my back on my reflection. I needed to get dressed and ready for my shoot at ten this morning.

  For some reason, even as I dressed, I couldn’t shift him from my thoughts. I remembered the way his mouth pressed on mine, sweet and strong and tantalizing. The way he touched my body. The way he was so passionate and strong, but also gentle and tender. More than ever, I remembered that last day I saw him. When the mystery happened.

  I had been at home, trying to forget it was Jay’s big game. You see, he was a football player. Big deal stuff. You wouldn’t think we were that similar, him being an NFL football player and me being a cover girl. But they were.

  I never attended his games—we both promised each other we wouldn’t risk bringing bad luck. It was silly. One of those superstitions like not saying “Macbeth” in theaters. But we stuck to it. He never accompanied me to shoots, I never went to games.