Unattainable

by Schlosser, Jamie

  As I went for a kiss, Theo walked away while muttering something about PDA.

  Ignoring his complaints, my hands wandered to Corrie’s ass. Her fingers slid up my naked chest and my cock twitched when her nails scraped over my nipples.

  She briefly slipped me some tongue before she drew back. “I’ll see you around.”

  I nodded dumbly as she hurried away, jumping into the passenger side of the SUV. Hadley didn’t hesitate to hit the gas and I watched them go.

  As I reached for my own door handle, I already missed her. Felt her absence like a severed limb.

  I was such a goner.

  “Damn,” I grunted, hopping into the seat.

  “I know, man.” Theo shoved a small beige tube in front of my face. “Told ya you were going to need this.”

  “Why are you giving me lipstick?”

  “It’s concealer.” He peered closely at my neck. “For that monster.”

  Flipping down the sunshade, I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

  “Holy shit.” I had a hickey the size of a golf ball on the left side of my neck. It was low enough that it might be partially covered by a shirt collar, but partially wasn’t good enough. “What the hell am I gonna do? I can’t hide this.”

  “Yes, you can.” Theo waved the makeup at me again and shoved it into my palm. “This is professional grade, works miracles.”

  “If you say so.” I twisted the little container until the concealer stick came out, then began applying it as Theo shifted into drive.

  As I caked the tan-colored cream over the red mark, I was surprised to find that Theo was right. It made the hickey completely disappear.

  When we parked by the steps in front of the main entrance, he deadpanned, “So I take it you had a good time.”

  “Yep.” Short and sweet reply.

  “And when’s the next date?” he asked.

  Blowing out a breath, I shrugged.

  I didn’t have an answer for him. Because I was wondering that myself.

  If Corrie and I wanted to see each other every day, it was going to take some cunning planning.

  “SO, AIDEN. HOW DOES IT feel to be in a professional recording studio?”

  “It’s awesome.” I pasted on a charismatic smile as I responded to Ross’s interview question with the scripted line. “But as you know, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

  Yeah, my tagline wasn’t the best.

  In truth, I’d never even been to a real rodeo. My horseback riding skills were obtained from show jumping lessons my parents put me in during my preteen years.

  “That’s right,” Ross said. “You recorded a couple demos when you were on The Final Showdown, so you have some experience.” His beady eyes focused on Stan. “How about you?”

  Stan shook his head. “I’ve made some music at home on my laptop, but it’s amateur stuff. Nothing like this.” He waved a hand, indicating the decked-out room in the basement of the resort.

  Rodeo Records had spared no expense transforming the old storage rooms into a sound-proof studio, complete with top-of-the-line mics, speakers, and a control room separated by a plexiglass window. Maroon carpet covered the walls and gray foam sound-absorbing squares lined the ceiling.

  Instrument choices included a drum set, keyboard, bass, and drool-worthy guitars like the twelve-string Martin or the electric Gibson Les Paul.

  My favorite part was the small isolation booth just for vocals in the corner.

  This was the big time.

  Stan and I had already laid down a track—a cover of “Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks—but, admittedly, it wasn’t my best work.

  I’d been a bit distracted all morning, because Corrie should’ve been here by now.

  I glanced into the control room, hoping to see her behind the panel, but it was still Trisha manning the station.

  “What about romance?”

  My head whipped to Ross. “Huh?”

  “You haven’t been forthcoming about dating in the past, and everyone is curious. Will Aiden the unattainable find love here on Nuevo Amor?”

  “Aiden the unattainable?” I wrinkled my nose. “Is that a thing?”

  “It is now,” Ross said proudly. “I came up with it.”

  Great.

  Who I went out with wasn’t anyone’s business, but I had to be careful with my answer. What would Theo do? Vague. Stay vague.

  Aiming for noncommittal, I shrugged. “I guess anything could happen.”

  Disappointed about not getting a juicy answer, Ross heaved out a sigh and stood from his stool. “All right. Let’s take it from the top, all the way through this time. This is for filming purposes only, so make it look good.”

  He strolled from the room, and the cameraman moved into position in front of us.

  Trisha’s voice came through the intercom speaker. “Starting the countdown now. Three—”

  “Wait,” I interrupted, unable to stop myself. “Where’s Corr—the audio engineer?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  Oops. Too obvious?

  “I know what I’m doing,” she replied tersely.

  I believed her. I didn’t think she was incompetent—she just wasn’t the person I wanted to see. My phone didn’t have any signal down here, so I couldn’t text Corrie to ask her where she was.

  I’d wanted to call her last night, but my short appearance at the pool party ended up being an all-evening event, thanks to Ross’s meddling. He’d put together a slew of beach games—bags, ring toss, and sand volleyball. By the time I made it back to my room, it was after midnight. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  I pressed my lips together to stop myself from grilling Trisha about Corrie’s current whereabouts. Thankfully, she dished out more information.

  “She’s sick.”

  The diarrhea story. Right.

  I shook my head. “No, she was sick yesterday.”

  “People can be sick two days in a row.” The inquisitive tilt of her head led me to think she saw right through me, but she didn’t call me out on it. “I got a text from her early this morning,” she continued. “Said she wasn’t feeling well, and she couldn’t make it.”

  Bumping Trisha out of the way, Ross rudely inserted himself in front of the mic. “What’s the holdup? It doesn’t matter if the engineer is here or not. She can mix it later.”

  He had a point I couldn’t refute.

  But I was worried.

  Neither of them knew yesterday was a rouse. Corrie wasn’t supposed to be ill for real. And that meant something was wrong.

  Emotions came rushing at me—all the devastation I went through the last time I got bad news about people I loved, and it felt like a boulder was crushing my chest.

  Rationally, I knew Corrie was probably fine, but I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the worst.

  Was it my fault? Had I pushed her too far out of her comfort zone yesterday? Was she avoiding me? Did the clams give her food poisoning?

  Oh, hell. What about rabies? She’d been concerned about the squirrel-monkey giving her a disease.

  What if she really was sick?

  Sometimes I still had nightmares about being cooped up in my house alone, plagued with grief. Slowly suffocating. If something happened to Corrie… Well, I didn’t even want to think about that.

  I closed my eyes and tried to remember coping mechanisms I’d learned in counseling.

  I drew a blank.

  Trisha started the countdown again, but I barely heard it over my internal freak-out.

  The show must go on.

  My mother had said those words to me countless times. She knew all about smiling for cameras when she didn’t really mean it. Convincing the world of a perfect life when everything behind the scenes was crumbling.

  Shifting into autopilot, I sang the opening lines while my fingers played the chords they knew so well. I let muscle memory takeover as a fake grin stretched over my face, and I tried my best to stay present for Stan.
r />   For one, we were expected to perform this duet at the next elimination, so we needed to nail it. And two, he’d earned this time and deserved my undivided attention.

  Unfortunately, what was supposed to be one run through ended up being five.

  I slipped up on the lyrics three times. Got the chords wrong on the chorus. At one point, I stopped singing all together. I just completely forgot the words.

  Finally, we got through the whole song.

  “Good enough,” Ross barked, annoyed. “I have low blood sugar and I need lunch.”

  He didn’t say anything else before walking out. Trisha and the cameraman weren’t far behind him.

  “A real charmer, that one.” Stan chuckled as soon as the room cleared, then his face got serious. “You okay, son?”

  Son.

  It’d been a while since anyone called me that.

  “I’m just having trouble concentrating today.” I removed the guitar strap from around my neck and set the Martin back on the stand. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. We all have those days. If you ever want to talk about anything, I’ve got two really good ears.” He pointed at the side of his head. “Seriously, I’m thinking about having these gems insured.”

  His boasting made me chuckle. “Thanks.”

  “I might stick around here for a while,” Stan said, staying put with the Les Paul in his lap.

  I gave him an understanding smile. “Take all the time you need.”

  I quickly moved to the exit and before the door shut behind me, I could’ve sworn I heard him mutter, “Go get her.”

  PAIN. SO MUCH PAIN.

  Stepping out of the shower, I gingerly reached for the white towel on the rack and turned toward the mirror.

  “Oh, shit,” I whispered, wincing at the sight of bright red skin in contrast with the pale lines from where my swimsuit top had been.

  Forgetting to wear sunscreen yesterday was one of the dumbest things I’d ever done. A fair complexion like mine always burned easily, and I knew better.

  My chest and shoulders were the worst, and my face looked like a tomato. And now that I wasn’t under the cool spray of the water, the burning came back with a vengeance.

  I hissed as I loosely wrapped the fluffy white towel under my armpits, making sure the rough terry material didn’t chafe my skin.

  After the date yesterday, I’d been so high on endorphins that I didn’t even realize I was fried to a crisp until I got back to my room. I’d been on cloud nine as Hadley drove me around to a rear entrance so I could sneak into the resort. Just to be sure I wasn’t recognized, she’d given me a ball cap, sunglasses, and a resort staff uniform. It was a bit overkill if you asked me, but it worked. No one spotted me.

  I’d gone straight to the shower to wash away the sand and salt water. Then I saw my reflection in the mirror after I got out.

  At first, I’d optimistically hoped the darkened skin would turn into a nice tan, but the redness deepened over the next several hours until I was moaning from fiery agony. I tossed and turned all night, and the twisted sheets were evidence of my restlessness.

  Walking out of the bathroom, I eyed the messy bed and the armchair, contemplating which one was the lesser of two evils.

  I sighed.

  I was going to be uncomfortable no matter what, but the chair was probably the better bet, because at least my butt wasn’t charred.

  Waddling across the room, I stepped over the floral comforter I’d kicked to the floor during my thrashing. The vertical blinds leading out to my balcony were shut, keeping the bright light outside where it damn well belonged.

  I was about to sit down when someone knocked.

  It was probably Trisha. She’d been texting almost nonstop since last night when she heard I had the ‘stomach flu.’ I’d declined her offers of soup and constipating medicine, but the woman was relentless in her pursuit to make me feel better. She finally seemed satisfied when I asked her if she would leave a few nutritional shakes outside my door this morning and take over my audio duties today.

  After emailing her the music tracks for Aiden’s recording session and the duet sing-off rehearsal, the texts stopped.

  I hated pawning off my work on someone else, but I needed to hide—at least for a day. If she saw me like this, she’d take one look at my sunburn and know I was a big fat liar.

  The rapping started up again.

  “Just a minute!” I called, resuming the waddle-walk.

  Cool drops of water trailed from the soaked hair plastered to my head, lending sweet fleeting relief to my shoulders as I shuffled to the door and peered through the peephole.

  I was prepared to start making gagging noises through the wood—anything to convince her coming in wasn’t a good idea—but it wasn’t Trisha.

  Aiden.

  He was standing there, effortlessly good-looking in a plain white T-shirt and distressed jeans.

  My heart leapt with happiness while my stomach sank with dread.

  Looking like a drowned rat straight from the fiery pits of hell in front of my brand-new boyfriend wasn’t on my to-do list today.

  The thudding continued, followed by his booming voice.

  “Let me in, Corrie.” He raked a hand through his hair and worry lines were etched between his eyebrows. “I have a key and I’ll use it.”

  I made a strangled noise. Might as well just announce our secret to the entire resort.

  Cracking the door a little, I harshly whispered, “You might want to talk a little louder. I don’t think Fergus and Dolly heard you on the other side of the island.”

  “Open up,” he said, quieter but firm.

  “Do you really have a key?”

  “No. I was bluffing.” He gently pushed at the door, scowling when I didn’t budge from my spot behind it. “I need to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  “I need to see it for myself.”

  Relenting, I bit back a grunt of frustration as I stepped back to let him in.

  As soon as Aiden crossed the threshold of the dimly lit room, his eyes went wide when he saw the condition I was in. “Holy shit. You’re not fine.”

  “I know,” I conceded, reaching around him to flick the deadbolt lock. “It’s bad. I’ve been wallowing in self-pity, and that’s another thing you need to know about me—I’m a huge baby when it comes to being sick or in pain. The man-cold? I make it look like a papercut that only broke through the top layer of skin, so this is like one hour away from the apocalypse.”

  “Didn’t you wear sunscreen yesterday?” His tone was scolding as he perused my body from head to toe.

  Wincing, I adjusted the towel. “I kinda forgot my epidermis hadn’t seen any UV rays since last August.”

  Aiden’s lips flattened into a thin line.

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s been eight months or eight days,” he snapped. “Sunblock is important.” Moving farther into my room, he started rummaging through the mini-fridge. “Yogurt and pudding? Is that all you’ve eaten today?”

  “And a protein shake,” I defended.

  “You have to take care of yourself.” He stood, uncapping a bottle of water before extending it toward me. “Stay hydrated.”

  Shocked by his over-the-top bossiness, I let out an exasperated sound as I accepted the bottle. “You don’t have to yell at me. I think this—” I waved a hand at my face “—is punishment enough. I’m seriously suffering here.”

  Releasing a ragged breath, Aiden’s shoulders sagged and his voice got soft. “I’m sorry. When you didn’t show up earlier… I thought… I don’t know what I thought. But I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  I cocked my head to the side, studying the way he balled his fists and clenched his jaw.

  Honestly, I’d never seen Aiden so frazzled. He’d never been angry with me before. He’d always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, and I was reminded again that the person in front of me wasn’t the carefree boy I used to know. />
  But this was more than just normal concern—the look in his eyes, the panic. I recognized it because I had these fear-induced meltdowns all the time.

  He was really scared. For me.

  Touched by how much he cared, I took a sip of water and the cold liquid was soothing on my overheated lips.

  “It hurts like hell, and yes, it’s as bad as it looks,” I said, injecting humor into my voice. “I’ll probably complain about it a lot, but I’ll be okay. Promise.”

  He invaded my personal space, towering over me as he gazed down with an intensity I felt all the way to my core.

  “I can’t lose you, Corrie. I just got you back.”

  I melted, compassion replacing the defensiveness from a minute before. “I’m not going anywhere, Aiden. It’s just a sunburn. My skin will peel, and I’ll be hideous for a couple days, but I’ll still be here.”

  “You’ll never be hideous to me.” His hands came up, hovering inches away from my arms before he dropped them. “I want to touch you but I’m afraid I’ll just cause you more pain.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, begrudgingly, because I really wanted a hug. Or a make-out session. A repeat of the ocean humping would’ve been nice.

  But just standing here was excruciating, so physical contact was out of the question.

  “I think I should call a medic.” Aiden leaned closer, squinting at a couple blisters forming on the top of my shoulders.

  “No!” I practically yelped. “No doctors. Besides, no one can see me like this. I was supposed to be in my room all day yesterday, remember?”

  Displeased, he frowned. “You could tell them you fell asleep on your balcony.”

  “While shitting myself?”

  “In between the shitting.”

  Stubborn, I shook my head. “No. Plus, I’m naked under here. Don’t wanna go showing everyone my barbequed goods.”

  I wasn’t even trying to be funny, but Aiden’s lips twitched with a threatening smile.

  His chest expanded and he blew out a surrendering breath. “Did you put anything on the burn?”

  “Just cold water so far. I think there’s some ointment in the self-care pack from the resort.”

  “Be right back.” He stalked across the room and opened the sliding glass door, poking his head out onto the balcony. He disappeared for a second and came back in carrying a small potted plant. “Aloe.” Smiling, he held it up. “I have tons of live plants around my room, but I wasn’t sure if you did. I’m glad the cheap bastards aren’t completely depriving you down here.”