I turned away to look out the window again, seeing the ocean come into view. “I wish I didn’t feel sad talking about my family. I thought leaving would make everything right again.”
“A new place won’t bring you happiness. You can move thousands of miles away and still feel the same sadness,” he said softly, likely speaking for himself too.
I smiled sadly at him. “We’re depressing to be around.”
“You want to know something crazy? I actually feel less depressed than I’ve been in forever.”
“You are crazy.”
He put the Camaro into park, gazing out at the water. “Honestly, I’m afraid of fucking this up with you.”
My eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, I’m not the greatest at expressing myself in the right way. It’s just how I’ve always been. I’m much better at showing how I feel through writing. I’m actually terrible on the phone too, so I was surprised how easy it was with you.”
He looked really bothered, so I reached over and gripped his hand. “This is new for me too and I suggest not to overthink it. And I’m getting used to your brutal honesty, so don’t worry about offending me either.” We had a realness with each other, which held more appeal than a relationship with us pretending perfection. I stared at him, keeping my eyes on his mouth as he mulled over my words.
“What are you doing?”
“Thinking about kissing you.” Rubbing my hand over his rough cheek, I concentrated closely on the look of his soft, inviting lips. I crawled across the center console and gave him a slow, sensual kiss. When I pulled away, I stayed close, within an inch of his face. His eyes were intense, beautiful with long, thick lashes and a deep brown color with flecks of amber. “I had to do that before we went to the beach.”
He gazed down at my cover-up. “Can I see your bathing suit?”
I blushed, then gave a nervous giggle. “No. I’m keeping the cover-up on.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not,” I insisted, reaching for the door handle and climbing out of the car. I walked around to the trunk, waiting for him to pop it, so I could retrieve the rest of my stuff.
“Alyssa, I believe the temperature is going to be over ninety-five today. How do you plan to go swimming?”
“Swimming? I brought a beach chair and your book to read.”
“I’m kind of scared for you to read my books. What if you hate them?”
He seemed a little insecure, which I imagined was common when it came to a creative job. If someone hated your work, were they saying they hated what was inside of you?
“I’m not going to hate them. Plus, you’re going to make me a character in the last one, right? So, I have to like it.”
He grabbed most of my belongings, only leaving the beach bag for me to carry. He wasn’t always polite in conversation, but he seemed to consistently demonstrate his fondness for me in other ways. “I can’t make you a character.”
I gave him an exaggerated pout. “Why not?”
“Because I need the main character to save the planet. If you’re in it, he’ll just want to stay in bed with you all day.”
Damn, he was hot, insanely hot, I thought, trailing behind him as we walked across the sand. Hot enough I was about to suggest we skip the beach once again and go back to my apartment. The thought became even more persistent as he casually removed his T-shirt when we had settled on a spot near the shoreline. His body was amazing. Every ab defined, narrow hips showcased by his low-hanging swim trunks. Tossing on my sunglasses, I fell down in my beach chair, likely in a swoon. Instead of looking at him, I kept my eyes averted to ease the heat between my legs.
The beach was moderately crowded. He had selected a beach in Spring Lake that didn’t attract as many tourists, but I still gazed around to see if the entire beach was drooling along with me.
“Fuck, it’s hot out. Come for a swim with me?” he asked, moving in front of me while holding out his hand.
“Derek, you can’t say the F word at the beach, it’s a family place.”
He smirked at me. “Fine. It’s freaking hot out. Take off this Amish looking dress thing you have on and come in the water with me.”
“Nope. I think I’ll stay here. The water looks too cold for me.”
“Water can’t look cold unless it has icebergs floating in it.”
I ignored him and made a big show of taking out the paperback of the first book in his series, The Discovery. He shook his head at me, then jogged down to the water. He dove in without hesitation and I couldn’t help but grin. As he broke through the surface, he turned to face me. I gave him a wave before turning back to my book.
Problem was I couldn’t concentrate on the book. My mind was entirely held hostage by what Derek looked like shirtless. He was beautiful, like a physical manifestation of uncorrupted masculinity.
Jake wasn’t what most people would consider traditionally handsome. He was average height and build with features too small for his face. But I considered myself above falling for someone based on looks. I fell in love with Jake for his charisma, his sweetness, and his intelligence. Although these qualities ended up being fleeting, they were still the reasons I found myself drawn to him.
Maybe I felt comfortable with Jake’s average looks because I never felt particularly happy with my own appearance. And Jake never did anything to convince me I was good enough for him. He never looked me over like I was perfect just the way I was. I hated the idea I was the girl who let every person define her beauty. Most of all, I hated how I always had to be uncomfortable in my own skin.
Maybe I wasn’t model-thin in my swimsuit and I could probably pick apart my imperfections for hours, but I was done living like that. I was done treating my body like it was something to be ashamed of. Before the self-doubt crept back in, I brought the cover-up over my head and tossed it inside the beach bag.
My skin was fair and I would burn to a crisp if I didn’t put sunscreen on immediately. I was lathering my arms as I saw Derek’s strong legs come into view. “Can I say the F word yet?”
“No,” I said before taking a long moment to move my gaze up his legs, over his torso, and up to his face. Water was cascading down his body, pooling at his feet. I tried to stop squirming at how erotic he looked, soaking wet.
“You look so freaking…fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He sat on the towel next to my beach chair. He fell backward with a long exhale. “Maybe I should ask you to put the Amish dress back on me because every Neanderthal on this beach will be ogling you now.”
I patted his knee playfully. “Only one Neanderthal here I care about, so we’re all good.”
“I know you’re joking and although I can’t seem to stop thinking about that body of yours, I want you to realize I care about you too. You’re important to me. And there’s still so much I want to find out about you.”
“Like what?”
“Like I have no idea what your favorite book is.”
“Well, besides yours, I guess it would be The Metamorphosis.”
He lifted himself up onto his elbows, his mouth hanging open. “You’re joking?”
I gave him a flirty smile. “Why? Is it your favorite book too?”
“No, Alyssa. I don’t believe that book, well, rather a novella,” he started while I shook my head at his nerdiness, “would be anyone’s favorite. I’m actually quite disturbed that would be your choice.”
“Why? I probably related to the bug in it, drew parallels to my own life.”
He frowned at the thought. “No one will ever treat you that way again, not when you’re with me.”
Suddenly, I felt choked up. He was making it impossible not to fall for him. “Do you know that you’re pretty great when you’re not being surly?”
“I think you’re great too.” He sighed. “But of course, the timing isn’t ideal. I have the book release, so Pamela has my schedule overrun with fundraisers, signings, and interviews. Ob
viously, all types of required appearances built into my contract I can’t get out of.”
I tried to keep my smile from slipping, but his words hurt. I didn’t expect him to say we couldn’t be together because of bad timing. He had a thousand other reasons he could’ve used instead. “That’s fine if you’re too busy right now to see me.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He swallowed noticeably as his eyes wandered over my bare legs. “I meant would you be willing to come with me to some of the appearances? There’s a gala my publishing house is having me make a speech at next weekend. We’d get to hang out and you could take my mind off of how awkward I feel pimping my books.”
“If you’d like me to come, then I’m in.”
Although, I was confused over the thought of going out in public with him. Would he bring me as his date? I wasn’t sure if the press would be interested in Derek Walsh dating a new woman. Would I become a tabloid story? But if the events were literary, maybe there wouldn’t be focus on the more salacious details of Derek’s life. Or at least, that’s what I hoped.
“Thank you,” he said, then leaned over to kiss me softly, making me forget all about my reservations.
***
Attending a gala wasn’t a new experience. I’d been to hundreds as a Carmichael. I understood the competition among the rich women, trying to outdo each other through their charitable donations. I could choose the right clothing to wear to blend in, though my budget was in the double digits instead of the thousands. My mother had a team of beauticians at her beck and call, ready to come to the estate and perfect our hair and makeup. I had to style my hair and makeup on my own for my night with Derek, but I didn’t mind. He’d told me I was beautiful and if Derek Walsh thought I was beautiful, then no one else’s opinion truly mattered.
He had brought out the Camaro again to take us to the event. We had about an hour’s drive until we arrived at the country club. He was devastating in a suit and tie. Dark colors suited him best. The black clothing gave him an edge, lending him a sexy bad-boy look. I matched him with a simple black dress, cut low enough to be called sensual instead of sexy. The skirt was meant to be high-cut, allowing the wearer to show off long and shapely legs. My petite height instead made the cut fall below the knees. Jenny had lent me a pair of black heels and a few of her nicer pieces of costume jewelry. The Carmichael jewels and my engagement ring hadn’t made the journey with me.
Despite the newness of our relationship, I found myself missing him often. His schedule was a downer, but he never made me feel neglected. He texted and called as often as possible, even if it was a quick good night before I fell asleep.
Derek provided a rundown of who to expect at the gala, names of agents, publishing executives, and other authors. He was trying to make me comfortable, but I sensed he was just as nervous. He was bringing me out into the public eye.
Earlier, we discussed the potential of losing our privacy, of the world knowing someone new was in Derek Walsh’s life. How would the media react to the mourning fiancé of beautiful Emily Hill moving on? We hadn’t discussed introductions because we had yet to label our relationship. We weren’t lovers, at least not yet. If anything, he was truly my best friend—the label I felt was the closest to what we were to one another.
When we were minutes away, he clenched my hand tightly, bringing my knuckles up to his mouth for a sweet kiss. “Thanks for coming with me. I hate this part of my life. I have a few close friends, mostly friends I made in college. Of course, we’re all spread out now, so we don’t get together as much as I like. But I’m awful at the social stuff. I’ve never been good at self-promotion.”
You always knew how much I hated the crowds. You understood my confidence was all fake and I was back to being a scared little boy again. You would take my hand and it was just us.
The text came back to me like a tidal wave. I didn’t want Emily here, not tonight, but she would always be there. He stared at me, picking up on my change in mood, but not realizing the direction of my thoughts. “I can’t promise you this will be fun, but maybe we could have something to look forward to at the end of the night. Would you like to come back to my place afterward?”
I did want to see his home, uncover another piece of Derek Walsh. He was my friend first, so I understood his invitation wasn’t entirely sexual. The sexual desire was there, simmering under the surface, but he had taken my declaration to heart. Since then, each kiss had been simple and sweet, the flowers and poetry kind. His calls and texts were just as tender, proving to me I was more than just a rebound.
And I loved the sweetness, but I couldn’t pretend not to still crave his body in the most carnal way. I was in a near constant state of arousal, refusing to forget the hungry way he kissed me at the apartment. Or the filth he whispered into my ear, “I refuse to stop, not until you’re squirming below me, begging me to taste your pussy.”
But I’d wait. I needed him to feel good about us, to feel secure in the idea he could move on after Emily, before we took that step with one another.
“If you’re not too tired after, I’d love to come by and see your place.” I smiled brightly at him.
Pulling up to the valet stand, he only had eyes for me, although the attendant looked impatient, waiting for Derek to open the car door. “I’ll try not to leave you alone much, but I will have to read an excerpt and probably do a few photo ops. They auction me off at every one of these things.”
“I wish I had known. I could’ve bid on you,” I teased.
“You can have me free of charge.” He inched closer. “In case I forget to tell you at least a dozen times tonight, you look very, very pretty in that dress.”
“Maybe you could bid on me if you’re lucky,” I said. “The attendant has a vein pulsing out. I think we better put him out of his misery and get out of the car.”
“Do we have to?” His tone was humorous, but I could tell he kind of meant the sentiment.
“What are you worried about?” I asked playfully. “You said I look very, very pretty. Probably no one will even notice you.”
“I agree,” he said before finally opening the door and making his way around to my car door. I was surprised when he lifted me out of the car and kept hold of my hand. We were walking through a crush of people with flashbulbs going off and Derek Walsh, famous author, was holding onto me and not letting go. I couldn’t imagine what it must have taken for him to take this step. And it meant everything to me. He was not shying away from his feelings; he was truly ready to take the leap from secret relationship to something more.
I went on auto-pilot as we made our way into the ballroom. Derek was a hot commodity, one of the top sellers for the publishing agency, so he was accosted a few steps into the entryway. He always paused the conversation, making sure to introduce me first. He took away the awkwardness by simply saying, “This is Alyssa Carter.” No need to give them more than that. And he used the name I chose, not the name I hated more than anything.
Pamela pretended not to remember me, but I didn’t let her faze me. She was his agent and I probably wasn’t the best PR she could dream up. She saw me as a Derek Walsh groupie, with stars in her eyes over the famous author. His books didn’t only sell, his story sold, and my mere presence was distracting from the narrative she wanted to continue on.
Donna, the publishing executive from the signing, was more gracious. She chatted me up while Pamela talked his ear off about business matters that probably could’ve waited. Pamela was fixated on unit sales and comparables, using terms I had no idea about and purposely locked me out of the conversation. Donna pulled me aside, offering a temporary reprieve. “I’m so happy you were able to make it tonight. Derek normally attends alone, especially with his parents being in the UK most of the year. I’m sure he’ll love to see a friendly face in the crowd during his reading.”
“Thank you. Does he read the first chapter again? I hope not, I already heard it.”
Donna touched my forearm, laughing as if I
said something hysterical. “I’ll tell him to read chapter two if that better suits you.”
I nodded, although I detected the sarcasm in her voice. “The book is selling well, though? I wasn’t sure since it’s the tenth book.”
“Absolutely, his fans are loving it. There’s always a drop off in sales between books, but the New Colony has an avid following.”
Her answer pleased me because I loved his success. I was proud so many people hung on his words. I had almost finished the first book in the series. Despite being somewhat annoyed Mr. Byrd ruined the ending, I was hooked on the story. I could feel Derek behind the words and although I was never into science fiction, there was so much more to his writing than epic alien battles. He wrote in a way that allowed readers to build these powerful emotional connections.
Derek turned away from Pamela, walking over to join us. He sent me a wink before speaking to Donna. “Did Alyssa tell you about being my biggest fan? She wants to start Sohor conventions and everything.”
I rolled my eyes at him while addressing Donna. “He’s slightly put off because I wasn’t an instant fangirl.”
Donna smiled at us both before letting her stare linger on Derek. She gave him almost a motherly look and I could tell she cared about him deeply. He wasn’t only dollar signs to her. “Alyssa did have one request. She would like you to read chapter two from The Darkest War since she already heard chapter one.”
He gave a slight head shake. “My number one fan,” he said wryly, clutching at his heart.
“I was going to tell you I did finish most of the first book, but now you’re being a wise ass, so I won’t share my review,” I said, crossing my arms under my chest.
“If you excuse me, I think I need a drink after standing with you two,” Donna said with a smile. She gave Derek’s arm an affectionate squeeze before leaving.
Derek gave her a wave as she walked toward the bar. As a waiter passed by, he scooped two champagne flutes off of the tray, handing me one. “So, don’t keep me in suspense, what’s your review?”
Holding my finger to my chin, I pretended to give consideration to his question. “Honest review or stroke your ego review?”
The Despair of Strangers Page 14