Slow Burn

Chapter 10

I tap my pencil to the beat coming through my speakers, notes strewn around my desk, and my mind focused on nothing in front of me. Instead, my thoughts keep wandering to Ry’s text: Just because I’m on my honeymoon, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten to remind you to make your appointment.

“Get off my case,” I mutter, hating that she’s remembered and loving that she’s remembered all in the same breath. I glance up at the calendar on the wall beside me and laugh at the five doctor’s appointments I’ve written on there and then X’d out when I suddenly had to cancel because—I don’t know—the sky was blue that day.

I’m being such a chicken about it, but denial is my strongest truth now. I’ve dropped my pencil, and my hand is unconsciously rubbing soft counterclockwise circles around my breast through my clothes. Not pushing firmly, though, because I’m too scared to find what I know is lurking there beneath all the tissue. The same cancerous parasites that took my mom’s breasts and stole my sister’s life.

That I know deep down will shorten mine as well.

I shake my head and blow out a breath and pound my fist against the desk. I know I need to find out the truth, get the test results, but at the same time, I watched Lex die. I watched the cancer take every single part of her, day by day, piece by piece until there was nothing left of her but pain and promises. Tears and denials. Then finally resignation and devastation.

I know the road, know the pain, know it’s no use. … Even if they find it in time, it might not matter. She wasn’t responsive to any treatments. We’re cut from the same cloth, so neither would I be. I try to tell myself I’d rather live without the fear, knowing that what helps define me as a woman also may have death knocking at my door.

Anger fires within me—at Lex, at myself, at everything—because I’m scared to death. To know the truth. Not to know the truth. I realize I’m being ridiculous. I know the right thing to do is to find out, take the blood test and catch it early if I have it, to give myself a fighting chance … but, man, Lex thought the same thing and look what happened to her.

Six months and she was gone.

“Fuck.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair before I pick up the phone and dial the number I now know by heart. I make the appointment and promise not to cancel this time. I’ve just finished writing the details on my calendar—a slight weight lifted from my shoulders so another one can fill its place—when my cell rings.

I groan when I see Cal’s name, my contact at Scandalous. The event went very well this past weekend, good turnout, lots of chatter in the press about his new club, a few more celebrities confirmed for the next event this weekend, but … it’s Cal. He’s never happy. I put on my fuck-you smile when I answer the phone as my own personal tribute to his douchery.

“Cal! How are—”

“I need Saturday to be bigger than last weekend.” His voice comes through loud and clear, words clipped, impatience emanating through the line.

And hello to you too, douche bag.

I bite my tongue, wanting to tell the wanna-be-rico-suave where to go, but I can’t. This is a huge account if I can land it. Their constant events can equate to a continual revenue stream and the possibility of more clients. I force the sweetness I’d rather choke on to lace my voice. “Okay.” I draw the word out pleasantly. “What exactly wasn’t to your liking, Cal? What other suggestions might you have?”

“Honey, I’m paying you, right? The suggestions should be yours.”

I roll my shoulders, not in the mood, but know that if I get the gig, I will no longer have to deal with him. Since he only deals in new talent, as he calls me, I’d move onto a retainer with a different company representative and away from him. The thought makes toning down the quip on my tongue that much more palatable.

“Point made.” I let the silence stay on the line for a moment so I can check my notes and give myself a second to try to figure out what to say to make him happy and not put him on the defensive. “With last weekend’s event, I brought in three additional sponsors and an additional four VIP celebrity attendees. The attendance was thirty percent higher than what you had anticipated, and the club was all over social media sites. So, in other words, I’m not sure how much more overachieving you expect out of HaLex … but I think we surpassed the mark you set handily. And while, yes, you are paying me, Cal, if I don’t know what extra something you’re looking for, I won’t be able to provide it.” I take in a deep breath and realize what I’ve just said. The door I’ve opened for him to step through with his chauvinistic bullshit.

He chuckles low and soft, and the hair stands up on the back of my neck at the slippery sound. And from the laugh alone, I know he is going to walk right over the threshold. “Oh, Ms. Montgomery, something extra is always welcome on my end if you’re really wanting to secure an account as handsome as Scandalous would be for you.”

And that’s a big fuck-off-and-die-I’m-not-sleeping-with-you in my book.

My skin crawls at the suggestion in his tone, and pride has the words spewing off the tip of my tongue, but dignity has me biting them before I can make a monumental mistake. Speak my mind—give him attitude—and I risk losing this account. I hang tight to the knowledge that I will not have to deal with Cal after the end of the month. “I think it’s best we stick to the contract. I’ll figure something out for the event. No worries.”

There is silence on the other end of the line, and I’m not sure if I should be amused or pissed that he’s taken aback by the fact that I’ve completely ignored his unwanted and completely unwarranted advance.

“Well, good, then,” I continue, not letting him gain his bearings so he can prove to be the supercilious prick I know is hiding beneath the surface. “Unless you have something else for me, I’d best be going. I need to put in some added time to get you that something extra for Saturday’s event.”

I hang up the phone before he can speak and ruin my perfect exit. I drop the phone, the clatter of it against my desk filling the silence of the room, and drop my head into my hands. I sit there for a moment, hoping the buzzing in my ears will dissipate, but it just continues to rage incessantly until it becomes almost white noise.

My shoulders are tight, my body amped up with a Molotov cocktail of emotions just waiting to explode when lit by the right match. My mind leaps to Becks, and I curse myself for that damn ache he’s created, which isn’t going away no matter how many times BOB and I have reacquainted ourselves since Sunday.

It’s just not the same.

Not even close.

I groan out in frustration—memories of that one night together flickering through my mind as I hear Dante’s motorcycle pull up in the driveway. I really don’t need to be around him right now—primed alpha male oozing sex appeal and willingness for a quick romp in the bed.

Or on the kitchen counter.

God, yes, I know sleeping with him would be a huge mistake—huge—but damn he might be the perfect flint to spark this sexually frustrated woman’s fire. But no matter how much I know he’d be incredible in bed and pleasure me sufficiently, I’m not crossing that line.

I just can’t.

Not just for my sake or the satisfaction of my sex drive, but because when I think of sex and what I’m craving, I think of Becks. I see him standing between the V of my thighs, that sexy-as-fuck smile on his lips and how he lifts his head up in rapture just as he sinks into me. Yet the fact that I can’t stop thinking of him—of these things—means I just might do something stupid and use Dante to sate my simmering lust.

And that would solve nothing but prove how fucked-up my logic is.

I can’t use one man’s hand to scratch another man’s itch. Well, I could, but that would involve both of them being in the same bed with me, and that’s a whole different can of worms.

The chuckle comes on the heels of the mental image. The exhausted laughter at my ridiculously immature thoughts of two men and their cans of worms tells me I need to leave the house. I need to get out and get some fresh air and make my raging hormones simmer down. Grab hold with both hands and get a grip.

It takes me a second as I look out the window to the front yard to figure out what I need. And it is most definitely not the sight of Dante pulling off his shirt and wiping his hands on it after he adjusts something on his bike. Bare skin, defined muscles, etched ink.

I shove the chair back.

Time to go.

* * *

“See? Just what the doctor ordered, Maddie Haddie.”

Maddie giggles loudly as she takes another lick of the melting massive ice-cream cone in her hands. “Yes, Haddie Maddie,” she says reversing our names like Lexi used to do. “This is the best idea ever!”

“It is,” I agree, holding my own cone up to hers and tapping it in a toast. There’s nothing like time with Maddie to relieve any stress I may have. Clear my thoughts and make me forget about easy mannered country boys I have no business thinking about. I’m glad she was home when I called Danny to see if I could take her out for some ice cream. It made her smile, and it made me forget all the crap of my day.

She continues to chatter incessantly, filling me in on the minutiae of her elementary school life, and I love how the simplest things bring her joy. It forces me to realize how even though she’s been through so much, she’s persevered, and she is a bright and thriving, little soul.

Our spot on the grassy hill in the park overlooks a huge farmers’ market to the right of us, and off in the distance to the left is the beach. I reach in my purse to grab a napkin for her when my eye catches sight of the dandelion hiding nearby.

My breath catches momentarily. I know it’s there just because it’s a weed, but I can’t help but think it’s a sign from Lexi and a nod to our childhood fixation on them and their potential to make wishes come true.

I pull the weed, careful not to disturb its seeds and hold it out in front of me. Maddie tilts her head to the side and looks at me, curious what I’m doing. “Your momma and I used to love to make wishes on dandelions when we were little girls.”

“Really?” she asks on that edge of being too old so that it’s silly but at the same time thrilled to learn something new about her mom.

“Yep. We even had a phase where we’d pick them all and make potions with the seeds to try to make our wishes stronger. Then we’d let them dry from whatever we put on them, make a wish, and blow them into the wind.” I smile softly, the memory so bittersweet.

“Like what kind of potions?” She scoots closer to me now, the fascination to know more causing her eyes to widen.

“Hm … anything we could sneak from the house so Nana wouldn’t notice: perfume, glitter, salt, a little bit of everything all mixed together.” I laugh now. “Your poppy would get so mad because we’d leave them drying all over the place, and then yell at him not to move them and disturb the wishes on them. He even started calling us the dandelion duo for a while.”

“The dandelion duo?” She smiles as she looks at me, and I nod toward the weed in my hand. “Did your wishes ever come true?” The awe in her voice tugs at everything inside of me.

“All the time.” I reach over with my free hand and run it over her cheek. “In fact, the one your mom wished the hardest for happened.”

“It did? What was it?”

I smile, tears burning the back of my eyes. “It was you,” I whisper. Maddie’s eyes lock on mine, the grin spreading on her face, but the sorrow glistening in her eyes. I put my arm around her and pull her in close to my side. We sit there quietly for a moment while I figure out how to make her a part of this, a way to feel close to her mom. “Do you want to be part of the dandelion duo?”

Startled, she bounces her head up, huge brown eyes staring at me full of hope. “Can I? What do I need to do?”

“Well, you need to make a wish, and the way a dandelion sister makes a wish is by saying, ‘I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight’ … and then you close your eyes, make your wish, and blow as hard as you can on the seeds so they take flight.”

“That’s all I have to do?”

“Yep. Would you like to become one now?”

“Yes!”

I hold the dandelion out for her to take in her hand. She looks over at me and I nod for her to go ahead. “I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight….” She squeezes her eyes and falls silent for a moment as she makes her wish before blowing all of the seeds into the air.

“Look,” I tell her so she opens her eyes and watches. “One day one of those seeds carrying your wish is going to come back and bring you your wish, okay?” She nods her head before resting it in the crook of my arm as we watch the last of the seeds disappear. Memories flash through my mind, so faded by time but there nonetheless, and I feel a soft contentment at being able to share this with Maddie. “See, now anytime you see a dandelion, you’ll know it’s a sign from your mom since now you’re officially part of the dandelion duo.”

We sit there a while longer before gathering our stuff. We walk toward the parking lot and decide to stroll through the farmers’ market on the way to the car. Of course, Maddie’s eyes stop on every booth, and we pause numerous times to ooh and ahh at the random items on display.

We are busy discussing why she doesn’t need the huge bag of kettle corn she’s eyeing since she still has smudges of chocolate ice cream on her face from her snack moments before when I freeze at the sound of the slow, familiar cadence behind me. I know it can’t possibly be him, but it’s not like I can resist looking because before my brain even tells my mind to stay focused forward, I’m already turning my head.

At the same moment that my eyes lock on the owner of the voice, his eyes find mine. And all of my resolve, every damn bogus, bullshit lie I’ve told myself about not wanting more with Beckett comes tumbling down around me when our eyes meet.

I feel that instantaneous spark—that firing of desire in my core—when a slow, lopsided smirk spreads on his lips. My vanity has me immediately cringing at my cutoff denim shorts and oversized shirt hanging off of my shoulder. My hair piled high on top of my head in a messily fashionable ponytail compensates for my complete lack of makeup.

Or so I tell myself.

We hold each other’s gaze for a moment, while we both try to figure out what the other’s eyes are saying. And then my chance to infer any meaning there is knocked clear to the wayside when I notice an arm looped through Becks’s. I follow the arm up to take in the woman at his side. She says something to him, and he looks at me a moment longer before turning to see what she’s pointing to.

I can’t tear my eyes away from them. I don’t want to acknowledge the pang of jealousy that starts gnawing through me at the sight of him with another woman. And not just any woman, but a woman who’s the complete opposite of me. Dark and exotic compared to my blond hair and dime-a-dozen cow brown eyes.

Maddie tugs on my hand and breaks my trance. And as I’m pulled back to the here and now, as I blindly buy the popcorn for her because my mind is so rattled by seeing Becks with someone else, I find myself dismayed by the fact that for the first time ever, I feel completely insecure.

What the hell is he doing to me?

I silently chastise myself, tell myself to pull on my big-girl thong and own it like a stripper does her pole, but I think I’m a little stunned at the realization that my ever-confident self has pulled a disappearing act. And even now I’m at a loss because I suddenly notice that the guy who handed me the kettle corn is staring at me like I’ve lost it until I realize I’ve paid and am blocking the next customer in line.

Fuck.

I let Maddie lead as she pulls my hand while I attempt to come to grips with this foreign feeling of inadequacy inside me. I laugh. Mad thinks I’m laughing at her excitement over the popcorn, but in all honesty, I’m dumbfounded that of all men to make me feel this way, it’s Becks.

Wanting more of him is most definitely a possibility … but it’s the what comes after that’s not in the cards for me.

And while I sit at a picnic table shoveling popcorn in my mouth without thinking, it hits me. This is how he must have felt when he called the house and Dante answered his phone. No wonder he was a prick to me.

But Dante is no one, and she … she obviously is someone to him.

It’s not like I care or anything.

Before I can finish lying to myself, I look up from the bag of popcorn, and he’s right in front of me. Or rather his abdomen is, and that in itself causes my breath to hitch as I recall the feel of my fingers over the defined muscles beneath his T-shirt. I have to angle my head up to meet his shadowed eyes under the brim of his baseball cap.

“Dante.”

The name falls out before I can even process my thoughts properly and get a handle on what I’m about to say. And of course I really mean that I understand why Becks was angry at me—I want to explain Dante’s presence properly—but my brain is scrambled with whatever jacked-up hold he seems to have on my coherency.

Becks’s brow furrows immediately in response, and before he can voice the question I can see on his tongue, Maddie makes her presence known.

“What do you call a bad popcorn joke?” her high-pitched voice asks to my right.

His eyes narrow at me momentarily before darting over to Maddie. To the little girl I should be answering, but my eyes are fixated on Becks’s face and the range of expressions that are playing over his features: confusion, interest, amusement. His smile spreads wide and genuine on his face as he steps toward her and lowers himself onto his haunches so that he’s about eye level.

“Hm,” he says, and then purses his lips in thought. “I think I have an answer but I’m not supposed to talk to strangers … so I’m sorry but you’re a stranger.” He just keeps his eyes focused on her as she erupts into a fit of deep giggles from her belly.

She angles her head and rolls her eyes at him, the laughter still bubbling up as she forgets all about the popcorn and falls under Becks’s charm. “I’m Maddie,” she says.

“Ah … you wouldn’t be half of that fabulous duo Haddie Maddie would you?” he asks, and my heart immediately swells, watching him engage with her—and at the knowledge that he remembers who she is from overhearing my past conversations with Rylee, knows how much she means to me. And then of course, I don’t want my heart to swell because how can it swell if I don’t like him in that way? Maddie’s giggle pulls me from my overanalysis, which seems to be the norm as of late around him.

“Yes,” she says.

“Oh, well, in that case, I do know you,” he says, holding his hand out to her. “I’m Becks. Your aunt Haddie’s friend.”

Friend. Hm. I mull the word over in my mind, wanting to like the sound of it but at the same time wanting to reject it immediately. Lover of hot monkey sex with strings tying me to the headboard sounds so much better.

Maddie’s voice pulls me back again as she shakes his hand. “So, what’s the answer?”

“What do you call a bad popcorn joke?” Becks repeats as he stands up and grabs a handful of popcorn from our bag on the table in front of him. “I’d call it corny.” He chuckles as Maddie’s jaw falls open momentarily in shock that he guessed the answer correctly. Then she grins ear to ear.

Question answered, Becks turns his body toward mine, and I find myself standing without thinking, like he has some kind of magnetic pull on me I can’t resist. He angles his head to the side and just stares at me for a moment. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I say, my body thrumming instantly from his attention. Nipples tight, pulse racing, body flushed.

“Dante?” he asks, and I immediately cringe that he remembered my greeting to him. “Am I missing something here?”

I sigh and shake my head. “Yeah. I just wanted to explain who answered your phone the other day. Dante is—”

“Not my business.” His matter-of-fact tone stops me momentarily, but I want him to know the truth.

“He’s someone from my past. He needed a place to stay,” I tell him, but he just quirks his eyebrows at me. I glance over to see Maddie watching our exchange with amused curiosity, popcorn in hand for the show.

“You can say ex, Had. No strings, remember?”

I swear to God if I never hear that term again, I’ll be a happy woman. He taunts me with it every chance he gets, a verbal assault on my conscience. A way to let me know that … what? If I wanted strings, then maybe he might too? I mean that’s just not plausible.

“Becks, it’s important for you to know that I didn’t hop from being with you to being with someone else. Nothing is going on between Dante and me.”

“Just like nothing is going on between you and me, right?” he asks, suggestion in his tone and the question hanging in the sexually charged air between us. I avert my eyes as I sigh, my gaze dragging down his T-shirt and board shorts to flip-flops as I try to find my footing in this world, which is continually tilting beneath me.

And shit, I hate earthquakes.

“Becks …” My voice trails off, and I’m not sure what to say because he’s right. There is most definitely something here between us. Something that I don’t want but can’t seem to stop thinking about. Maybe we should just hook up one more time, flush this need from my system once and for all.

I start to think it’s a brilliant idea. I’m already mentally undressing him when his name is called out over the hum of the market’s activity. “Becks?”

And I’m instantly bristling at the accented voice calling to him. He stares at me a moment longer, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip while his eyes dare me to question him. “One second,” he calls out to Ms. Exotic, holding a finger up to her before turning his attention back to me, challenge back in his gaze. It’s almost as if he’s taunting me, wanting me to ask him to stay, to explain who or what she is to him.

As desperately as I want to know, I settle for smiling subtly and shaking my head in response. When I shift my gaze, I meet Ms. Exotic’s eyes, and she smiles genuinely at me, making me hate her on the spot. Can’t she be some superficial catty bitch so that I have reason not to like her? And I hate that I hate her for it, but she has no clue who I am. Or how expertly Becks has handled my body.

And now holds my emotions.

Maybe it’s her presence that has me immediately wanting Becks all that much more. Makes me wish that easy smile he’s giving her was directed at me instead of the one that always seems to taunt me. The one that says you know you want this—want more of whatever this is—so why are you fighting it?

“Haddie?” His voice fortifies my obstinacy, but the gentle probing in it tugs on my resolve.

I glance over to Maddie for a split second before looking back to him. “Yeah?”

“You know I’m here if you need me, right?”

I roll my shoulders, not needing my scattered emotions to find a home here right now. I don’t need this man I have somehow let in to start offering me more than I can readily accept. Something beyond friendship.

“Thanks,” I say, hating that my voice sounds unconfident and needy. I try to find my dignity, try to find my trademark wit. “No strings, right?” My laugh sounds weak; my thoughts are inconsistent.

He steps in closer, reaching out to run a hand up and down my arm. I know the gesture is one of comfort, but my senses go haywire from his touch. “Run all you want, Haddie,” he murmurs, his deep cadence a strong sound against the white noise around us, “but you’re going to find yourself all tangled up in those dangling ends you refuse to tie to something. … Who’s going to rescue you then?”

His words scar my psyche, telling me truths I don’t want to know but already believe to be true. Want to be true. Because if I’m all tied up in my own web of protection, then when the inevitable happens, I can’t hurt anyone else.

“I don’t need to be rescued, Becks.”

He steps back and shakes his head, sorrow in his eyes as he searches mine, trying to see past the impenetrable guard I’ve put in place. “That’s where you’re wrong, City. Everyone deserves to be rescued at some point.”

He holds my gaze for a moment longer before nodding his head at me, ruffling Maddie’s hair, making her giggle, and walking away. I watch his strong shoulders and broad back until the crowd around us swallows him up. I don’t let myself wonder if she kisses his cheek when he reaches her, if he laces his fingers with hers, or if she puts her arm around him.

I don’t.

Because he’s a forever.

And I can only focus on todays.