Applewild (8 page)

“But people have to know they don’t have the full story.”

“That’s the fun part, isn’t it? This can go so many ways. Alton’s actively dating, he’s using sex and alcohol to cope, he was cheating on Sophie before she cheated on him, he’s a sex addict….People who read gossip magazines
love
filling in the blanks. And these so-called fans are the ones who decide his fate in Hollywood. Mel Gibson, Kristen Stewart, Paula Deen…they all had major backlash once their dirty deeds were revealed.”

“Monroe, you’re overreacting. It wasn’t a ‘dirty deed.’ I’m sure this whole thing will blow over in no time.”

“It better. I’m calling Rodney and giving him a piece of my mind.”

“You really think he did it?”

“Who else?”

“I don’t know. He just didn’t seem that beat up about your date ending. Do you know he had two girls that night?”

“Ugh. No. I didn’t need to know.”

“I’m just saying. You dumping him for Alton was the best thing that ever happened to the guy.”

“I have to ask him. I know I don’t have proof. But somebody did this. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t him. I’m assuming it wasn’t you, and why would anyone else care?”

“Because they want to feel important?”

“I hope our friends aren’t that shallow.”

“I don’t think they are. And call him if you want. But just don’t go crazy on him without any evidence.”

Monroe took a deep breath and kicked a stray piece of hay with her booted toe. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“So what exactly
did
happen?”

“Not a lot,” Monroe admitted, peeking at Xan’s pony. He was still munching away. “Not everything.”

“Boo.”

“We were drunk and clumsy and it was a stupid thing to do, anyway.”

“Uh-huh. So was it good?”

“It was a sloppy mess.”

“But was it good?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You should at least be able to say it was worth all this trouble.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. Unless I can make sure this won’t happen again I won’t be able to rest easy. I know he can’t. I’ll have to become a hermit.”

“You’ll both become hermits. Together. Sex hermits.”

“Seriously?”

“No. But, seriously, it sounds like you care about him.”

“I don’t. I just feel guilty.”

“Same thing.”

“You have issues.” Monroe’s call-waiting beeped in and she looked at her screen. It was Ms. Hutter. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Let me know how the mystery unfolds!”

Monroe answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hi, Monroe.” There was an edge of worry in the housekeeper’s voice. “Could you please come to my office?”

“Sure thing. Can I let the horses out first?”

“Sure, but this is important. I’ve just talked to Mrs. Avery and she has some concerns I’d like to relay to you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Monroe ended the call. Anxiety cinched her heart. Of course Mrs. Avery would have seen the article. She’d know she was messing around with her friend. And while
Don’t sleep with my friends
wasn’t explicitly written in her contract, it was probably implied.

It was the first time she realized this article could affect the future of her own career as well as Alton’s.

“Shit,” she groaned, smacking her own forehead with a gloved hand.

Werther snorted from across the way. Monroe tamped down her fears long enough to lead the horses one by one to the back pasture to graze and romp around. Then she switched her work gloves for fingerless ones in the feed room. She glanced at the stairs. Everything was quiet. Alton was probably out cold. It was a shame. He’d probably enjoy seeing someone else get a taste of the bullshit that came with fame.

She walked to the house, trying to keep a normal pace. Fear wanted to slow her steps and anxiety wanted to quicken them, but she finally made it to the back door. She stepped inside and took a moment to flex her right hand. It always hurt more when she was stressed. And knowing she was about to learn if she would be jobless and homeless in a few minutes was pretty damn stressful. She went through the kitchen. Elsa was taking a break at the counter.

“Hi, Monroe. I was getting worried that boy scared you away from the main house forever. Have time for a coffee?”

“Alton’s not so bad.” She shrugged. “He’s under a lot of pressure.”

“Oh, I see.” Elsa smiled knowingly.

Monroe could feel her cheeks grow hot. Elsa probably
did
know. With age came wisdom. With wisdom came the ability to tell if two people were physically involved.

“And as for the coffee, I’d love to, but I’m here to see Ms. Hutter. She called about half an hour ago.”

“Why do you look so nervous?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Monroe shrugged, her anxiety getting the better of her.

She left the kitchen and approached Ms. Hutter’s door. She took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in,” Ms. Hutter called.

She was bowed over an iPad, sorting through e-mails and documents. A stack of résumés sat beside her on the organized desk.

“Hello, Monroe.” She looked at her over thick-framed reading glasses.

“Hi, Ms. Hutter.”

“Have a seat.”

Monroe felt as if she were in the principal’s office. The housekeeper was a nice woman, but she still held the hire/fire power. And Monroe had done a very ill-advised thing. She sat on the loveseat and clasped her hands between her knees. Ms. Hutter found a stopping point and came to join her, iPad in hand.

“Do you know why I asked you here?”

“I have an idea.”

The older woman tapped the screen a few times and showed her the same article she’d been viewing herself just an hour ago. And there was that picture—so intimate, so private, exposed to the world. She grimaced.

“Mrs. Avery came across this. I’m sure you can see why she might be concerned.”

“I do.”

“He’s here to relax, to keep a low profile. I thought you were the last one I’d have to have this talk with.”

Monroe felt guilt wash over her once again, but she wasn’t without her pride. “He came on to me.”

“That may be. But it takes two for this to happen.” She pointed to the photo, still on the screen, and Monroe shifted uncomfortably.

“What exactly did Mrs. Avery say?”

“She just asked me to remind you that Mr. Daniels is her friend. He’s going through a hard time, and she doesn’t want anyone to make it more difficult for him.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“I know. The road to hell, Monroe.”

Monroe wanted to argue. She wanted to point out that someone should tell Alton to keep his hands off her, too. She also wanted to point out he was his own person and perfectly capable of handling his own personal life. She had every respect for Mrs. Avery, but wasn’t butting in like this and making assumptions about the photo just as bad as everyone else doing the same thing?

It probably wasn’t in her best interest to argue aloud. And it would also mean admitting she cared and was disappointed and defensive and wanted more of him. So she just kept her mouth shut and nodded.

“I know you’re not a careless person,” Ms. Hutter said. “I was young once. It’s easy to get caught up and lose sight of the consequences. Especially with such a good-looking young man.”

Monroe nodded again.

“That’s all, Monroe. Just a warning.” Ms. Hutter stood, the usual friendly-but-not-
too
-friendly smile on her face. “And please make room in your schedule to help me interview candidates for Jamal’s position on Tuesday.”

“Thanks.”

Monroe left the sitting room as quickly as she could without seeming like she wanted to leave as quickly as she could. She took the long way round to the back door in order to avoid Elsa. She wanted to feel something other than mortified for just a moment. But it kept coming. The picture, the lecture, what Mrs. Avery must think. She didn’t want to talk about it yet. What was she supposed to do? The chemistry between them was electric, unavoidable. She hadn’t wanted a man so badly in her entire life, and she hadn’t really paid attention to that desire until she was told she couldn’t have him. What could she do?

She just wanted to get back to work and take her mind off the situation. But Alton was right there, coming through the barn’s front entrance as she approached it. She was overwhelmed, and concern found its way into his brown eyes, through the haze of sleep and drink still clouding them.

“What’s wrong?”

Monroe shook her head and walked past him, but he grabbed her arm. She whipped her head around and gave him a scathing look. He was taken aback.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You should go back to the house. Or back to L.A.”

“I’m sorry. I was drunk. I don’t blame you for what happened. Not really. I’m just angry at the situation. I still—”

“Want to fuck me?” she finished.

He blinked, unable to keep up with what she knew was an overreaction. “Why would you say that? I’m trying to apologize.”

“Well, don’t.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “It’s been fun!”

She waved without looking at him as she walked past, horrified to feel tears prick her eyes. It had to be stress. Just stress. She refused to let them fall and ran upstairs for another bottle of water, hoping he’d be gone by the time she came back to clean stalls.

IX

Alton had been angry as hell that morning, and, yeah, three shots of whiskey and two cigarettes into his internal tantrum he was blaming Monroe. The alcohol was becoming a problem. He needed to stop. But he felt the least amount of pain when he was drinking or fucking. Wasn’t that just human nature? To try and feel good, whatever the cost?

He ran his hands through his hair, tugging it in frustration. He didn’t want that cost to be Monroe, but her sudden dismissal told him it might already be too late. She must have had time to think about it, to realize he wasn’t worth it, just like he’d had time to sleep off some of the drink and realize he hadn’t meant any of the panic-induced things he’d said to her. Except one.

The photo was embarrassing and could be a shot to his image, depending on how the media packaged it. But he could salvage this thing between him and Monroe. They could keep it low-key, stay on the property. But he’d opened his stupid mouth, and now it was over.

It was what he’d wanted. It was for the best. It simplified things. But he felt far from happy. After an hour of lying in sheets that smelled like her skin, he had a renewed desire to keep their affair going until he left Applewild—maybe longer.

And now she clearly thought he was an asshole.

He kicked the dirt, lit another cigarette, and headed back to the main house. He glanced at his phone. With the photo’s release came another torrent of texts and calls for him to ignore and decline. Madison called twice. He should call her back, but he didn’t even feel like talking to her right now.

He crushed the cigarette under his toe and left it as he hopped up the steps to the patio and went inside. He walked through the kitchen, where Elsa was putting sandwiches together. She pushed a plate his way and gave him a sideways glance. He knew she didn’t approve of most of his actions over the last few days, but he convinced himself he didn’t care. It wasn’t her job to approve.

He took the plate and headed for the stairs.

“You and Monroe have both come through here in the last hour looking awfully agitated,” Elsa called after him.

“Imagine that,” he answered over his shoulder.

He was almost to the stairs, almost home free, when Ms. Hutter opened her door and poked her head out. “Mr. Daniels, Mrs. Avery is on the phone for you.”

“Can you tell her I’m eating lunch?”

“I can tell her.”

Ms. Hutter’s expression said what Alton already knew—Madison wouldn’t care. He rolled his eyes and reached for the cordless phone.

“Hey,” he greeted, holding the phone with his shoulder and tapping his foot on the bottom stair, anxious to get upstairs, eat, shower, and probably just sleep the rest of the shitty day away.

“Hi, Alton, I called you. Twice.”

“I know, but—”

“I know you know. And I know you’re upset. With good reason. I am so sorry about what happened. Those paparazzi are ruthless. And Monroe should never have breached the employee/employer boundary.”

“I’m not her employer.”

“You’re as good as.”

“Why? Because I’m richer than she is?”

Madison was silent. Alton knew his tone was snippy. And he was as good as implying she’d lost touch with anyone below upper class.

“Because she is paid to cater to your every whim and you are there to relax.” She chose her words carefully but not carefully enough.

“She did cater to my every whim. And I did relax. Madison, don’t blame this on her. I already did and I regret it.”

“She should have known better.”

“Dammit, Madison, could you sound more like an overprotective mother?” She was quiet again, and Alton sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you mean well. And I know this is your house and you’re being a good friend, and…I just need time. There’s a reason I didn’t answer my phone today.”

“I understand. Feel better.” Her tone was cool.

Alton felt like he was being torn apart inside, as much as, if not more than, when he’d discovered Sophie’s infidelity. Apparently he just wasn’t happy unless every woman in his life was unhappy, too.

“Madison, I’m sorry. Are we okay? Can I call later?”

He heard her take a deep breath, and her voice was calmer. “Yes. Of course. I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“I know.”

She hung up, and he handed the phone back to Ms. Hutter, who was trying too hard to pretend she’d heard nothing. She disappeared into the office again and Alton was finally able to escape to his bedroom.

Which might once have been Monroe’s bedroom.

He sat at a side table and bit into an apple as he surveyed the room. The décor was Madison’s. The bed was big and expensive with a down comforter. The bathroom was a recent addition. Yet, somehow, even the possibility that Monroe’s feet had touched the same floorboards made him feel close to her. Why did he want that?

Alton only wished he’d been more lucid when he was in her actual apartment. He wished he’d had the sense to wait for her, to make some grand apologetic gesture, to save their short-lived arrangement somehow. Now he was left missing her. And he did miss her. How could he have let this happen?

He picked up a piece of paper he’d tossed on the dresser the night before. One of the girls at the bonfire—Kyle—had given him her number. Why not distract himself from the girl he’d been using as a distraction with another girl?

He blocked his number from her caller ID and dialed. She answered after two rings in a perky, southern-belle voice that would definitely get on his nerves after a few days.
Perfect.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kyle? It’s Alton.”

“Oh, hi, Alton!” She giggled.

Scratch that. She would probably get on his nerves after a day. But he had a hunch that was all he’d need.

“Are you free tonight?”

“Well, yeah, of course I am for you. But I did see that picture online. Aren’t you and Monroe involved?”

“Not exclusively.” His words were smooth, easy, sensual.

“Well, yeah, of course I’d love to see you.”

“Great. I don’t want to go to a very public place.”

“Well, yeah, definitely not.” Well, yeah, maybe he could stand her for a few hours. “My roommate’s working tonight, so…if you want to come by…”

“Sounds great. What’s the address?” He scribbled it down. “I’ll see you around seven.”

“Great!” she responded. “See you then, stud.”

He ended the call and stared at the blank TV screen.
Stud?
He shook his head and went to the bathroom to shower. He washed, rinsed, dried, and, for the first time in almost a week, shaved. He threw on jeans and a t-shirt, then lay back on the bed and turned on ESPN. He watched college football until 6:00pm, when he grabbed his cigarettes, keys, and wallet and went downstairs. Ms. Hutter’s door was closed and Elsa was gone for the night. He had a straight shot through the house to the pillared patio.

The truck was by the barn. He lit up on the way and smoked until he reached the building. The scent of his cigarette mixed with the warm, breezy air. It ruffled his hair, almost pushing him in the direction he was going.

In the right direction,
his mind seemed to whisper.

The double doors were open just a crack. He could hear a quiet scraping sound. He still had the keys to the truck. He didn’t have to go in, but he couldn’t fight the urge to take a quick peek. Monroe’s back was to him. One of the horses was tethered to the aisle on both sides, and she was bent over his hoof, cleaning it with a pick.

The horse snorted, and Alton pulled back. He needed to get in the truck and go—go have dinner, go get laid, go take his mind off the woman who was driving him crazy.

And that woman wasn’t Sophie anymore.

Alton tried to keep his footsteps soft as he followed a trail of flattened grass to the carport. He opened the door carefully and considered putting it in neutral and rolling it away like a teenager trying to sneak out in the middle of the night.

He had more pride than that.

But before he could open the door and let the engine roar to life, he caught sight of Monroe’s reflection in the window. Her arms were crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts up, deepening the outline of her cleavage through the plain shirt she wore. His cock twitched, aching, begging him to finish what he’d started with her. But that wasn’t happening. He’d have to get his fix elsewhere. Still, he released the handle and turned to her, making even eye contact with the sunset as their background.

“I thought I was quiet,” he said.

“You were. I smelled the smoke.”

“What do you want?” His voice was cool, indifferent, and he knew it.

She shifted her weight and looked away from him. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

Her eyes met his again, piercing green over the thin, displeased line of her mouth. He might even go so far as to say she looked hurt.
Good.

“With Kyle?”

The accurate guess took him off guard. “How did you know?”

“We’re girls. We talk.”

“Fair enough.”

Monroe’s frown deepened. “You know she could be the one who took the picture.”

“I doubt that.”

“Why?”

“She’s probably too stupid to use a camera.”

Monroe’s eyes narrowed. “So not only are you going out to get laid tonight, you’re going out to get laid with a girl you don’t even respect?”

“The one I respect doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

The pointed comment struck home. Monroe turned away from him. Her hands moved to her hips, and she kicked at a weed.

“Well, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t Rodney. He went home with Barb and Delaney before we fell asleep. It was someone else there. But you go ahead and take your chances. I hope she has a webcam hidden somewhere.”

Monroe thrust her toe hard at the dirt, severing the weed where it met the ground before walking abruptly back into the barn. Her words were harsh. Alton was confused. She’d told him to get lost. Why was she mad? He ran his hands over his face and held them there, muffling a frustrated groan.

He wanted her. All signs said she wanted him, too. It was the simplest thing in the world. How had it become so complicated? He smacked the truck door hard with the palm of his hand and went after her. She wasn’t in the barn. The horses were in for the night. Only the low lights let him see where he was walking. But he heard movement above him and headed for the stairs. He took them quickly, heart racing, blood pumping, indecent thoughts making him hard before he even reached the door.

He rapped loudly, and on the third knock, Monroe answered. He kissed her, giving her no time to speak, no chance to resist. He kicked the door closed and backed her up to the unmade bed without letting his mouth leave hers. She wound her arms around his neck and returned his caresses, moaning softly as she lost herself in his lips. The kiss was deep and ceaseless. Alton grasped her chin gently and teased the swollen flesh of her lips until she trembled all over. He refused to lose this moment again.

He laid Monroe down and straddled her hips, tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging, coaxing her into exposing the smooth flesh of her throat. He licked and nipped the sensitive skin incessantly, feeding off the short gasps escaping her lungs, the way her nails raked his back through his shirt, the unconscious grind of her warm, jean-clad mound against his thigh. He brought a hand down to rub her through the fabric, to ease some of her suffering, reveling in the way she moved against him.

He peeled off his shirt and undid the top button of hers, but she surprised him by grasping his wrists and flipping him onto his back before he could gain full access to her sultry body. She stripped off her pants and underwear, then traveled down the length of his body to tug off his shoes and socks.

Soon, he was naked, and she remained in the button-down flannel shirt, which he had to admit was sexy in itself. She sat on top of him, pressing the warm, wet vee of her thighs against his throbbing erection, sliding methodically up and down its length, driving him wild without giving him exactly what he wanted.

“Shit…Monroe…,” he moaned, grasping her bare hips in his hands and quickening the pace.

He could feel the nub of her clit rocking against the head of his penis, and her closed eyes and parted lips told him she was deriving her own pleasure from the act. She reached up and felt her breasts through the shirt, one hand hidden by a fingerless leather glove, gently kneading the mounds of flesh, her index fingers teasing her nipples. The sight was erotic. He was mesmerized, even as he knew it would be too much to handle.

But he hadn’t come here for another almost. He wanted to be wrapped inside her, feel her tight muscles clamp down and milk him dry. So he lifted her up, rested the apex of his erection at her entrance, and let her take it from there. Her eyes remained closed. She was lost in the moment. Every infinitesimal change in her expression spoke volumes of the ecstasy she felt as she took him in, centimeter by blissful centimeter. When he came to rest fully inside her, she released a long, guttural moan that shook him to the core and almost made him lose it right there.