Beautiful Confusion (New Adult Romance) Room 105 (9 page)

“Yeah, I suppose it does. But this place has practically every type of architecture rolled into one. It’s much grander than where I envisioned living.”

“It still has the same kind of magic.” The same kind of sweeping allure. “I could see you living here, too.”

“Can you imagine?” He approached an ornately designed door that led to a banquet room. It was locked, and that seemed to attract him to it even more. He ran his hand across the wood. “The doors here are exceptional.”

“Is that why you became a locksmith? To learn to open locked doors?”

He turned and smiled at me. “I used to break into buildings when I was living on the streets with Jack. I’ve always been able to open locked doors. I just didn’t always do it within the confines of the law.”

I stared at him. “You were a thief?”

“Certainly not.” He tapped the end of my nose. “I never stole anything. I just opened buildings and went inside.”

I scrunched up my face and laughed. He was being sweetly playful. “I’d love to rent a room here someday.”

“Me, too. I’ve never stayed at a hotel.”

“Never, ever?” I repeated what he’d said to me when he’d discovered that I’d never been kissed.

He laughed a little, obviously picking up on the reference. Then he shrugged and said, “I haven’t exactly lived a vacation lifestyle.”

I understood his point. He’d spent two years with Jack, and three in foster care, feeling like a stranger in other people’s homes. “If I stayed here, I’d want to rent room 105.” I brought up that number purposely, needing to mention it somehow.

“Is that one of the haunted rooms?”

“Not that I know of.” Not unless the door to Abby’s dimension was in that room. My pulse went haywire. Was that possible? Could it be the secret location?

I took what I hoped was a calming breath, reminding myself that 105 might not be real. And if that were the case, there wouldn’t be a secret location. There wouldn’t be anything, except Abby’s delusions, and Duncan’s mind-spinning likeness to a warrior who didn’t exist.

“So what’s specific about that room?” he asked, continuing our conversation. “Why would you want to stay there?”

“It’s just a number that has been inside my head for a long time. It’s important to Abby and she made it important to me.” That was as accurate as I could get for now.

Silent, he furrowed his brow.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.

“Like what?”

“You’re frowning.”

“I didn’t realize that I was.”

“Is it because my aunt made you leery of Abby?” I took a step back, moving away from him. “I was so sure that you would take our side and not Carol’s.”

“I am on your side, Vanessa.” He came toward me. “Don’t ever think that I’m not, okay?”

I relaxed, feeling immediately better. I needed to hear him say that. I reached for him and we embraced. Then he kissed me, deep and slow and poetically. There was no other way to describe it.

Flowers and bees and hummingbirds flashed before my eyes. The kiss tasted like nectar on a warm sunny day. My imagination went dizzy with it.

He deepened the exchange, and I clutched his shoulders. We were alone beside the banquet room door, with a long, luxurious hallway on either side of us.

As our tongues met and mated, I pressed my body next to his. He backed me against the door and kissed me harder. Our libidos collided, spinning in sensual waves. I was caged by his passion, his hunger, his heat.

Vanessa Winston. A willing prisoner. He was making up for lost time, for all those years I’d never been kissed.

Carnal bliss. Sweet beauty.

When it was over, I said, “Promise me it will be you.”

He didn’t ask me what I meant. He knew I was asking him to be my first lover. I could feel the shift in his body, the sex-and-sin need.

“Promise me,” I said again.

His chest rose and fell, his breathing labored. “Vanessa.”

I persisted. “Please.”

I waited, and then he finally said, “I promise. But only when the time is right.”

I hastily repeated, “Yes, when the time is right,” agreeing to his terms and swooning like a schoolgirl.

We finished exploring the hotel. We held hands and poked around for ghosts. We didn’t find any, but we enjoyed the hunt.

By the end of the evening, we were in a garden filled with exotic flowers, the night air caressing our faces. He drew me into his arms and kissed me one last time, using his tongue in the most languid way. I felt as if I were floating in a sea of seduction, with mermen swimming around my feet.

Duncan played with my hair, dislodging a good number of the pins and scattering them on the ground. An orgasmic sound escaped my lips, and he shuddered.

When we separated, I was wonderfully askew, blinking at him through owlish eyes.

“I need to take you home,” he said in a sandpapery voice.

“I don’t want to go home.” I never wanted to go there again. All I wanted was to be with him.

“No, seriously, I need to get you home and safely tucked into your bed.”

As opposed to being
unsafely
tucked into his? I smiled. “Because you don’t trust yourself not to take me to your house instead and have your wicked way with me?”

“Yes, that’s exactly why.” He tried to fix my hair, but he realized that the damage he’d done wasn’t repairable, not with the pins on the ground.

“I’ll take care of it.” I would go into a restroom and make myself presentable again. I had extra bobby pins in my purse.

He leaned his forehead against mine. “You make me feel things I shouldn’t feel.”

“I like that you’re feeling them.” I wanted to affect him that way for the rest of our young, sensual lives.

He escorted me to the nearest powder room and I righted my appearance, re-pinning my hair and reapplying my lipstick.

We left the hotel, and he drove me home. Together, we stood on the porch.

“When can I see you again?” he asked.

“Whenever you want.” I would make myself readily available for him.

“How about next Friday? We can have a bonfire at the beach.”

The only time I’d ever been to the beach at night was on the Fourth of July when I was a kid. But that was before my parents had died, so I barely remembered it. These days, my stunted social life didn’t include those types of activities. Of course now that I was with Duncan, things were starting to change.

“Can we roast marshmallows?” I asked.

“Sure.” He was looking at me as if I was the prettiest girl on earth. “I’ll bring everything we need. I’ll text you and we’ll set up a time.”

I pitched into his arms, and he gave me a chaste hug at the door. Or as chaste as he could manage. He was still reeling from earlier, and so was I.

We said goodbye, and I watched him walk to his truck. My first date was over, but the romance on which I was embarking had just begun.

***

In the morning, I prepared for an impromptu visit with Abby, and stressed about what I was supposed to say to her.

Guess what, sis? A man who might be the warrior arrived and his name is Duncan, just like the name you gave him. He took me out last night and now all I can think about is climbing into bed with him—when I’m not worried about him dying. Oh, and Aunt Carol thinks I should stay away from you. That you’re not good for me
.

God, no. I shook my head and rummaged through my closet. I couldn’t say that. I would have to leave Carol out of it.

I chose a simple ensemble—a pair of jeans and a T-shirt—and put my hair in a single braid down my back, looking far less glamorous than I did on my date with Duncan. My makeup was minimal and my shoes were black and white sneakers with pink laces.

I grabbed my bag, the same boho fringe I’d used last night. Carol was awake but she hadn’t come out of her room yet, so I left the house before she could ask me where I was going.

For breakfast, I ate a bagel in the car on the way to The Manor, dropping crumbs on my lap.

When I got there, a surge of fear crept over me and I sat behind the wheel. I couldn’t leave the vehicle. I couldn’t visit Abby. I was too afraid that I would do or say the wrong thing and make her suspicious about what was going on with our aunt. If I didn’t handle this right, my sister might insist that I stop communicating with Carol, and then I would get caught in the crossfire, worse than I already was.

Since Abby wasn’t expecting me today, she wouldn’t be hurt when I didn’t show up. I had an easy out.

Still, I felt like a rotten sister. I hated that Carol had put me in this position. Plus, there was the dilemma of my shaky belief in Room 105. Abby would be convinced that Duncan was the warrior I created. She would start bugging me about meeting him.

So maybe I should introduce them. Maybe I should talk to Duncan and explain everything to him. Then, once he knew what was going on, I could bring him to see Abby and he could relay his thoughts and feelings to her.

Whatever his thoughts and feelings turned out to be.

I highly doubted that he was going to believe it. But at least he would know the truth and I could stop hiding my 105 fears and the panic that he was going die.

I wrapped my arms around my middle. No matter who Duncan was, he was taking over my life. He was part of me, whether I created him or not.

I drove home and entered the house. Carol was in the living room, so I couldn’t avoid her.

She came rushing over to me. “Where have you been?” she asked, tugging at her robe.

“Nowhere.”

“You went somewhere, Vanessa.”

I told her the truth. “I went to see Abby, but then I changed my mind and came back without seeing her.”

She looked pleased. “It’s better this way, honey.”

Yes, it was, but not for the reasons she thought. I’d ditched Abby, but only because I was planning on bringing Duncan to visit her.

“I’ll get breakfast started,” she said.

“I already had a bagel.”

“Did you take your vitamins?”

I shook my head. “I forgot.”

“I’ll get them for you. And some juice, too.”

She was mothering me, as usual. But I let her do whatever made her happy. She already had a pot of coffee brewing and it smelled rich and homey.

“All I want is for everything to be okay,” I said.

“It will be okay,” she assured me. She handed me my juice and vitamins.

I popped them down, eager for the week to pass so I could see Duncan again.

***

When the day arrived, I did my best to relax. I wasn’t going to tell him right away. I would give myself time to broach the subject and wait until the date unfolded.

Since we’d made plans to spend the evening at the beach, I dressed casually. I didn’t pack anything because Duncan said that he would bring what we needed.

Carol wasn’t home, thank goodness. She was working late at the store, so when Duncan picked me up, I was alone.

I sat on the porch and dashed right to his truck as soon as he got there. He smiled, and my heart went pitter-pat.

“Hello, sweet Vanessa,” he said.

“Hi.” I loved that he was flirting with me. I loved how ruggedly handsome he looked, too. He was dressed in a pullover shirt and holey jeans. His hair was long and loose.

“You ready for the beach?” he asked.

“Absolutely. Who wouldn’t be ready for a bonfire and roasted marshmallows?”

“I got the jumbo kind. I also brought a few other snacks, and an ice chest with some sodas and bottled water. I tossed a couple of blankets in the back, too.”

We left my house and took the freeway, headed toward a beach in Orange County that had built-in fire rings. I gazed out the window, watching the taillights of the cars in front of us.

When we arrived, he parked near the boardwalk, and we unpacked the truck. I carried the blankets and he hauled the rest of it.

We picked a secluded spot. We didn’t want to be besieged by little kids running around with their parents, or groups of rowdy teenagers sneaking beers out of their coolers. Drinking on the beach was illegal. I was glad Duncan hadn’t brought any alcohol, although I suspected that he’d partied at the beach with Lori and her crowd plenty of other times.

He started the fire, and we watched it rise. I focused on the colors of the flames. Then I turned toward Duncan and noticed that he was looking at me.

“You look pretty in the firelight,” he said.

“Thank you. So do you. Not pretty, but handsome,” I corrected. The fire provided a primitive glow, highlighting the angles of his face and casting a reddish hue upon his hair.

He opened the bag with the snacks and showed me what was in it. Along with the marshmallows, he’d brought chips, crackers, cookies, and candy.

“Junk food,” I said, and laughed.

He laughed, too. Then he got serious and said, “I barely ate when I was on the streets with Jack. Now I practically hoard food. My cabinets are filled with junk and healthy stuff, too. I buy it all.”

“I can’t imagine going hungry.”

“It sucks, but I still wouldn’t change those years I spent with him.”

No doubt, if Jack was still around, he would believe Abby’s tales of 105. He and my sister might’ve even become friends. “I wish I could have known him.”

“He would have liked you.” Duncan opened a package of red licorice. “He would have thought you were an angel. Angels were always blonde to him. Little blondes, like you.”

“Sometimes I think of you as an angel.”

“Me?” He seemed taken aback. “Why?”

“Because you care about people like Jack. You’re a good person.”

“I’m trying to be good with you.”

I knew he meant sexually. “Don’t break your promise to me, okay? Don’t change your mind.” I wanted him to vow to be my first lover, regardless of what I told him tonight.

“Why would I change my mind?”

“I’m just worried that you might.”

“I won’t.” He leaned forward and captured my mouth. The kiss was short and sweet and wondrous. He tasted like the candy he’d eaten.

In the dizzying aftermath, he said, “I always wanted to get a telescope so I could I watch the stars.” He reclined on the blanket and patted the space next to him, inviting me to lie down, too.