Love Emerged (6 page)

“Can I take you to dinner?”

“Um, no.”

I move to walk around him, but he gently touches my arm. I retract it away.

“Don’t touch me,” I seethe through my teeth, my blood starting to boil over.

“Honeybee.”

I close my eyes, partially to push back the tears at his nickname for me and also to give me time to compose myself.

I turn around, narrowing my eyes at him, wishing daggers would fly out of them and shatter his heart, like he did mine. “The name is Bea.” I grab his arm and pull him into the corner, away from the hustle from the ending workday.

Once his expensive suit is pressed to the marble wall of my office building, I lean in close, so no one else can hear me. I’m the one in control, holding the cards, this time. “Listen, I don’t know why you’re here, but leave. You’re my past, and I left you there eight years ago.”

Without waiting for an answer, I turn around and start to walk away.

“That’s why I’m here—to apologize,” he says.

I stop, thinking of all the nights I waited for him to come and apologize for what he did. That was, until I grew up and realized my mom was right. Fairy tales are bullshit, and princes don’t go searching out princesses.

“Go home, Austin.”

I STUMBLE THROUGH THE SHRIMP
pasta dish that I’m cooking for Dylan because the past is a wicked tornado that spins back to you when you thought it’d moved on.

Austin’s reappearance threw me into a whole new direction. He looked just like I always imagined. An expensive suit and an even pricier watch adorning his wrist. Sandy-blond hair gelled into perfection with those cheekbones already rosy. His eyes might have looked a little kinder today than the last time I’d seen him, but he doesn’t deserve my time. Apology, my ass. I gave up waiting for his sorry-ass apology years ago. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean the past doesn’t still dictate my future. Trust is a hard thing to gain back, and every man after him has felt the repercussions from his actions.

I was seventeen, and my mom had just married Austin’s father. We were in the Hamptons for the summer. Austin was an only child, like me, and I had some crazy notion that we’d become close. His mom had died when he was younger, and his dad was a nice guy, so I never suspected that he was the nightmare of rich boys.

My mom convinced Austin’s dad to leave halfway through the summer to go to Europe. Although he was hesitant to leave Austin, who was only nineteen, and me by ourselves, my mom promised him we were old enough. I admittedly egged it on a little just because I didn’t want to be around my mom. If I’d known what would happen in the coming months, I wouldn’t have been so eager not to have parental supervision.

Austin’s friends immediately started occupying the house. First, it was outrageous parties, and I’d wake to find them sprinkled all over the floor until two of them moved in completely. Regularly, they’d be smoking pot or snorting lines of coke. How underage kids were able to buy alcohol on the level they did, I had no idea. When they said that money couldn’t buy everything, they weren’t talking about the Hamptons.

Austin and I had become close over the last two weeks our parents had been gone. I’d regularly make him breakfast when he was hungover, and he’d grill for me at dinner. A few times, he, his friends, and I would watch a movie. We’d gone on the boat and Jet Skis, and I laughed more than I had most of my life.

We were truly becoming siblings, but to be honest, there was an attraction on my part. He was a nineteen-year-old college boy with sun-kissed highlights and bright blue eyes. He could have stepped off the cover of a J.Crew catalog. In my mind, he was the elite, the one who people wished they’d grow up to be. Silver-spoon babies who were born rich. To me, he was fun-loving and down to earth—at least, as much as a down-to-earth rich boy could be.

One night, I was lying on the lounge chair, staring at the stars, trying to remember which one was which. I was wondering where I’d be next year, hoping like hell this marriage would pan out between my mom and Austin’s dad.

Austin came over with two beers. He lay on the chair next to me. My throat dried. Something was different tonight.

I wasn’t a huge beer drinker, but I wanted to seem cool, so I took a sip. Soon, I was pointing out the stars to Austin, and before I knew it, his hand was on my leg.

“Do you ever think of me?” he asked, sliding on his side to stare directly at me.

“I see you every minute of the day, so I don’t have to.” I continued to concentrate on the sky and not the uncomfortable feeling that was overcoming the ocean air.

“You know what I mean. I think about you at night. That pink bikini you were wearing earlier? I’ve thought about what’s underneath.”

His finger slid over my bare shoulder, and I closed my eyes.

I’d come to regret my next move and wish I’d done something differently in that moment, but I was seventeen and had a crush on my recent stepbrother.

“We’re related now.” The quiver in my voice wasn’t missed by him.

He knew how I felt. He’d probably seen my lingering eyes on him since our parents’ nuptials.

“Barely and not by blood.” His hand slowly and gently moved up until he held my cheek in it.

My heart rate spiked, and my breathing staggered. He was going to be my first real kiss. Tidbits of advice from Kami Carmichael, my best friend until we’d moved, rang through my head.

“Allow him to put his tongue in first and then meet his.”

Oh, damn. Suddenly, I wasn’t lost in the moment of my first kiss. I was on the brink of an anxiety attack.

“Hey,” he said.

I blinked, and his eyes held mine with affection. Affection for me. I hadn’t seen that in anyone’s eyes before.

“It’s just me,” he added.

Between his words and his eyes, I felt safe for the first time in my life, as though I were a heroine in a book and he’d slay the monsters chasing me.

He brought his mouth down on mine as his thumb brushed my cheek in a caressing manner. As he continued to move along my lips, his tongue snuck through my opening. I had no idea what to do with my hands, so they gripped the seat cushion on the lounge chair. When he pulled back, my neck arched, as I wanted more, but he smiled down at me, his teeth sliding across his bottom lip, as he stared down at me.

“You’re a guilty pleasure,” he whispered.

A giggle leaked out, showing my age. But he didn’t make fun of me. He only continued to smile with approval.

“Was it okay?” he asked.

I wanted to gush about how wonderful it was. I wanted to scream how excited I was to have my first kiss. To call Kami and say I didn’t need her advice because Austin Quinn knew how to kiss a girl until her toes curled.

“Yeah,” I softly said, happily giddy that I hadn’t embarrassed myself.

Then, he left and brought back two bowls of ice cream for us.

His kissing game happened for a few weeks. His hands caressed my breasts, but he was taking his time—his time to seduce me—and it worked.

A week later, I went willingly into his bedroom and allowed him to take my virginity. When I left his room the next morning, I felt more loved than any other time in my life.

Adolescent girl stupidity.

A knock on the door brings me back from the nightmare of my first time. I place the spoon down from the sauce I’ve now overly stirred.

My hand lands on the doorknob, and I glance down at my jeans-and-T-shirt-clad self, hoping Dylan won’t see the torment I just caused myself by reliving the memory of Austin. I plaster on my cocky smirk and square my shoulders back as I pry the door open.

Dylan rocks back on his heels as he pushes up his glasses with his forefinger, and I wait for him to do a quick intake of my appearance.

“Hey,” he says in the sultriest voice, the same tone he used the first time I met him.

“Hi.” I open the door for him to enter my private space, a space I don’t share with many.

He walks by me, and my eyes veer to his perfect ass snuggled into his jeans. When he shrugs off his jacket, I grab it from him, trying not to admire the way his T-shirt strains along his broad shoulders or the tattoos peeking out of his sleeves.

“Make yourself comfortable.” I hang up his light jacket in the hall closet.

By the time I return, he’s sitting down on the couch with his elbows on his knees. His body doesn’t scream uncomfortable, but he’s not at ease.

Taking a deep breath, I walk along the back of the couch, heading straight to the kitchen. “Would you like a beer?” I open the fridge before he answers.

“That would be great.” The nearness of his voice alerts me that he’s on the move, which only makes that flutter more noticeable in my stomach. “You have a great place.”

He leans his hip along my breakfast bar, and I can see the question in his eyes. How do I afford this place on a junior exec salary? Some details are better left alone, and that one absolutely is.

“Thanks.” I crack open his beer and hand it to him before doing the same with mine.

I move over to the stove to finish preparing dinner when he comes up behind me. His breath tickles the nape of my neck, and I inhale sharply at his closeness.

“You’re so domesticated,” he whispers, exaggerating his sniff of the aroma.

“Did you doubt my ability to make you dinner?” I say, continuously stirring the wooden spoon in the marinara sauce.

“I figured we’d have takeout—wait.” He moves over to my trash can, pretending to inspect it. “Did you buy takeout, and you’re pretending to make this yourself?”

His rueful smile signals he’s joking, but I’m sure he’s still half-worrying about it.

“I got into a cooking obsession a few years ago. Don’t get too excited. There’s only about ten meals I can still replicate.”

“Is that an invitation for more dinners?” He leans his back on the counter next to the stove.

I glance over to him before concentrating on the sauce again.

How does this man make me feel so wishy-washy and schoolgirlish?

“We’re friends, right?” I say.

He pauses for a second, and I feel his eyes burning into the side of my face. I stare over to him, meeting his inquisitive eyes, to confirm that’s all I want.

“Actually, your best friend is dating my brother.” He chuckles. “You know how many people I’ve had to tell that to this week?” He tips the bottle to his lips.

I join him in laughter. “You think you’ve gotten plenty of questions? Everyone keeps stopping me in the restroom to ask about your stats.” I turn off the sauce, mixing it with the pasta.

“Stats?”

“You know, married, single, gay.”

“What do you tell them?”

“Gay.”

He chokes on his beer, but he composes himself and swallows it down. “What?”

I laugh and hand him a dish towel. “I say that I don’t really know.”

“Thanks.” He smiles and hands me the plates, one by one, that I had out for us.

“This is shrimp marinara. Hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. I’m fresh out of college, Bea. Still used to pizza and ramen noodles.”

All that does is remind me that he’s two years younger than me. Two years younger, and he has the connections of a senior exec. I wish it didn’t make jealousy ring through my body.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I pass him the plate, and he holds it a beat longer than he should until I meet his eyes.

“Always,” he says.

My pulse quickens with his green eyes pouring truthfulness. It’s not something I’m accustomed to.

“Why didn’t you stay in New York? I mean, your future was in your hands.”

I follow him to the table by the window, and we each take our seats across from one another.

“I wanted to come home, foremost. I’ve missed Detroit, my family. I didn’t want to become some number at AdSec, which is what would have happened.”

“There’s no way you would have been a number, Dylan.”

He shrugs, but I can tell from his sly smile that he knows I’m telling the truth.

“I don’t know. I was ready for a change, I guess.”

“A change of scenery?”

Dylan doesn’t know that I overheard him talking to some girl by the elevator the other day. I tried not to eavesdrop, but his angry voice wasn’t hard to hear as I passed him by.

“Maybe.” He places his fork back down and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I was in the middle of an unhealthy relationship that needed to end.”

I’m shocked by his honesty in the moment, so much so that I become speechless. I’ve never in all my life laid my cards down like that to someone I barely know.

“Oh.” I circle noodles around my fork and shove it into my mouth because I’m uncomfortable with the information.

“Yeah, I wasn’t what she wanted. She made it known, and I made stupid decisions to keep her. Eventually, I saw her for who she was.” He picks up his fork again and begins eating. Just like that, he’s summed up a breakup in one sentence.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble over swallowing my heap of pasta.