Outer Core (2 page)

“You bet your sweet, sweet, perfect ass I will,” he whispers in my ear.

Bingo, we are in the sexy innuendoes realm. Mission accomplished, distraction achieved. I grin at him, licking my lips from the wonderful taste of D mixed with sea.

“I'll leave you ladies to it. I'm going to hit the shower.” Daniel kisses me again. He brings his lips to my cheek, kisses it once more, and shifts to nuzzle me just below my ear. “Just so you know, your little attempt at diversion didn't work. We'll talk later.” He turns to get his board and walks back to the house.

Damn you, Tash
.

“Hey, check out the text Ian just sent us,” Tasha says over a giggle while putting her cup into the dishwasher. As she turns to look for her flip-flops and car keys, I ask her for her phone.

I send Daniel a soft smile when he enters the kitchen, heading to the fridge. Trying not to read too much into the halfhearted smile he rewards me with, I check the message.

“What?” I study the screen. “I can't believe this, this is such . . .
Aaargh!
” I express my feelings to the tabloid link Ian sent us which he captioned with “my day = made.”

I narrow my eyes at Tasha, an action that makes her laugh even harder. “C'mon, Hales, it's hilarious.”

“No, nothing is even remotely funny about it. It's . . .
ugh
!” I give the photo of Daniel and me a better examination. It is from one of the formal events we attended recently, and we are smiling at each other. He looks spectacular in a tux while I look more than cute in a little black dress. Everything about the photo is lovely. Everything minus one small detail. Somehow, they managed to capture my body in the most uncomplimentary angle. Something about the way I'm standing gives the illusion of a prominent beer belly.

My narrowed eyes dart Daniel's way at his snort as he checks out the photo. “What?” he says with a chuckle. His grin grows. “Told you one burrito was enough.”

“Sure that's the angle you're choosing to go with?” I give him a death look, which only prompts his teasing lips to smirk.

He winks at me. “Looks cute on you, though.”

“Who eats a burrito before squeezing into a tight dress?” Tasha asks, incredulous.

“My awesome Hayley.” Daniel takes a long swig of his bottled water, his joyful eyes on me.

“Well, what can I say, Hales. Mommy belly indeed looks cute on you,” Tasha says still grinning like a loon.

“God, what an awful picture.” I tilt the phone sideways to have a better look. “My body looks so disproportional.” I groan.

“You always look perfect. I'd take you any shape or size.” Daniel squeezes my waist, leaving a kiss on my forehead on his way out of the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Tasha scrunches her nose. “Easy to say when Hayley looks like she does.”

Daniel turns in the doorway to face Tasha, amusement cleared off his features. “Natasha, I can assure you that I'd want Hayley in any size, and it's a matter of fact, I can't wait for her to have a ‘mommy belly.'”

I barely catch Tasha's wide smile as I look at Daniel startled. For a stretched beat, I take a step into myself. The impact of Daniel's words outlasting my next breaths.
I can't wait for her to have a mommy belly?
Is he serious? He can't wait? Does he want to start a family . . . right away? For a span of a confusing moment, a vision of Daniel with a child, our child, takes form before my eyes. Sweet, warm pain brims in my chest. I stand still, jarred. Something happens inside of me; something catalyzes deep, deep inside me. Tasha squeezes my hand with a wide grin, her eyes following Daniel as he leaves the room.

“We still need to talk,” Daniel says over his shoulder, his tone shaking me out of a tailspin of thoughts.

After seeing Ms. Traitor-Taylor to her car and starting the dishwasher, I turn to face my fate. I find him in his office ending a call. Leaning on the doorjamb, I watch Daniel. He's too absorbed in the call to notice me. A smile blooms on my face as I gaze at him running a hand through his unruly golden clusters, looking deliciously casual in a white tee and jeans as he gazes out the window. He scrubs his hand over his scruff, not seeming too pleased with the response coming from the speakerphone. With an irritated sigh, he swivels in his chair and turns to brace his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers above the phone.

“I see. Then if there's any problem, this is my number,” he says, blatantly impatient.

“Mr. Stark, you called from an unlisted number,” mutters the person on the speakerphone.

“Exactly.”

Inwardly, I shake my head.
There are some things about you, D, that I might never get used to.
When he turns to look my way, his features shift into question.

“You are so cute,” I state, referring to his refined form of communication with . . . basically, everyone on the planet. A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips, and the question in his stare sharpens. “Cute as a button!” I add.

He snorts a brief chuckle. His stare on me turns into something I'm unable to decode. It's somewhere between good-sexy heated, and bad-I'm-about-to-snap hot.

Taking slow steps toward him, I softly ask, “Yes?”

He crooks his finger, signaling for me to come closer. When I'm a step away, he sends his hands to my waist to pull me closer still. Effortlessly, he lifts me to perch on his desk before him. He gazes up at me in solemn concentration. I return his gaze with equal intensity. His hands find my thighs, and he jerks me closer to the edge of the mahogany surface. Daniel pushes the fabric of my loose skirt up exposing my thighs. He leans his face in to leave a kiss on both. Slowly, his mouth makes its way up, leaving my skin burning in its wake. Three more kisses and he drops his forehead to rest on my stomach. I thread my fingers through his hair, waiting. Daniel inches to sit straight, stern hazel eyes unblinking for a few moments.

I clear my throat. “So what's the sentence for my misdemeanor?”

“Hayley . . .” His mouth remains slightly agape as though calibrating a response, and he snaps it shut.

“Daniel?” His name on my lips is a cautious question. A soft and concerned question.

“Forget it. It's nothing.” He takes a generous breath.

Oh, how I wish he'd confront me. I even prefer him snapping at me than this reaction. This loaded silence. I shake my head. “No.”

His eyes narrow at me, and his jaw clutches.

“Talk to me.”

“What about?”

“Daniel . . .”

“What do you want me to say, Hales? I've said everything I had to say. Clearly, I cannot do anything more if you simply chose not to listen.”

Ouch
. The wedding. Setting a date has been, and apparently still is, a moot subject.

“Well.” Daniel rises to stand. He holds his hand for me and helps me jump off the table. “I need to get some work done for tomorrow.”

“I love you,” I say before leaving, still harboring the leaden feeling in my belly.

“Love you too, Hales,” he says with a sigh, giving me a look that makes my stomach twinge once again.

I'm used to waking up alone in the middle of the night. What with Daniel's nocturnal tendencies to burn the midnight oil. He claims he's a night person and most productive in the wee hours of the night. I can vouch for that. He's definitely exceedingly productive at night. You'd never hear me complain. But somehow, with how we left things this time, his absence in our bed niggles me. I call for him, but no answer comes in return. Shrugging on one of his tees, I make my way to the office then to the gym.

“Daniel?” I call out as I take a few groggy steps into the kitchen. I hug myself and move on to the living room. A soft, chilly breeze coming from the open balcony door brushes against my skin, making my stare wander toward the patio. Toward where Daniel lounges on one of the recliners, focused on the notebook on his thighs. “Hey,” I say in a supple voice, nearing him. “I missed you in bed,” I add, studying his serious expression under the screen's glow. Daniel sets the notebook to the wooden floor. Turning to me, he holds out his hand. I take it and plant my knee next to his hip, slowly lowering to straddle his thighs.

“Couldn't sleep?” His tone is low and caressing. His hand comes up to my neck, brushing my hair over my shoulder.

“Yes.” I bob my head and bring my hand to his face. “Easier when you're next to me.” With the pads of two fingers, I gently trace over the fresh scar sitting high on his right cheekbone. The one he got just a couple of months ago on that notorious trip to Thailand. The one I can't think about without the horrific feeling it brings along.

“Does it still hurt?” I ask. Really meaning
does it still haunt you?

He shakes his head from side to side, his eyes hovering over my face.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head again and covers my hand with his. He brings our joined hands to rest on his chest. I lean in closer and press a feathery kiss on the scar. Though the event in which he got said mark of injury is nothing but terrifying, I can't get over how sexy it is. Daniel's scars are the most attractive marks I've ever seen, and in equal part so are his non-physical ones. His well-ingrained emotional scars; these imperfections that just make him all the more perfect to me. Daniel's hand trails to cradle my rear, pulling me closer against him. He leans back on the recliner and looks up at me for a silent beat. Slowly, he inches forward, slowly till his mouth finds mine.

My eyes flicker to his as we ease back. “Why won't you talk about it?” I ask in a dainty voice.

“There's nothing to talk about. What happened, happened, and now, it's history.” And in his very unique Daniel way of “pouring his heart out,” he kisses me again. This time with greater vigor.

When we pull back to catch our breath, I say, “About earlier, what Tasha said . . .”

“Hales.” It's a frustrated warning.

“Okay, let's talk about it.” Determination lines my voice. It's time we ironed out this impasse of ours. The “setting a date” plight. We can have an attempt at reason. Though it has proven to crash and burn before takeoff each and every time in the past, there's always hope. Heck, if Scientology is a legit religion, most likely the sky is indeed the limit. And before I'm about to state my case, Daniel's gaze turns hard. Yet brimming with something that twists my insides.

“When you get engaged and enter the most significant relationship of your life, it comes with an impending debt to your partner,” he says in his husky voice. “A promise you make to each other that you'll eventually have to live up to by committing to the ‘till death do you part' phase of your life. By fulfilling your partner's expectations, you grant them a growing old together pledge. For worse or for better. Just like I promise you that I'll always be there for you, have your best interest at heart, do everything in my power to keep you safe, worriless, and mostly, happy, Hales, I do expect you to do the same for me. And this sort of promise essentially gets its official stamp in a goddamn ceremony with a priest.”

Counterargument by my side? The defense has no plausible counterargument. No, your honor, the defense is sort of dumbstruck. “It's so important to you,” I state rather than question.

He nods. His eyes blaze into mine a grave hazel.

I worry my lips. “It's just something about the ceremony. I don't know. I don't like what people tend to make of it. Somehow, it always turns into a circus. When all it's really supposed to be about is two people certifying their . . . relationship. Their love. Daniel, I'm not trying to . . .” I huff.

Creases pile up between his brows. “Hales, it was never about the ceremony. Besides finally wearing your engagement ring, nothing on your part has proved to me just how serious you were, are.”

I gape at him. His words jarring me.
How can you even imply that, D?
You are and you've always been
my
everything
.

“Give me something. Prove me wrong, Hales. Show me that you feel the same way. That we're heading in the same direction.”

A tumultuous whirlwind of contradicting emotions joins forces inside my chest, twisting in my belly, causing my heartbeat to accelerate. I'm confused, affected, and somewhat riled that he doesn't know just how much he means to me by now.

I rise up to my feet. “Fine.” It's an irritated breath. “You want me to show you just how much you mean to me. How I see our future together?” I shake my head. “Fine!” I stride toward the house. I storm through the quiet landing till I reach the bedroom's en suite. Yanking open the cabinet above the sink, I rummage through the contents till I find what I'm looking for. My journey back to the deck is no less spiked. “Here.” I toss the little package in my hand into the pool.

Daniel's face is a display of utter dismay as he watches my not so well balanced act. It's night. The skies are dark. Dark but clear enough to illuminate the aluminum pack now lamely swimming in the water. I watch Daniel as he scratches his lip with his thumb. His eyes hone in on the little container floating amid little circles formed in the clammy water. He brings his attention back to me, head tilted to the side, one scarred brow arched in question.

“My pills,” I say. “You wanted me to show you just how much you mean to me and where we're heading?” My hand falls to my waist, the other gesturing at the pool. “Birth control pills,” I add just to make sure my message is clear.

His lips pull up into a grin as he waits for me to go on.

“This is where I see us heading. I want the same thing I wanted before.
You
. You as my fiancé, you as my husband, you as the father of my children.” That grin of his turns into a full-on Daniel Stark smile. Crooked, mirthful, brimming sin.