Rockies Retreat: Destination: Desire, Book 5 (11 page)

She looped her arm through his, craving the contact, and not wanting him to withdraw. “So how did the starlet come into it?”

“Hell, I don’t even know.” He forked his fingers through his hair, leaving it in furrows. “She’d thrown herself at me at every script reading we did, but it was clear she saw me as some kind of trophy, and I didn’t have a single ounce of energy left to deal with her ego. I turned her down and I wasn’t nice about it. Shit, I was married, you know? What the fuck?”

Considering her parents didn’t believe in fidelity, his answer was more than a little heartening. She squeezed his biceps. “With your relationship crumbling, I’m guessing most people would have understood you turning to someone else for comfort.”

One hand made a slicing motion through the air. “Good for them, I wouldn’t have understood. I took vows, damn it, and I meant them. Until the judge signed off on the divorce, I was still married.”

“But the actress was pissed about your rejection and told the media you fucked her anyway.” Her voice hardened, angry on his behalf. What a nightmare, and some woman’s bruised pride had made a terrible time in his life so much worse.

“That sums it up, yeah. Cara and I had already filed for the divorce by the time the fabricated story broke, but the press decided I was a cheating sleaze and my wife had left me for it.” He drew up a knee and propped his elbow on it. “No one gave a damn that it wasn’t true, even though Cara and I released a joint statement that contradicted what was being reported.”

Because news ran on sex and violence, and some guy’s innocence wasn’t sexy enough to merit mention. He was guilty, end of story. He tugged his arm away, and slipped it around her waist. She laid her head against his shoulder. “So…shittiest year of your life?”

“I might have to slit my wrists if I ever have a worse one.” His tone was so matter-of-fact, it took her a moment to process what he’d said.

“Wow.”

He dragged a palm down his face. “So…that’s why I’m blocked. I had a character get pregnant at the end of the last book.”

She bludgeoned her mind to remember which one was his last book. She liked his work, but wasn’t so big a fan that she read every novel the second it came out, and didn’t always read them in the order they were released. A pregnant character…then it clicked. “Right, the school teacher turned serial killer’s girlfriend.”

“Yep. My editor wants her to have a miscarriage.” The words were utterly bleak. “She thinks it will up the emotional stakes and make the serial killer’s spiral out of control more relatable to the reader.”

“Oh fuck me.” That was all she could think to say.

He huffed out a laugh, squeezed her tight and kissed her forehead. “Yeah. That.”

They remained there in silence for a few minutes, and she tried to think of what she could say or do that might help. All she had was tough practicality to offer, and she hoped it wouldn’t annoy him. Scooting around meant she could face him, but she stayed close enough that her knees touched his legs.

“Okay, I want you to think about what your editor suggested.” She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to reply. “Not about the inner freak out you’d have over dredging up those emotions. I want the opinion of the seasoned writer who has skin thicker than a rhinoceros when it comes to taking criticism about his work. Would what your editor suggested really make the story better? If not, see if you can talk her out of it.”

He nodded, his mouth tight. “I think…that’s part of the problem. As soon as I read it, I knew she was right. Then the reality of what it would take to write it hit hard, the personal cost to the man, not the author. And I know the author side of me needs to win this one, but…Jesus. How?”

The torment in his gaze made her heart break, but if she was going to really help him through this, she had to get him to keep it in perspective. “I had this class in college where the professor made people draw a slip of paper from a basket on his desk. Each slip had an emotion on it, and we had to paint that emotion in any way we saw fit. That was our final project. Of course, I got inadequacy.”

“You’re amazing. I can’t imagine you ever being inadequate.” He paused and she saw the moment the lightbulb went on. “Ah. Your parents.”

“Yeah, good old Mommy and Daddy who hated that they ended up with an artist in their lawyerly midst, and never failed to make sure I knew it.” She loved the anger that fired in his gaze, pissed that her parents could be so unwilling to accept her. She appreciated the sentiment. “I’ve gotten over it when it comes to my work, but when my heart is involved, when I’m vulnerable to a person, there’s still that little voice in the back of my head telling me I’m not good enough, that something is wrong with me because I’m so different from my entire family, that I’ll never belong anywhere, that I don’t deserve to because I couldn’t conform, because I’m a square peg who wouldn’t trim herself down to fit in that round hole. Every other Patton managed to, so why couldn’t I?”

The anger burned even brighter, and he linked his fingers with hers. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.” She patted his thigh. “But I had to rip open all those old wounds and pour what I felt into that painting.”

He cringed a bit. “Let me guess—it’s one of your best pieces?”

“I have no idea. As soon as I got my passing grade for the class, I burned the canvas.” She shrugged at his shocked look. “Sorry, honey, I’m not here to moralize. The bottom line is I never, ever wanted to see that piece again and be reminded of all the things I’d never be, of all the memories I’d never really get rid of or bury deep enough I’d forget them. I imagine once you’ve made it through all the revisions and edits, you’ll probably feel the same and never read that particular book again.”

“Yeah.” Pained resignation settled over his face. “Vi’s not going to be doing the copy edits on that one. She knows what happened, and she’d have no problem figuring out that was an accounting of what I went through. Minus the killing spree.”

“Good thing too.” She rubbed her thumb over his palm, trying to give him comfort where there really was none. “Some things just suck and are always going to suck. But you do get through them.”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He clamped it shut and swallowed. “Will…will you stay with me while I do the revisions?”

“If you need me to, yes.” She recognized what it would have taken a workaholic like him to admit he needed help to get his work done. Keeping her voice as casual as possible, she added, “You can bring your laptop over to my cabin when I’m painting, and I can come here if I’m just visualizing or sketching.”

“Thank you,” he croaked. “I think it would help to have someone nearby who understands how hard this is and why.”

“I’ll be here if you need a sanity check, Graves.”

Something shifted in his expression, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what. He tugged her forward and kissed her. The brush of his lips was lighter than a butterfly’s wing, and yet made her heart clench. He pressed her back on the bed, insinuating his big body between her thighs. He didn’t enter her immediately, just mated his mouth with hers.

Their lovemaking was unhurried and very, very thorough. Time stretched and became elastic, the only thing that mattered in the world was Neil and the ecstasy he brought her. She climaxed so many times, she lost count. He seemed intent on touching, stroking, and kissing every single inch of her body. It was one of the few times their joining hadn’t been rushed or desperate. This was a slow worship. Sweat slipped in slow beads down their skin, their limbs tangled, sensation piled on top of sensation, every moment bringing more pleasure.

As a thank you present for being a decent human being, she couldn’t complain.

Chapter Eight

Laurel’s feet were cold.

She could find socks, but then she’d have to get up from her comfortable spot on Neil’s couch. By straightening her legs, she could tuck her feet under his thigh. Lovely. She wiggled her toes, and grinned when he cast her glance. He winked and refocused on his laptop. He’d finished everything except his screenplay, so his stress level had come down a bit in the last couple of weeks. It had been really nice to see.

With her feet warming up, she could concentrate on the sketchbook propped on her bent knees. She was finishing up a drawing of a lark. It was a plain, rather ugly little bird, but she’d liked its song and one had hopped around through tree branches looking at her curiously that morning. So, by the time she was done with it, using her signature Laurel Patton color magic, it was going to be a gorgeous sight to behold. The way its song made her feel was going to end up on the canvas, and translate those drab feathers into brilliant plumage.

“Hey, Laurel, you said your nephew’s birthday is in August. Are his parents having a party?” Violet perched at the small desk in the corner of the living room—her usual spot every evening when they got in a last bit of work after dinner. Tonight, she was editing a chapter of her novel based on some of Laurel’s feedback.

“Of course.” She arched her eyebrows. “We need pictures of him smeared in cake to appropriately humiliate him when he goes on his first date.”

“Oh, is that what we’re supposed to do when our children go on their first date?” Neil looked up, a truly maniacal smile on his face.

“Don’t you dare!” Vi launched a pen across the room at him, hitting him in the knee. Neil looked like he was going to throw the pen back, but Laurel grabbed it from him.

“So…why the questions about my nephew?”

“Well, August isn’t that far away.” The teen shrugged. “If his birthday is early in the month, you’re going to miss his party.”

“No, he was born toward the end of August. I’m headed to my brother’s place for the party right after the program ends.”

Neil let out a breath. “Wow, we’re at the halfway mark.”

A pool of silence engulfed the room, and Laurel was sure she wasn’t the only one not looking forward to the end of summer. Her reasons might be different from theirs, but this program had been Halcyon days for almost everyone here. Mimi had mentioned that the dynamic of the group for this round of the program was the best she’d ever seen, and she was going to be sad when everybody left. Laurel suspected the younger woman would most miss having her favorite famous horror writer in residence, but she had no doubt Mimi was right about this group. Some great projects were going to come out of this summer from both the mentors and apprentices. There was just that kind of magic in the air. Like everyone was at the top of their game, and the energy here fed the creativity.

At first, Laurel had assumed it was just how all programs at The Enclave started, then people settled in for the long haul. But it had never worn off. She was going to have five new canvases either complete or mostly done by the time the summer ended. That never happened because she always wanted to keep tweaking her work, never quite satisfied with the results. This time? She was pretty damn happy with the final products. She couldn’t even remember the last time she was so pleased with what she’d accomplished.

“Halfway.” Violet looked stricken, and for a moment, Laurel thought the girl might cry. She whipped around to face the desk, tension vibrating from her.

The intense reaction made Laurel frown. “You okay, sweetie?”

After a few deep breaths that made her thin shoulders rise and fall, the teen turned back and smiled. “Fine. It’s just going to suck to go back to LA. I like it here.”

Her face was too pale and that grin was faked, Laurel was sure of it. But since she choked up a little whenever she thought about leaving, she couldn’t blame the girl.

“I like it here too,” Neil said quietly. “I’m going to miss everyone.”

“Do you think we’ll see any of them again?” Violet’s eyes were wide and pleading. “Can we have a reunion here next summer?”

“I don’t think The Enclave works that way,” Laurel replied as gently as she could. “Though there’s no reason we can’t all keep in touch and try to visit when we can. Ruth and her parents are in Seattle, Helen and Pedro are in Austin. It wouldn’t be that hard to get to those places, especially if your dad’s going on a book tour.”

He nodded. “Next year, for the book I just finished revisions on.”

Right. The novel of pain and suffering. Then again, he was a horror writer, so technically all of his novels featured suffering of one kind or another, but this had been a much more personal kind of pain. She’d been with him for every moment of those revisions, had rubbed his back and held his shirt out of the way the time he’d gone into the bathroom to heave his guts up.

As not-fun as that had been, it was good to feel needed. She hadn’t experienced that much in her life, especially with family. Tate had been the golden boy until long after he’d moved out of the house, so she’d always needed him far more than he’d needed her. She was used to being superfluous. Sure, she had friends scattered across the globe from all her travels, but she wasn’t essential to their lives. With Neil and Violet, she felt like she offered something they didn’t have. And not just because Cara wasn’t around—Laurel would have befriended the Graveses no matter what. She would have cared about them no matter who else was part of their lives.

She doubted anything would have stopped her from loving them.

The truth of that hit her hard.

She loved them. Individually and together as a family. But what could she do about it? This summer was an ephemeral thing. She’d remain friends with Violet, but Neil? He could cut her off and that would be that. They’d agreed from the beginning that this affair/mini-relationship was only for the length of the program. A knot formed in her belly at the thought, but it was all too true. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a future together, and she didn’t know if she could be the one to reach out. That old, ugly sense of inadequacy still plagued her.

What if he—like so many before him—thought she wasn’t good enough to keep around?

She stared into space for a long time, trying to sort out all her thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t until Neil set his laptop down on the coffee table with a clatter that she snapped back to the present. The sun had long gone down, and it was pitch black outside. On any normal day, she’d have headed back to her cabin by now.

Violet rose and stretched. “You know, it’s okay for you to sleep over. You guys have been dating for six weeks. I took health class and I watch TV, so it’s not like I don’t know what you guys are doing when I’m hanging out with Ruth or babysitting the twins.”

“Um…” Laurel had no quick-witted response to that one.

Neil smirked. “Told ya.”

“Yeah, because that’s the kind of comment that might get you laid tonight.” Then she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her lids while the Graveses laughed. “You two are pains in the butt, you know that right?”

“It’s part of our charm,” he assured her.

She shot him an incredulous look. “Is that what you call it? Charm?”

“Of course,” they answered at the same time, both looking a bit wounded.

“I’m going to go brush my teeth. You guys have fun. Try not to get too loud tonight.” With that, Vi wandered into the bathroom and closed the door.

“I think your daughter just traumatized me for life.” Laurel set aside her sketchbook while Neil snickered and offered her a hand up.

“Kids will do that on a fairly regular basis.”

Because she really didn’t want to be alone, staring at her ceiling and having her thoughts chase themselves in circles all night, she let him lead her into his bedroom. She’d resisted before now, maybe to protect Violet, maybe to protect herself. Both had been fruitless.

Yeah, she could use some distraction. And Neil was just the man for the job.

“Woohoo!”

Screeching at a pitch that would make dogs howl, Violet swung out on a rope over the lake. At the top of the arc, she let go, crashing into the water with a terrific splash. She came up laughing, slicking her hair back from her face. Ruth swam up and the two girls grabbed on to each other, chattering a million miles an hour.

The sun shone brightly, and Neil sat next to Laurel on a couple of folding chairs. He’d taken a rare day off from writing—okay, he’d gotten some in before Vi woke up—and he was enjoying some time outdoors soaking up the sunshine while the breeze ruffled his hair. He had a cold beer in one hand, and Laurel’s slim palm nestled in the other. They’d swum for an hour before they’d gotten out to sit on the beach, but the teens were still going strong. He sighed, contentment winding through him. The feeling was weird, but he couldn’t protest.

It was really nice to see Vi acting like a normal girl, less serious, less like the world rested on her narrow shoulders. She’d blossomed in a lot of ways the last couple of months, and he hoped this meant some of the grief over her mother’s loss had gotten a little easier to bear.

This summer had been good for both of them. He’d somehow managed to meet all of his insane deadlines so far. Only the script draft remained unfinished, and he had a good handle on it. Even better, he’d had the amazing good fortune to meet Laurel. She’d been a godsend for both his daughter and him. He’d never have survived this program without her. He was starting to wonder how he’d survive life without her when it came time to part. But the truth was, his existence was a series of insane deadlines and jumping from one ulcer-inducing scenario to another. That was no kind of life to offer a woman like Laurel. She would hate it, and he would hate disappointing her.

“Let’s race to shore!” Ruth shouted, splashing through the water as she tried to dart toward the beach.

Violet overtook her within a few yards, and led the rest of the way. She slogged out onto the rocky beach in front of the adults. Maybe ten seconds later, Ruth emerged behind her.

Raising her arms in triumph, Vi danced in a little circle. “I win, I win!”

“Only because we’re in the water.” Ruth propped her fists on her hips and grinned. “Let’s put some running shoes on and see who wins.”

“I’m not that dumb.” Vi squeezed the water out of her wet hair. “I’d totally lose.”

“You seem to be enjoying all the swimming this summer,” Neil commented. “Maybe you can look at joining the swim team at school.”

“No!” Her face set into mulish lines as she faced him. “I’m so not interested. At all.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, uncertain where the sudden drama had come from. “No need to bite my head off.”

“Sorry.” But her tone suggested otherwise. She waded back into the lake, and paddled away from shore, striking out for open water.

“Don’t go too far out, please!” he called.

She shot a resentful look over her shoulder. “I won’t!”

Ruth stood there looking puzzled, but then followed her friend.

When the girls were out of earshot, Laurel whispered, “Whoa, someone’s in a mood.”

“It’s not the first time lately.” Neil shook his head. “She’s been in a snit for almost a week. There was a gigantic meltdown yesterday morning about—”

“Hey, Laurel! Hey, Neil!” A trio of other artists broke from the treeline, loaded down with towels and six packs of Coke or Coors.

And that was the end of any serious conversation. Neil crossed his ankles. “Looks like we’re having a party.”

He waved a welcome to the newcomers, while Laurel hopped up to greet everyone. He sat back and watched her socialize, enjoying the way her bikini clung to her curves. She had, bar none, the nicest ass he’d ever seen. Her quick laugh drew his attention back to the fact that they had company. She glanced over her shoulder, her smile inviting him to join in the inevitable fun. After pushing out of his chair, he went to do just that. As if he could resist the temptation she offered. He hadn’t succeeded so far. But, then, he hadn’t tried very hard, had he?

Damn, he was going to miss her. Talking to her, laughing with her, watching her paint, making love with her. He tried not to think about the fact that the three months had somehow dwindled down to a handful of weeks. Were they down to five weeks? Maybe it was four. The time slipped away in a lovely haze here, where the days blurred into each other.

So, the only thing he could do was make sure to savor every second he had left.

“I think this party is unauthorized.” Mimi charged down the path, trying to look stern. Since she didn’t have a stern bone in her body, everyone laughed. She giggled, turned and beckoned to someone behind her.

A lanky guy in a delivery uniform stepped forward, appearing more than a little uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Which one of you is Neil Graves?”

“Here.” Neil toasted the other man with his beer bottle.

“Sign, please.” The lanky dude thrust a digital pad in Neil’s direction, and he scrawled an illegible signature across it. After taking back the pad, the guy dug around in his messenger bag and handed over a large envelope. He nodded and pivoted to return the way he’d come. “I can find my way back.”

“He said only you could sign, so I brought him out here. I saw you head this way a few hours ago, so I took a gamble you were still here.” Mimi winked. “Plus, it was kinda fun to drag him over the river and through the woods. Literally.”

“He looks so pleased to have gotten a taste of nature,” Laurel quipped.

Mimi sucked in her cheeks, trying not to laugh. She choked out, “He stepped in a big pile of deer poop.”

The group dissolved into guffaws, and Mimi stopped fighting the giggles.

Ignoring them, Neil walked over to his chair to sit while he opened the envelope. A short note from his agent was jotted on a Post-It stuck to the front of a thick contract. It took a while to read through the legalese, and he could feel the tension start to build in his neck and shoulders, as if the weight of the world just got a little heavier.

“Fuck,” he sighed, suddenly weary.

“What’s wrong?” Laurel settled into her chair sideways, leaning over the armrest to look at what he held.