Chapter Seven
To Pee or Not to Pee
Typically, when drinking with friends, we would meet at local breweries, which Oregon had plenty of, or we’d venture down to my work and abuse my discount. All other alcohol encounters usually revolved around a dining room table, the latest flavored vodka, and a deck of cards.
The Davenports did things differently.
Talk about responsibility. Hale had a limo service pick us up and arranged a private room curtained off from the rest of the club. And by club, I mean one of those establishments with a stuffy bouncer in a suit and velvet roping to keep those who want to get in, out. With Hale, however, I was suddenly VIP.
“How did you even find this place? I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never heard of it,” I asked as I settled into our private room-booth thing between Hale and his brother.
Barrett had been scoping out his prey since the second we entered the club and boy, were the ladies noticing him. I snickered. The man never stopped.
Scooting around the low glass table, I sat closer to Hale on the black leather couch.
Hale lifted a bottle from the ice bucket—because, yeah, he’d arranged bottle service. That’s how he rolled. “I had Miles look into it.”
Aw, Miles. I got a little verklempt at the mention of Remington’s other assistant. “How’s he doing?”
Hale gave me a sidelong glance as a well-dressed waitress dropped off a Manhattan with a backup shaker. “He’s adapting well, I suppose.”
“Did he go to Maine with your dad?”
Again, he assessed me, his silver eyes somewhat shrewder than usual. “Yes.”
Hale could be very territorial. My theories on territorial men were evolving. First, if a guy was territorial, he better earn it. That meant being there to meet his woman’s every need. Then he’d earn the right to be possessive. If not, it was just petty jealousy. Hale was good to me so I let him get away with the territorial stuff, but when he tugged the leash too hard I wasn’t afraid to bite back.
I had a very novice aptitude regarding the psyche of the opposite sex, but I was getting better at understanding the subtleties of dating. Hale was a very doting boyfriend. As a matter of fact, I was the one with commitment phobia in the beginning. Now, I was like a stage five-clinger, always wanting more Hale.
I was overcoming my commitment issues and he was working on his jealousy issues. It was understandable why he was the way he was. I mean, come on. His dad got Hale’s ex-lover pregnant, thus Elara.
Me, on the other hand… My dad abandoned me the day I was born. I was so terrified of rejection I never wanted to love anything enough to risk having that love ripped away. Yet … I loved Elle. And knowing how rare that was, she promised to never abandon me. Damn. There was that guilt again.
My attention pulled to our company as the long-legged waitress lingered at the door to our private room, fluttering around Hale’s brother like a bee hovers over a flower.
“You’re such a flirt, Barrett,” I said as he finally let the waitress get back to work and rejoined us at the table.
“The world is my oyster.” Barrett lifted his drink and Hale passed me whatever he’d concocted out of the bottles on the table. “To a great night.”
We clinked our glasses. “To a great night.”
Tequila tinged the flavor of pineapple as my first sip worked its way down my throat. Ah, yes, the fruits of the devil.
The music was awesome. People passing by looked in on us curiously, maybe wondering if we were some sort of royalty. Hale loosened up and laughed freely, a perfect date even if we were with his younger brother. Barrett was full of jokes and soon enough I was full of tequila.
“We should dance!” I yelled, envious of the people letting go on the floor below.
“I thought you only danced to Thriller,” Barrett commented.
“Sober. I only dance to Thriller sober. I’m not so sober right now.” I nudged Hale. “Do you want to go down there and check it out?”
He finished his Manhattan and stood, holding out a hand. As I rose to my feet, the ground wobbled. Oh, yeah, those drinks he’d been feeding me had definitely done their magic.
We took a spacious set of stairs down the to the dance floor where colorful strobe lights pulsed to the beat of the music. Once we found an open niche, I started with my typical John Travolta moves, circa Saturday Night Fever. The music was recognizable rock but revamped with techno overlays.
A remix of Avicii's Wake Me Up came on and Hale stepped behind me, holding my hips and swaying his body against mine. I lifted my hands, twirling my wrists, my arms stretching high above my head. His hands glided up my ribs, cutting it close to my boobs and making my nipples hard. I swung my butt, pressing into him seductively and there was really something to be said about dancing with a guy you were also sleeping with.
It was like sex on the dance floor, right there in front of the natives. He turned me and his penetrating stare held me so still my breath froze in my lungs. Jesus, just like fucking, we were suddenly making love. He pulled me to his front, possessively touching me, fingers sliding along my curves as his hungry eyes swallowed me whole. I was totally turned on.
The song switched to Cake by the Ocean and the liquor in my system acted as a love potion for my private parts. My gaze never left his face as I moved in what I hoped was a seductive sort of salsa. Skin damp from exertion, hair falling around my face in sloppy waves, I held hard to my clean record and reminded myself it was illegal to fuck in public places. But boy, did I want to maul him right there on the dance floor.
As the song ended, I caught my breath. “You’re a sexy dance partner,” I shouted over the pulsing bass of something new.
“What?” he yelled.
“You have hot moves!”
“What?”
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “I have to pee!” I pointed in the general direction of the bathrooms and saw that he understood.
He escorted me to the restrooms but, of course, there was a line. The music was muffled now that we were in the back of the club.
“You don’t have to wait with me,” I said, being that he was the only man in a line full of horny drunk women.
They all needed to put their eyeballs back in their sockets. I threw out a dirty look, but I don’t think it struck anyone as intimidating.
Hale scanned the nearby area. “I’ll wait for you at that table.”
“Okay.” I grabbed his arm as he made to leave. “Wait.”
He tilted his head in question and I lifted to my toes and pressed my front to his, licking across his full lips.
His hands tightened on my ass. “Mmm.” With a promising look, he squeezed, and let me go. I, along with every other woman in the vicinity, watched him walk.
I turned back to the line and grinned. That’s right. My Hale. Maybe we all had a little possessiveness in us.
As the line snaked into the bathroom I considered this new territorial side of myself. I never really cared before if a guy I was with looked at other women, but I cared with Hale. I never really cared about guys, period. Dating was utterly unappealing until Hale. Now, I was a monogamous motherfucker, wiping my scent all over him to mark my territory.
But Hale didn’t look at anyone but me.
A stall opened and I stepped inside. Jesus. What the fuck did women do in here? Gathering a wad of tissue, I shoved the door closed and twisted the lock. As soon as I unbuttoned my jeans the door drifted open again. “Damn it.”
I kicked the door and gave the lock another hard shove. Squatting, I did my business, drunkenly floating in the open space without touching anything. I lifted my foot to the lever and flushed. Once I righted my clothes, I wadded up more toilet paper and turned the lock. Come on. I jiggled the lock again. Damn it.
The stupid door was jammed. Gripping the top of the door—a place I hoped was free of Ebola and other public restroom nightmares—I jerked the door hard. It didn’t budge.
“Hello? Can someone help me get out of here?”
Toilets flushed and faucets ran as women chattered and cycled in and out of the restroom. I analyzed my predicament. The floor was not an option, wet and totally littered with disgusting trash. Seriously, what did women do in here?
After another few minutes of trying to unlock the door, kicking it, and pounding my elbow against the side of the stall to get anyone’s attention, I accepted I was stuck and no one was coming to my rescue.
I was going to have to Indiana Jones this shit.
As everyone continued to move about on the other side of the wall, completely oblivious to my turmoil, I caught the top of the stall and stepped on the toilet seat.
“So help me God, if I fall into a public toilet I’m bleaching off my skin.”
Not having great balance to begin with, I wobbled onto the seat, my shoes holding tight, as I caught my hand on the top of the wall. Then I just balanced there, like a Spiderman stunt reject.
“Can anyone hear me? My door’s stuck and I’ve been in here for a really long time. Any help would be great…” When no one responded to my polite plea, I grumbled, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Transferring my hands to the top of the door I—oh shit! The distance was farther than I thought. Feeling my weight shift, my feet left the toilet seat and my body slammed into the door, which of course swung open with ease.
“Oh, gross.” My body flattened on the sheet of metal germs as I hung there. The door glided over the floor and smacked into the next stall.
“Rayne?” And that would be Hale.
Releasing my death grip, I dropped my feet to the floor and brushed off my hands. This sort of shit only happened to me, so I really had no explanation. “Hey.”
He frowned as women shuffled around him. “I came to see what was taking so long—”
“Just using the bathroom.” He looked at me like I was crazy, which, to a certain degree, I was. “I’m going to wash my hands.”
He nodded. “I’ll be right outside the door.”
Being that none of these bitches offered any help, I hogged the sink, not caring that I was taking an extraordinarily long time to disinfect my hands and arms. This was exactly why I always strove not to break the seal. Nothing good came from drunken bathroom visits. Nothing!
Irritated with myself, I dried my hands and went to find Hale. He’d been warned about my predisposition toward calamities since day one and witnessed plenty of signature Calamity Rayne moments since, but sometimes it got tedious being a walking disaster. Especially when someone as perfect as Hale Davenport was my boyfriend.
I looked at him, with his designer pants and nice shoes. What the hell sort of starch did he use on his shirts to keep them so crisp and wrinkle-free? I hadn’t ironed anything in a decade. And that was just his clothing. His face was the picture of a Greek god and his body was something from pornographic fairytales.
“You good now?” he asked as I approached.
Feeling utterly stupid, I forced a grin. “Sorry about that. I had some trouble.”
Hello, my name is Calamity Rayne and I can’t use a bathroom without assistance.
Once we were back upstairs, Barrett was preoccupied with his newfound company. By company, I, of course, meant three women who were making out with various parts of his body at the same time. I didn’t know where to look, so I sat down and finished my drink.
The waitress approached and spoke directly to Hale. The longer their conversation went on, the smaller I felt. I wasn’t sure how he made my drink, but I still had ice left, so I poured some tequila over that and sipped as I snarled in my head at Waitress McLongLegs.
He was awfully chatty tonight. Was this what he was always like in social settings? Because our relationship started at sea on a boat with only his father and the crew, I didn’t really have a point of reference. There had been his sister’s party. That was a mixed setting, but that was also the night Elara was born, so it wasn’t anything remotely normal.
When the waitress finally left—the flirt—I was slouching in my seat, sipping my tequila ice and pouting.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
He eased back and nudged me with his shoulder, chuckling. “When a woman says she’s fine it’s never good news for the man.”
I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Maybe I’d had too much to drink. My feelings were sticky and unflattering. Even I recognized their presence as bad news, but I couldn’t sweep them away. “Have you gone out since being in Florida?”
He tipped his head. “Here and there.”
And I was sure the women gawked there just as much as they did here. “Who did you go out with?”
“Barrett.”
I glanced at his brother who had his hand fed into the back pocket of one woman’s jeans as her friend whispered in his ear. It was like a fucking harem. My molars locked and I scowled at the dancers below.
“What’s the matter, Rayne?”
“Nothing.”
“Another unfavorable word.” Hale glanced at his watch and to Barrett. “It’s almost one.” He leaned forward. “Barrett, we’re leaving. You coming with us?”
Barrett laughed as one of the women straddled him. “No. I think I’ll get a cab.”
Hale stood and held out his hand. I was done anyway. I was embarrassed and jealous and sulking and drunk. Time to call it a night.
Once we were in the limo, he watched me carefully. “Did something happen that I missed?”
Uncrossing my arms, I huffed, because I really disliked girlie feelings and there had been a lot of them since meeting Hale. “No. I just had too much to drink.”
My insecurities ganged up on me during the silent ride back to the hotel. By the time we entered his room I wanted to cry.
“I’m going to take a shower.” Without waiting for a response, I grabbed a towel off the shelf and locked the door.
I hated feeling this way. I didn’t distrust Hale, but other women made me nervous. They were so brazen about looking at him and flirting. It was like I was invisible.
Being the train wreck that I was, it would only be a matter of time before Hale noticed how much more sophisticated other women were. And with me on the west coast and him traipsing up and down the east coast, there would be plenty of opportunities for him to meet some of those sophisticated women.
I didn’t believe Hale would cheat on me. That wasn’t the issue. Although his father believed every man cheated, Hale held a very favorable view of monogamy.
I could still recall Remington’s warning. I really didn’t give a shit about power plays at the moment. I wasn’t going to bend over backward to stroke a man’s ego just to ensure he’d be faithful. No one stroked my ego and I was faithful.
I stepped out of the bathroom and found Hale sitting in a club chair watching the bathroom door.
“Feeling better?”
I nodded and dug my brush out of my bag. He observed me closely as I combed my hair.
“I’m not a mind reader, Rayne. You can either tell me what’s bugging you or let it go.”
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.”
Slamming the brush down, I pivoted to face him. “Fine. You want to know what my problem is? I’m a six on my best day and you’re a freaking eleven on your worst. You’re going to leave again and I’ll be here and women don’t care that you’re mine and it pisses me off.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “You’re more than a six.”
I scoffed. I didn’t know how to do my hair in anything but a ponytail. I bit my nails. I didn’t wear makeup and I was short. “You’re biased.”
“Maybe I am. It doesn’t matter. You’re the woman I want. And as far as being apart, yes, I’ll eventually go home, but I’ve given you no reason to question my loyalty.”
Though his expression was blank, I sensed he was insulted. I wasn’t accusing him of anything, but the implication slipped out in my drunk and jumbled explanation.
“I’m sorry. You asked. I’m just feeling a little irritated and insecure at the moment.”
“Is this a fight we’re going to have?”
Feeling guilty, I quietly lowered myself to an empty seat. I didn’t want to fight with Hale. Our time was precious, but something happened tonight. Maybe it was the sight of that waitress coming onto him or the fact that every woman we passed tried to get his attention. Or perhaps it was seeing the Davenport DNA in full effect as his brother had a freaking ménage five feet away from us.
None of that was Hale’s fault, but it still hurt. “I don’t know how to compete with other women.”
“There’s no competition.”
I rolled my eyes. “You talked to that waitress for almost ten minutes.”
“And you talked to Barrett even longer.”
“He’s your brother. It’s different.”
“Is it?”
I thought about what his father had done, how his betrayal had scarred Hale, damaged the special relationship they had in irreparable ways. I’d never recover from that sort of betrayal and I was stuck here in Oregon while Hale was flitting off for one social hour after another.
“I don’t like the way other women look at you.”
The side of his mouth hitched in a cocky grin. “I don’t like the way other men look at you. And they do look, Rayne. You just don’t notice. That waitress was giving me the name of her boss because I recently purchased an old mill that I could possibly make into an upscale nightclub. I was merely making a business contact. It had nothing to do with her.”
I lowered my head. “I’m not used to feeling jealous.”
“Me neither. But for the record, I am yours.”
Keeping my head down, I glanced at him. “You are?”
He nodded. “I have no interest in other women. As a matter of fact, I’m so obsessed with you, I’d…” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Let’s just say I’m probably willing to move faster than you can handle, but I’m being patient because I know you have a lot going on right now. But I have plans.”
I exhaled and shifted to the sofa, closer to where he sat. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to scare you.”
And I did scare easily. All of my life I’d avoided any sense of commitment, finding it intimidating and restrictive.
There was a reason I blew off my degree and aborted the whole plan for my career in education. It was the same reason I didn’t own my own home or make large investments. I liked freedom and hated feeling tied down. But now I had Hale and I didn’t want to share him. I wanted to know we were secure.
“I won’t get scared.”
He gave me a measured look. “Okay. If I had my way, we’d live together.”
Mmm, that would be nice—and terrifying. “I can’t leave until I know Elle’s all right.”
“You don’t want to leave and I respect your reasons. I’d never ask you to walk away from Elle, but she won’t be in the hospital forever. She’s either going to wake up or they’re going to move her into a long-term care facility. Either way, her recovery isn’t going to be quick.”
Which meant this long distance relationship could last much longer than I could handle. How did people send their lovers off to war? It had been four weeks and I was dying.
On top of that, we’d only been together for a little over a month, so the need to be around him constantly was still there, making things a million times more complicated. “Maybe we should take a break until we know what’s going to happen.”
His jaw twitched. “That’s out of the question.”
He still hadn’t told me how long he was actually staying. I wanted to clarify, so I’d be emotionally prepared for that goodbye. But I feared his departure might be sooner than expected. Either way, watching him leave would rip out my heart.
“I didn’t expect this to be so hard,” I confessed.
He moved to the sofa and pulled me onto his lap. “Listen to me. I know this isn’t easy, but it’s where we are at the moment. I’ve watched you for two days, going to that hospital and fighting back tears as you took care of your friend. You’ve lost weight, you’re exhausted, and I see how much this situation is tearing you apart. There are other options, but I don’t want to overstep.”
What other options? Elle was here and I wasn’t leaving her. His work was on the other side of the country. As much as I tried to deny the negative outcome, something inside of me knew this would only get worse before it got better.
Elle wasn’t going to just wake up and jump back into her usual routine. The doctors had run extensive tests and there had been more than external damage. Even if she woke up tomorrow, I wouldn’t be able to leave.
“I don’t know what other options we have,” I said sadly.
He drew in a slow breath. “There are great hospitals on the east coast. We could have her moved to live near us, Rayne. And if she needs therapies or around the clock care, I can afford the best for her. I could hire a live-in nurse, have her in one of my homes—not some facility but my actual home. There wouldn’t be visiting hours and you and Elle could be as comfortable as possible. If you’d let me take care of everything, you wouldn’t have to work so much and you could be with both of us.”
I frowned. “But…”
“Look, just think about it. I don’t want to pressure you. But I do love you and now that I’ve found you I don’t want to waste time waiting for my life to begin. I want to be with you. Not every couple of weeks when I can get away, but every day. I want to wake up next to you. I want your face to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see before I close my eyes at night.”
That did sound nice, but there was so much to consider. “Where would we live?” I wasn’t agreeing, but I was curious. Hale had several homes.
“We could stay at my home in Florida or we could go to Georgia. I have four houses, so it would be up to you. But I’d still have to travel for work.”
I frowned. “How do you plan to do that with Elara?”
“Well…”
Oh no… I’d feared this conversation since the moment I learned of his situation. And now, more than ever, I sensed its approach.
“If you were there, you could help me.”
No kids. It had been a constant slogan in my head since I walked away from my teaching career and killed my third goldfish and umpteenth houseplant. And since Elara came along, it had been a daily mantra. Even when I played with her and missed her, I constantly reminded myself there was a reason she wasn’t mine.
“I’m not good with little people.”
“Yes, you are. I watch you with her and you’re a natural. I wouldn’t suggest it if I had any doubts.”
“I’ve dropped three watermelons in grocery stores, Hale. Not one, but three. And I wasn’t goofing around either. I was just carrying the thing and the next thing I knew watermelon guts were all over the floor. Three separate times that’s happened to me. I don’t want to drop your baby.”
“Neither do I, but I worry about the same stuff. I trust you with her, Rayne. Most of the time I’d be there, and we’d have nannies for her, but when I have to leave for business I’d be much more comfortable knowing you’re there.”
“What about your mom?”
He sighed. “She’s been a huge help over the past few weeks, but her life’s in New York. And as much as I love my mother, I’ve been on my own for too long to go backward. I’d rather have you by my side.”
He’d rather have me than his own mother helping him? That was so sweet—and intimidating.
“Would I be like a nanny?” Maybe if it was a job I’d feel less guilty living off his money.
“No, it would be a partnership. Elara has a nanny lined up. You’d help, of course, but this is more about us than my situation as a new dad. I’m in love with you, Rayne. My daughter’s a part of me and I need her to be a part of you, too, if we want any sort of future.” He glanced away. “I’m not making it a condition, but you have to realize if we stay together, I’ll eventually want more.”
“Children?”
“More of you. Rayne, someday, I want a wife.”
Oh, boy. Me. Marriage. I wasn’t so sure those things should ever go together in a conversation. “Maybe we should see how things go.”
“Like I said, think about it. I wasn’t going to say anything right now, but you brought it up.”
“You’re asking a lot, Hale. Not of me, but of yourself.”
“I’ve never made an offer without carefully considering all angles.”
That was true. He’d once told me he wouldn’t do anything he didn’t gain some level of satisfaction from. And his entire family had made reference to his meticulousness. Even where Elara was concerned, he’d made up his mind and did what he felt was right.
“I’ll think about it.”
He nodded. “Good. You let me know when you’ve made up your mind. Whatever choice you make, I’ll be ready to act.”
I pressed my forehead to his and sighed. “I’m sorry I acted like a jealous cow tonight. I do love you though.” I just wished so many other women didn’t.
“Part of me likes knowing you’re protective of me.” His lips brushed mine as he gently tugged me closer. “I love you, too.”