23
VICTORIA
I shouldn’t have cared that it wasn’t me on the screen. I should’ve been proud to say that our team was so good that I didn’t even have to be there. I should’ve thanked Joel in front of my family for doing a hell of a job. Because he did. He radiated confidence during the segment. He knew what the heck he was talking about.
But I did care, and I was selfish. I shut up; I smiled weakly. While the family praised him, I could barely get a compliment to leave my lips. Though we sang “Happy Birthday” to Mitchell and passed around slices of cake, it no longer felt like a celebration.
And as we Uber back to the campsite, our bellies full of food, I feel no better than when we arrived at True North almost four hours ago.
Joel leans his head back on the headrest, shuts his eyes. I stare out my window, into the sea of red lights on Highway 80 heading to the East Bay.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I separate work and pleasure? How can he be so relaxed, so confident in this non-relationship that we have, and why can’t I be like him and enjoy our fleeting, exciting, blood-pumping moments?
Because when I’m with him, I forget everything and everyone. The present is enough.
When we turn off the exit to 580 West, onto a dimly lit freeway, Joel’s phone rings, startling him out of sleep. His hands fumble against his pants, though he placed the phone between us on the seat along with a wrapped plate of leftover food. After the second ring, I pick the phone up for him, first glancing down at the bright screen.
And I see the picture of the caller. It’s of a little boy.
“It’s for you.” My voice shakes. After he thanks me and takes the phone, I snatch my eyes away and focus on the road. We were interrupted once again when I wanted to ask him about Seth, and in the middle of and after watching the show, I’d forgotten all about it.
But here we are again.
Joel answers with a gravelly voice and it cracks as he greets Seth. “Hey, what’s up?” Turning his face to the window, he settles back into his seat, and it’s as if I’m not there at all. He laughs under his breath, answers with hmms and uh-huhs, almost flirtatious and sweet.
So I scroll on my phone and pretend I don’t care an iota. Meanwhile, the car is getting hotter and stuffier. Irritation buzzes through me like a speaker before the scream of feedback. Bile is at my throat, the phone call a trigger to my panic. This can’t be happening to me twice. Is it only a child? Is there a wife, too? Or is it a significant other? And God, while he and I are becoming something.
Then again, we don’t have anything, right? He wanted simple.
Simple for a reason.
My breathing picks up as my blood pressure rises. I start humming to the radio so I don’t have to hear the rumble of his laugh.
We’re turning into the campground when Joel finally gets off the phone, and by then, I’m ready to be alone, to get into my pajamas, and to shut off the lights. But Joel? He’s cheery, as if the phone call was what he was waiting for all day.
Why do I seem to be attracted to men who are already involved with someone else? Because I can’t do that again. I might have had my suspicions before, but I’m not going to repeat what I did with Luke. I’m not going to be made a fool.
The campground is virtually silent except for the crickets and the occasional cough or conversation, and the crack of twigs under someone’s feet. Aside from the lit path between the vehicle and tent areas, the only other light is the water reflecting the stars. The tent area is dark; the rest of the crew is sound asleep.
I’m fiddling with the keys to the RV when Joel inhales what sounds like a lungful of air. “Well, thanks for inviting me. I have to admit, that might have topped all of my food adventures.”
He continues on, but I’m simply focused on sifting through this ginormous key ring because the keys all look the same in the dark, dammit.
Joel turns on the flashlight app on his phone. Duh. Finding the key straight away, I turn toward the door to stick it into the lock, though I’m unsuccessful because he covers the keyhole with his hand.
He shuts off the flashlight app so we’re plunged into darkness. “Victoria.”
Resignation bleeds in his voice. It’s one word—my name—but in the dark, with him this close, he doesn’t have to say anything else. He wants to finish our conversation from the way over to True North. And he doesn’t want a bullshit answer.
And, equally, in the dark, I’m brave enough to tap into what’s been on my mind, of what could be something that could break me again.
“Who’s Seth?”
“What?”
I shake my head, my bravado giving way to shame, but I keep going. “I heard you on the phone last night. I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but—” My rambling gets the best of me, but Joel cuts me off.
His tone eases. “Seth’s my nephew.”
The answer renders me speechless for a moment. “He’s the one you speak to every day?”
“Yeah, sometimes twice. In between texts. He’s always busting my balls over something, and I can’t help but check up on him.”
Relief spills out of me, and I bark out a laugh.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Promise not to freak?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“You sounded so sweet on the phone, and I thought . . .” I wish I could see his face. While I’m close enough to hear him breathe, smell the soap he cleaned up with at True North, I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“You thought that Seth was my son.”
My face burns with shame. “Yes, I did.”
“What if I said he was like a son to me?”
My heart softens; it becomes putty. “I think that’s wonderful. Every child deserves love from everyone, from parents and uncles and friends and framily.”
“Framily?”
“Friends who are like family.” I smile.
“Well, my sister and my nephew are all the family I have, and they’ve always come first.”
“That’s good, Joel”—and feeling the need to explain more, I add—“But the reason I mention it is that I thought . . . I assumed . . . I know the thing we have is supposed to be simple, but I got scared.” Taking a deep breath, I push out the rest of my thoughts. “I don’t think I’m made for this . . . fling. Especially with it mixing with work. I don’t know if I’m always going to be a little naïve or if I’m ever going to get over what happened to me. Or if I can ever separate work and play. Tonight was an example of it. I’m sorry.”
“I see.”
I bite my lip and start to grind my toe into the ground. My plan was not to be this forthcoming. There’s a power you give up when you say what you feel, when you bare your fears. Before Luke, I was all about pure honesty, but since then, I’ve held back.
“So, you’re saying that we should . . .” he starts.
“That maybe we should ease off.” I lower my face, though I know he can’t see my expression. “I don’t know what simple means. I like you, Joel, but I can’t just be a body.”
“Is that what you think you are?” He jumps in, tone curt. “Did I ever do anything to make you feel that way? To me, simple doesn’t mean careless.” After a pause that feels like days, Joel clears his throat. “I’m gonna go. Honestly, I didn’t expect for you to underestimate me.”
My heart falls in my chest. The hurt in his voice tempts me to stop him, but it’s better this way, right? We are two different people; our conversations are evidence of it. “Yeah . . . okay.”
I shove the key into the rig lock rougher than I probably need to after he turns to leave. Was that the end of us? What did I think would happen? You threw down an ultimatum, dummy. You put the truth out there.
But as I climb the steps into the rig, the sound of footsteps causes me to turn.
“Nope. It’s not okay.” Joel comes to the bottom of the step. “I’m not done. Can I come in?”
My heart lurches in my throat. Stunned, I blink at the sight of this beautiful man looking up at me, then nod.
He takes two steps up into the rig, shuts the door behind him, and turns so our faces are even, so close that it would be easy to lean in and steal a kiss.
He lays his hands on my hips, inching me backward, then takes the final step up. I don’t fight back; I don’t question him. I sit on the edge of the bed while he takes a knee in front of me, and I’m breathless when he puts his hands on my thighs. My heart’s pounding in my ears as I take in the mixture of determination and patience on his face. “The things you do, the things you say—I can’t stay away from you.” His right hand caresses my cheek, pushes a long bang from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “Look, what that guy did to you was wrong. Fucking cowardly. You didn’t deserve it.”
“I know that.”
“Then you know that real men aren’t like him. That I am not like him. I won’t lie to you, Victoria. This job does put a wrench in things. I might not always do the right thing, and I’m sometimes too quiet. I’m not perfect. I’ve gone my own way in life. But I’m not a liar or a cheat.”
“I believe you.”
“Good, because I’ve got a couple of things to admit. The slow burn of watching you behind a screen for two months was a tease. And Vegas? You fucking rocked my world. And, yes, you and me here on this trip is light-years away from simple. But you are not just a body. Yes, your mouth, your lips, your voice, and your body are irresistible. But you’re also fucking sweet and smart. You’re a good person. And I don’t think I can resist crawling into your bed, burying myself in you. Whenever we’re together, I want to make you feel like the powerful, amazing woman you are.”
I shiver, letting his words flow across the surface of my skin, stripping me down to a mass of nerves. My body hums, my core coiling in anticipation at the kind of strength and power this man has behind the shell he has up for everyone. My hands fist the front of his shirt. “I don’t want you to stay away. But what happens after?”
He takes a deep breath. “After we have sex? I was thinking we’d have more of it.”
I laugh. “I mean after this trip.”
He brings my face down to his, and he plants a kiss on my lips. That simple action settles my fear about whatever he’s about to say. His voice is a breath. “I don’t know, Victoria. I can only promise you that while we’re on this trip, in this run-down RV, I’m yours, unequivocally.”
“So there’s no one else?” I need to clarify this fact. My biggest fear.
“No one.”
I nod, ruminating over what he means. He’s saying that these next four days are the only ones he can promise. After we say our goodbyes, that will be it. It’s temporary in the most honest terms, but it’s all for us, for the taking. Just he and I. And what more can I ask but that?
“Okay.”
His lips curl up into a grin. “Okay?”
“Yes. I’m yours unequivocally, too.”
He kisses me, sending my heart into my throat and my body toward him. He climbs onto the bed on his knees, taking me with him so we’re facing each other. While exploring my mouth with his tongue, he peels off his shirt, then unbuttons mine. He palms my back so I’m flush against his chest, the breath crushed out of me, then he moves his lips to my neck, my clavicle. He fingers one bra strap off a shoulder, sending goose bumps across my skin.
I sip in a breath as he kisses down my chest, in between my breasts, while he lowers the demi cup until my breasts spill out. He takes one nipple into his mouth while teasing the other with his fingers. I sigh as he licks, cry as he nibbles, and gasp when I open my eyes.
I see our reflection in the mirror through the open bathroom door, of me kneeling, top exposed, while this man is taking me into his mouth. His profile shows the pleasure in what he’s doing. And the sight of that, of him enjoying himself, is like electricity. I’m amped up with joules of energy, and I want this to go faster. I want this hard and unrelenting.
Pulling him up by the shoulders, I bring his face to me and kiss him firmly on the lips. He unhooks my bra and it falls to the side. My fingers fumble with the button on his jeans. Finally, I get the darn thing open, and my hand plunges down the front of his pants, because I want it—him—in my hands.
I suck in a breath at his length, his girth, at how hard he is for me. He growls as I shove his jeans down, and I take my time with his cock. I palm and squeeze, pull and play. I watch his face and gauge what he wants, and I grin because he seems to love everything I do. But it’s when I get into a rhythm, when I pump him and the heat rises between us from the friction, that he finally speaks. “You know what I’m thinking of right now, Victoria?” The sound of the zipper of my jeans coming down increases my speed as I anticipate his fingers where I want them, between my legs. “I’m thinking of your wetness all around me.”
I’m pleading, whining into his mouth because I want him so bad, and the warmth of his fingers between my legs is a relief. He licks my lips and my imagination flips it so it’s his tongue stroking me. My breaths come quick, and I’m a spiral top in an unrecoverable spin, and I don’t know . . . I don’t think I can stop.
My knees buckle, and I’m not sure if I can do this, if I can give and receive pleasure without falling over, but Joel keeps me up by the waist, licking, touching, pumping, until I can no longer hang on, until his breaths become haggard.
He’s about to fall, too.
“I’ve got you, Victoria.” Joel grunts, barely making words. “Oh fuck. I’m so close.”
Knowing I do this to him—he can barely catch his breath—gives me enough bravado to take control. “Do you have a condom?”
He nods. “In my wallet.”
Reaching behind him, I take the wallet from his pocket, shove it against his chest, and push him onto his back. I step out of my jeans and panties, and crawl onto him as he slips the condom on. Joel embeds his fingers in my hair. Eyes on each other, I sink onto him with relief.