“All men covet something that doesn’t belong to them. Some men just have more honor than others” ~ Johnny Outlaw
I wake up alone in bed. Dalton was kind enough to let me sleep in, but I would have preferred a kiss, even if it is a goodbye kiss. Rolling to his side of the bed, I rest my head on the pillow he slept on. It’s not enough to satisfy, so I turn my face and inhale deeply. I miss him already. When I fall to my back again, I stare up at the ceiling realizing we’ve shared more goodbyes than hellos lately.
Grumpy, I throw the covers off and sit up. I’m supposed to be grateful. The band touring brings in a lot of money.
I’d rather have my husband back.
Over the last five years my company, Limelight, has boomed and I’ve made more money than I could have imagined. With that said, I wouldn’t be living in the mansion I do in Los Angeles on my salary. My money pales in comparison to Dalton’s, but I’m thrilled with the success my Bite Me Lime meme has given me. I have a career I never dreamed possible.
My phone starts vibrating on the nightstand. It must be seven. I swipe my finger over the screen shutting the alarm off, then stand up and take a shower.
I arrive home a few hours later. The house is stale, his absence filling the space, making me sluggish. I carry the pillow I stole from the hotel, the one he used, up to the bedroom. His scent is still strong and I’ll need it over the next few weeks.
Last night when I should have been laying there in his arms satisfied from our time together, I was restless. I wish I could have enjoyed the time we did have instead of worrying about a conversation we had a few nights earlier…
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Are we okay?”
The pause between us grows as I wait for him to answer. My patience has gone just like he usually is. A heavy breath is heard, then he speaks from the heart. “We’re more than okay. I know I’m not supposed to say this stuff because we’ve had this conversation and it puts pressure on you, but I’m gonna say it anyway.”
“Okay,” I reply, bracing myself.
“I’m tired of leaving you, Holliday. I know you have a life and your business, but it’s hard on the road without you.”
“It’s hard being here without you, Dalton. I love you and I love you for telling me how you’re feeling, but we’ve been over this.”
“So it’s a no-go?” His question deviates to an obvious frustration I know I can’t ease.
“I have that photoshoot in New York next Monday, Babe. I’ll see you then but my schedule is full of meetings and work until the minute I leave. If I could, I would be with you.”
I hear a turn signal from inside his car. “I’ll be home soon. Wait up for me.”
“Of course.”
When we hang up, sadness and guilt come over me. I have so much to do in the next week, but for him I wish I could chuck it all, blow it off, or reschedule. This campaign is too important and I can’t afford to lose my investment by rescheduling this late.
Closing my eyes, I try to push my worries aside and get some rest to make up for last night.
When Dalton’s not home, I tend to work away from the house. Luckily, I kept my old townhome. I head over because I tend to get more work done when there, it’s a break from the monotony and the change of scenery is nice. The beach is nearby and offers a nice distraction from the emptiness of the house. Maybe I’m just not ready to let go of this place entirely and it works great as my office.
I carry my laptop outside to the patio. I stop and smile when I see Danny working out—shirtless. I say, “Hey there, stranger.”
He looks over and smiles. “Hi, it’s been a while.”
“Yeah.” I agree but don’t add anything.
“You working here today?”
I set a bottle of water down next to the chaise, and sit. “I’ll be here all week. I have a lot to get done.”
Up to his old tricks, he hops the two short walls and lands on my patio. He’s sweaty and snags my water, opening it as he takes a seat facing me. “Come on, Holli, admit it. You miss me.” He downs half my water, then smirks.
Danny has always been easy on the eyes—an underwear model, body built beyond amazing, tan, handsome face, and dark hair. Totally my type, if I had a type other than Dalton.
He drags the back of his wrist across his forehead, wiping away some sweat while I admire his physique. Seeing him reminds me of the photoshoot. “Yeah. Yeah. Don’t flatter yourself too much,” I joke. “So hey, I have a shoot next week.”
“Oh yeah? Your own campaign?”
“Yes, there’s no way I want to make modeling a career though. I’m already dreading it.”
“What do you need to do to get ready for it?”
“I need to exercise.” I make a wonky face. “I’m going to be in my underwear.”
His eyebrows quirk up. “Sounds like my kind of photoshoot.”
I throw him a hard glare. “Don’t tease. I’m nervous.”
“Oh I’m not teasing,” he says, laughing. He finishes the bottle of water and holds it up. “Thanks by the way.” He stands and looks down at me. “If you want any pointers, I’m happy to help.”
“Really? You’ll give me some inside tips?”
He shrugs. “Sure, but you’ve done some shoots before. Why are you so nervous this time?”
“Because I’m gonna be half-naked with another man in these pics.”
Dramatically feigning offense, his hands go to his heart. “I’ll try not to be offended that I was overlooked for the job.”
Laughing, I say, “If it makes you feel better, you came to mind, but there’s no way. Dalton would lose it.”
“What are you talking about? We’re friends now.”
“Yes… kind of, but only when you’re fully dressed and not touching me intimately.”
“Whoa! There’s intimate touching involved? Nice!” He sits back down looking totally intrigued, and asks, “Who’s the model?”
“Sebastian Lassiter.” Danny is shaking his head before the name is fully out of my mouth. “What? What is it? You know him?”
“I know him. I’ve met him on a shoot in Paris and at New York Fashion Week.”
“And?”
“Look, Holli, he’s young and a hot commodity right now. He’ll do a great job at the shoot. But he’ll also try to do you as well.”
Feeling smug, I pop my chin up. “I can handle him on that front. He was fine when we met him last month.”
“Be careful. He’s got a bad temper, but I guess you’re used to that already,” he says, taking a dig at Dalton. “He also has an appetite for the forbidden.”
“Stop speaking in metaphors. Are you saying he goes after married women?”
“He goes after women who seem unattainable.” He rests forward, raises an eyebrow, and lowers his voice when he says, “I’d say you’re pretty unattainable, Mrs. Outlaw.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Like I said, I can handle him. But if you think he’s not a good fit for the campaign, tell me now.”
“I think you two will be very convincing together.” He stands again. “Offer still stands, if you want some tips or to work out before the shoot, you know where I live.”
Dropping my sunglasses over my eyes, I lean back on the chair and look up at the blue skies. “Thanks.”
Within seconds, I’m alone, the door to his balcony patio closing behind him. I search Sebastian online and look at him again. His face is sculpted, the Italian from his mother’s side showing through his olive skin and brown hair. His eyes are a vibrant blue tipped with green, matching the Mediterranean Ocean. We approved him initially for the campaign based on his defined features and strong presence in black and white photos. That was before I knew about his reputation. Image after image appears onscreen and I scroll down, eyeing them. He’s very attractive, his looks giving him a good reason to be cocky. Regardless, I know I can handle Sebastian Lassiter.
My email dings. I close the search window and click over to my inbox. There’s an email from Danny. What is he up to? I glance over my shoulder at his house. His door is still closed, so I laugh and open the email.
Holli, this is a detox I use three days before a shoot when I know I’m going to be shirtless. You don’t need it, but if you’re feeling nervous, it gets rid of bloat and water weight.
I burst out laughing that I’m getting an email with advice on getting rid of water retention and bloat from a guy. But really, he’s probably the most qualified person I know since he’s made a career by looking good shirtless. So I pay close attention to the recipe as I read further.
Drink three glasses a day for three days and only lean protein and vegetables. No alcohol or sugar. And get a spray tan. A little color goes a long way.
Danny
Most of the summer I was holed up inside because of my heavy workload. I look down at my arms. I’m not exactly pale, but maybe a little more color would be good.
When I return to my work emails, I click through slowly, but here I am not focused. My mind keeps drifting back to last night and how Dalton’s lips felt against mine, how he made me come twice, and how even if he’s had a crazy day, he smiles when he sees me.
Dalton was in Vancouver by lunch and guilt has taken up residence in my gut for not going with him.
“There you are.”
I slam my laptop closed, startled because I’m busted by Tracy, my office manager, for not working. “Hi,” I say, my voice all pitchy and definitely guilty sounding. I clear my throat. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“I come here almost every day. You know that. Anyway, what are you doing out here? Getting fresh air?” Tracy sits down on the lounger previously occupied by Danny.
“It’s nice out today, so I was trying to get some work done while enjoying the sunshine. Dalton left this morning and I wanted a change of scenery from the home office.”
“Well I know this week is busy and you’re nervous about next week, but it’s all gonna be great. Everything is organized and ready to go. So you don’t need to stress too much.”
“What if I was to throw a wrench in that perfectly organized schedule?”
Her smile disappears. “Depends. Throw a wrench or mess it up all together?”
“Maybe mess it up all together.”
“Holli…” she says, my name voiced in an irritated way while her hands are positioned on her hips. “Tell me what you’re doing?”
“I rarely miss work, deadlines, or meetings, Tracy. Don’t treat me like this is a pattern of mine.”
Her judgy stance is dropped and she says, “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I know you work hard. It’s just—”
“It’s just that I can’t concentrate. I hate to disappoint you and any clients, but I miss my husband. I got him for forty-eight hours and out of those forty-eight, I saw him less than fifteen. That includes sleeping. I went to my meetings. He went to his. Last night I was lying next to him wondering when I’m going to see him next, when I’m going to get to touch him and not just see him on a screen.”
“That’s his lifestyle. Your life, your business is here. I can see how difficult this is for you. I want to help you, but I just don’t know how.”
A sense of urgency builds inside and my mind starts turning to come up with any viable reason that will justify it to her and me. Tucking the hair that has fallen forward behind my ear, I say, “I understand why we don’t want to reschedule the meetings, but I need a few days off. I can’t go into this trip feeling like this.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
I sigh. “I’m asking… kindly with all the pleases and thank yous and hot guys on top.”
After a momentary debate, she relents. “Fine. I’ll make it happen, especially because there are hot guys on top. You’ve got today. Twenty-four hours. I need you back here by then to prepare for the campaign.”
We have a tough week ahead, so I accept the deal without argument. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”
She stands and asks, “You need a flight booked?”
I nod.
“Where?”
“Vancouver.”
“Go home and pack. I’ll book you on the next available flight and text you the details.”
With my laptop tucked to my side, I give her a one-armed hug. “Thank you so much, Trace.”
“You realize you could have just told me you were going and I’d have to deal with the consequences. You own the company and make all the final decisions.”
Leaning back, I say, “I don’t want to run my company like that. What we do matters and I don’t ever want to leave you in a lurch.”
“I appreciate that,” she says. “Now go!”
I take off with a smile on my face, knowing I get to see my love again later today. Vancouver, here I come.