“I’ve discovered the quiet ones are usually the loudest. You just have to take the time to listen.” ~Johnny Outlaw
I’ve been good about not searching online for information regarding The Resistance or Dalton. I want to hear him tell me about his adventures and where they’re traveling. It feels more personal, more real that way. Anytime a story about them comes on TV, I quickly turn the channel. Once, I caught a story about who the press thinks he should hook up with. I felt numb and disconnected from him for hours afterwards. So I avoid the media when it comes to him.
What I can’t avoid is business, which is picking up. Tracy is working in my office more to avoid miscommunication and scheduling conflicts. She has access to my online planner, but twenty phone calls a day to confirm or make a decision was getting old, so we started working together in person until we get everything under control.
I also find it easier to focus on work when she’s here. Other times, I’ll call Dalton or start to slack and daydream. Discovering that bliss comes with a price, my responsible side is being overrun by my ridiculously happy side.
Resting my head on my hand, I look at the calendar pinned to the corkboard in front of me. Two days until Dalton comes home for two weeks. The break was scheduled into the tour so the band can rest before touring France, Italy, and flying to South America. Their schedule makes no sense to me. They’re also supposed to record a song they’re working on that they want to debut at a big music festival down in Brazil.
“I took Adam back.”
Surprised to have the silence broken, I look at Tracy, shocked by her confession. “Okay,” I reply.
“I love him and realized I’m punishing him over something that happened too long ago to worry about now.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
She stands and walks to the patio door. “Don’t get me wrong. I put him through the ringer and told him to tell me anything and everything because once this conversation was over, it was over for good and I want to move forward.”
“More than a fair request. Logical. I think I’m seeing a new side to you, Trace. You usually run off of your emotions.”
“My heart hurt too much, so I started using my head.”
“What was his reaction?”
She giggles, revealing her joy. “He said we should fly to Vegas and get married this weekend.”
“Really?” I ask, sitting up. “Are you gonna do it?”
“I’m tempted, but I told him no. I still want the big wedding and everyone there. Call me selfish, but I want my special day with all my friends and family with me.”
“Eloping is romantic, but you have to do what feels right for you two. I think sharing your day with everyone you care about is beautiful. I’m so happy that something so good has come from the bad.”
She sits down on the couch, and pulls her files onto her lap again. “Thanks for not pressuring me about it.”
“Pfft.” I wave my hand nonchalantly. “I knew you would go back, but I’m glad you did it when it felt right. You guys are gonna have a great life together.”
“We already do. Now we just appreciate it more.” She grabs her phone and starts scrolling on the screen. “And by the way, the wedding is in seven weeks and you’re my Maid of Honor, so get ready.”
“Seven weeks. Um… okay.” I take a deep breath. “You’re gonna have to be very organized. I can help however you need me.”
“Thank you. I knew I could count on you. Now,” she says, holding up a contract, “we need to get these signed and our banners to the printer for the convention next month.”
An exasperated sigh escapes before I can stop it. “Damn, I forgot about the convention.”
“It’s been on your schedule for six months. It’s only one day of face time, but it will be a long one and I need you ready. These are the people we want to carry the brand and they’re gonna want to meet you.”
I nod. “I’ll be ready.” I spin back around and start going over the ad designs. “You do more than your job description, you know,” I say, casually. “How do you feel about a raise?” I peek over my shoulder and see her smiling.
“Really?”
Shrugging, I say, “Sure, you’ve earned it. More than earned it actually. Thank you for the hard work you put in. The business wouldn’t be the same without you being a part of it.”
She gets up and hugs me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
When she sits down again, she says, “I have a great product and even better boss, so you make my job easy. Now get back to work. I need those designs approved before my two o’clock call.”
“Okay, okay. “
When two rolls around, I sneak out onto the patio, giving Tracy privacy for her conference call. I also have ulterior motives—Dalton. He answers on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m lonely.”
There’s a pause that might be construed as uncomfortable, but I’m starting to learn that Dalton says what he means. He doesn’t talk to fill unpleasant silences. When he does speak, his words are poetic. “Loneliness is a trick the heart plays on the mind.”
“So you’re never lonely?”
“I didn’t say that. Sometimes the mind starts to believe.”
A smile crosses my face. I knew he felt more than he was letting on. “It’s okay to show emotion, you know.”
“I show emotion. Was it not enough?”
“Look, I’ll let you off the hook… for now. But when I see you, I expect I-missed-you-so-much-reunion-sex. Okay?”
He chuckles. “Like I’d hold out on you.”
“I hope you never do. “ Checking over my shoulder, I see Tracy inside on her call. “I should go.”
“Hey, Holliday?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m lonely too.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my own emotions grabbing hold of me.
“Be at my place on Friday when I get home.”
The phone goes quiet just as I reply, “I’ll be there.”
I’m let in through the gate without question after ringing security. People—maids, security, gardeners—weren’t here the other time. It’s interesting to see the bustling about the property preparing for Dalton’s arrival home. I grab my small suitcase from the trunk and walk inside. A lady with a rag in her hand smiles from across the living room. I say hello, then walk upstairs to his bedroom. I’ve not been here alone before and it feels different without his energy filling the space.
I sit on the bench at the end of his bed and look around. I use the time to snoop and check out the framed photos. The two on his dresser are pictures he took of the audience at a concert—his view of the show, which is so different from ours of him on stage. They make me wonder what shows these were in particular that warranted framing. The one next to his bed looks like Texas by the landscape, but I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask him about it some time.
The bedroom is clean in design. Not modern, but not traditional either. The large bed is covered in deep browns and reds, with hints of gold, not over the top. The view from his home is what I love the most. I open the large doors and walk out onto the balcony. His view of L.A. is incredible and I imagine the city at night must look magical from here. Below is the pool, which makes me think of a secret lagoon with the plants and rocks surrounding it. His property is very private from the surrounding homes.
Walking back inside, I sit on the end of the bed, wondering how much longer he’ll be. After a few more minutes, I kick off my shoes and crawl up the mattress to rest my head on his pillow. My eyes grow heavy as the minutes tick by and the sun lowers outside, and I fall asleep.
“Holliday.”
I reach my hands out, touching his face, feeling safe with him near.
“Holliday, wake up.”
Our lips part and I try to tempt him, grasping to hold on when he starts to disappear.
“Hey there,” he says, stroking my hair back.
My eyes open and I see Dalton, his head on the pillow next to mine, making me smile. “I fell asleep.”
“So I see.”
“You’re home.”
“I’m home,” he repeats, moving closer. Lifting up onto his elbow, he hovers over me. “About that loneliness…”
I come up for air, my wet hair covering my shoulders. Dalton is sitting on the edge of the pool and I swim to him. When I reach the side, I kick my feet behind me as he finishes a phone call.
He lifts my chin, eyeing my mouth. His fingers leave my skin and he looks away. When he stands up, he turns his back and walks toward a chair by the hot tub. “I don’t want to. That’s why,” he says. His voice is low which makes me wonder if he doesn’t want me to hear. Irritation takes over. “Fine. In. Out. Appearance only. Now drop it, Tommy.”
Pushing off the wall, I swim to the other side of the pool to give him privacy while he talks with the band’s manager.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks, calling to me.
I turn around and balance with my arms on the edge. My eyes meet his and I reply, “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”
His phone rings again as he walks inside and I start to wonder if this is how his days in L.A. will be—here physically, but too busy to invest in us.
I untie my top when he returns. He has what appears to be two whiskey and Cokes. He sets them down near the steps and I toss my top at him. “Come in with me.”
His phone beeps with a text and he looks down at the screen. Frustrated, I take my bottoms off and hit him in the chest. Surprised, he looks at me. With a raised eyebrow, he jumps into the pool, clothes and all and comes after me. I splash him, laughing he jumped in fully clothed. Grabbing me to him, he says, “You look good in my pool.” His hand slides up my naked body.
“I like your pool a lot.” I tug at his shirt. “But you’d look better without these on.”
“Wet isn’t enough? I can’t please you woman,” he says, laughing, making me giggle in return. He strips his shirt off, then his jeans come down, but he struggles in the water, so I go under and help him out.
Our bodies come together and he grabs my hair, tilting my head back gently and kissing me. When I wrap my arms and legs around him, I hold him close. Our lips part and our tongues meet. There’s something magnetic when we’re together, something more powerful, a draw stronger than us.
My back is pressed against the stone side, his erection pressed against me. Dalton’s stubble scrapes my skin as his lips caress my neck. The pain mixed with pleasure sends tremors through my body.
“I want you,” he whispers, his breath harsh against my jaw.
I stroke the back of his head, my own voice laden with heavy breaths. “You have me.”
He lifts up, his eyes locking on mine. “I want to be inside you. Right now.”
My breath slows, deepens as I realize what he’s saying. My tone dips, and I say, “Dalton—”
“Forget it,” he says, pushing away and swimming to the other side of the pool.
“Dalton? Don’t leave.” I swim after him, but he’s already climbing out.
“Don’t worry about it.” He goes inside, leaving the door open behind him.
I stand in the shallow end of the pool, confused to why he’s so upset. Going to the stairs, I get out and hurry across the stone and deck, glad everyone left the house earlier since I’m naked. I chase him upstairs, knowing he’s gone to the master bedroom. Leaving a trail of water in my wake, I enter the bedroom. The shower is on. Slowly, I walk inside the large bathroom. His head is tilted back, the water raining down on his face, his hands rubbing his eyes.
I’m tentative when I step in next to him. His eyes open and he glances sideways at me.
With my fingertips, I touch his shoulder, tracing his flag tattoo, and say, “I’m sorry for upsetting you. If you want to talk about it—”
“I don’t.” He turns back under the water, causing my hand to fall away while he rinses his hair.
I refuse to indulge his mood. “Fine,” I reply, turning to leave the shower.
He grabs my arm and I’m suddenly spun and pinned against the cold tile wall. “Stay.”
Glaring at him, I’m not sure what I want to do. My stubborn side wants to win, walking out to teach him a lesson. I’m just not sure what lesson that would teach, so I stay, letting him win this round. “What?”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Me? You don’t be like that. You act like me wanting to use a condom wrecked your whole world outside. And you’re telling me not to be like that?”
“Yeah, I am.” His hand slides up my neck, his thumb putting pressure as he moves. He comes closer. His lips are almost on mine, but he stops, and says, “I know your body, Holliday. I know every inch of it, touched it, kissed it, can manipulate your impulses to my will. But sometimes I don’t know what you’re thinking or what you think about me.”
“The fun of a relationship is discovering all those things in time.”
He leans back and asks, “What happens after? After you find out too much?”
“Too much, as in, you don’t think I’ll want you?”
His gaze lowers to his hand on my throat, his thumb pressing against my pulse, seeming to count each racing beat of my heart. “Not when you see the ugly side.”
Leaning forward, I kiss the corner of his mouth. “We can’t predict the future and there’s no reward in that anyway.” His hand slides down my wet body, stopping on my hip where my tattoo is. When he looks back up at me, I say, “As for the condom, I’m not ready to not use one. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but in the moment shouldn’t be when we’re discussing the issue. It’s more complicated than that… and too important to treat casually.”
His body before me is hard, the lines of his muscles defined. His eyes match, an edge to them that tells me he doesn’t like something I’ve said. “I’m trying to be faithful to you—”
“Trying?” I don’t like that at all. “I don’t have to try,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “It’s easy to do. It’s what we decided when you had your unexpected wanderlust.”
“You remember that?”
“Of course, I remember that. Do you? Do you remember how you made the same agreement with me as I did you?”
He smiles, the expression much more attractive than the other, though some might disagree. His voice smoothes, becoming more seductive, and he says, “Angel, you’re in my home, which means you’re in my life. There’s no one else if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t break promises and our agreement was a promise.” His lips brush against mine. “We can talk about protection again soon, but right now I’m gonna remind you why you missed me so much.”
Closing my eyes, I smile just as his lips touch mine. He may have been upset about my reaction to no condom earlier, but I guess he didn’t think I would stay mad. He grabs a foil packet from the ledge and we make up by making love under the warm water showering down over us.