Chapter Thirteen
Dylan
I was walking in a dream. Our trip out to the inn had turned into one of the hottest interludes of my life. She had been so prim and focused when we started out, but everything changed with one phone call. I thought for sure the DA was going to blow our whole potential date out of the water, so what happened was a major surprise. The DA gave her the weekend off. When Bethany got off the phone with her boss, she was suddenly a different woman.
I wondered what she was like on a full-fledged vacation.
Still, I was happy for what I had with Bethany. Our quick day trip had turned into a weekend. It didn't seem possible. I rubbed my eyes and then opened them wide. It was still true.
Bethany was asleep in my bed at home in my loft.
My mind was a blur of the times we'd made love. At the inn; in my car downstairs in the garage; and again, last night when we finally made it upstairs to my loft.
I rolled over and looked at her, smiling in her sleep, all tangled in my sheets. Did she have any idea how often I had daydreamed of just this over the years?
As a pre-teen, I hadn't known what exactly I felt. All I knew was that I wanted Bethany near me. The thought of having her in my room, much less near my bed, had been enough to make my hands shake, overwhelmed with hormones.
Then I moved away.
From there, Bethany became a mixed fantasy for me: part the home and childhood I had lost and part the first woman I had been attracted to. The thought of her was one I had returned to over and over again through the years.
So, I had to rub my eyes again and make sure it was really her next to me.
I'd always heard men talking about their first crushes, and even some telling the tale of sleeping with them later in life. They never measured up. How could a woman be everything a hormone-addled boy had once dreamed up?
Bethany was more.
She had smiled that same crooked smile, the one I remembered from before I moved away, and then she leaned in and kissed me. Though this time, we were adults and the kiss hadn't stopped. It hadn't stopped for days.
I stopped myself. I didn't want to wake her up. Not yet. She had to go back to work today, and I wanted to extend our morning together as long as possible. I settled back on my pillow and tried to steady my breathing.
It wasn't like I had saved myself for Bethany. There had been plenty of relationships, hook-ups, and screw-ups between when I moved away and when I accidentally ran into her again. The thought of my other conquests was something I had always been vaguely proud of, nothing too messy or messed up. Though not a single one of them had ever become anything more, anything real.
Unsatisfying. That's what Joey told me. I always went for the easy, the casual, or the short-term and then wondered why I was left unsatisfied.
My heart clutched as I realized what my new feeling of peace and quiet might actually be: satisfaction.
I scrubbed my hands over my face. That couldn't be right. I couldn't spend one whirlwind weekend with Bethany and suddenly have everything I never consciously knew I wanted. And yet there it was, that feeling of contentment.
My mind took a huge leap off that steady foundation. Could Bethany and I actually make things work?
It wasn't hard to imagine dating her. She was busy at work, the one person I knew that actually liked work more than me, so we wouldn't have any arguments over how our time was spent.
Albeit, Bethany was a lot more cautious than I was about her public image. Was I even good enough for her?
My mind took a sharp turn, and I thought about the kind of man Bethany was probably looking for. It wasn't me. There was no way she wanted an oil-stained B-celebrity who pandered to the rich and ridiculous. That didn't fit her image at all.
I chewed on my cheek. Was that the person I really wanted to be?
There was no reason I couldn't tame down my public image and focus more on the serious requests that came into my shop. Car designers, avid collectors, and serious connoisseurs approached me on a daily basis. I just took the other clients because I liked the flash and the fame.
But I'd give it up for Bethany.
I sat up, shocked at my own stream of thinking. It was strange how easily Bethany had made me change perspective on everything. My world seemed much clearer now, especially when I thought about making her a permanent part of it.
I slipped out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen. I needed coffee. My brain had jumped full into territory that I had avoided for years. I wasn't a long-term relationship sort of guy.
Or maybe Joey had been right all along: I just needed to meet the right woman.
I snorted out loud as I poured the coffee. I would have to make sure Joey never found out about that thought. Hearing he was right would make him way too happy.
But I'd tell him about Bethany. I needed all the help I could get sorting out my head now.
I was so tempted to call him and gossip like a girl that I quickly made myself busy in the kitchen. Mixing up my special pancake batter and squeezing oranges for fresh mimosas was enough to keep my hands busy.
But my mind kept wandering back to Bethany.
I wanted to be there when she woke up. Now I could imagine what that would be like every single day and my chest squeezed at the happy thought.
I needed a plan. Bethany would be romanced, courted, and find no possible reason to say no. I had to have her in my life, and I was ready to make that happen.
Then there was a soft knock on my front door.
I chuckled at the thought that it was Joey come to check that I was still alive and breathing. I'd talk to him through the chain because once he heard the news he'd come barging in to have breakfast with us.
I slipped the door open and peered out; there was nothing there. Then I glanced down and saw the petite blonde from the parking lot. My gut twisted.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Jasmine," she reminded me. Then she glanced both ways down the hallway like a scared rabbit. "I shouldn't be here, but I had to talk to you."
"Now's not a good time." I could smell the pancakes sizzling on the stove and knew they'd start burning soon. "Stop by my shop. And don't ever come to my home again."
Jasmine sniffed, and sudden tears soaked her cheeks. "I don't know what else to do! I have to talk to you!"
My instinct told me to shut the door in her face. There was something off about the diminutive blonde. She'd already gotten me thrown in jail once and now here she was on my doorstep. She definitely wanted something from me, but I had no idea what.
Then Jasmine started to sob and explain. Her words were garbled but the volume rose with every hitch of her sobbing breath. If I didn't do something soon, she would wake up Bethany.
I couldn't slam the loft door in her face. For all my suspicions about her, Jasmine seemed honestly upset. And I had seen the way her supposed boyfriend had bullied her. She looked up and down the hallway as if he could have somehow followed her here.
"How did you get in?" I asked. The whole point of my exclusive building was having a doorman to ensure my privacy.
Jasmine snuffled and shrugged. "I told the doorman that I wanted to surprise you this morning. He thought it sounded like a good idea. I did, too. I didn't think you'd keep me locked out in the hallway!"
Her crying rose in volume again, and I fumbled with the chain on my door. It didn't matter if I thought Jasmine might rob me or set me up again; I couldn't have Bethany waking up to this awkward scene.
I opened the door and let Jasmine in.
She stopped crying but walked so briskly into my loft that I had to catch her arm before she took herself on a grand tour.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed.
Jasmine noticed my low tones. "Am I interrupting something?"
She peered down the short hallway toward my bedroom. It was one of the only places in the open loft that had walls. I cursed the light-filled construction because I had no idea how sound-proof my bedroom was, and I worried that Bethany could hear every word.
What would I tell Bethany? There was no good explanation for allowing a sexy little blonde into my loft first thing in the morning.
And Jasmine had dressed the part. Her dress was impossibly short, just barely clinging to her ripe hips. Underneath, her legs were bare down to platform heels that made loud raps on the floor as she walked. One skinny strap of the dress slipped off her shoulder, exposing the hot pink lace of her push-up bra, as Jasmine turned and grinned at me.
"Making breakfast for your overnight guest?" she asked.
I scowled. "What do you want now?"
Jasmine clattered her heels across the hardwood floor, heading for the kitchen. "Wow, those smell good. Can I have one?"
I lunged for the stove and pried the pancakes off before they could burn enough to set off the smoke detectors.
"I know you're up to something. Call me suspicious but the last run-in I had with you landed me in a holding cell," I said.
Jasmine took a dark pancake and nibbled on the edges. "I came to apologize."
I shook my head. "No, sorry, but I don't believe you. What's going on now? Are you in some kind of trouble?"
The tears overflowed her eyes again and laid waste to her heavy mascara. It trailed down her cheeks.
I checked the hallway and was relieved there was no sign of Bethany. What would she think seeing a scantily clad, tear-smeared woman in my kitchen?
"I don't know who else to turn to," Jasmine sniffled.
"Dylan?" Bethany's call from the bedroom froze us both. "Have you seen my brown heels?"
Jasmine grinned. "She sounds fancy."
I scowled and locked my hand around Jasmine's skinny arm. "If you really need my help then you'll shut up."
I hauled her through the kitchen to the pantry closet and opened the door. Jasmine dug her platform heels in and shook her head.
"I'm not going in there. I'm no idiot! I'm not going to let you lock me up," Jasmine hissed.
"I'm not locking you up," I snarled. "Let's just call it protecting your privacy, okay? If she's looking for her heels that means she's heading to work. Stay in here and stay quiet, and I'll listen to your sob story."
Jasmine submitted but her wicked smile didn't give me any comfort. I had just shut the door when Bethany swept into the kitchen.
"You made pancakes?" she asked with a delighted smile.
"Well, more like burned them," I joked. My chest felt tight, and I forced my breathing to be slow and steady. "At least the mimosas turned out good. Want one?"
Bethany gave a pleased sigh that sent a shiver of remembered pleasure through my body. "I do but I can't."
She was dressed in the pressed suit we had picked up on the way back from the inn. Bethany poured a quick cup of coffee and then spied her matching brown heels.
"Do you really have to rush off to work?" I asked.
Bethany nodded, slipped on her heels, and then threw herself into my arms. I held her, my dream come true, and hoped to god she wouldn't find out about the nightmare in my closet.