Two hours later, she found herself packed and on the road to Charleston, South Carolina in Dimitri’s new Jeep Grand Cherokee. It was a fourteen-hour drive. Why the hell hadn’t she at least attempted the airport? Because her anxiety rose to almost epic heights at the mere thought of a crowded airport. Not happening today.
When he said he needed to make a pit stop, she assumed he meant to get snacks for the road, but no. His pit stop was the dealership. He decided he needed something more comfortable than his rental. Plus, he couldn’t take the rental all the way to South Carolina and back anyway. So he bought himself a new car.
Crazy man. Who went out and bought a new car on the spur of the moment? She knew his books sold well, but she had no idea they sold that well.
“If you turn the radio channel one more time, I swear by all that’s holy, I will tie your hands behind your back the rest of the trip!”
She snatched her hand back. They’d been fighting over the radio since they got into the car. She usually won simply because she ignored him, but he sounded testy. What put a bee in his bonnet?
Dimitri knew he was being a little bitch, but being this close to her was slowly driving him nuts. Her scent kept wafting over to him. He’d even rolled down the fucking window, and it still wasn’t helping. This was a mistake, a very big mistake. There was no way he was keeping his hands off her if she was in close proximity to him for weeks. Weeks!
His babushka once told him God would send a temptation he must resist. Damned if she wasn’t right. His temptation sat looking at him, slightly vexed, and more than a little hurt. The very last thing he wanted, but every time she leaned forward and her scent hit him, it was all he could do to keep from hauling her across the seat.
Damn, damn, and double damn.
He needed a distraction. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your dad was a biker?”
“It never came up.”
“Details, Rebecca, I want details. There’s a whole side of you I know nothing about. We’re stuck in here for the next fourteen hours, so why not talk?”
“I left all that behind when I moved out after graduation.” She shifted, and he almost groaned. Why couldn’t she sit still? “I don’t like talking about my family.”
“Why?” Come to think of it, he knew next to nothing about her family. He didn’t even know if she had any brothers or sisters.
“My mom was a junkie, and my dad was a criminal who served time. Would you want to talk about them?”
Hostility rolled off her in waves, but he ignored it. Something nagged at him, but he couldn’t say what. “Your parents were shits, I get that, but was it all bad? I mean, it sounded like your dad looked out for you, at least?”
She laughed, the sound bitter. “My dad only paid attention when he needed something, like his dinner or patching him or his boys up. I was never important to him. Not like my brother.”
“Your brother?”
She nodded, staring out the window. “His name’s Jackson. He’s older than me by a few years. Dad groomed him from birth to be in that damned club of his.”
“Jackson ignore you too?” His poor girl. If he’d only known. Why hadn’t he taken the time to ask these questions before? Because he was an ass.
“No. Jackson always looked out for me. Made sure I got fed and bathed when I was little. Took the brunt of our mom’s abuse. Which pissed my dad off. He never hit either of us. Said his old man beat the shit out of him on a daily basis, and he wouldn’t put his kids through that. Mom more than made up for it, though. Especially when it came to Jackson. I think she was jealous of how much time Dad spent with him.”
He stayed quiet and let her have her space. She’d continue when she was ready. Getting anything out of her was hard, but he’d learned how to do it over the years. Patience was the key with Becca.
They rode in silence for a good hour before she started to speak again. “Things got bad right before I moved out. Dad and Jackson were arrested for running drugs. My dad’s MC, it was into all kinds of illegal activities. It wasn’t the first time Jackson had been picked up either. He had a juvie record, thanks to my dad and his brothers, as he called them.” She spit the word out like it was the most foul tasting thing she’d ever put in her mouth. “He gets out this October. I’m hoping Jackson will finally walk away from all it, get his life together. He’s young. He doesn’t have to end up like the rest of them.”
“But you don’t think he will?” Dimitri glanced her way when she snorted.
“Not likely. My brother was born and raised into that damn club. He’ll end up dead or in jail again before it’s all said and done. If they’d only get out of all the illegal shit, maybe he would stand a chance, but the money’s too good. They’ll never vote out running drugs.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. I’ve tried to talk him out of the club, but he’s a lifer. I just hope he doesn’t die before he turns thirty.”
Dimitri didn’t know what to say. What could a person say to that? She knew her brother better than he did.
“Jack used to call me little bird. Said I was as fragile as a dove. Dad picked up on the nickname when I was five or six. It’s the only thing he ever called me after that.”
“Did he hit your mom a lot?”
“Only when she hit me or Jack. He always told Jack to never hit a woman unless it’s in defense of a child. His only redeeming moral quality. He despised anyone who hit a kid.”
“I’m sorry you grew up with that, babe.”
She shrugged. Dimitri had no idea how truly awful her life had been. She’d grown up in the worst environment with an apathetic father and an abusive, junkie mother. Hard didn’t even begin to describe her and Jackson’s life. She’d talked to her psychiatrist about it. She’d never thought she deserved it or that it was right in any way, shape, or form. It had surprised the good doctor. She said most victims of abusive homes grew up thinking it was normal or they deserved it. They didn’t have a big brother who continually told them otherwise or treated them with the respect their parents never gave them. She loved her brother so much and thanked God for him daily.
Her home life had contributed to her anxiety, though. How could it not? She never knew what to expect from her mother from one day to the next. She learned to be small, invisible. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Most days, it didn’t. Her dread at what each day would bring, what each small mistake would cost, made her anxiety grow more and more. She thought it would get better when she left home, but that wasn’t the case. It got worse.
Thoughts of her anxiety brought her back to Southern Book Bash hosted in Charleston, South Carolina. How the hell was she going to get through that? All those people…and so many of them had come specifically to see Dimitri. There were over a hundred and sixty pre-orders. Hell, maybe it was a good thing she’d come with him. There was no way he’d manage to put all those bags together on his own, especially since he’d pitched a tantrum about her not going.
That man. Only Dimitri could look adorable while throwing an all-out fit that would make a three-year-old proud. Stubborn. But then, so was she. They had had some epic fights over the years. She laughed out loud thinking of the great war of 2013, as she called it. He’d been insistent that Italian food was better than Chinese, which she adored. She still couldn’t remember how it escalated to them not speaking for a whole month. Aside from short emails with information she needed to do his promos, they’d completely gone dark on the communication field.
Dimitri folded first. It was around the time when he thought he might have found a girl that would last longer than five minutes. What was her name…Julie, Jane. Becca could never keep them straight. He’d called her at four in the morning. Even back then, he’d had no sense of time zones. They’d talked for a good six hours. He’d barely talked about what’s-her-name. Their conversations usually steered away from his women and toward things that mattered to them.
She’d fallen in love with him when she was in high school, and that only grew stronger every year. It was easy to love someone from afar, but not so easy to hide feelings when they were less than two feet away. How was she going to get through weeks with him and not end up getting hurt? She knew how he felt about relationships. Hell, all his brothers did, for the most part. Well, not Viktor. Out of all six Kincaid brothers, Viktor treated women well and was always looking for his special someone.
She doubted Dimitri would ever look at her as anything other than a little sister, though. He’d called her his adopted sister for years. She wasn’t his type either. He preferred women who were a little more on the daring side, women who dressed seductively, not ones who were more at home in a pair of sweats and ragged t-shirt.
“What’s so funny?”
His deep voice startled her out of her own internal musings. “I was thinking about the great war of 2013.”
His laughter filled the small enclosure, and she shivered. God, she loved the sound of his voice, his laugh, everything. It hurt to think about how much she loved him when she knew he’d never return the feelings.
“Italian still trumps Chinese. I never conceded that.”
“I like Italian as much as the next person, but Chinese is my favorite. Recently, I’ve started eating Indian food. Have you had it?”
He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “Nope, never tried it. I’ll stick with American and Italian, thank you. Last time I had Chinese, I was sick for a week. It doesn’t agree with me.”
“You are such a wuss when it comes to trying new food.” She laughed at the disgusted look he threw at her. “You have the stomach of an eighty-year-old man, overly sensitive to foreign spices, and you get the runs faster than if you’d consumed a whole bottle of laxative.”
“Don’t joke about that.”
Oh, crap, she’d forgotten about his blowout at a speaking event he’d gone to last year. Four hours in the hotel bathroom. He’d only gotten through about half of his speech before he’d run off stage. What was it he’d eaten? Something Irish. Tweets and pictures of him running still floated around Twitter occasionally.
She bent over laughing, remembering how his voice squeaked over the phone when he called to confess what happened so she could explain it to his host, but God, it had been hilarious. Not so much when she realized he’d called her while sitting on the toilet, but still, she laughed as much then as she was now.
“You are a sick, twisted woman.”
She laughed harder. Dear God, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like this.
“Just you wait, Rebecca Joyce. Payback is always a bitch.”
She’d probably end up with the runs so bad, she wouldn’t leave the bathroom for days, but she didn’t care. Seeing his face flame up was worth it.
“What should I expect at this signing thingy?” She continued to laugh at his very obvious attempt to change the subject.
“Did you read through all the emails the event coordinator sent out?”
“Um, no?”
“What about the ones I sent you?” He had to have read at least hers. She’d sent him dozens on the subject of his summer event tour.
“That would be a no again.”
“Are you serious?” She wanted to smack him, but refrained only because he was driving. When they stopped for gas, she just might. Sometimes he really didn’t pay her enough to deal with him.
“It was the last thing on my mind until I got that pop-up reminder that I needed to be at the airport today.”
“And you showed up at my door like a pissed prissy princess demanding she get her own way or she’d have a meltdown.”
“This prissy princess did get her own way.” He flashed her a sassy smile.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“It’s why you love me.”
God’s truth, there. She did love him because of his outrageous behavior.
“Have you ever talked to any of your author friends about their own signings?” She pulled the subject back around to safer subjects. Dwelling too long on her feelings for the man beside her would bring nothing good for either of them.
“Yeah, it’s why I originally wanted to do them.” He reached over and flipped the radio. The station they’d been listening to went to static. “Dammit, why is the only channel that comes in country?”
“There’s nothing wrong with country music.”
“Yes, there is.” He turned the radio off. “It’s all whiny music about losing everything.”
She swatted his hand away and turned it back on. The Jeep was flooded with the sound of Luke Combs’ “Hurricane,” a song she loved. “Just listen to this. It’s one of my favorites.”
“You like country?” He sounded offended to even have to say the word. Well, Mr. Asshole, let’s see how you like listening to nothing but country the rest of this trip.
“Country music will give you a song for every mood. All you have to do is listen. It tells a story in a way most other music can’t. The lyrics are honest and raw. Yeah, there are some whiny ones, but the bulk of it is beautiful.”
“Where did my Becca go, and who are you?”
She flipped him off. “Don’t be a music racist.”
“Then act like a grownup and listen to decent music.”
“Shut the hell up and pay attention the road.” His thumb inched toward the channel changer on the steering wheel. “Try it and you’ll be missing a thumb.”
“Can I at least turn it down?”
She’d give him that. “Sure, but not so low I can’t hear it.”
Dimitri bit back his smile. He loved riling Becca up. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. Seeing her all flushed and angry in person was hands down better than laughing at her over the phone or her silly text messages.
“You do realize once we finally get to the hotel, we aren’t getting any sleep?”
“Why’s that?” His mind went to her in the shower, soap running down her shoulders, over her nice firm ass, down her legs. Her head thrown back, relaxing after a long drive, the heat driving the tension from her muscles. He could make them tense up in a whole different way.
“You’ll be signing a hundred and sixty pre-orders.”
His fantasy screeched to a grinding halt. “What the fuck?”
“It’s why I scheduled to you to arrive a day early. So you’d have time to put together the swag bags, sign all your shit, and then put together your pre-orders. Signings aren’t all fun and happy, D. They’re work. A lot of work.”
“And you thought I was gonna do all that by myself?” His brow furrowed in consternation. No way in hell could he have gotten all that done.
“It’s for your fans, so yeah, I know you would have done all that by yourself. Besides, I figured you’d have your flavor of the week with you, and they would have helped out.”
“Nobody touches my shit but you, Becca. You know this. I wouldn’t have let anyone else near it.” He would have done it all and been grouchy as fuck the next day. “What did you order, anyway, and where is it? I didn’t get anything from UPS.”
“I had it all sent to the hotel to be held until you got there. I ordered some keychains, dog tags, charm bracelets, tons of paper swag, totes, and a gift basket I put together at home and mailed out to the hotel myself for the giveaway you donated to.”
“What giveaway?”
“You really didn’t read any of those emails, did you?”
He shrugged, unrepentant. His frustration with his physical therapy had been the only thing he’d focused on for months. He’d even missed his deadline twice for the new novel. Hard to focus on writing a happily ever after when he was depressed and angry all the damn time.
“I meant it when I said there was a good chunk of ticket sales from your fans coming to meet you. It says a lot when you have a hundred and sixty people pre-purchase your books to make sure they get a copy. They’re stoked to see you. Have you looked at your author page or checked out the event group page on Facebook?”
No, he hadn’t. The event had slipped his mind altogether until that reminder in Outlook had shocked the hell out of him and he’d panicked. He knew his books were popular. They did okay. Most of his money came from the stock he had invested in Nikoli’s gaming company. It allowed him to write and not to worry about running out of money. He’d worked damn hard on his success as an author, but he never really paid attention to the actual numbers. His accountant probably did, but knowing that many people wanted his books and were willing to come stand in line to see him? It floored him. Almost as much as seeing Becca’s ass this morning. Almost.
“If all they wanted to was to get a photo with you, they wouldn’t have spent their money on a signed copy of your books. They’d just stop by the table and ask for a photo. Do you understand what I’m saying, Dimitri?”
She wanted him to admit that they were coming because they loved his books and not his looks. He still didn’t buy it. Too many women threw themselves at him first for his looks and then for his money. It would take a lot more than her throwing numbers at him to make him believe his words actually meant something to others.
“Don’t you read your reviews?”
He learned long ago to stay away from reviews because once he started, he read them all, including the spiteful one-star reviews. Best to keep the temptation away. He’d been so excited when the first book he’d ever written was released. He stalked Amazon waiting for the reviews to start rolling in. When the first one- and two-stars started to trickle in, they’d put him in a corner, licking his wounds. He’d spent six hours at the gym trying to work through his anger and frustration. No, he just stayed away from reviews.
“No.”
“Well, one of the things we’re doing this weekend is looking at some of them. You need to understand how much people really do love your work.”
One of the things I’d like to do this weekend is bend you over the bed and fuck you so hard, you’ll remember it for a week, he thought darkly as they crossed the Virginia state line.
He listened absently as she gave him the rundown on the weekend’s event from table set-up to photo ops and lunch schedules. She went on about what to expect from the people coming to greet him as they drove through Virginia. The sound of her voice soothed some of his anger. That was why he called her late at night when his depression was about to take him down dark and dangerous places. She always managed to shine a bit of light into the darkness surrounding him, enough to keep him afloat.
They continued to talk about the event, his books, his fans, anything book related for the next several hours. They switched places halfway through Virginia. His legs were killing him, and Becca offered to drive. He’d been hesitant at first, but she’d laughed her ass off, telling him her dad had her driving when she was ten. Another thing he didn’t know about her. She was mechanically inclined. Cars, trucks, bikes…she could work on them all. Part of growing up with a motorcycle club, he guessed. He had no fucking clue how to work on a car. They went to the garage when they broke, and he picked them up when they were good to go.
The sky bled from a brilliant blue to the inky black of the night sky. He blinked, not realizing he’d fallen asleep to the soulful tones of fucking country music. He opened his eyes and studied Becca as she drove, her thoughts a million miles away. She seemed peaceful as she hummed along to the radio. Carefree, nothing like the woman who’d piled into the Jeep early this morning. This was the girl he knew from their phone conversations, the girl who laughed at anything and always had him bristling from her teasing. She gave as good as she took from him. He riled her, and she did the same to him.
Her friendship meant everything to him. Fucking her would be so easy. Coming back from that? Knowing he would do it without any intentions of anything but a summer booty call? He’d rip her heart apart, and he’d lose his best friend. Watching her now, he knew he couldn’t let himself be that selfish. He had to resist the temptation that was Rebecca Joyce.
“Where are we?”
Becca jumped at the sound of his voice and glanced over at him, before turning back to the road. “Just outside of Charleston. You’ve been asleep for hours.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Because you were exhausted.” He’d been yawning for a good two hours before he passed out. She didn’t mind the quiet either. Spending so much time by oneself tended to make them appreciate the gentle solitude of silence. “Once we get checked in, I’ll take a shower then come by your room and help you get everything ready.”
“About that…”
Becca’s eyes narrowed at the hesitant sheepishness in his words. “About what?”
“Well, we’re sharing a room. I called before we left the dealership to let the hotel know we wouldn’t be arriving until after two a.m. and checked on a room for you. There weren’t any more available, and I had a queen, so I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”
Not a big deal? He was out of his damn mind.
“Dimitri, I cannot share your hotel room with you.” Nope, nope, nope.
“Why not? It’s not like I’m asking you to share a bed. You’ll have your own.”
The GPS interrupted her by announcing they’d arrived at their destination—The French Quarter Inn. She stared as she turned into the hotel drive. It was old, historic, and absolutely beautiful, even in the shadows of the night. She couldn’t wait to see what it looked like early in the morning. If she managed to get up at dawn, she should be able to get out and about before too many people rolled out of bed. And if she managed to force her feet over the doorway. It had taken Dimitri ten minutes to talk her into getting out of the car at the dealership.
When she put the Jeep into park, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She could see the valet hurrying over, which meant she’d need to vacate her haven. He wouldn’t give her ten minutes to gather her courage.
Dimitri’s fingers slipped between hers, and she took several deep breaths. “Take as long as you need, sweetheart. He’ll wait.”
A smile tugged at her lips. He knew her too well. Even after only learning about her panic attacks this morning, he was already helping more than he could possibly know.
She did make him wait for five minutes while she sat there clutching Dimitri’s hands and trying to give herself the pep talk of the century. “Get out first and move him away from my door, please. I don’t want to be rude.”
“You have to let go of my hand if you want me to do that.” His laughter rolled over her, and she shuddered. He had to have felt it because his laughter died, but she refused to open her eyes. If he realized how much he affected her, she knew all bets would be off. Dimitri would try something. It was in his nature. It wouldn’t mean anything to him, but it would to her. She wasn’t about to let her heart get annihilated. Gathering her courage, she let his fingers slip from hers.
He sat there a full minute before she heard the door open and close. Another minute went by, and then her door opened. “You’re all good, sweetheart. Just turn off the car and give me your hand.”
Always so simple. Just give me your hand. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Not only was she outside her apartment, but she was in a city she didn’t know. A big city where thousands of people roamed. This was a mistake. She knew it like she knew she had to drink at least three cups of coffee to function upon waking.
Dimitri leaned into the car, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke. “It’s okay, Becca. There are no crowds, just you, me, and Mike here.”
“But what about inside?” She hated the whispered fear she couldn’t choke down. Hated it more than anything.
“The lobby looks pretty empty, honey. It’s almost three in the morning.”
Becca let her eyelids flutter open, and she stared inside the glass doors. It did look pretty empty. All she had to do was get out of the car, make it inside long enough for Dimitri to check them in, and then an elevator ride up. The safety of a closed door was within reach.
“Take my hand, baby. It’ll be okay. I promise.”
His outstretched palm waited, and she laid her hand in it. He squeezed.
“Good girl.” He didn’t give her time to do anything. He unsnapped her seatbelt and pulled her out. She landed against his chest with a thump. He caught her and let her slide slowly down his body. All the air left her lungs and she gazed up at him. His blue eyes were dark, intense, moody.
“Mike, can you bring our things inside, please?” His eyes never left hers.
“Of course, Mr. Kincaid.”
When Becca was finally able to break the intense stare, she looked over at Mike. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, Mrs. Kincaid.”
“No, not Mrs. Kincaid.” She laughed, but couldn’t hide the way it had made her feel when he’d called her that. “I’m just here to keep this one out of trouble.”
That made the valet chuckle. “Good luck with that.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
“Let’s get checked in.” Dimitri’s voice had lost all its teasing, and she peeked at him from under her lashes. He looked angry. Did he get pissed when the valet assumed she was his wife? Well, too damn bad. He’d get over it. God forbid anyone should assume the manwhore settled down.
At least her ire let her breathe through the panic pushing at her. She’d been surprised how easy it had been to talk to Mike, but then she’d been wrapped up in Dimitri’s arms. He made her panic fall away in a way nothing else could.
Instead of letting her go, he pulled her into his side, his arm around her, his hand gripping her hip tightly. Tight enough there might be a bruise in the morning, but she didn’t care. She enjoyed his touch.
The hotel was as gorgeous inside as it was outside. She leaned into Dimitri and absorbed the room made to look more like a parlor than a hotel lobby. She loved it. Had she not been terrified of people, she might even have come down here in the middle of the night and basked in the charm of the room.
The circular staircase called to her, but that was out of the question. Dimitri would never make it up the stairs and she wouldn’t ask him to try. Man, it would be fun to go up it, though. She loved them ever since she watched Casper with Christina Ricci when she was a little girl.
She paid no attention to Dimitri as he talked to the front desk attendant. The girl was fluttering her eyelashes like mad, and Becca tried not to smirk. If she only knew Dimitri would eat her up and spit her out in the morning. How many women had gone into a relationship with him thinking they’d be the one to change him? To make him want to keep them?
Women were blind when it came to Dimitri Kincaid.
Sometimes even she was.
He tugged at her, and she looked up. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Did you ask them to send all the boxes up to the room?”
He nodded, and they started walking toward the elevator. “We’re on the top floor with a balcony we can sit on and look out over the city. I thought you’d like that, since there’s probably no way I’m getting you out sightseeing.”
She burst out laughing at his disappointed tone. “You’ll be dead to the world tomorrow. Don’t go pouting about sightseeing when I know you’ll sleep the day away.”
“My nap refreshed me.” The elevator opened, and he pulled her in. “You still good?”
“Yes.” She let herself lean against him, breathing him in.
“Good, then, maybe you won’t be pissed at me when we get to the room.”
Becca tilted her head to look up. “Why would I be pissed about the room?”
The elevator dinged open and he pulled her out, refusing to answer. Their room was at the very end of the hall, and when he opened the door, she saw exactly why he thought she’d be pissed.
It was a suite. She’d booked him a king suite, but when he said he’d gotten a double, she assumed he’d downgraded. What he knew she’d be mad about was the fact that one big bed stood beyond the front room.
A single king bed.