CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ben
I knew everything happened for a reason. I ran my fingers through my hair, rinsing the shampoo down the shower drain. I wanted to be there when she woke up tomorrow, but after three nights together, I thought it best to spend a night in the Sand Dollar alone.
The water felt good, but my decision didn’t. I knew I easily had a chance to tell Chelsea my name, my identity, but I let it slip by.
I closed my eyes, remembering how she whispered my name in my ear last night. But it wasn’t my name. It was someone else’s. It hit me in the chest, and for a minute, I couldn’t breathe, thinking of how I had betrayed her.
I wondered if I could be that someone else. Could I just change my name to Jake Grady and pretend Ben Baldwin didn’t exist? Damn it. I had screwed up.
It was one thing to flirt with her, but during that storm, I had made her mine with my mouth, my hands, and my words. Crazy as it sounded, I wasn’t about to give her back until I absolutely had to.
The longer I waited to tell her, the worse it would be when it came out. I couldn’t help thinking I didn’t have to reveal my name. After the call to Rick this morning, I knew she would get a chance with her music. As passionate and talented as she was, she would snatch it up and chase the opportunity all the way to Austin. Nashville was probably her first choice, but I had some good buddies from my football days that wound up in Austin—easy strings to pull. She could make a name for herself with those lyrics.
I turned the knob on the shower and reached for a towel. Hell, she didn’t even go to the movies; she had never seen one of Rebecca’s films and never mentioned any of mine. It wouldn’t mean anything to her at all. I tightened the towel around my waist and walked a few paces to the mini-fridge. A cold beer might help solve this. I twisted the lid and tossed it into the sink.
The bubbles slid down my throat. I knew I was just coming up with excuses. I had to tell her. Because as much as this might be a summer thing—I knew something about myself that she couldn’t. I had given her control like I never had. It was scary and ignited something, like an unquenchable thirst. Once I turned it over to her, I wanted to get lost in her over again—I couldn’t stop. If that hurricane had lasted all week, I knew I probably would have drowned trying to satisfy and please her in all the ways I knew I could.
I thought about what coming clean would mean. Would I drag her into the cesspool of paparazzi life? Would the press hunt her down and track her every move at the store? Would her parents be faced with camera flashes as they went to church and watered their garden? I pounded my fist against the counter. I couldn’t do that to her. It would invade and ruin her life, seeping into all of the things that were private and special. It would ruin us, like all my relationships before: Clara, Becs, all lost to the fishbowl I called my life. No, this one was mine. I was going to keep Chelsea to myself as long as she would let me.
There was a reason for all this madness. I just didn’t know what it was yet. I reached in the fridge for a second beer when I saw headlights shine through the camper window.
I thought it might be another day before Alice or any of the other neighbors returned. There was still water on the mainland roads, and the ferry service was backed up. It was better to wait a few days for things to calm down, but I knew Alice was a tenacious one. She would be desperate to see Pirate’s Booty. Carl and Flora had reopened the campground, happy they didn’t sustain any damage. I was proud of the work I had done to help them.
The cap twisted off in my hand easily, and I heard the door rattle with heavy banging.
I looked at my towel and debated trying to change before opening the door to Alice. She would get an eyeful.
Hell. I pushed down on the lever and the door swung open.
“Hey.” Chelsea smiled.
My throat caught and my chest tightened. I pulled her into the camper and twisted my hands through her hair, crashing my mouth onto hers. The need for her washed through me as I shifted her around my waist. It was only ten steps back to my checked bedroom. I stumbled backward onto the bed, where I could kiss and touch her. I grinned as her hair cascaded around me, providing a private curtain for the two of us. I was going to get to wake up with her after all.
***
“Ok, so who is going to be at the party?” I shifted nervously on my feet. It was not a good idea to be seen in a throng of twenty-somethings, but I had been on the island for over a month and no one seemed to notice.
Everyone here focused on other things. No one cared what designer you wore, what car you drove, or if you had white, straight teeth. All that mattered was that you put in a good, hard day’s work, and helped your neighbor. It was pretty simple. Every once in a while, I wondered if they would even care that I was a movie star. The longer I was there, the more I doubted it would be as exciting as the marlin that was released the other day or the fact that the only mail carrier on the island was about to deliver twins. Their idea of a crazy life was full of moments that actually mattered.
Chelsea chimed from the bathroom. “Some people I went to high school with. The guy who is throwing the party, Paul McIntire, is kind of a show off. But the parties are always good, and there is always a bartender and music. It’s a Thursday night tradition in the summer and sometimes a Tuesday thing.”
I didn’t think it sounded like anything else I had encountered during my time on Brees.
“And why are we going? Wouldn’t you rather stay in?” I could think of so many other things for us to do. I had lived my share of parties. More than anyone could count. Although, I was sure someone had a tally of my adventurous nights. “I bet you wrote something pretty cool today. You could sing for me.” I missed her today at the store. Thursdays without her were lonely.
“Because, I haven’t been in a while. I want you to go and have a good time too. Meet some people I grew up with.” She turned the light out behind her as she emerged into the bedroom wearing something black.
I whistled. “Damn. I say no way. You’re not going like that.” I hadn’t seen her dressed like this before. Granted, I didn’t know what the style was called, but it was short. There were tiny straps, and lace that darted between the breasts I couldn’t get enough of. The hem brushed the tops of her tanned thighs.
“What, you don’t like it?” She looked hurt.
“The complete opposite, but I’m not sure I want guys staring at you all night.” I played with the hair by her ear, winking at her. It always made her blush.
She slapped my chest. “No one is going to stare. I know all these guys.” She tilted her chin toward me, taunting me to kiss her. “But I hope you do. It’s a slip dress. I ordered it the other day.”
“Darlin’, you don’t have to put on a short dress to make me check you out.” I pinned her against my chest. “You even look cute in those ugly aprons. Although, someone told me I don’t.”
Her hands flattened against my shoulders and ran down my arms. I liked it when she did that. She raised my shirt and her nails scraped against my stomach, descending below my hipbone. I inhaled sharply. We wouldn’t be going anywhere if she kept this up. But she didn’t stop.
“What are you doing?” I groaned. “Don’t we need to get going?” I asked.
I gripped her shoulders, trying to steady the building want she was creating. What in the hell had gotten into her?
“I need to take care of something first,” she purred.
“Is that right?” I taunted.
Before I could pull away, she tugged my shorts to my ankles. She lowered to the floor. I looked down at the fire in her eyes. This girl might kill me before we made it to the party.
She licked her lips. “Mmmhmm.” Her hands worked the band on my boxer briefs until my cock bounded free in front of her wide eyes.
“Oh baby. You’re playing a dangerous game,” I teased, pressing the tip of my cock to her lips.
“Am I?” Her tongue ran along my throbbing shaft.
“That dress. Those lips.” I gnashed my teeth. “My cock.”
She nodded. “Yes. Before the party.”
I was willing to be late for this. We backed up toward the bed and I sat on the edge. Chelsea knelt in front of me. I saw the determination in her eyes as she took my dick in her hands, fisting it before lowering her mouth.
Her head bobbed as she enveloped my cock with her sweet lips.
“Fuck,” I growled, yanking her hair in my hands, guiding her up and down.
Every time she sucked me, she made progress, taking me to her throat. “Damn it, baby. Yes.” I thrust forward.
I’d never seen lips look so fucking sexy in my life as I slid between them. I could watch my cock in her mouth all night—but we had other plans.
I jolted forward, making her sputter and inhale.
I guided the back of her head, drawing her tighter to my dick.
“Harder,” I urged. “More, baby.”
She was so damn eager to please me. She was relentless. Her eyes teared at the corners as she twirled her tongue along my pulsing shaft. It felt fucking incredible. She drew her lips to the head before I thrust to the back of her throat again.
“I’m going to come,” I groaned.
My spine tingled and clutched. The fire warmed my belly just as my release exploded in her mouth. She sucked and slurped, not slowing down.
She rose with a triumphant smile on her face.
“Ok. Now we can go to the party,” she announced.
I fell back on the bed.
***
I closed my hand around Chelsea’s as we walked through the gates to the beach party. We had left her place a little later than planned, but it was time well spent. Her blow jobs were fucking awesome. I laughed, loving the surprises that she kept throwing at me. I squeezed her hand.
We climbed the steps to the beach house. “Hi, Paul. This is Jake.”
A guy with way too much hair gel in his bangs shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, man. Glad you’re here, Chelsea. Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”
She gave him a quick hug. “I know, sorry, I’ve just been a little busy.” She shot a side glance at me. I caught every innuendo she was throwing.
“Well, I’ve missed you. Go on in. Drinks, dancing, the usual good time.” He nodded at me. “Good to have you here, man.”
“Thanks.” I shook his hand and waited for some sign of recognition. Confident the coast was clear, I breezed past the host with Chelsea. I whispered in her ear, “He seems nice. Out of place, but nice.”
She giggled. “Yeah, he loves parties a little too much. Lucky for him, his parents are never here. They basically handed him a summer party palace.”
I followed her and her little black dress through a marble foyer into a great room.
The living room was filled with strangers. It was a relief looking into blank, smiling faces.
“Big party.” I slid my hand around her waist, feeling how thin the fabric was in the slip dress, as she called it. I couldn’t wait for round two when I took her home. There were so many things running through my mind, mainly—
“Why don’t you head to the deck, and I’ll get us some drinks?” She pointed to the glass doors lining the living room wall.
My cheeks reddened. Did she know that I couldn’t stop thinking about her? “Ok, but nothing fruity. I don’t do fruity.”
“I know. I know. I’ll meet you out there.” She tipped forward and kissed me on the cheek.
I sidestepped the bouncing crowd. They had just started dancing, and I had to hop before getting bumped by a trio of giggling girls. The deck was probably the safest place for me to be. I walked to the railing and looked at the pool. There was a neon techno show going off under the water. This place didn’t fit with the rest of the island. Nothing about it was like the Brees I had come to call home.
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Oh, hey.” I turned to find Derek, my surf advisor, standing close by. “Good to see you.”
“What brings you to Paul’s?” Derek took a gulp of something from a red cup.
I nodded toward the house. “Pretty girl.” I smiled, not knowing Derek well, but knowing any guy could relate to the allure of a beautiful woman.
“I hear ya.” He laughed. “Yeah, there are some pretty girls here this summer. The hurricane ran a few off, but since the ferries started running again, I think the island is back to normal.”
I wondered if that was how Derek measured the balance of normal—the pretty girl ratio on the island.
“Did you hit the waves during the storm?” I asked.
“You know it. We don’t get waves like that. Killer breaks. You should have tried it.”
I shook my head. “I wanted to, but it was probably best I sat that one out. It’s going to take me awhile to get back into fighting form.” The first time I wiped out on the board had shocked me. Saltwater up the nose and everything.
“Keep at it. You’ve got some natural ability.”
“Thanks, man.” I leaned over the railing to watch the pool below us.
“Der?” I turned. Chelsea was holding two red cups, but her attention wasn’t on me. It was on Derek.
“Hey. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Derek’s eyes darted to hers. I couldn’t help but feel there was something to that look.
“Do you two know each other?” She questioned. There was the smile I was waiting for. She handed me a drink and stood close. My hand found the dip in the small of her back.
“Yeah, Derek helped me out a couple weeks ago. I needed a crash course in the waves.” I liked that she was tucked in close. I could smell her shampoo, and her lotion reminded me of the beach.
Derek’s expression had changed. I winced, remembering the exchange I had witnessed between him and Chelsea. I hadn’t thought of it since, but now, standing between the two of them, it was all I could think about. Something happened that made Derek quit the store, and I knew it somehow involved Chelsea.
I pulled her closer. I wanted her to know I was here for her, that if this was awkward or weird, it didn’t matter. I had her.
“How are things at Wave On?” She tried to sound cheerful and interested.
Derek’s stare bounced between us. “Really, Chelsea?”
“Yes, how are things going? Do you like it?” I thought I felt her shudder.
“I don’t know what Derek thinks about it, but if you ask me, it is the best job on the island. Lucky, man.” I tipped my red cup in his direction. I hoped some of the earlier man-to-man bonding would resurface. I was trying to give Derek a way out of this mess.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s pretty cool.” He cracked a smile. “I get to surf. I’m on the beach all day. Who has complaints?”
“Aw, I’m so glad it worked out for you.” Chelsea took a sip and nervously bit on her lower lip.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get her out of here. “Nice to see you again. Chelsea was just getting ready to give me the grand tour. So, I’ll see you later? Maybe on the beach.”
Derek reached out to shake my hand. “Sounds good. Have a good time. Catch you later.”
I pressed my hand into the small of her back, and steered her away from the railing and into one of the adjoining sunrooms off the deck.
“You ok?” I searched her eyes for answers.
“Yes, I’m fine.” But I could tell she wasn’t. She was shaking.
I took the cup from her hand and placed it on the coffee table. It looked like this room was decorated for South Beach. Everything was aqua green and pale peach. I wrapped both arms around her and tugged against her until she crumbled in my arms.
“Shhh. Shhh. Whatever happened, you’re ok.” I stroked her hair, wishing I could wipe away the tears and all the hurt in one swoop.
“It’s not.” She looked up. “I hurt Derek. I see it more now than ever. I’m a terrible person.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’re a terrible person. I doubt he thinks that either.” I held her face between my hands. Did any girl ever look this beautiful when she cried?
Her gaze drifted to the floor. “It’s kind of strange to talk about this with you. I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” I held her wrist. “You can talk to me about anything. Anything at all. Ok?” I would sit in this dark sunroom all night if she needed me to. I was certain of that. “Were you two together?”
The look of shock on her face didn’t tell me anything. I didn’t want to be a jealous ass, but I saw how Derek watched her. Why else would he be such a dick about everything?
“Don’t answer that.” I shook my head. “It’s none of—”
“No. Not really.” She tipped forward on her toes and met my lips with a soft kiss. “You’re the only one I’ve been with this summer.”
I knew I didn’t deserve it and I didn’t deserve her, but I buried my face in her shoulder and inhaled her shampoo, drawing her against me.
“Good, because I didn’t want to have to punch my surf advisor.” I nipped at her neck, and smiled as I heard her giggle. As long as I was making her happy, I knew I was doing something right.
“Can we get out of here?” She chewed on her bottom lip, and her eyes sent waves of seductive signals.
“Baby, I’ve been asking that since we got here. Hell, yes.” I took her by the hand. “Want to go bunk?”
Chelsea’s laughter peeled through the sunroom. “You know that’s funny and wrong on so many levels?”
I winked and led her home, where we could be alone, together, and lost in each other.
***
“Rick? Hey, have you made any of those Austin calls for me?” I waited for my coffee to cool.
“I did. A few of the guys said to tell you hello. I told them you were on a little vacay or you would have called yourself.” He chuckled.
“Thanks, man. So, what’s the verdict?” I was hoping at least one would be willing to look over the songs.
“See, the thing is, Ben. People kind of like you. So out of the five I called, all five want to see the songs.”
I blinked. “All of them?”
“Yep. They hear Ben Baldwin is backing a songwriter, and it’s practically a done deal. You’re kind of a superstar in Texas.” Rick was buttering me up for something; I just didn’t know what it was.
“All right, so what’s the next move? How do I get the songs to them?” I had a notepad in front of me, waiting for a rundown on how to submit Chelsea’s music.
“Well, they do want to know who she is. Where is she from? What’s her background? You can understand. They don’t want to start publishing a crackhead. Not that you’d endorse one, boss, but you know—general information is a good place to start.”
This was the threshold I was worried to cross, but Chelsea had told me several times that she sent songs in every week. Those emails had to have some kind of contact information. I sighed heavily into the phone.
“Ok. How about I email you a bio and a package with three songs. Will that work?”
“You still using email? I thought you had given the stuff up.” Rick laughed at his joke.
“Very funny. Yes, I’ve still got email. You’ll have something from me in a couple of days.”
“I’ll look for it.”
“Now, the second reason for my call.” O slid the paper across the table. “What is going on in that damn mind of Rebecca Campbell? I saw another article yesterday.”
“Look, there’s nothing else we can do on this end. If you’re not willing to do an interview and you won’t let me put out a statement, my hands are tied. I tried talking to her, but you’re forgetting America’s sweetheart is in love with you. Anything I say makes us both look like assholes.”
I slumped in the seat. Sort of like the hurricane that had swept through last week, I thought Rebecca’s two-week publicity stunt would die down. That was a rookie thought—she was gorgeous, popular, and publicly declaring her love. People were going to eat that up as long as she was putting it on the buffet.
“Damn it, Rick. We have to shut this down.”
My stomach was in knots, thinking Chelsea was going to figure this out any day. It was a sordid puzzle on public display—the pieces all around her, she just didn’t know it. How would I explain Becs and the lies she was spreading? Everyone believed her. She was Rebecca freakin’ Campbell.
“Ok. Ok. I haven’t tried all my sources. Give me a few days, send that email, and we’ll regroup,” he assured me.
I closed my eyes. I could count on Rick to figure this out. It is why he was known as the best and why I paid him so much.
“Sounds good. I knew I could count on you. Thanks.” I hung up, placing the phone on the table and took a sip of coffee.
I was going to have to get the songs from Chelsea. That part of the plan I hadn’t worked through. It was Saturday, another full day off. I could sit on the beach all day and figure this one out.