Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
Nothing was worse than thick silence that hung over a person like a dark-gray cloud ready to dump a storm on the earth. Moana clutched her purse while she and Bowie waited for the elevator in the posh hotel lobby. They had spoken during the short car ride from the café, but the topic was Rosco and the restraining order.
Not the damn song.
Or the lingering unspoken tension that filled the air.
While she’d written songs about people in her life before, names had never been part of the lyrics. Only the emotions those around her had invoked. And to be fair, no one she knew could have honestly picked up that those songs were about them.
She wouldn’t be in this stupid predicament if she had found a way to make this a nameless, faceless man in her song.
The elevator doors swung open, and Bowie touched her back, guiding her into the enclosed space. Her heart pounded against her chest. She could hear every beat between her ears. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was like the rhythm of a drum, but it didn’t ease her discomfort. Instead, it drove her crazy, reminding her that she’d allowed herself to be vulnerable with her words and body.
It ended here and now. She’d come too far to allow a silly crush on a man to destroy all she’d worked so damn hard for. Not to mention all she was dealing with back home.
No. Tonight, she’d bottle her emotions, putting them back where they belonged.
Bowie leaned against the back wall, his arm still wrapped around her waist with his hand resting gently on her hip. His touch was soft. Kind. Loving even. For the first few weeks she’d known him, she’d admired him from a safe distance.
Granted, she’d enjoyed the flirtatious banter when they’d share a drink before or after her set. But that’s all it ever was. It wasn’t supposed to lead to him joining her in her bed.
Or worse, her writing a song about how he made her insides turn to mush every time she looked at him.
But now that she’d slept with him and the song was out there for all to judge, she had no idea what to say or how to act. If she hadn’t allowed things to get hot and heavy, it would be easy to wave her hand in the air and come up with a dozen witty lines about how his name fit. Or she’d been doodling at the bar and he happened to be the one man who came across her gaze at the right moment.
She needed to go with that. Sleeping with him hadn’t changed anything. It was a passing moment and meant nothing.
“Are you up for a drink?” Bowie asked. “I know I am.” He curled his fingers around hers and used his free hand to swipe the key card across the access point of the door. It made a clicking noise and he used his hip to push open the door. “Whiskey or wine?”
“Oh, a good shot of tequila might be what this night calls for,” she said. “I mean, we should address the elephant in the room at some point.” If he wasn’t going to bring it up, she might as well because she couldn’t take it a second longer. She hated conflict and never liked dealing with it, but she wasn’t one to shy away from it either. If anything, what happened with her parents and her sister taught her to deal with shit head-on.
Besides, it was time to put the genie back in the bottle.
“I guess that’s one way to describe it.” He sauntered across the floor, stopping in front of the bar.
She tossed her light sweater and purse on the small table and stared out the window. She couldn’t regret writing that song. Nor could she have any second thoughts about singing it or selling it. This was her business, but she probably should have asked him first and given him a heads-up. That would have been the right thing to do, instead of cowering in the background, hoping that he’d step outside when she played that damn song.
At least the artist who bought it wouldn’t go around talking about the songwriter who wrote it and how she’d fallen head over heels for some random dude in a bar.
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you this evening.” She turned and folded her arms across her chest. The longer he’d gone without saying anything, the more annoyed she became. She understood he might feel blindsided by the whole thing, but there was a piece of her that thought he’d have a sense of pride. Or tinge of flattery. She thought that might be a normal response, but their situation was far from normal. “It’s words set to the strum of a guitar. I wrote it sitting at Ohana’s. You and your team were there with Waylen and his buddies sitting at the big table by the stage almost every night that I was there. You even got up on that stage and everyone was busting each other’s chops, laughing and having so much fun. One night, Presley sat down next to me and started talking about Waylen and their love story and it kind of just came together.”
Bowie held two glasses in his hands. “I felt a slew of things when you sang it, but I’m not sure being embarrassed was one of them.” He handed her a small tumbler filled with clear liquid. “I’m flattered and honored. I just wish you had mentioned it before you went up on that stage.”
“I should have, and I’m sorry. I just wasn’t sure how you were going to take it, especially after what happened between us earlier. And then there was the situation with Rosco. I wasn’t sure how that would play out.” Moana took a small sip of the harsh liquor. It hit her belly like a brick falling from the sky and smashing into the pavement. “I’ve never used someone’s name like that before and everything with us got real so fast. It freaked me out and I didn’t want to make things awkward, especially for me. I know that’s selfish, but it was a big performance.”
“I understand and I’m not upset over you using my name. Really, I’m not. It just came as a shock.” He smiled. “I bet it’s going to be a huge hit, which is weird for me to say, considering.”
Her cheeks flushed and her lips curled into an involuntary smile. “I don’t know if it will be a success or not, but I believe the artist who’s going to record it will make it something special, that’s for sure.”
As Bowie inched closer, he polished off the rest of his beverage. He set the glass on the coffee table and stood tall, taking her hand in his, running his finger over her palm. His gaze tore through her soul like a rocket heading toward the stars. He didn’t appear angry. There was no malice coming from his soft, kind eyes. “All the songs you sang today were amazing, but that last one was spectacular and I’m truly honored that even just my name had a little role in it. I’m sorry if my silence tonight made you feel otherwise.” He brought the back of her hand to his lips. “My ego isn’t so huge that I believe those words or the emotions they imply are fact. However, I do feel something for you and that’s something I can’t deny, even though I probably should based on the facts you pointed out earlier today, and all that is the only reason I’ve been so quiet. I don’t know how to move forward when I’m in limbo with my job and I don’t even know what this is between us.”
“That, my friend, is a whole lot of bullshit wrapped in a salted pretzel, drizzled with chocolate.” She patted his chest, swallowing her breath. The last thing she needed was his honest, real, gut-wrenching emotions wrapping around hers in a way that twisted her mind and heart to the point she could no longer focus on forward progress—whatever that was these days, because she didn’t even know what her goals were anymore; they were so wrapped up in her family. “Or at least, that’s what my grandfather would have said to your bubblegum statement about not saying anything or committing to anything and I’m not judging, trust me on that.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“We’re both dancing around the issue at hand and it’s not because we have feelings; those I think are obvious. It’s because we can’t allow whatever we feel to become something.” She downed the rest of her drink. “I wrote a love song that used your name. We’re attracted to each other. We had great sex and we both wouldn’t mind if that happened again. But whatever it is that’s brewing, it’s going nowhere fast. My focus is on finding my sister and nursing my dad back to health, which is a joke, because he’s not going to get any better, but I can’t tell my mom that. She’s falling apart at the seams. I’m not going to get romantically involved with a man who has one foot on a transport plane to somewhere other than Hawaii and his brain is anywhere but with me. But the harsh truth is, I don’t have room in my life for a man right now, nor do I want one, so there’s that.” She arched a brow.
He palmed the side of her face. “How much of that song was real? I mean, when you wrote it, were you thinking of me or just thinking about romance and I was a decent-looking man who walked across your vision with a name that worked.”
She rose up on tiptoe and kissed his sweet lips. God, he was like no other. “None of it and all of it, depending on your point of view.” She covered his mouth. “It’s a love song and we’ve all had someone we’ve been so attracted to that all we want is to find out what it’s like to be with them. Anyone can put a different name to it and make it their own. In that case it’s so very real. But when it comes to you and me, the only part that’s real outside of your name is I used attraction as my guide. I’d see you, and I’d draw on my fantasy of what being with you might be like. I’d focus on all those new emotions that people feel when they first start seeing a new boyfriend and I’d do my best to intensify those emotions by looking at Waylen and Presley. Or Blake and Kian. Or Lane and Cassie. It’s not like the words or even the feelings that I wrote were what I was experiencing, but it’s part of the human condition and that’s something as a songwriter I tap into.”
“So, what you’re saying is you took a nugget and made it bigger.” He held her gaze captive. His thumb ran across her cheekbone in a tender stroke.
“Exactly.”
He dropped his forehead against hers and let out a long breath. “I promised you, and Waylen, that I’d help find your sister and I won’t go back on my word. I’m on Big Island for at least eight more days, to potentially another month. But I won’t know until my CO tells me that. And even if I do stay longer, I still have no clue what my future holds and I can’t tell you why. It’s classified. All I can tell you is that you’re now becoming a factor in my decision-making.”
“No. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that responsibility, especially over a silly song that I believe you’re reading too much into.” She pleaded with him with her eyes. Searching his for something that showed her he understood. Even if her life were different, she wasn’t prepared to have a long-lasting relationship. Not right now. It didn’t matter that she was long over Kenny; there were things in her romantic life that she hadn’t come to terms with.
Specifically, why she chose men she couldn’t fall madly in love with.
Kenny, the mama’s boy who wanted a woman who would do whatever he wanted and be happy with that arrangement. It would take a special lady to be willing to stay home and cook, clean, and be whatever it was that Kenny fancied all while not losing herself in the end. Moana wasn’t sure that was possible.
And then there was Eric. He didn’t care whether Moana worked or not. That was her decision. But everything had to be separate. When they went out to dinner, it was always dutch.
Always.
If her dinner cost five dollars and eight cents more, he wanted not only the five dollars, but the eight pennies too. And that wasn’t his only issue, but that was enough.
She could go on with all the men she dated and their shortcomings, but the reality was she picked them because of their faults and how those imperfections would cause conflicts in the relationship.
And not the kind of fights that were easily overcome because she chose her men based on the kinds of personality defects that would be deal-breakers for most couples.
Bowie, as far as she could tell, didn’t have any personality defects.
But he did have one major flaw that fit her little mold.
He didn’t live on Big Island and he wasn’t going to stay. That being true, she had kept him at arm’s length for many reasons. The first one being she was tired of having relationships that were either short-term or going nowhere.
Or long-term and still going nowhere.
Besides, she had some serious shit to deal with at home and Bowie as a distraction wasn’t a good idea.
Only, she did it anyway.
“It has nothing to do with what you sang tonight.” He cupped the back of her neck, drawing her lips so close to his she could feel his hot breath tickle her skin. “I won’t lie and say I’m not touched and that it makes me think you like me more than you let on, but I cared about you before I knew about that song. So for me, the only thing it changes is how I approach pushing my dating agenda.”
“I’m not a prize or something that you negotiate.” She squished her face like she ate a lemon. “Don’t make this like a conversation with Harlan. That man drives me bonkers. No idea how his girlfriend tolerates him sometimes. The way he clasps his hands out in front of him when he wants to discuss even the smallest of things, like requesting a song.” Moana took a step back and did her best Harlan impression. “And then his face gets all serious and he talks to you as if you’re a child. He and I once chatted about music and it was as if he was trying to change my mind about my influences and my process. It was annoying.”
Bowie chuckled. “Yeah, that’s Harlan. The great negotiator. In the field, trust me, it comes in handy and he’s the best, but I totally understand where you’re coming from and I’m sorry for my poor choice of words.” Bowie cleared his throat. “All I meant to say is, whatever this is, I don’t want it to end,” he whispered, pulling her closer, slipping his hands under her shirt. His fingertips danced across her skin, making her want to stay in his warm embrace.
But she shouldn’t.
This was sheer madness and she had to end it before it got too insane. Before anyone got hurt.
“I know that’s selfish, but that part of me wants something with my career that I can’t discuss to shift and that means I will be?—”
She covered his mouth. Bowie lit up her world like fireflies in a meadow on the darkest of summer nights. “I don’t want to be the reason anyone changes. I’ve seen firsthand what happens to people when they make decisions based on others instead of themselves. Again, that makes me a self-centered bitch, but I live my life on my terms. I will not bend my goals for anyone and would resent someone doing it for me.” She let out a puff of air in a big whoosh. “I want to spend time with you. I like you. But I know our time is limited and honestly, I’m okay with that. Are you?”
Gently, he removed her hand from his mouth. He eased from the embrace, bent over, and lifted his drink, taking a long sip. “I like you and I want to continue seeing you. I’m trying to be as honest as I can. Normally, I’d be a little cold and tell you that it’s a fling. It will end in a week, so get used to that concept. But this is different and I’m not sure how to deal with that because the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
“That’s all fine and dandy, but you’re also not hearing me.” She sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, hoping tears didn’t form. Talk about wrapping a pretzel in bullshit. “I’m good with a short fling. Hell, if it had to be a Nashville only deal, I could live with that. It’s not because I don’t like you, but it has everything to do with where I am in my life. I just can’t have a relationship.”
He stared out the window. “It’s very likely that once the field testing is over, my team and I will be called back to active duty and back to the mainland.” He threaded his fingers through his hair. “It’s hard for a man like me to have lasting relationships. It’s why I’m still single.” He turned. “I go from place to place and no matter how much I care for someone, my career gets in the way and it’s not something I’m willing to give up.” He held up his hand. “Nor should you be asked to stop fighting for your dad or sister. And I’m not going to ask you to sit around and wait for me to come back when I have a day or two of leave every now again just because I like you more than the last girl I got involved with. It’s not fair to either one of us. So, you’re right. It’s best we had this conversation now.” He closed the gap, tugging her to his chest. “I need to know your heart is protected. That no matter what, you’re not going to be hurt the moment I board a transport plane off Big Island.”
She lifted her dress and pulled it over her head. She stood before him in only a pair of tiny boy shorts. Taking him by the hand, she led him toward her bedroom. No words needed to be spoken. She understood Bowie. He was an honorable and loyal man.
Standing at the edge of the bed, she lifted his shirt, finding his hot skin, and danced her fingers across his flesh.
He hissed, palming her breasts. “Moana. I need to hear you say you can handle a fling.”
Moana looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of desire and determination. She placed a soft kiss on his lips.
"I can handle whatever you have to offer, Bowie." With those words hanging in the air, she pushed him gently onto the bed and straddled him, feeling the heat between them intensify with every touch.
Moana leaned into him, trailing hot kisses down his chest. He watched her, his eyes brimming with a hunger and an intensity that caused her breath to hitch in her throat.
His hands traced the curve of her hips, the softness of her thighs. He whispered her name again, a soft plea that echoed in the silence around them. His clothes became a hindrance, an annoying barrier preventing them from losing themselves completely in each other.
They quickly shed the remaining garments, their bodies entwining in a dance as old as time itself. She moved atop him then, setting a rhythm that was both wild and passionate. Bowie's grip on her tightened, their bodies moving as one under the dim lighting of Moana's bedroom.
Silent promises passed between them with every connection made and every inch of skin touched.
As their bodies shuddered together in pleasure, Moana felt something within her shift.
She had promised herself that it would only be a fling, but she knew deep down she was lying to herself. This was Bowie—honorable, loyal Bowie—and she was starting to fall for him.
“You’re not coming.” Bowie held Moana’s devastating glare. If looks could kill, well, he’d have been six feet under by now. He lifted the paper mug to his lips and sipped the god-awful brew. But it was better than what he was used to in the field, so that was something.
And it had caffeine.
“I don’t work for you. I’m not part of your little team, so you don’t get to tell me what to do.” She planted her hands on her hips and inched closer. Her chest heaved with every breath.
He bit back a smile, which only got him a poke in the biceps with her index finger. “Ouch. That was uncalled for.”
“Next time it won’t be my finger. It will be my heel where it will hurt you the most.” She cocked a brow.
He swallowed. Hard. “Moana. It’s not that I’m worried you can’t handle yourself or anything. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come. You hired me to do a job and?—”
“I did no such thing. Waylen had you insert yourself into finding my sister. That’s very different. Now, if you want to insert yourself somewhere else tonight, you better change your mind.”
“I hate to break it to you, but using sex to get your way isn’t going to work on me.”
“It worked this morning when I wanted a breakfast sandwich.”
He burst out laughing.
“Not sure what’s so funny.”
Leaning closer, he pressed his lips against her cheek. “I’m sorry, but you could offer to do that thing with your tongue and mouth all day long and I’d still have to say no to this one. I need you to trust me.”
“I can guarantee you won’t be seeing my perfect breasts tonight.” She grabbed them, turned, and walked across the room, plopping herself down in the chair.
Bowie lifted his cell. Mano said he’d text when it was time to board the plane. He was still out there running checklists and whatnot. Bowie knew the drill: hurry up and wait. It was the story of his life.
His phone buzzed, but it wasn’t Mano. Nope. It was Jaden.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” Bowie opted to put it on speaker. He figured it might get him out of the doghouse.
“Is Mano close by?” Jaden asked.
“He’s prepping his precious plane.” Bowie eased closer to where Moana sat with her legs tucked up under her butt. “Moana is here with me. You’re on speaker.”
“We’ve got an interesting situation regarding Rosco,” Jaden said.
“Don’t beat around the bush.” Bowie took a chance and eased into the uncomfortable metal bench and looped his arm around Moana, tucking her head to his shoulder.
“He’s at the airport,” Jaden said.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bowie mumbled. At least he wasn’t at the private airstrip. “Do you know where he’s headed?”
“Yeah. Seattle. He’s going with his company to some big tech expo. According to my research, he’s had this ticket booked for weeks, so it’s not news. The Brotherhood Protectors have friends in lots of places. We’ll know if he doesn’t get on that plane. We’ll have eyes in Seattle when he lands. But I wanted you, Mano, and Moana to know what was going on.”
“We appreciate it. Keep us posted.” Bowie kissed Moana’s temple.
“Safe travels.” The line went dead.
“I’m so over dealing with that dipshit.” Moana wrapped her arm around Bowie. “I’m sure he’s not going to waste his time or money heading to Big Island to harass me. He’ll move on. I just hope he’s not too big of a creeper.” She shivered. “It was weird seeing those pictures of me with him on his family group page.”
“We’re not taking any chances. Jaden is making sure someone has eyes on him and his travel plans. If you hear from Rosco, I want to know about it.” He lifted her chin. “Promise me you won’t wait to contact me. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night or you think I’m busy with a field exercise. I want you to forward any messages from that asshole.”
“I will send them to you. I swear. But let’s hope that’s the last I will ever hear from him again. I need to focus my efforts on finding my sister and helping my mom with my dad.” She dug her hand into her bag and waved her cell. “I’ve heard from my mom a few times. My dad isn’t doing well. He’s not improving and the doctors tell us this could be as good as it gets. I need to help my mom prepare for what her future is going to look like and also for the day my dad is no longer with us.”
“That’s not very cheery.”
“I have to be realistic. My mother has never been very good at that and frankly, neither have I. It’s why I’ve always caved and given in to paying for my sister’s rehab when I should have been listening to Mano and only giving her food and shelter after the first or second time she failed at rehab. I’ve spent every dime I have on her and look at the thanks I’ve gotten. She’s up and disappeared again when my folks need her the most.”
“You can’t beat yourself up over that. You did what you believed would help her the most.” He brushed his lips over hers. “If it were one of my sisters or my brother, I probably would have done the same thing.”
“And you most likely wouldn’t have let someone like you tell you to sit on the sidelines when going out to look for them.” She pressed her hand against his chest and pushed from his embrace. “I know her old stomping grounds. I’ve spoken to the people in those tent cities. While they might not trust me, they’ve seen my face. They know I’m her sister and I care about her well-being. They don’t know you from dick.”
He chuckled. “Maybe not. But I’m taking Mano with me and he knows them. According to him, he does a lot of volunteer work and he agrees with me. You need to stay behind.”
“Wonderful. All the men in my life are ganging up on me.”
“Besides, you have classes and lessons to deal with,” he said. “Haven’t you already taken time off work?”
“So not the point. I can be helpful.”
“I’m not going to argue with you about this. When we land, Mano and I are going to do a little recon. You, my lovely lady, are going to go home, get some sleep, and go about business as usual. We’ll touch base after.”
“Well, don’t expect any touching of my skin. I’ll still be mad.” She stood, pointing out the window. “I think Mano is ready for us.” She lifted her bag, tossing it over her shoulder. “Thank goodness I brought lots of reading material for this flight because there won’t be any mile high club for us. You can carry my guitar and my bag.” She flicked her long braid over her shoulder and made her way out the doors.
He sighed. It was going to be one hell of a long flight home.