Chapter Nine #2
My thumbs hover over the screen. I tell myself I should take a breather from him and let this growing affection calm down, but my thumbs don’t get the message, and I type, Sure .
The phone rings a second later. “Hey, beautiful. How’s it going?”
Butterflies swarm in my chest at the sound of his deep voice. “Pretty great. I’ve got my toes in the sand, and I’m done working for the day. I can’t complain.”
“And you’re talking to me, taking pretty great right up to fantastic .”
And just like that, I’m grinning like a fool again. “So humble.”
“Come on. You know you missed hearing my voice.”
“Did I?” I tease, running my fingers through the sand.
“Well, I missed hearing yours, and it would suck if I was alone in that.”
I did miss hearing it, and I miss him, too, but I can’t bring myself to admit it. “Yes, it would.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I know where we stand.”
“And where’s that?”
“I don’t want to embarrass you or anything, but I have a feeling you’ve been doodling my name during your meetings.”
God, this guy. “Is that so?”
“That’s not all. I think you snuck out to the beach because you can’t get that picture of me in my wet suit out of your mind.”
“That is an unforgettable picture, but I love the beach.” I gaze out at the water, unwilling to confess that I wish he were there with me. “What’s more relaxing than the sound of the ocean?”
“I can think of a few things we’ve done that leave us both incredibly relaxed.”
“ Wells, ” I warn, but a laugh slips out, betraying it.
“Sorry, did I stumble onto another thing we’re not admitting? No worries. So, you love the beach, huh?”
“More than you can imagine.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, sweet thing. I can imagine big beach love. It’s one of my favorite places, too. Hold on a sec.”
I hear him moving the phone around, and then a text chimes through.
I open it and see a picture of his long legs crossed at the ankles, his bare feet resting in the sand, and just beyond, the waves are crashing against the shore.
It’s dark there, and I realize I haven’t thought about the time difference even once when we were playing those games.
We stayed up until after midnight my time, which was after three in the morning for him, and he was still up bright and early starting new games and sending me pictures.
I don’t know how to process that, so I shelve it for now to pick apart later and say, “You’re at the beach, too?”
“Yup. I watched the sunset.”
I wouldn’t have figured him to be a sunset watcher. In my head he’s always out having a good time.
“I knew we were made for each other,” he adds casually.
“You and your lines,” I say lightly, digging my toes into the sand. “Millions of people love the beach.”
“True, but they’re not you and me. Can we switch to video chat? I miss your face.”
My thoughts stumble, and those butterflies take flight again. “I guess.” The video call rings through, and I take a deep breath before accepting it. It’s dark there, but his handsome face appears, and the happiness staring back at me makes my traitorous heart leap.
“There you are,” he says with the same awe as he did the first night in the hotel, and it warms me all over. “How is it possible that you got even more beautiful over the last few days?”
I roll my eyes and look away shaking my head, unable to stop smiling.
“That only makes you cuter. Are you trying to distract me?” he teases. “Now I can’t remember what we were talking about.”
I meet his gaze again, and he’s looking at me so affectionately, I feel my cheeks heat. “Would you stop ?”
“If I must. Come on, let’s go for a walk.” He stands up.
“A walk?” That sounds ridiculously fun.
“Yeah. You know, when you put one foot in front of the other. We’ll wander down the beach while we talk. It’ll be our Wednesday Walkabout.”
“Okay, one sec.” I put the trash into my purse and push to my feet.
As we walk down separate beaches, miles apart, with the wind on my face and his eyes on me, it almost feels like he’s right here.
“So tell me, my beautiful beach-loving friend, why do you live in the city if you love being by the water?”
“Because my life is in the city.”
“But you have an office in LA. Can’t you move there?”
“I guess, but I don’t love it here. It’s too busy, and traffic is a nightmare.”
“There are tons of other beaches to choose from. This one is awfully nice.” He moves his phone in a sweeping motion, showing me the beach.
“Yes, it is, but as I said, my life is in New York.”
“Which begs the question, why did you choose to make your life in New York?”
I gaze out at the water for a second, thinking about it. I look at him and shrug. “It just happened that way.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t believe life just happens to a woman like you. You’re too driven. You said you got your start scouting underdogs. I’d love to hear about that.”
“I can’t believe you remembered.”
“I have a good memory for things that are important or enjoyable, and you are both.”
“Uh-huh,” I say sarcastically, secretly loving the way he flirts.
His tone turns serious again. “I want to know more about you because I like you, Victory, and that makes you important to me.” His eyes spark with heat. “And I could draw you a map of the freckles on your body because you’re also incredibly enjoyable.”
“You could not .” He sure knows how to keep me laughing.
“Oh no? There’s a smattering of them on your shoulders.”
“Tons of people have freckles on their shoulders. That doesn’t prove anything.”
“You have a few on your right kneecap but none on the left.”
I look down at my knees, and I’m floored to see he’s right. “Lucky guess?”
“Hardly.” He chuckles. “In case you’re wondering, my favorites are the freckles that form a heart on your left ass cheek.”
My jaw drops in disbelief. I know those freckles exist, because Harvey mentioned them once.
“Shall I go on?”
“ No . Definitely not. It’s a little disturbing to think you’ve got a catalog of women’s bodies swirling around in your head.” I’m only half teasing. I have to remember that while I was coming out from a five-year sexual hiatus, he wasn’t.
“Who needs a catalog when I have memories of you ?”
“That would be a sweet line, but I bet you’ve said it more times than you can count.”
“You’d lose that bet.”
He sounds so serious, it gives me pause.
“But we can talk about that another time,” he says. “Right now I want to hear the rest of your story.”
It takes me a second to remember he asked about how I got started in the business, and he looks as interested as he sounds.
I walk closer to the water, padding across the cool wet sand.
“There’s not much to tell. I went to NYU, and during my first year of school, I interned for a talent agency, basically doing grunt work.
I figured that was going to be my in . I was laying the groundwork. ”
“You’re a planner,” he observes.
“I like mapping things out.”
“So do I,” he says with a devilish glint in his eyes, taking me right back to his line about drawing a map of my freckles.
“Yes, we’ve established that.” I swear he’s going to keep me smiling all night long again.
“ Anyway , a guy in my dorm played in a band, and they were having a hard time getting gigs. I couldn’t get the agents I was interning for to help them, so I took a stab at it, and it turned out I was good at talking my way into the right places.
As time went on, word got around, and soon I was helping other artists find their way, so I quit interning to focus on that and school. ”
“That’s gutsy. You took on more bands?”
“A few musicians, but I helped whoever needed it. One girl had been trying to get into acting, and I helped her get auditions, and that led to other people coming to me for help. And there was a guy who had written a book, but he couldn’t get in the door with any publishers, so I came up with a marketing ploy that helped catch their attention. ”
“Did he get a publishing deal?”
“Not for that story, but they gave him valuable feedback that eventually led to a contract for another book he wrote a few years later, and I secured that deal for him.”
“That’s amazing. You became an agent at what ? Twenty?”
“I was nineteen when I started helping the first band,” I admit proudly. It’s been a long time since I shared that story, and it feels good. “I wasn’t really an agent, but I acted like I was.”
“I knew life didn’t just happen to you. That’s impressive as hell. Now I need you to paint me a picture, so I can envision you doing your thing.”
“A picture?”
“What can I say? I’m a visual guy, and you made me paint you pictures. Come on. Don’t be shy. Paint me a scenario.”
He’s so different from any man I’ve met, I want to paint him a picture. I glance at a couple walking by, thinking about what I was like in college, and when I look at Wells, he’s watching me with genuine interest, and that makes me want to share more with him. “It’s not a pretty picture.”
“That makes it even better.”
“This is so embarrassing. I can’t believe I’m admitting it to you, but I acted like I was a big deal.
I printed out business cards on my little printer, and sitting in my dorm room in my shorts and Keds, I would call the offices of big-shot music producers, heads of major venues, and casting directors, and try to talk my way up the ladder, acting like they were lucky to talk to me. ”
He barks out a laugh. “I love that. That’s not embarrassing. It’s empowering.”
“It only worked a fraction of time, but with every phone call and meeting I learned what worked and what didn’t.”
“That’s incredible. What about after college? Did you keep doing your own thing?”
“No. Once I graduated, I needed to earn a living in order to afford rent. I took a job at a small talent agency and absolutely hated it.”
He cocks a brow. “Why?”