Nine
NINE
“My entire life has been a lie.”
“Then tell yourself a new story.”
Lys Amarga and Con Sulley, The Quantum Wraith
S utton blinked at Xavier. “I’m sorry. I must have misheard you.”
No, she heard him perfectly. Of course she did. He was sitting next to her, his thigh just a brief grasp of her hand away, an action that had been primary in her thoughts as they bounced across the desert. She shifted in her seat, drawing tighter against her door. “I thought you said we had to spend the night here. But that’s ridiculous.”
“Your ears work fine.” Lightning lit up the sky in the distance. She braced herself. She knew what would follow, but still she jumped when the crack of thunder followed several seconds later. Her hand went flying, seeking his reassuring warmth on instinct. He grabbed her fingers, drew them into his, warming them between his palms. “The storm is in front of us. If we stay here, it should keep heading in that direction,” he said.
She nodded, her jaw aching with tension. “I know.”
“You okay?” He shot her a glance. “You seem jumpy. If it’s about staying in the truck tonight, you can have the back seat. I’ll stay here.”
She glanced behind her at the seat piled high with camping gear and other items she couldn’t identify and decided the front seat would be far more preferable. “It’s not that. I don’t like thunderstorms,” she said, thankful the lights were off in the truck cab so he couldn’t see the terror on her face. “Childhood phobia. Growing up in Orange County, thunderstorms were rare. The first time I heard thunder, I was…three or four? I was on a trip with my parents. I woke up in a strange place and couldn’t find them. Turns out they were in the hotel bar. But I guess I screamed so loud the other guests called security.”
“You must have scared your parents. I hope that taught them not to leave you alone as a young child.”
“In a way. That taught them to leave me at home with my grandparents. They were embarrassed, not worried. They thought they had raised me to be more self-sufficient.”
Another bright burst of electricity lit the clouds, and she tightened her hold on his hand. His fingers closed over hers, offering warmth. “You were a baby,” he said. “I remember that age. Erik was two when I was granted custody.”
“You obviously take age-appropriate development into consideration. My parents expect more. Their current embarrassment is that I’m not a vice president yet. And since I’m not, I should come home and work for the family real estate business, where I’ll be kept safe from disappointing them.”
“At least your parents have expectations of you. Unreasonable ones, however.” There was an odd note in his voice. She pulled back, intending to search his expression, but an impressive burst of forked lightning caused her to squeeze her eyes shut instead.
“Not unreasonable according to them,” she said after the accompanying thunder passed, trying and failing to hide the shakiness in her voice. “My father was a senior vice president when he was my age. Of course, he works for his uncle.” She plastered a smile on her face. “Yours must be proud of you, however. Award-winning movies, Sundance selection, now directing a major studio film. And I’ve seen you with Erik. He can’t ask for a better parent.”
“Hmm,” he said, a noncommittal low rumble. She glanced at him, but his face was still, his gaze fixed on the storm in the distance. They listened to the rain rattling on the roof, the blackness beyond the windshield absolute save for another distant display of lightning, more faded strobe than angry gods throwing bolts of energy. A camera flash compared to the megawatt brightness of the earlier strikes.
“You were right,” she said, knowing she should pull her hand from his but enjoying the gentle pressure of his skin against hers too much to follow her brain’s wise advice. “The storm’s moving away from us.”
“The sound and light show portion, definitely,” he agreed. As if in response to his words, the velocity of the rain started to lessen to a steady thrum. “But…”
“But it’s still too chancy to drive to the ranch in the dark, so we need to stay here until morning.” She knew where he had been headed. “How far do these seats recline? I’ve seen the back seat, I’ll take my chances here.”
“Sleepy?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Not in the slightest.” Her heart was beating as if she’d just finished a triathlon, the adrenaline from the storm still spiking her blood. Winding down to a point where she might get some rest was going to take hours. Combine that with sharing the same six-foot space at Xavier and she doubted she would blink all night, much less grab some shut-eye. She wriggled in her seat, and if Xavier’s gaze threw sparks, well, that was a bonus. “Not the most comfortable chair.” The cushioning had passed its prime sometime in the last decade. “But beats trying to sleep during a red-eye on a budget airline.”
Xavier gently untangled their fingers. “Wait. Stay here. I have a better idea.” He had his door open before she could react.
“Where are you going?” But he had already left the truck.
What the…? Sutton relaxed in her seat, flummoxed. He wasn’t abandoning her, was he? But even as the thought appeared on her brain’s scroll, she dismissed it. There was nowhere for him to go.
Then the pickup rocked, followed by thumps and bangs, and then a sound like an air compressor. She turned to look out the rear window but only saw an occasional slash of light, as if Xavier was moving around with a flashlight. By the time he returned to the cab, his clothing dark from rain and his hair slick, her curiosity was nearly bursting. And she could swear he was trying to hide something. “What were you doing? You’re soaking wet.”
“It’s not that that bad. The deluge is slowing.” He grinned, his gaze bright. “Your palace awaits, madam.”
“My what ?”
“I remembered Dalip has a pop-up tent on the truck’s bed. He uses it to camp when scouting remote locations. I set it up. Took a little longer than I expected, given the weather. But you have a bed. Well, air mattress.”
“You set up a tent?” Sutton blinked at him.
“You didn’t seem too thrilled about sleeping in the cab. Can’t say I blame you.” He glanced out the windshield. “Seems to be a sprinkle now, if you want to go check it out.”
“There’s a tent. On the back of the truck.” She still couldn’t wrap her head around the concept.
“You don’t go camping much, do you? It’s a common setup.”
“I only camp in hotels. With hot and cold running water. And room service.”
“Can’t do anything about hot water. But…” He pulled a plastic bag from behind his back and took out two bottles of water and a box of protein bars. “Room service, courtesy of Dalip. There are more bottles in the tent. You’re not allergic to nuts?”
“Not at all.”
He held the box out to her, taking a bar for himself. “Dinner is served. Sorry we aren’t stopping for shakes and burgers as we originally planned.”
She tore the shiny wrapper off. She’d thought she wouldn’t get to eat until they returned to the ranch, and her stomach growled to remind her how empty it was. Protein bars weren’t on her list of favorite foodstuffs, but the first taste was heavenly. “That place had great reviews, but right now this is a five-star meal.”
He nodded, swallowing. “Only the best.”
“You do know how to show a woman a good time,” she agreed. Then her words hit her and she sat up, her back straight and her shoulders frozen around her ears. “I mean…not like…before. Or like a date. I didn’t think this was a date. I’m just, y’know, making conversation.”
“We both previously established this is not a date.”
“Right.” She took another bite. “No date.”
“Nope.”
“Just work.”
“Always.”
Always? She turned toward him. “What does that mean?”
“I’m sorry?” He polished off the rest of his bar with one bite.
“Just work. Always.”
He waited until he had finished chewing to answer. “Means we work together.”
“I know, but…” Her bar began to taste like peanut-flavored wet cement, and she wrapped up what was left. “Always. Sounds so…infinite. And yet finite.”
“When did you become hung up on semantics? It’s just a word.”
“That’s the thing.” She swung around in her seat to face him. “We work with words. We tell stories with them. It’s never ‘just’—” she made air quotes with her fingers—”a word.”
He regarded her. “I’m missing subtext. And that’s not a new feeling. Been going on since you arrived.”
“‘Always’ indicates you think we’ll always be work colleagues.
He frowned. “And that’s not a good thing, judging by how you’re fixating on this.”
She huffed. “I’m not fixating. I find it…revealing.”
“Sutton, I’m not implying you should work with me forever.”
But once he did imply that. He more than implied that, he outright said they should collaborate on films—and more. She told him, standing in his hallway, that the past could not be undone. She continued to stand by what she said. But why did his words hurt so?
Even as she asked herself the question, she knew why. Because “always” also implied they would only ever be work colleagues. Nothing more.”
“I do want to continue to work together to make The Quantum Wraith a success.” He threw her a sideways glance. “What do you say? Partners in reaching our goals?”
Her promotion. Cementing his status as an A-level director. Those were the terms they had set and to which she agreed.
There was indeed nothing more.
“Of course. Partners. On this film.” She held out her water bottle as if making a toast. “Here’s to long and healthy individual careers. For both of us.”
“Cheers.” He tapped his bottle against hers. “Glad we got that settled.”
“And if I get Chester’s job, I might be able to make that a reality.”
“How’s that going?”
She shifted in her seat. “Good.” She shifted again. “I think.”
“You think?” He moved to face her. “Any trouble with the production?”
She shook her head. “They’re happy with what they’ve seen so far. Although they reserve the right to change their opinion at any time.”
“Of course they do. So, what is wrong?”
She shifted again. “This seat, for one.” He narrowed his gaze at her and she sighed. “I’m not the only person they are considering. And my competition…let’s say he’s better connected than I am.” Ugh. She did not want to think about Zeke Fountaine. Not tonight.
Xavier regarded her, his expression unreadable. “Is that your dream? To be Chester?”
“Without the larceny and the sexism—Contessina told me about her encounters with him—yeah, sure.” The little ball of anxiety that was omnipresent in her stomach kicked into high gear, bouncing off the walls, riding the rising waves of acid. She almost missed the storm. As terrified as her limbic system had been, at least she hadn’t been thinking about work and the situation at Monument Studios.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
“Of course I want Chester’s job. It’s the next step on the ladder.”
“The ladder to what?”
“To being the president of the studio. And then CEO.” She folded her arms over her chest, trying to tamp down annoyance at the obvious questions.
He looked at over the rim of his water bottle. “Was being CEO always your dream?”
The passenger seat was supremely uncomfortable. She couldn’t find an agreeable position. “What if it wasn’t? People change. Dreams change. Doesn’t mean I don’t want that job now.”
Her tone dared him to challenge her. He cocked his head as if considering taking up the dare, but after a beat, he dropped his gaze. Crumpling up his energy bar wrapper, he placed it in the plastic bag and then held the bag out to her. “Trash?”
She shook her head, placing what was left of her bar in her tote. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she grabbed her water bottle from the cup holder. “You said there’s a tent on the back of the truck?”
“Yes. I’ll show you.”
“I can find it. Sounds like it’s hard to miss.”
“There are some tricks—”
“To getting in a tent? I can handle it. I also need to…find a friendly bush.” One thing about working on location, she’d learned, was to not be squeamish about asking about the available bathroom facilities.
“Ah.” Xavier turned and reached into the rear seat, coming up with another plastic bag, a packet of biodegradable wipes, and a water bottle with what looked like a large squeeze top. “Here. We should practice not leaving a trace.”
She juggled the items. “Hence the bag for the used wipes.”
He nodded. “And water for washing up. Plus this.” He handed her a flashlight, keeping one for himself. “Also might be handy.”
“My compliments on the accommodations. Almost all the comforts of home.” She saluted him the best she could with her hands full and exited the pickup.
The rain was a light drizzle now, but she had to splash through some deep puddles, testimony that Xavier had been wise not to chance being caught in a surprise flood. After completing her business, she made her way to the rear of the truck. An aluminum ladder led to the tent perched above the bed, and she climbed up, noting an electric lantern hanging from a hook so she wouldn’t be reliant on the flashlight or her phone.
The floor of the tent was an air mattress, as Xavier had promised. A fleece blanket was folded at the foot, and there were even two pillows, small ones, like the kind given out on airlines for long-haul flights. Better than she’d ever expect when stuck in an uninhabited stretch of Arizona desert.
She kicked off her shoes, and there was no way she’d be comfortable enough to sleep in her bra, so off it came, too. Then she wrapped herself in the blanket and settled in, turning off the lantern before closing her eyes.
And then opened them immediately.
There was no way she was going to be able to fall asleep.
Not with his words ringing in her ears, bounding across her brain like a kitten high on catnip and chasing a laser pointer. She sighed, pulled her socks and hiking boots on, and descended the steps, coming around the rear of the truck to the driver’s side.
Xavier had the chair reclined and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled low over his eyes. She could make out the blackness of his beard and the fullness of his lips, those utterly maddening, kissable lips—
She banged on the window with her fist. He jumped, sitting up with the flashlight clutched as if it were a very short baseball bat and he was about to swing for a home run.
“It’s me!” she said, holding up her hands on the universal sign for surrender and trying not to laugh at his murderous expression. Which was also really hot, she had to admit. Protective Xavier was a turn-on. “Just want to talk.”
He rolled down his window. “Sutton? What the hell. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Were you sleeping? I’m sorry.”
“No, I wasn’t. What are you doing out there? Is it still raining?”
To be honest, Sutton hasn’t noticed. She took stock. “More like misting, I’d say.”
“Get inside the truck. Is there something wrong with the tent?”
She stayed where she was. “The tent is great. And this won’t take much of your time.”
He leaned out, putting their heads at a level height. “Then how can I help you?”
“Why did you ask if this was my dream job?”
His gaze narrowed in confusion. “You’re standing in the rain—”
“Mist.”
“—to ask me that? We have a long drive tomorrow in which to talk.”
Tomorrow would be too late. Tomorrow they would be back to director and producer.
“I can’t sleep,” she said, leaning on the truth. “I need to know.”
He glanced at his phone. “You’ve been gone only twenty minutes. You haven’t tried to sleep.”
“Why did you ask me that? As if I’ve…disappointed you in some way.
He sighed, pushing his hood up so he could catch and hold her gaze. “I thought you would be a filmmaker. Or a screenwriter. Someone creative.”
“Ha!” She couldn’t control the outburst, and it was loud. “And I am creative.”
“I admit, you can do things to a spreadsheet that are highly original.”
“And legal. Don’t forget legal. That’s not the creativity I meant.”
“Stipulated. But…” He shrugged. “You have a gift. I thought you would use your talents to tell your own stories.”
“I have a what ?” Her jaw dropped to the desert floor. “You never thought that.”
Now it was his turn to gape at her. “I did.”
“You did not. You gave me a C on my final screenplay.”
“And?”
“And?” She stared at him. How did she ever think he was attractive? Even though he was. But still. That had been a lead bullet that had torn through the deepest depths of her soul. “How was I supposed to think I had ‘a gift’ when you handed me one of the lowest grades in the seminar?”
He crossed his arms on the window ledge. “Sutton. You half-assed that screenplay. You leaned on stereotypes and used clichéd tropes. The world-building was nonexistent. The dialogue on the nose. C was me being generous.”
She couldn’t speak for a minute, her entire body trembling as her mind tried to process his words. “Well,” she finally said, “good to see my work made an impression on you.”
“It made an impression because your earlier work was superior,” he said. “You’re one of the most gifted natural storytellers I’ve encountered. I told you that.”
His face wavered in front of her as if underwater. Then something hot ran down her cheeks and she realized the wetness on her face was not mist but tears. “Oh, come on. We both know you were just being nice, saying things I wanted to hear because I, y’know, chucked myself at you. I don’t blame you—”
He cut her off. “You think I… Seriously, what the hell, Sutton?” He stopped and then threw back the hood of his sweatshirt, the better to hold her gaze with his. “‘They make us study algebra and calculus even though I have yet to meet a body who needed to find the coefficient in their daily life. But they never teach us the math of loneliness, how sometimes five hundred can be more isolating than one.’”
Her heart raced, then slowed. Time became meaningless as she stared into his warm dark eyes. “That’s from the short film screenplay I turned in as part of my application for your seminar.”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean. Ever. Not even to screenwriters who refuse to believe in their own talent. And who think people are nice to them out of ulterior motives.”
Their gazes continue to tangle until water beaded along Sutton’s nose and fell with a drip, causing her to break contact to wipe the moisture away. She glanced up, and got a raindrop in her eye. Either the storm had been taking a hiatus, or another one was on the way.
“So,” he continued, “you can tell me being a studio executive is your dream. But I’m damn sure it didn’t used to be.”
And damn him for being right. “Maybe. But it’s my job now and I’m good at it.”
“You are. But—”
“No buts. Remember our earlier conversation? We’re going to work together to get what we want now.” She blinked, willing the tears still threatening to fall to disappear.
The other dream had been buried long ago. Knowing he really did believe in her talent poured some salve on her wounded psyche, but in the end, did his validation truly matter?
She’d chosen the correct path. The entertainment industry could be mercurial and there was no such thing as job security, but she was proving her parents wrong and demonstrating she could climb the corporate ladder. And without being related to the company’s owners. “I think I can sleep now, so thank you. I need to go.”
“Sutton,” he called after her, but if he had anything else to say, she didn’t hear him over the shower gathering velocity again. She made it to the tent before the deluge started in earnest, taking off her wet top and leggings to wrap herself in the blanket. She put all thoughts of Xavier and her career firmly out of her head. Really, what did it matter what she wanted to do when she was in her early twenties? People change their minds all the time. His words about her gift, she didn’t dare dwell on. She let the white noise of the rain lull her into a fitful slumber.
Until a strike of lightning turned the tent’s darkness into daylight, followed by a rumble of thunder that shook the pickup. She bolted awake, fear crowding her mind, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings at first.
Another burst, another reverberation. The scent of ozone was overpowering. The storm was on top of the truck, bringing wind that tugged at the tent, causing the sides to heave in and out as if the structure was hyperventilating along with Sutton. Her heart raced, her palms were damp, and…air. She couldn’t get enough air. She was suffocating, the canvas walls closing in, there was no escape—
“Sutton. You okay?” Xavier was near. Just outside the tent.
She couldn’t speak. It took everything she had to wrap the blanket around her before crawling to the tent opening. Trembling, she unzipped the flap.
Xavier appeared, concern creasing his face. Wordlessly, she opened her arms.
He understood her request. Warm hands grasped her shoulders and held her as she shook. He guided her away from the opening and the wind and the rain, back into the sheltered warmth.
A white-blue burst of light turned the atmosphere from night to noon, accompanied by a shaking rumble. She fell into his lap, pressing her face against his shoulder, not caring his Henley was soaking wet. He cradled her as if she were infinitely precious.
She knew he was offering comfort out of pity, the bare minimum a decent human would offer to another person in distress, but she’d take it. She’d take whatever he had to give. Later on, when the primal terror subsided, embarrassment might set in. Or shame. Or anger at herself, for allowing a natural weather phenomena to turn her into a terrified child. But she stored up these minutes regardless, to be taken out and examined, treasured, held close like he held her now.
The past could not be changed. But in the future, she would always remember that when she needed him, he appeared.
“Three seconds.” His low voice rumbled against her ear.
“Three?”
“The time between the lightning and the thunder.”
The canvas of the tent was lit by a bright flash as if in response. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“One. Two. Three.” He stroked small circles on her back. “Four. Five. Six.”
The thunder boomed.
“The storm is moving away,” he said into her hair. “It’ll be over soon.”
Her nails were clawing into his shoulders. She commanded her fingers to relax. They reluctantly agreed.
“Thanks,” she said, pulling back so she could catch his gaze, despite wishing she could stay where she was into the next week, if not into the next century. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“You might have bruises in the morning. Or scratches. Or both. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Didn’t feel a thing.”
“Good.” She relaxed, a shuddering sigh. But when the next strike came, she dug hard without thinking.
“Except for that one.” His laugh was more felt, a vibration against her cheek, than heard. “But you’re worth a little pain, Sutton Spencer.”
She turned her face into his neck, breathing in his scent, her lips a whisper away from tasting the warmth of his skin, the soft bristles of his beard brushing her skin. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being here.”
They sat listening to the wind and rain buffet the tent. She’d have to congratulate Dalip for his choice of gear. The canvas shimmied and shook, but the overall structure was sound. Here, in the dim light of the lantern surrounded by blackness: it was easy to imagine they were only two people left in the universe. No distractions, no interruptions, just them.
He cleared his throat, and discretely adjusted his lightweight khaki trousers. “The storm is subsiding. It’s been several minutes since the last lightning strike. I should leave, let you get some sleep.”
Her arms trembled, the adrenaline and fear that had flooded her system draining away. She was suddenly tired, so tired. But not sleepy. No, she was tired of the rules and strictures by which she lived her life.
Those principles kept her parents at bay and, above all, kept her professionally and financially secure as possible. But tonight, Xavier prioritized her emotional safety. He ensured she wasn’t alone and terrified. She could more than take care of herself, but having someone volunteer to be her shield when her defenses were down…
No one else had ever offered to do that for her that she could recall.
“Stay here,” she said. “There’s enough room for two.”
His gaze lowered, flashing darkly, and she realized her blanket had slipped to reveal the top curves of her breasts. And to also reveal she had removed her shirt and bra, leaving her bare under the fleece.
Heat began to spiral and coil low in her belly. “My clothes were wet.”
“I get that,” he said. “Which is why I need to go.” But he didn’t move, his arms draped around her.
She licked her suddenly dry lips, and his loose grip on her shoulder tightened. “Silly to do that when there is a comfy mattress here.”
Their gazes tangled in the dim light, and she found herself holding her breath, wishing harder than she wished in ten years. Then his hands fell, leaving cold air where his warm touch had been. “It’s better for the both of us if I leave.”
“Don’t be a martyr. You’re not going to get any sleep in that seat.”
He swung his head to catch her gaze and the feral intensity caused her to fall back, just a little. “Neither of us will sleep if I stay here, and you know that. But you’ve had a traumatic evening. I understand you might not be thinking clearly, so the gentlemanly thing to do is stay in the truck cab.”
Oh, no, she was thinking clearly. Maybe with the most clarity she’d had in years. “I don’t want to be by myself right now, true. I’m still a bit shaky. But—” she scooted closer to him, placing her hand on his bearded jaw, loving the tickle of the soft bristles against her skin “—I also want to be with you . Not any warm body. You.”
He was still. Only the rising and falling of his chest indicated he had not been magicked into stone. “We have a deal, Sutton. I need The Quantum Wraith to work.”
“So do I. But we’re not at the ranch. We’re not on the set. We’re in a…time-out.”
A faint smile appeared. “Like a toddler?”
“Like…a hockey box penalty. Once we’re out of the box, normal gameplay can resume.” Not her best simile, but the heat bubbling in her veins, reflected in his gaze, was starting to take over her synapses.
Ten years ago, she and Xavier had been on a porch swing, chatting about recent films and Sutton’s plans for life after graduation. Then an errant push of his foot had sent her tumbling against him and the simmering attraction that had been present since she first set eyes on him in his seminar burst into a raging conflagration. She couldn’t remember who kissed who first now, but seared forever on her brain were the firmness of his lips, the taste of his mouth, their tongues exploring and licking and sucking until he carried her from the porch to his living room sofa. She hadn’t been a virgin, but she hadn’t been very experienced, and just a few strokes of his thumb underneath the soaking fabric of her panties made her fall apart in his arms, shuddering and crying with joy that she was finally his.
Then a blur in her mind of hands scrambling, unbuttoning, unzipping, even ripping in the case of her underwear. Hopping on one foot to kick a shoe off, their mouths somehow remaining connected even as he lifted her T-shirt over her head. Her sigh as her breasts spilled into his palms, her nipples so tight that one slight brush of his finger caused her to quake with pleasure-pain.
His erection, hot and heavy and hard, his gasp loud and guttural when she rubbed the beading moisture over his tip, his hips jerking as her fingers traced the prominent vein, moving lower, loving how his eyes rolled back in his head, this oh so carefully controlled man powerless in her hands, begging her—
Then her phone ringing. And ringing. And ringing. Her parents demanding to know where she was on graduation night, insisting she stay the night at their hotel so they could make sure she stayed safe on a night when her classmates were undoubtedly drunk and otherwise disorderly. His insistence that she go, spend this time that would never come again with her family. The two of them now would be able to explore the world, and each other, at their leisure. Making plans to meet the next day in his office.
The letter she now knew she never received.
She tried to move closer to Xavier, but her limbs tangled in the blanket. She kicked it away, not caring she was clad only in her utilitarian white cotton underwear. “Besides, we never finished what we started all those years ago. I don’t like leaving a project unfinished.”
The storm had removed what had been left of the day’s heat. She should be shivering, bare to cool air. But his gaze burned hotter than a July noon in the desert. If she wasn’t careful, she would incinerate.
But what a way to go.