Chapter 23
23
Poppy
I close my eyes, letting the water drift over my shoulders as I rest on my arms in front of me. Kicking gently behind me helps me stay afloat in the heated pool. Every bone in my body is so relaxed I may never leave.
When a cup is set down nearby, Laird says, “I bought it for the view.”
Opening my eyes again, I stare ahead into the distance, down the hills of Malibu and out to the ocean. Other homes dot the area, but it really does feel like we’re in heaven up here. “It’s stunning.”
The water lunges toward me when he hops in. Wading his way through the pool, he’s quiet like the sunset and mimics my position on the infinity edge. I turn to look at him, to see him in this new environment. This is his space, though I guess the cabin was as well, a Faris escape. “How often do you see family?”
“My parents, probably once or twice a month. They’ll drive up to LA for lunch or dinner, or we’ll go to Nikki’s to spend the day since she has a kid. My mom likes to check on my kitchen and stock it if it’s not deemed ‘full enough’ in her opinion.” He laughs to himself but then cuts it short. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like—”
“You sounded how you should. I love that your family is supportive and cares so much about you. That’s like my best friend’s family for me. The Westcotts are the family I never had. Her mom came to my plays, and her brothers gave my dates a hard time. Her dad always even made sure to cook my burger just the way I like it.”
“Which is?”
“Don’t judge. Medium well.”
He smiles, and it’s different here, like his demeanor. He was at ease in Deer Lake, but here, he’s at home. Tapping his temple, he says, “I’ll remember that.” He slides through the water to the edge and takes a drink from his cup.
I slip through as well, not opposed to having the hair of the dog. “Why am I so tired? We didn’t even do anything today other than drive back to LA.”
“We cleaned pretty heavily.”
I laugh. “Speaking of cleaning, I’m glad I was the first person you ran into, or someone else might be here with you right now.”
I’m pulled to him, slick in the water as he situates me so I can straddle him. “Never would’ve happened with anyone else. I promise you that, baby.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I feel his dick hard against my center, so I lift and lower just enough to elicit a reaction. “How can you be so sure? She might have been hot.”
Dipping his head, he attacks my neck with kisses and nips, laughter, and a hunger that feeds into it. As the night air cools, his hot breath sends a wave of goose bumps skittering across my back. He takes a breath and then leans back again, eyeing me. “You say that as if I would have noticed. When are you going to understand? I was made for you. That’s why we fit together so perfectly.”
I’ve been swooned by, endlessly charmed, turned on, and left satisfied beyond recognition, and he still manages to leave me breathless. I kiss him, and just like at the cabin, we fall together so seamlessly and are left depleted and blissful in the aftermath.
I step out of the shower and dry off.
I’m not sure what Laird decided to order for dinner since I left it up to him, but I’m famished. So I hurry through my routine and am scrunching the towel over my damp hair hoping for some soft waves without the hassle of styling it.
“I don’t need to be alone at Deer Lake to find my purpose. I found it, and I’m back.” Eavesdropping is the worst, but I lean closer to the bathroom door that he left cracked open. “I’m going to lay low for the rest of the week and make music, sleep, maybe surf, and get back in shape, but from home.”
Back in shape?
What the . . . How is that possible?! There’s no way to improve the perfect specimen. Even with my head upside down, I grin shamelessly from the memory of what I did to his abs earlier. I’ll happily do it again, though he said turnabout is fair play. I take that as a direct threat to my vagina. Gah! He’s so amazing.
“No, Shane. Don’t come over. I want to work through a few things and figure out my next steps . . . Okay . . . right. I’ll be there. . .” The quiet extends as he paces the bedroom. His footsteps are heavy against the wooden floor, but he stops and says, “I said I’ll be there. Later, man.”
I slowly push open the door, hair hanging long over my right shoulder with a towel wrapped around me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, tossing his phone to the bed. “Never better with you here.”
It’s tempting to search his face—eyes, slick of his tongue, a tense tic of his jaw—but I won’t do that to him. I’m going to take his words for what they are. “Charmer.”
He heads for the door but stops. His muscles are showing off for me when he leans against the frame. And that smile? Mmm . So great. “Food should be here any minute.”
“I’ll be right out.”
Seemingly satisfied, he heads back down the hall. I go for my suitcase, which he has set up on an ottoman by the large sliding glass door. I’m not thrilled with my clothing options, considering I packed for a job and not to hang out with my . . . huh. Boyfriend?
I guess that’s another discussion we also failed to have on the way to Malibu. We were more distracted by traffic and what we wanted to do with the rest of our week than to figure out titles for introductions to others. Does it matter what we’re called when we’re in love? No. It’s a technicality at best. At worst, we’re whatever we want to be.
A buzz has me crossing the room to retrieve my phone from the bathroom, but I stop before I reach it and turn back. It’s not my phone buzzing. It’s his.
It’s lit up on the bed, so I call, “Laird?”
“Yeah?”
“You left your phone in here.”
“Thanks.” He returns and grabs it but stops when he sees a text on the screen. Looking at me, he asks, “Did you see it?”
“No.” I suddenly feel like I’m under the microscope, but all he did was ask a question. “Should I?” I whisper, worried I’ve just made a grave mistake. Do I want to see the barrage of texts this man, this rock god, receives on average?
Not if I want to protect my self-esteem.
“It’s my sister. Shane must have told her I was back.” He chuckles from an inside joke. “I can’t promise she won’t show up unannounced.”
“I’m okay with that if you are. Or are you thinking I should head home?”
Coming toward me, he grasps my sides, then slides his hands to my lower back. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.”
“That’s called a hostage situation.”
“I’m okay with it. I’ll happily go down for it.”
Like champagne, a giggle bubbles up to the surface. “You’re ridiculous and—”
“And you’re madly in love with me like I am you?”
“Not even a question. Just facts.”
Another text causes us to look down at his phone again. “If I’m meeting your family, I should probably get dressed.” The release is slow, the grin still wide on his face while he watches me dig through my suitcase. “I don’t have anything I’d be comfortable wearing to meet your sister. The Nikki Faris, who’s a style icon as well as famous.”
His fingers fly across the screen, and then he looks up and pockets it away. “I told her tomorrow. I’m too tired for a deep conversation.”
I pull on a tank top and boxer shorts. “Thank you and noted.”
I was worried that our love bubble would burst once we left Deer Lake. It hasn’t. It’s moved with us. I’m feeling too at home in his place already. We eat tacos, queso, and chips in front of the TV in the living room, figure out the groceries I need to get for the menu I have planned, and then I fall asleep with my head on his lap.
It’s too comfortable. He’s too comfortable like I’ve known him forever.
Just after one in the morning, I’m tangled up in him in bed, my favorite place to be with Laird, when he asks, “Marina Westcott is your best friend?”
The TV lights up the room, and after my quick nap in the living room, I haven’t been able to fall asleep again. Pushing up, I lift my head off his chest. “Random.”
“You mentioned her being your family. I guess I just put two and two together when you said the Westcotts, referring to her brothers.”
Lying back down, I roll to my side to face him. “We grew up together.”
“She was there for you after the accident?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for her. Well, and her husband. When being at home with my mother became too much, Marina and her husband took me in.”
“Cash Ryatt.” I nod as the cogs figuratively turn, judging by the distance in his eyes. I reach over and smooth his brows, hoping to ease the tension gathered there. He says, “I met them in Austin after the show.”
Nodding again as if it’s a skill I’ve honed, I reply, “That was the concert I was at and where I got my hat. Though unfortunately I don’t remember. I wish I did.”
His chest rises with a deep breath that he holds for a count as he stares at the ceiling. When he releases it long and slow, he turns to me. “I wish you did as well.”
I come closer, kissing his bicep. “Wouldn’t it have been amazing if we’d met?” I sigh with a smile, thinking about the chances of that and then me being here with him now. “We would have such a great story to tell.”
My smile is met with sadness. He slips his arm under me and says, “The best.” Leaning over, he kisses my head. “I’m going to get some sleep now. Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams,” I reply, feeling like I said something wrong. I hate the way his moods shift with the tides. I’m not sure what I said that changed the temperature of the room. If I did, I’d know which landmines to avoid. Instead, I keep setting them off without any warning.
Morning brings a new beginning.
I yawn before reaching for Laird, but he’s not there.
I thought my eyes weren’t open. They are. It’s pitch black in this room.
Careful when I climb out of bed, I head to the bathroom. Since I’m there, I brush my teeth, wanting fresh breath when I attack him with kisses. I don’t worry about how I look since we’ll most likely end up right back in bed.
I somehow—coughs Laird coughs—lost my tank top and shorts in the bed last night. We didn’t have sex, but we did get dirty. Dark becomes light as I pad down the hallway toward the living room. Giving him an excellent view as I stretch for him. “Good morning.”
It all happens so fast I don’t have time to react. “Oh shit,” he says, running for me like I’m about to be tackled.
My gaze pivots to the kitchen, where I see Nikki Faris. His sister. His twin sister. She says, “You must be Poppy.”
Body blocked into his arms, I’m rushed back into the bedroom. The door closes, and he smacks a button on the wall, demanding the curtains open. My heart left my body back in the living room, but my eyes are wide open. “Was that your sister?”
The horror I feel inside is written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Oh shit is right . . .