Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Rayne
It’s almost midnight when I get home. I shower away the studio make-up, slide into my satin pjs, and tuck my hair beneath a silk bonnet. The noise of the party is now replaced by the low timber of DK’s voice.
“You were exceptional, Loo-nah.” His velvety rasp comes through the phone lying on my pillow. “Masterful. Brilliant.”
“Mhm.” I curl deeper under the covers with a sleepy half-smile. I’m too exhausted to put up much of a fight. “Don’t think a little late-night flattery is going to get you off the hook. I know all about your secret little powwows with my dad.”
“They weren’t secret.”
“Oh, really. So I just missed the memo on the father-boyfriend meetings?”
“You had a debate to prepare for. I wanted more information on Hollis’s patterns, and I wasn’t going to distract you or drag you back to that dark place while you were trying to focus.
So I went to your dad. We’ve been mutually venting, which keeps us from doing something illegal, and getting to know each other in the process. Win-win.”
“That’s incredibly low,” I groan. “How am I supposed to maintain my righteous anger when your gesture is kinda romantic?”
“You’re not really mad about it, are you?”
“No,” I assure him. “I’m glad you two are bonding. I just wish Hollis wasn’t the catalyst. But I’ve already given him enough of my energy tonight.”
“You didn’t, Luna,” he says, and I hear that same fervent pride I caught in his eyes earlier. “You took his energy, repurposed it, and claimed that entire stage for yourself.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Not for sixteen hours, twenty-three minutes, and forty seconds.”
“Boy, stop. You did not just calculate the exact timestamp.”
“I might be off by a few seconds,” he says with a grin, the sheets rustling in the background.
That’s always the hardest part. The reminder that he’s in his bed and I’m in mine. Six blocks away, connected only by a phone call.
“I miss you so much,” I sigh, tracing a finger over the empty space on the mattress. “I don’t know what’s worse, not seeing you at all, or you standing right there looking all fine in your suits and pocket squares while I have to keep my hands to myself.”
He makes a rough, gravelled sound. “It’s pure torture for me too, but I have some good news.”
“What?” I perk up, the exhaustion forgotten.
“Neo said the lake house is available this Sunday. Someone shortened their stay.”
My pulse kicks.
“We could spend the whole day together,” he continues. “And if you can swing it, the night, too.”
A breathless thrill shoots through me. Total privacy. No chance of getting caught. Just time together. And a shared bed with DK’s solid warmth pressed against me all night.
“I’m sure I can move around some things on Monday morning,” I say, already mentally rearranging my schedule.
“I can’t wait to have you all to myself, Luna.”
I smile into the darkness and start the three-day countdown.
We decided on separate cars to eliminate even the slightest risk of anyone seeing us together.
Lot keeps me entertained for the last hour of the drive, regaling me with the latest Queenie escapades.
I’ve never been much of a cat person, and living with Queenie for a few weeks when Lot was in town hadn’t changed my mind.
That diva was a demanding, snarling, holy terror that Lot swears has toned down thanks to cat play therapy and chamomile drops.
Personally, it sounds like too much trouble, but her feline stories crack me up.
“So, I was styling a vintage shirt for a client…” Lot says through the Bluetooth speakers.
“And Queenie gets hold of the crafting glitter. Ray, she lapped that stuff up like it was premium catnip. I told Dice to take it away from her, and do you know this two-hundred-pound grown man had the nerve to tell me he wasn’t about to tussle with no lit’l bitty cat, and get his pretty face clawed off?
” She kisses her teeth, dragging the sound across the dashboard.
“Girl’s been shitting glitter for days. Litter box looking like she was at a rave. ”
My laughter fills the interior. “I’m with Dice on this one. I would’ve let that hellcat eat the whole container, too.”
“I know she’s sometimes much, but honestly, she can be so sweet when she wants to be.”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” I don’t buy that for a minute.
“Sooo… what are you and your mans getting up to besides the obvious?”
“Probably just chilling. This campaign trail ain’t for the faint of heart. I feel like I could sleep for a solid week, I’m so tired.”
“You been at it, girl. And this whole thing with Hollis… that shit is just fucked up. It must be giving you so much stress.”
I breathe through the agitation at just hearing his name, and consciously loosen my tightened grip on the steering wheel.
“I can’t afford to let it get to me. Anika says the posts have become more frequent and more incendiary since the debate.
We figured they would be. His endgame is to discredit me.
I think that confrontation at the festival riled him up more than I expected.
His fragile ego couldn’t handle being dismissed, so here we are. ”
“Dakarai and your dad still deep in their ‘down with Hollis’ bonding circle and plotting to break his kneecaps?”
I give a short laugh, though I’m concerned with DK’s obsession.
“Anika looked into this high-level tech guy DK’s used before.
Ridiculously expensive. I don’t want to be spending campaign dollars on a digital ghost hunt.
Besides, what’s getting definitive proof going to do?
I already know it’s him, like one-hundred percent.
His petty online actions aren’t illegal.
The worst I could do with proof is expose him and maybe file a civil suit for defamation, but then his toxic fuckery overshadows my campaign.
So, no. Let him spew and rant on his stupid little forum.
I’m not giving him my breath or time. Period. ”
“Yes, girl,” Lot cheers, her voice fired with solidarity. “What’s that saying? Success is the best revenge. You just keep on thriving right in his punk-ass face.”
“That’s my plan.” I shift subjects, and stuff Hollis back into that sealed garbage bin where he belongs, refusing to let him encroach on this precious time with DK. “Lexie and C’s wedding is next month. You’re definitely coming, right?”
“For sure. I wouldn’t miss our boy tying the knot. I love Lexie for him.”
“Same.”
We spend the rest of the drive talking about dress options and gift ideas, ending the call just as I hit the final, isolated stretch of road leading to the lake house.
When the water comes into view through the trees, my heart starts spinning and twirling—doing a whole damn dance routine.
I pull into the secluded driveway and park at the top of the incline beside his Audi.
Before I can even turn off the ignition, the front door swings open, and DK comes jogging down the steps in board shorts and a gray tank top. I step out of the car, and I’m instantly gathered into his arms.
The impact is breathless.
He sweeps me clear off my feet, crushing me against his chest in a hug so tight I can barely draw air into my lungs.
But I don’t care. I bury my face in the crook of his neck.
He smells of clean skin and cedar warmth.
Happiness like no other consumes me all at once, a deluge of that feels like a euphoric high.
When he finally sets me down, he keeps one arm banded around my waist while the other cups the back of my neck.
We just stare at each other, openly. The way we can’t in public.
Our eyes connect, throwing a thousand sparks between us.
My fingers trace over his cheeks, the coarse texture of his bearded jaw, the full curve of his lips.
I’ve been touch-starved for two whole weeks, and the sheer feel of him beneath my hands is almost overwhelming in depth and intensity.
“I can’t believe I’m here with you,” I whisper.
“It felt like forever,” he rasps. Then his lips come down on mine in a kiss born of longing and relief.
The ache of our separation dissolves like clouds burned away by sunshine.
Without warning, tears flood my eyes. I don’t cry often—hardly ever.
Something has to cut through the layers to break the dam like this.
I wind my arms around his back, the tears slipping down my cheeks even as our parted lips move together, drinking each other in.
He must feel the dampness because he eases back. “Hey,” he murmurs, protective concern rolling through his deep voice.
“I’ve been weepy for days.” I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. “I’m exhausted. I’m getting my period. And I’m… I’m so fucking happy to see you.” The confession only makes me cry harder.
DK doesn’t say a word. He simply pulls me back against his chest and wraps me in his big arms. One hand strokes down my back, soothing me until there isn’t another tear left to cry.
It’s a minute before I lift my gaze to his with a watery grin and eyes that probably look as puffy as they feel. “That wasn’t the seductive greeting I intended.”
His returning smile is tender with understanding. “You needed that, Luna.” He kisses my damp cheeks, then my lips. “You’ve been carrying a ton of pressure. I just want you to rest while you’re here. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Okay.” I nod, eager to let him.
DK grabs my overnight bag from the passenger seat and intertwines our fingers as he leads us up the wooden steps and into the foyer of our secret hideaway.
“I brought lunch,” he says, setting my bag by the stairs. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I admit, suddenly aware of how empty my stomach is. I’d only had coffee this morning during an early session with some of the independent marina owners, listening to their concerns and ideas before I got on the road.