Chapter Four
Tara
I hate talking about that time in my life when everything fell apart. But I’m sitting across the table from the man who once knew me better than anyone, who heard all my hopes, my dreams, and my future plans. He deserves to know.
I rest my elbows on the table and lean forward.
“I was planning to go to college. Mom and I were buying all the necessities when Dad died of a heart attack.” I swallow over the painful lump in my throat, one that never fails to go away, even over a decade later.
His receptionist found him on the floor in the back room of his practice, already gone.
“I wanted to stay home with Mom, go to school in California or take a year off, but she refused to let me do either. She knew how much I wanted to become a vet and work with my dad.” I draw in a deep breath.
“So I went to college in New York, and Mom handled his estate. When I came home at the end of my first year, she told me she didn’t want to stay in California. That she was too lonely.”
“So what happened?” His gentle voice washes over me, giving me strength.
“Mom moved to New York to be closer to me, and I continued on with veterinary school in the city. And my dad’s best friend from his time in school, my godfather, owned a practice that had offices in Manhattan and East Hampton.
I worked with him during summers and on breaks, and he took me in when I graduated.
” I smile at the memory of how generous Harry has been from the day I relocated to the city.
“I like seeing that smile,” Axel says.
I lift one shoulder. The pain will always be there, but I found things to smile about, too.
“I guess good did come out of the bad. Mom met her new husband, I got stepsiblings out of the deal, and I’ll eventually buy Harry’s practice when he retires.
” I pause. “Mom set up a trust fund for me after selling Dad’s practice. ”
Axel nods in understanding.
“It’s just that Dad and I were so close, and I still miss him,” I admit.
He takes my hand again and cups it in his own. “I know. You were a daddy’s girl.”
I bet none of his groupies ever sees that soft smile, and warmth slides through my veins. “Yeah. I guess I was.”
“But despite the setbacks, you achieved your dream, too. Maybe it’s different than you imagined it would be, but you’re a vet, and that’s something to be proud of.” His thumb brushes back and forth over the top of my hand. “I’m proud of you.”
I hate to admit how good it feels for him to offer me comfort. To have him here. When I know better than to put any hopes in a transient man who travels the world with his band, who doesn’t own his own home, and who might want an apartment in Manhattan, a place I rarely venture anymore.
We definitely have lingering feelings for each other. And just watching him grin, his eyes crinkle with laughter. The simplest of touches arouses me in ways no man ever has. But our basic differences, the reasons we split up in the first place, haven’t changed.
I want a stable life, a home, and eventually a husband and a family with my pets. So far, nothing he’s said indicates he desires the same.
The waiter returns, and we glance at our menus, each ordering dinner.
The meal passes quickly and comfortably—if I exclude the sexual tension simmering between us.
The lingering glances, his gaze focusing on the way I slide my tongue over my bottom lip to capture the last of my wine, and how I can’t stop staring at his handsome face and memorizing the differences between the teenager and the man.
After dinner is finished and he pays the bill, we walk out of the restaurant. Surprisingly, the temperature hasn’t dropped, and it’s still pleasant outside.
“Do you want to take a walk on the beach?” he asks, obviously not ready to take me home.
I’ve had such a nice, relaxing time with him, but a walk on the beach has romantic overtones, and I know it would be a mistake to say yes. We got reacquainted, and it’s time to end the evening.
“I would, but I have to be up early for work in the morning. I operate on Wednesdays.” Though true, I recognize the excuse for what it is and have no doubt he does, too.
He studies my face, and whatever he sees there has him nodding. “Next time, then.”
I want to object to the notion of another date, but Axel has already turned and handed his ticket to the valet. When the car arrives, the valet helps me into the front seat, and we drive home in silence, my hair whipping in the wind.
Axel reaches over and takes my hand in his, threading our fingers together. He’s nothing if not determined, something I ought to know from how he’s made it to the top of his chosen profession. Not an easy feat.
Instead of fighting him, I close my eyes and allow myself to enjoy his touch, the glide of his finger over my hand, and the sound of his voice as he sings along with the classic rock song on the radio.
He walks me to my front door and pauses.
Nerves flutter in my belly as I wait for him to kiss me.
After all, it isn’t a typical first date, not when we already know each other so well.
Intimately, in fact. Which means maybe he expects more than a kiss.
If he wants to come inside and end up in my bed, I’m not ready.
And if I let him in, I’m afraid I won’t be able to turn him down. Which means I’ll have to do it here on the porch. Nerves churning, uncertainty about my choice settles inside me, but sending him away will be for the best.
I put the key in the door and turn the lock, but leave it closed so Dakota won’t come running out.
Turning slightly, I face him. “Thanks for tonight. It was great seeing you again.”
A slight smile lifts his lips, and he steps closer.
His cologne, a musky aftershave that is new to me but suits him, wafts around me. I like the scent and want to breathe it in deeper. Breathe him in. Despite all the mental warnings I’ve given myself on the drive home, desire for him pounds inside me.
“You make that sound like goodbye, Tara.” He leans in, his face close to mine. “It’s not. In fact, you’ll be seeing me again soon.” He presses a kiss to the tip of my nose and steps back. “Now let me watch you get inside safely before I take off.”
I blink in surprise. He didn’t ask to come in or request anything more than I was willing to give. I stare at him a beat too long before turning the knob and letting myself inside, using my knees to keep Dakota from bolting out to greet him.
I shut the door, lean back against it, and blow out a deep breath, my heart pounding hard in my chest. All that anticipation and worry for nothing. And though I hate to admit it, even to myself, I’m beyond disappointed he didn’t even try for a good-night kiss.
* * *
Axel
With a hard-on and no outlet other than my hand available, I walk into my house and flick on the lights.
Fucking place is too big and too lonely.
After living at Dash’s with the guys last summer, I never adjusted to being by myself.
Even in LA, I shared an oversized apartment with one of my Caged Chaos bandmates.
And since I don’t know where my home base will be, I haven’t ordered furniture, which means I’m living in a place that is empty and echoes.
I toss my keys onto the kitchen counter and grab a beer from the fridge.
Yeah, I had a good time with Tara tonight.
The only thing that could have made it better would have been ending up in her bed, but I knew going in that I have a long road ahead.
One I’ll have to take slowly. Winning her trust isn’t going to be easy.
There’s something about me or my life that bugs her, and I’m not sure what. Yet. I drink half the beer and pour the rest down the drain before heading into my room. After stripping and climbing into bed, I replay the few minutes by her door at the end of the night.
I leaned in close, inhaling her warm, vanilla scent, and my dick grew hard. Fighting the need to kiss her lips and take possession of her luscious mouth wasn’t easy, but this is a marathon, not a sprint.
And I’m adult enough not to listen to my cock and to think with my brain, because she’ll be worth it in the end. When I stepped back and glanced at her face, a flash of disappointment flickered in her gaze. At least I hope that’s what I saw.
On that note, I grab my dick in my hand, picture Tara’s mouth wrapped around me, and take care of the hard problem that would have kept me awake.
* * *
Axel
The next morning, the band plans to work on a new song, and I drive over to Dash’s house to meet up with the guys.
My sister long since gave up her job as our assistant, and her replacement, a preppy guy named Brent, is perfect for the position.
He keeps us well fed, hydrated and manages each of our appointments and the band’s schedule as a whole.
Since firing our manager, Dean Jerome, last summer, all four band members have spent hours discussing what we want for the future.
Instead of having someone to negotiate all our business, we hired a music lawyer to handle contracts, and the rest of our operations are done in-house by separate people.
No one person will take a percentage and fuck with us ever again.
Though I was new to the band when Dean started pushing too hard and acting outside of the band’s best interests, the man had an issue with Cassidy as Dash’s girlfriend.
If Dash hadn’t stepped up first, I might have pummeled Dean into the ground for the way he treated Cass.
But Dean is long gone, and Brent does a good job juggling the various people who need access to the band.
The four band members spend the day jamming the song, rewriting the chorus, and arguing over key.
All normal in a day’s work. Afterwards, Jagger and Mac go to grab dinner, and I join them.
Otherwise, I’d be doubly tempted to call or text Tara.
I don’t want to play games, and the urge to ask her out again is strong.
I figure she needs a day or two to process our date, seeing me again, and of course, time to build up her walls. I expect it. Just as I plan to knock them down.
Friday morning, I cave, and after I park in Dash’s huge driveaway, I call her before heading inside.
“Hello?” Tara answers in a breathless voice that reminds me of a hot, sweaty session in bed.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” I ask.
“I’m just running late this morning. I overslept, which isn’t like me,” she says, her voice still husky.
I adjust my dick in my pants. “I want to take you out Saturday night.” I get to the point, not wanting to keep her long if she’s busy.
“I’m… Saturday’s not good. I have plans.”
My stomach plummets at her words. Before I can ask what those plans are and with whom, because yeah, I want to know, she speaks but obviously not to me.
“Oh, hi, Mom. Sorry I’m late,” she says.
“Your first patient is already in one of the rooms,” I hear her mother say.
Shit.
“I have to go, Axel. I’m sorry,” she says and disconnects the call, leaving me holding the phone in my hand.
I understand she has a job to do, so her hanging up doesn’t bother me. Turning me down on Saturday night for what I figure is a date—because what else would a smart, beautiful woman have planned on the weekend?—that stings.
* * *
Tara
My first appointment of the morning is a quick one, a beagle named Buster with bad breath. We schedule him for a teeth cleaning, and he is on his way. My second patient is running late, and considering my own harried morning, I can’t be upset.
I walk over to my mom, who sits at the reception desk, confirming appointments for later in the week. My mother takes one look at me and puts down the receiver.
“Did you really tell Axel you couldn’t go out with him because you had plans?” Disappointment lights my mother’s gaze.
I should have known my mother was eavesdropping on my call as I rushed in earlier. “I did because I do. It’s Amy’s bachelorette party, remember?” I look over my mom’s shoulder at the rest of today’s schedule.
My mom lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Where, oh, where did I go wrong with you? The man probably thinks you have a date!”
I blink. “I didn’t mean to make him think that. I was just rushing into work.” And if he assumes me being busy means another man asked me out? It isn’t like we’re exclusive or even officially dating.
“What would you have said if you weren’t in a rush and didn’t have Amy’s party?” my mom asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. Nor am I going to get into the discussion with my mother.
I already spent the days since our date obsessing over every word I said, he said, and his lack of a kiss afterward. But mostly I think about his present circumstances. He rents a house, travels for tours, and is the furthest thing from settled I can imagine.
“I’m starting to think you don’t ever want to get married,” my mother says on a huff just as the phone rings, saving me from further conversation.
And since my next patient walks through the door, I’m spared from overthinking as well.