Chapter Twenty-Five
“Mornin’.”
The sun splayed through a gigantic window on the other side of the room, casting a blanket of gold onto the bed. Two lengthy bronze-colored velvet curtains hung on either side of the glass.
“Shit. Sorry. I meant to be up and at ’em before you.” I sat straight up, quickly tugging at the sheets to cover my exposed body. The room was spinning, presumably from last night and the rude reality of what past Scarlett had left for future Scarlett to deal with. “What time is it?”
“It’s just after nine,” he said, holding two diner-like mugs with steam rising from them, standing in nothing but the sunlight and a pair of gym shorts, his camo boxer briefs peeking out from underneath. “Is there a reason why you wanted to be gone before I woke up?” he asked.
The directness of his question caught me off guard.
I fumbled around the bed, pretending to be looking for something while I decided how I wanted to respond.
“I just assumed…” I paused, last night had felt like a dream, but we’d obviously got caught up in the moment and the reality of the situation was now staring at me head-on, paving the way for the hangover anxiety to consume me.
Not to mention the pesky little voice in my head that said he’d finally slept with me, what reason did he have to stick around now.
“Let me guess.” A look of discontent rolled across his face. “You just assumed that I expected you to be gone. That I wasn’t much of a cuddle-after-we-fuck kind of guy?”
Wasn’t it a bit early for such bluntness?
I hadn’t meant to offend him; I was really just trying to make this situation as uncomplicated as possible, and unbeknownst to him, there were a lot of other things at play here.
But now thinking about it, I’d already failed at that.
I bit my lip, shifting my weight in the very large but very comfy bed. “Well… yeah. I mean, sort of.” Silence danced around the two of us as I observed his delicious body in the doorway. Damn he looked good, and he looked even better after I registered one of those coffees in his hands was for me.
“I definitely didn’t expect you to be the ‘deliver coffee to my bedside’ kind of guy, that’s for damn sure,” I teased in an attempt to ease the tension in the air.
But he couldn’t let it go.
“If I was, in fact, the guy you mentioned before, don’t you think I would’ve asked you to leave last night?
” he questioned, slowly finding his way onto the bed, placing one coffee on the nightstand and bringing the other with him.
“Not only did I not ask you to leave, but I begged you to stay and then proceeded to reward you for doing so.” The discontent had disappeared and a smirk had found its way front and center on his face.
“Maybe you’re just really good at role playing,” I offered.
Heat surfaced everywhere as flashes of last night’s events displayed on a big screen in my mind. My thoughts immediately found their way to his hands on my body. He hadn’t left a single inch of it untouched. The thought alone could’ve had me ready for round three—or was it four?
Stetson cleared his throat, no doubt trying to get my attention as he handed over a cup of piping hot black coffee.
Just how I liked it.
“How did you know?” I asked, sipping the brutally strong coffee.
“Because the days you came to the recording studio early you almost always had a cup of coffee with you in this same stark black color.”
“Oh,” I said, unsure how to even respond to that level of attention to detail, especially coming from him.
“And just so we’re clear, I am really good at role playing in every sense of the word, but I can also say without a doubt that what I was doing last night could never be defined as role playing,” he said, reaching for the other cup of coffee that also appeared to be sans cream and sugar, taking a slow sip.
“And you can use our little agreement from the bar as an excuse, if that’s what you need to do to justify the events of last night, but you will never be able to convince me that what happened between us was anything other than pure fucking chemistry. ”
He wasn’t wrong.
I’d never felt the way I had last night.
The intensity paired with the overwhelming sense of pleasure mixed together to form one helluva euphoric bubble, one that I wished I could’ve stayed in forever.
“You’re not wrong,” I blurted, a sense of urgency finding its way up my throat.
“I can’t argue with you on that one, but it’s not just that, Stetson.
” The seriousness layered in my voice caught me off guard, and him too.
I watched his posture shift; it was firmer and more closed off than before.
I hated it, but if I let myself get swept up in all of it again, it would only be harder in the end.
“Things aren’t always as they seem, you should know that better than anyone.
And between your new album, the article, and you trying to find Ruby’s parents—” I abruptly stopped mid-sentence, our conversation from yesterday coming barreling back.
“What does that have to do with us? Or whatever this is?” he asked.
I swiveled my legs around to the floor, doing my best to keep myself covered while also attempting to collect my clothes.
Unfortunately, it didn’t look like any of them had ended up in the bedroom.
Luckily, I spotted a large white T-shirt draped over a chair in the corner.
“A lot. It has a lot to do with it. Plus, I’ve been avoiding the elephant in the room that is Donna.
She entrusted me with this article and to keep things professional.
Not to mention, if I know anything about Delilah, she’ll have already told Donna about us and what she saw at The Wheel last night. ”
He smiled.
“We can joke about it all we want, but after last night, I’ve crossed a line and disrespected her wishes. That isn’t who I am,” I admitted. The churning in my stomach was a mix of a slight hangover and guilt, a nasty combination.
“If anyone crossed a line, it was me. And if I did something that puts you in a shitty situation, I’m truly sorry, but Scarlett, you deserve to be happy, and I know I’ve seen glimmers of happiness shining right out of you.”
Everything compounded all at once, drowning me in a pool of anxiety.
I pulled the T-shirt over my head, frustrated now as I swiftly shuffled through the door and into the living room.
“I’m so fucking sick of everyone telling me I deserve happiness.
What if I don’t? What if it isn’t that easy?
Every single time I get close to what I think might be a glimpse of happiness, something bad happens.
” My voice was louder now, booming back toward Stetson.
“Scarlett—” He followed behind me, seemingly unbothered by the thunder rumbling around us. “Where is this coming from? This can’t all be because of the article and Donna; there has to be something else. What aren’t you telling me?”
My jeans and boots were in eyeshot; I ripped the denim up my thighs and grabbed the boots in one hand. “Stetson, I can’t do this. Any of it.” My chest heaved in defeat as I pulled the arched front door open, turning back to catch one last glimpse of him. “I’m sorry.”
“Donna? Are you here?” I asked, the anxiety coursing through my veins, the constant pulse of it making me nauseous.
Even though it was Saturday, I was almost positive Donna would be at work.
“Back here.”
My feet shuffled toward the voice that wafted from the back of the office.
“Oh, darlin’, I was not expecting you,” she said, then gave me a once-over. “Is everything okay?”
I guessed the oversized T-shirt, jeans, boots, and disheveled hair and makeup weren’t giving my best look.
“Not really,” I released. “I don’t think I can finish the Stetson Walker article.”
“Why?” Her eyes looked just as disappointed as her voice sounded.
“Has Delilah not told you already?” I asked.
“Delilah?” she questioned. “No, she didn’t say anything to me, but she is on a month-long vacation with Alexis and Abby. Said she needed a break from Quincey Falls,” Donna said, shrugging her shoulders. “You never know with that girl.”
I wasn’t sure if having Delilah spill the news first would’ve made this easier or not, but nonetheless, I had to.
“I don’t even know where to start, but I guess being honest with you might be the best place.
” I heaved a deep breath, combing my fingers through my ratty hair.
“As of last night—” I gazed down at my outfit.
“Stetson’s and my relationship is no longer professional.
I know you trusted me with this article, and I let you down and for that.
I’m so sorry.” I dropped my head, hating that I was too much of a coward to look her in the eyes.
“Oh, Scarlett. You haven’t let me down. Have you even had a chance to read what you’ve sent me so far? The article is incredible.”
Her words pulled my gaze to her. “Really?”
I’d kind of forgotten that I’d slowly sent her bits and pieces of the article over the course of the last couple of weeks.
“Really.” She beamed. “I have to say, the way you depict him as a real person, pulling back all the shiny layers that we normally see and instead showing the raw and honest version of him is truly spectacular.”
A tight-lipped smile slipped out. The raw and honest version of him was my favorite.
“But there is so much more that needs to be written, and after learning some of it, I just don’t feel like I can be the one to write it,” I said.
“Care to share?”
“I can’t. It’s not my place. Not anymore. I’m sorry.” The realization left me empty, like everything I’d worked for over the last couple of months had been discarded with the rest of the trash.
“You don’t have to be sorry; I’ll figure it out.
But I do think you should take a couple of days to think about this.
A lot of people can write, but not many can write like you and even fewer can evoke the emotions you do.
Stetson feels safe with you, that’s obvious, so if we switch writers, it’s not going to be the same.
And I think you owe it to yourself to finish this one.
” I understood what she was saying, but she also didn’t know the full story, and that always changed things.
She wrapped her body around mine, her fragile arms giving me a tight hug. “I won’t force you to write it, but I will force you to think about. Give yourself at least a week, and then you can let me know. Okay?”
My body melted closer to her, using her embrace as the support I needed.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But what about Stetson and me?”
“What about you guys?” Her lopsided smile covered me in warmth. “We’re only human; we can’t help who we’re attracted to.
“But when you assigned me this article, you told me I was the only one you could trust to be professional…” The guilt returned, covering me in a blanket of shame.
Donna’s finger lifted my chin. “I just didn’t want Delilah to think she deserved to write the article. Her dad might have his thumb on me, being one of our biggest investors, but I’m smarter than he’ll ever give me credit for.”
“A lady after my own heart.” I haphazardly smirked before turning away from her and shuffling to the door. I stopped, grabbing her attention again. “Thank you, Donna. I’ll let you know what I decide.”
“Okay, darlin’, please do.”