“Don’t answer yet, Rylee.” Colton’s voice is a plea, mistaking the shake of my head as a denial to his request. “Have dinner with me first before you tell me no.” I step back from him, needing the distance despite knowing I’m already going to tell him yes. “I have to have at least one more night with you. I need to.” His eyes search mine for an answer. “I’ll pick you up at three o’clock tomorrow.”

Now I’m the lemming running toward the cliff.

I stare at him. Since when do I let anyone make decisions for me? “I can drive, Colton,” I say exasperated that once again he’s made the decision for me. If I’m willing to try for him, shouldn’t he try for me as well?

“Nope,” he smiles holding the door open for me as we leave Starbucks. “I’m driving. That way you can’t run away.”


CHAPTER 23


“We don’t have to fix each other. Come over. We don’t have to say forever. Come over.” I hum along with the Kenny Chesney song that is playing softly, ironically, on the speakers of the Range Rover as we drive north along the coast on Pacific Coast Highway. I smile at the coincidence that Colton had texted me this song earlier in the day, and now it is playing on the radio as one of his security staff named Sammy drives me to wherever he is.

I reach beside me at my bag, rifling through the change of clothes and miscellaneous toiletries I presumptuously packed. I pull out my compact mirror to check my reflection. My hair is piled on the top of my head in a stylish yet effortless disarray of curls with several wisps hanging loosely around my face and onto my nape. I set down my compact and bring my hands back to check the tie on my neck where the straps of my blue maxi dress meet, leaving my back bare until just below my shoulder blades. I say a silent thank you to Haddie for her suggestion to wear the dress. Cute, casual, and just enough cleavage to keep him sneaking a peak she had told me over our second glass of wine.

As we drive north, the lush hills on my right give way to the ocean on our left. I place a hand over my stomach to try and settle the butterflies fluttering there for some odd reason. I shouldn’t be nervous to see Colton, but I am. Inexplicably I feel that tonight is going to be a turning point for whatever “we” are. I lean my head back and look out the window at the endless sea and hope that I can handle the repercussions of whatever that turning point may be. I close my eyes momentarily and wonder how an intelligent woman like me can knowingly walk into foreseeable devastation.

Taylor Swift’s “Red” is playing when we start through the town of Malibu. I listen to the words, relating to them. “Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street.” I shake my head, feeling like that dead end is going to come so much quicker than I want it to when it comes to Colton. Against my better judgment, I’m pressing the gas pedal trying to see where this takes us instead of slamming on the brakes.

Sammy turns left onto a street, the sign reading Broadbeach Road, and I am pulled from my thoughts to survey the neighborhood. Expensive houses line my left, bordering the coveted Malibu shoreline. Houses range in style from modern to Cape Cod to old world, with perfectly manicured landscaping and most behind gated walls.

Within moments we have turned up to a driveway where large wooden gates are swinging open for us. We pull through the gates onto a cobblestone and grass driveway and come to a stop. Sammy escorts me from the car and I look up at the two-story structure in front of me. It has an impenetrable-looking ledge stone façade, the top portion shaped like a stretched letter ‘U’ where an open-air deck sits between two sections of the house. There is an absence of windows on the walls that face me, giving it a formidable edge, and I can infer that the opposing walls are solely glass to showcase the Pacific. At ground level below the deck is a massive arched wooden door, and my eyes are drawn to it as it slowly opens.

Colton stands in the open doorway, stopping me in my tracks when a slow, lazy smile lifts one corner of his mouth. The sight of him is like a sucker punch to my abdomen. I struggle to breathe as I drink him in. He is all kinds of sexy, wearing a pair of worn blue jeans, faded black t-shirt, and bare feet. I’m not sure why the sight of his bare feet peeking out from beneath his pant legs is so attractive to me, but its worth another glance. I regain my wits despite the humming of nerves and start moving toward him again as his eyes do a languorous appraisal of my body. I reach the doorway and stop in front of him, my smile matching his.

“I told you I’d hurt you and yet here you are,” he murmurs captivated, astonishment flickering through his green eyes. His words sink into me and before I have a chance to process them, he reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me against him. My hands land on his chest feeling every bit of muscle beneath the incredibly soft cotton of his shirt. “Hi,” he breathes, a shy smile on his lips and eyes steadfast on mine.

“Hi,” is all I can manage before he leans in and brushes a slow, tantalizing kiss on my lips that speaks of the possibilities this evening holds. When he pulls away, every nerve in my body is humming.

“Beautiful as always, Rylee,” he praises taking my hand and ushering me in the door. “Welcome to my home.”

The significance of his statement is not lost on me. This is his home. Not a place he brings his sometimes girl. I can’t help wondering if he has invited me here to prove a point. To demonstrate that maybe he is trying since I am.

All thoughts leave my head as we enter the great room of the house. I am met with an unhindered view of a beautiful terrace and the ocean beyond. Glass pocket doors have been slid aside, leaving the house open to the subtle breeze blowing in off of the water. My gasp is audible as I step past him without invitation and out onto the deck to admire the sight for several moments. “It’s beautiful. I—” I murmur, turning my head back to him and the rest of my sentence falters as I look at him. He is leaning against the back of a leather couch the color of chocolate, his hands shoved casually in his pockets, and the look in his eyes as he connects with mine is one of such intensity that I suddenly feel shy. I feel as if he can see everything deep within me: my hopes, my fears, and the fact that I’ve fallen in love with him. Uncomfortable that my every thought feels like it is on display, I try to break up the electric atmosphere. “Thank you for having me here, Colton.”

He pushes off of the couch and saunters toward me, every part of my body aching for his touch. “I’m glad you’re here. Would you like a tour or a drink out on the patio?”

“Patio,” I tell him immediately, wanting to soak up the sun and the beautiful view with him. I wander out onto the sprawling deck complete with an infinity edge pool, built-in barbeque island to the right, and the most comfortable looking patio furniture I have ever seen.

“Take a seat,” he tells me, “I’m going to get us a couple of drinks. Is wine okay?”

“Sounds great.” I ignore his request to sit and walk to the edge of the railing to take in the unobstructed view of the beach that stretches to the left and right of us. My thoughts turn to what it would be like to wake up every day to this spectacular view. Beside Colton watching this spectacular view, to be exact.

“I could sit here all day and watch the view.” I’m startled by his voice behind me as I did not hear him approach.

“It’s very soothing.” He sidles up next to me and places a glass of wine on the railing beside me. “Thank you. I imagine it could be very distracting when you have other things to do.”

Colton places a soft kiss on my bare shoulder, and keeps his lips there as he murmurs, “Nothing could be more distracting than you standing here right now with the wind in your hair and your dress billowing around you giving me hints of those sexy legs of yours.”

His words are like an electric pulse to my system, stoking my ever-present burn for him. Despite the warmth of him behind me, I have goose bumps on my arms. “Are you trying to sweet talk me, Ace, so that you can get laid tonight?”

“If it’s working, then yes I am.”

How will I ever be able to say no to him?

“I told you,” I say feigning disinterest, “I’m not really into race car drivers.”

“Ah … yes,” he laughs moving to the side of me resting his hip on the rail but keeping a hand on my lower back. “I forgot, only baseball players do it for you.” He takes a long sip from his bottle of beer, watching me the whole time. “I’m sure you could be persuaded, though.”

I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head, trying to hide my smile. “Might take an awful lot of persuading …”

He moves quickly so that my back is to the railing now and his arms box me in on either side. His warm, hard body presses up against mine and a mischievous grin plays at the curves of his mouth. “You know I can be awfully convincing, Rylee.”

In a flash, his lips are on my mouth and his tongue is pushing through my parted lips to meld with mine, attacking my mouth with purpose. I wrap my arms through his, hooking them up so that I can press my hands against his shoulders. He deepens the kiss, demanding more, taking more, and igniting little licks of desire deep in my belly. One of his hands palms my butt and presses me against him while the other leaves whisper-soft touches on my bare back. I moan softly from the multitude of sensations his touch alone creates beneath my skin.

I hear a thumping sound and I screech suddenly, breaking away from our kiss as I feel something insistently trying to force between where his hips pin mine to the railing. I laugh loudly as I look down at the oversized ball of black, white and tan fur that is wedging his nose in between us. A beautiful and rather large dog wriggles against us, tail beating against the railing, wet nose pushing and prodding.

I cry a small sound of pleasured surprise as I take the dog’s head in my hands. “Baxter!” Colton groans at him. “I apologize. He’s a little out of control.”

I coo to the gentle giant, and when I begin scratching behind his ears, he plops his bottom down on the ground complacently, tail thumping, and groans in pleasure.

“Holy shit! How’d you do that?”

“What?” I ask him over my shoulder as I squat down, continuing to rub the dog.

“He’s never that calm with anybody except for me.”

“I’m a dog person,” I shrug casually as if that explains everything and move my hands to rub the dog’s chest so that his back leg kicks out in pleasure.

“Obviously,” Colton astounds, bending over to kiss the dog on the head and scratch the fur on his neck. The sight makes me smile. “You’re supposed to help me get the girls, big guy, not come in between us when we’re kissing.”

I laugh out loud as Baxter unknowingly groans on cue in response to Colton’s words. “He’s beautiful, Colton.”

“Yeah, he’s a keeper,” he tells me as he takes my hand and pulls me up. “I haven’t taken him for his walk yet today so he’s mad at me.”

“Then let’s go take him,” I offer up, a walk on the beach sounding like a perfect idea. Colton cocks his head and furrows his brow at me. Did I say something wrong? “What?”

“You just surprise me sometimes,” he says shaking his head at me.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” I ask him over the rim of my glass of wine.

“Good,” he says softly, reaching out and touching a loose curl on my neck. “You’re just so different than what I’m used to.”

Oh! Yes. I forgot to bleach my hair blonde before I came over. I fidget nervously under his gaze.

“Shall we?” he asks nodding toward the steps that lead off the patio and on to the beach. I smile at him as he places a hand on the small of my back and ushers me down the stairway, pulling me quickly aside as Baxter bounds down the steps in unfettered excitement.

Barefoot, we walk side by side along the juncture where the wet sand meets the dry sand. Colton throws a ball intermittently for Baxter and his boundless energy while we chat idly about this and that.

“You know, my sister was surprised to see you at the track the other day.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell. She seemed so warm and inviting when I met her.”

Colton smiles ruefully at my sardonic tone. “I apologize. She’s usually not like that.”

“Hmm-hmm,” I murmur, my expression telling him I find it hard to believe. “It’s okay though, because I thought she was another of the BBB.”