A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2) (16 page)

“Yes, if you want that.”

“How about this tomato?”

“Yes, the tomato, too. And the cucumber and the red onion.”

Dan carries the veggies to the counter, along with the wrong kind of knife. I silently watch him struggle to cut everything just so. It isn’t until he nearly cuts off his finger that I say, “Dan, let me help you there. Finger stubs aren’t very tasty. Now watch.” I grab a better knife for chopping veggies and stand behind Dan with my hands over his. “Like this,” I say, but unfortunately, because I’m shorter than he is, I can’t see around him. “Okay, this isn’t working.”

We switch places—with me on the inside and his hands over mine this time. I begin slicing the onion as his hands follow my lead. Slowly, the heat of his breath grows warmer, stronger on my neck. His lips brush against the quickening pulse under my jaw. Tiny kisses are scattered along my neck while my hips are lightly pressed into the counter. My chopping slows to a virtual halt. I drop the knife onto the counter as my body gives in to him and all that he stirs in me.

Dan removes his hands from mine and turns me around to face him. That’s when I sniff and dab my eyes. He steps back, holding his hands out in confusion. “You’re crying! Why are you crying? Oh God, I’m sorry! What did I do?”

I laugh. “It’s not you; it’s the onion.”

He exhales in relief. “Oh, thank God. I couldn’t understand how I could screw up cooking, too.”

I laugh, grabbing his shirt and pulling him to me. “Where were we?”

We stand there amongst the half-chopped salad and sauce bubbling away, holding each other and kissing like there’s no tomorrow because . . . there isn’t. I’m leaving. This is our last night.

No! No bitter allowed!

Our bodies press together; I slide my ankle up and down his calf as he pushes his hips into mine.

“What are you two doing?” Camille says, walking into the kitchen and interrupting us. We jump apart. She calls out to Colin and Bridget, “You were right; they were in here getting it on.”

“Don’t you have another round of Guitar Hero to lose?” I ask as Dan grabs his beer and gulps it down.

Camille shakes her head at me. “Secret slut,” she says, smiling, on her way out.

Dan and I finish cooking, and soon enough, wine is poured and dinner is on.

The five of us sit around the rectangular table, passing the dishes and filling our plates. I have to admit that the sweet basil tomato sauce, toasty garlic bread, succulent meatballs, and spaghetti smell fantastic.

A quick toast and we all dive in. After several moments of silence, I glance up to see both Dan and Colin regarding their plates with reverence. Hovering over their dishes, they twirl massive forkfuls of spaghetti, open
wide
and shove it in, and immediately dive back down to ready another bite.

I stop eating to watch the hungry-man entertainment. Both guys are completely unaware that not only am I watching them, but so are Camille and Bridget. We finally erupt in a fit of giggles.

“What?” Colin mumbles with one cheek bulging.

“You must be really hungry.” Camille laughs, wiping sauce splatter from his cheek.

I see Dan and Colin notice each other’s near-bursting chipmunk cheeks, but thankfully they’re able to hold in their laughter—meatball spray isn’t pretty.

Colin swallows and says, “This is bloody good, Claire,” before plunging in for another bite.

“Thanks.” I beam. How can I not? Everyone’s enjoying what I made, plus I’m finally able to contribute in some way to our stay. Between Dan’s generosity and the girls supporting me like the world’s most fantastic bra, this is the least I can do to thank them all.

Between bites and second helpings, we talk about everything, trying to fit it all in on our last night.

“So, Colin,” I say. “What can you tell me about Dan that I couldn’t find out from a Google search?”

Dan drops his fork, but with his mouth stuffed, he can’t say a word.

“I’ve got nothing,” Colin says, shrugging.

Dan nods and smirks, apparently pleased with Colin’s answer until Colin continues. “Except that he had your music reformatted for his iPod and has played the fucking thing so often I can probably play it by ear by now.”

“What?” I glance at Dan, who is beet red and throwing eyeball daggers at Colin.

Colin just smiles. “And he’s never had a girl stay over here before because he always goes back to their place.”

“Mate!” Dan scolds after swallowing his food, holding his hands out in what-the-hell fashion.

“What? You do.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Colin rolls his eyes.

“So I guess Dan’s a secret slut, too?” Bridget asks, raising an eyebrow.

Colin purses his lips, thinking. “Hmm . . . not really. He usually leaves a couple of days a week free, you know, to recover.”

What?!
My heart is stuck in my throat.

“Fucking prick! What the fuck?” Dan curses across the table.

Colin laughs. “I’m only joking, Claire. He’s been a fucking saint for too long. I thought maybe he lost his dick or something.”

My thudding heart slows down, and I nod.

“But he does have a calendar he used to cross off the days before you arrived.”

Camille and Bridget’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, um, I knew about that,” I say, blushing, feeling protective of that information.

Colin turns to Dan. “You told her that? You’re a fucking pussy. You don’t tell girls that.”

“What?
You
just fucking told her.”

Colin rolls his eyes and turns back to me. “And the fact that he’s become a total pussy since he met you.”

“Sod off. You’re a pussy yourself,” Dan says.

“What? How am I a pussy?”

“You cry every time Sandy leaves Danny at the drive-in.”

“Yeah? And? It’s a rough part, mate.”

Dan shakes his head. “Why do they drive up into the air at the end? Makes no sense.”

“It represents them flying off—you know, growing wings and learning to fly on their own without the T-Birds and the Pink Ladies.”

We all sit in stunned silence at Colin’s “deep” explanation until Dan breaks the quiet with, “It’s still fucking stupid.”

Colin turns to me. “Just so you know, Claire, he cried like a baby—a fucking baby—at Titanic. I’m not even joking.”

Dan throws a balled-up napkin at Colin as we laugh.

Stuffed like Thanksgiving turkeys, we plunk down on the sofas in the living room.

“Claire, that was fantastic,” Colin says, patting his satisfied belly.

“Thanks, Colin. I’m glad you liked it.”

Colin checks his watch. “But I’ve got to roll myself out of here now. We’ll see you all in just a bit?”

“Of course,” Camille answers, smiling sweetly. With that, Colin leaves, winking at Camille before shutting the front door.

“I should probably start to get ready.” Bridget stands and stretches.

“Me, too,” Camille says, standing and leaving with Bridget.

“You, too?” Dan rubs my neck.

“I should.” I lean into his massaging fingers. He works my neck even harder. “But this feels so good.”

Dan leans into my ear, nibbling a little. “Come on . . . let me make you feel even better.”

I grin. “All right.”

We start to get up when Bridget yells, “Claire!”

“She really has her timing down,” Dan says.

“Yes, she does. Let’s not listen to her.”

“
Claire!
”

“I think you should go. We’ll have time later.”

I groan. “Be back in a few.”

Dan flicks on the TV as I head to Bridget’s room. He’s a guy. How much time does he need?

Once my primping and preening is complete, I return to the living room in slim jeans, the strappy top I struggled to find my way into and, of course, heels. Dan, in all his effortless good looks, greets me with a kiss.

“You look fantastic,” he says, eyeing me up and down.

“As do you,” I say, taking note of his black jeans and blue button-down shirt. It’s the man-iform, but he looks divine, naturally. He throws on his black leather jacket.

We head to the pub and make our way in through the usual side door. It’s crowded already. I’m amazed at how stealthily Dan moves about in the bar, hardly capturing the notice of others.

Camille and Bridget position themselves closer to the stage while Dan and I hang back in the shadows off to the side. With beers in hand, we observe the reinstated no-contact-in-public rule.

Dark and dim, the stage is set, but silent. The volume is loud in the bar, though, as people mill about, chatting with friends and laughing. There’s a buzz in the air—the crowd is waiting for Colin’s band.

I tug on Dan’s shirt and stretch up to his ear, inhaling. The soap and shaving cream scent is clear and strong. “How long has Colin been playing? I didn’t realize how popular they are.”

He leans in. “Yeah, interest has picked up in them recently, so there’s more of a crowd now, but he’s been at it a long time, only getting serious about it these last couple of years.”

Just then the lights dim, and after a momentary hush, the crowd erupts into thunderous clapping and hooting. The music starts, and the stage lights up. With Colin on guitar, the band plays funky, bluesy rock. It isn’t full-on dance music, but the beats are addictive. The passion behind the instruments and strong vocals beat in my chest.

From the darkened corner, Dan and I simply enjoy the music as the night wears on. I often catch sight of Camille and Bridget, who are up in front jumping and dancing.

Only once do two girls approach Dan. He speaks to them as I stand there, doing my best to accept this weird fact of his life. They take a quick photo with him and go back to enjoying the band.

A short while later Dan leans in to my ear. “Would you like to go?”

“Now? You don’t want to wait for Colin to finish?”

Dan surveys the room. “No, I think we should leave before then.”

I look around, too, noticing more and more faces turned in our direction.

“Colin won’t mind giving the girls a ride back. I’ll text him.”

“Okay. I’m just going to say good-bye to Camille and Bridget.”

He nods.

I weave my way through the tight crowd and find Camille and Bridget beaming and sweaty. I relay the plan and snake back to Dan, who’s being kept company by four more women.

From a short distance, I grin at him as he takes a final photo with the fans. He nods at me to follow and leads me out the back way through a grimy kitchen.

Once outside, we bolt to the car as the paparazzi converge. Dan pulls away from the curb quickly, but it takes a while to shake them. We dart in and out of traffic, pull down alleys, and merge back into traffic again, speed onto the freeway and then off then back on again. Finally we lose them, and now, alone in the car with only the droning hum of the engine, my heart resumes a calmer pace. After I stop white-knuckling the dash, I realize we aren’t heading in the direction of Dan’s house.

“Where are we going?”

Dan glances my way with a mischievous smile. “It’s a surprise.”

Chapter Seventeen

“A surprise?” I ask.

“Do you like surprises?”

“It depends.”

With a devilish smirk, he refocuses on driving.

So far I’ve loved all of Dan’s surprises—flowers, plane tickets, candles, the movie set . . . no, scratch that one. But this is one surprise I know I’ll like since the goofy grin on his face matches my equally goofy insides.

I watch for clues to where he’s taking me, but I have no idea where we are to begin with. We spend some time on the highway, cruise our way through a rural area, and down a dark, winding, and seemingly deserted road. We haven’t passed a car in some time. Finally, in the middle of nowhere, Dan pulls to the side of the road. “We’re here.”

I look out the window and see nothing. “Here? What’s here?”

Dan snickers and gets out. I guess I ought to as well. It’s chilly here, wherever we are. I rub my arms while he’s clanking around in the trunk and gathering things.

I blink repeatedly, trying to adjust to the lack of light. With limited vision, I can tell that on one side of the road there are large structures—a rock wall perhaps. On the other side of the car is a scattering of bushes and low-lying rock, but mostly it looks like sky.
We must be high up. Where the hell are we?

“We have to walk for a bit,” Dan says.

“Okay.”

Clutching a duffel bag and a blanket under one arm, he clasps my hand with his free hand and guides me across the uneven dirt, around a few scraggly bushes, and over more rocks. The full moon, hanging low, not only lights the way, but also helps my eyes adjust.

Finally, Dan leads us down and around one last looming boulder, and there it is—the most phenomenal view.

Awestruck, I stand on the large, flat ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the expansive beauty that overlooks the ocean far below. There’s a soft, cool breeze against my cheeks, the distant sound of breaking waves, and the scent of the salty, beachy air that surrounds me. The sky and water, both a deep navy blue, have only the shimmer of the water denoting the difference between them. The stars, along with the moon, glitter in the sapphire sky and reflect in the ocean. It’s like something out of a movie, which shouldn’t be very surprising given who I’m with.

“What do you think?”

“I . . . it’s . . .” The cool air rushes in and out of my gaping mouth as I try to form words. “It’s beautiful.” I turn to see him smiling wide, so very proud of himself.

“I thought you might like it here. I know your friends got to go to the beach the other day while you were with me on set.” He rolls his eyes. “And since this morning was rained off . . . I don’t know, I thought you might like to see it, too. I’ve always thought this was the best view.”

“This is . . . incredible,” I say, turning to take in the natural beauty that stretches out before me. “You know, I’ve basically grown up on the beach, but this—I’ve never seen this.” It isn’t just the view that causes chills to prickle the length of my arms—it’s the moment and the man, too; both are unparalleled.

“Here,” Dan says, placing the bag down and fluffing out a soft, plaid blanket across the ground. He crawls onto the blanket, flips down the corners that fold up, sits in the middle, and pats the space next to him. “Come and sit by me.”

I bend down and scoot right against his side. We lean back on locked arms and look out.

“This couldn’t be more beautiful,” I say of the deep indigo palette. “Do you come here a lot?” I slide off my shoes and place them next to me.

“Quite often. It’s my own little hideaway. I found it about a year ago and come out when I want to be alone.”

It suddenly strikes me. “You don’t get ‘alone’ very often, huh?”

“Not really. I mean, it’s all right. I’m not complaining, but sometimes it’s nice to be outside and not have a camera lurking. Wait a sec.” He turns and unzips the bag he brought.

“What’s that?” I ask, peeking around him.

“Another surprise. Look away.” He shifts his shoulder to block my view.

I shake my head, loving every single second of this.

Dan pulls out two glass flutes and a bottle of champagne.

“Champagne? And glass flutes? Wow,” I say, my mouth dropping open yet again.

“Impressive, don’t you think?” Dan grins and hands me the glasses.

“Yes. Very impressive. When did you do this?”

Dan opens the foil. “While you were getting ready earlier. Girls take an inordinate amount of time to get ready.”

I smile. Dan pops the cork, and I catch the first drops in one of the flutes.

“What are we celebrating? Finally getting me out of your hair tomorrow?”

“Am I that obvious?” he deadpans as he pours.

“Pretty much.” I hand him a full glass.

He laughs, I laugh, but the laughter dies the moment his face loses the smile, and his eyes fill with melancholy.

“I’ve had a bloody good time with you, Claire, and I wanted you to remember your last night here. I hope you’ll want to come back.” He clinks his glass to mine, nervously waiting my reply.

“Why wouldn’t I come back? I’ve had a fantastic time.”

“Yeah?” he says, brightening.

“Yeah, silly.” I nudge his shoulder with mine.

We sip.

“I guess I just thought maybe after the whole on-set thing and the dance club thing that it might be too much for you.”

“I’ll admit I’m not used to dating catnip.”

He laughs. “Catnip?”

“Yes, catnip. You know—the thing that drives all the pussycats crazy?”

We laugh and drink more.

Dan stares at the glass that he dangles between his bent knees. “Speaking of dating . . . I was, um, curious . . . are we going out? Is that how you’d classify it? I mean, you know, do you want to date other people? Are we—”

“I thought we established the whole ‘no one else’ thing last night,” I say nervously.
Has he changed his mind?

He grins. “I suppose we did, but things were kind of heated, and I didn’t know if you meant it.”

“I meant it. Did you?”

“Yeah, of course. I have no interest in anyone but you.”

The biggest smile splits my face in two. “So we’ll just date each other, then?”

He nods. “Does that mean I . . . can call you my girlfriend?”

I see his chest freeze, his whole body unsure of saying that word aloud; truthfully, the word ‘girlfriend’ grips my heart. I nod slowly, noticing his eyes sparkle in the night. “If you want to.”

The moonlight somehow makes his shy grin even more beautiful. “Yeah, I want to call you that.”

“I guess that means you’re my . . . boyfriend?” The word tumbles from my mouth awkwardly as my whole body shudders from the leap of faith.

His face lights up. “Yeah—I’m your boyfriend.” He leans in and kisses me softly.

“Well, this whole thing is a fantastic surprise,” I say after several sweet kisses.

“I’m happy you like it here. No one else knows about it.”

My belly is shivering—not from the chill in the air, but from the sheer nervous energy of the moment. “No? You’ve never brought other girls here?”

“No. You’re the first person I wanted to share this with.”

“Not even Colin?”

Dan chuckles. “If I brought a blanket and champagne up here with Colin, he’d think I wanted to go Brokeback on him.”

It takes me a minute to recover from my laughter. “God, you’re funny . . . and I can’t believe how amazing his band is.”

“Yeah, they’re fantastic.”

“Did it bother you to have to leave his gig early?”

Dan’s demeanor shifts from light and happy to uncomfortable and pensive. He sits quietly for a few moments before he answers. “Honestly, I would’ve liked to stay, but then . . .”

“Then, what?”

Dan sips his champagne. “Colin deserves all the attention at his gigs. He doesn’t need me getting in the way. He’s my best mate, and fame . . . well, people see it as a good thing, but it can ruin things, too. Colin could easily be pissed off about it, but he isn’t.”

“Sounds like a blessing and a curse.”

He nods. “Yeah, it is. Don’t get me wrong; I know I live a very lucky life. I honestly never expected to be in this position. I know the fame thing furthers my career somewhat, so I’m thankful for it, but . . . I don’t know . . . it’s such a strange triangle. I love to act, and I struggled to get jobs until I did something noticeable. Then all of a sudden, I got all these roles thrown my way, which was brilliant, except with all the choices came this odd second job of courting the public. It’s a strange sort of symbiotic relationship.” He gazes out over the water, his face sad, yet peaceful, too.

“You don’t talk about this much, do you?” I ask, threading my arm through his.

“No. It comes off as whiney and spoiled.”

“Or just honest.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but no one wants to hear an actor complain.”

“But it obviously affects you.”

“Yeah, of course, but the majority of fans I meet are absolutely lovely people. It’s just that other part—the cameras, the gossip, the people following me in cars—that part is incredibly unsettling.”

“I bet. Just the few times I was out with you it unnerved me.”

“Exactly. Because that’s what it is—unnerving. Like one day a few weeks ago, I got up very early on purpose, probably before most people, and went for a coffee. I drove, still half-asleep, to the coffee shop down the road. I went in, bought my coffee, and when I came out, there were about five photographers snapping photos. I can’t understand how they got there so quickly. It’s frightening, actually. It’s like they don’t sleep or they work in shifts or something, just waiting and watching.” He hangs his head. “I don’t know. It’s bizarre.”

“Is that why you haven’t shown anyone else this place? Because you’re afraid you’ll get caught coming here?”

Looking out over the water, he answers, “Yes and no. I just want somewhere to be alone, apart from my house. You’re the first person I’ve trusted to show this place to. I know you won’t sell me out. Colin made it sound like I’m shagging everyone, but I haven’t—I don’t. But girls have sold me out before, Claire. It’s very hard to find someone I can and want to trust.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I say, my mind launching too easily into my past.

“I know you do.” His gentle, empathetic eyes examine mine. “Is that why you haven’t let anyone in? It’s too hard to trust? Or . . . were you waiting for him to come back? Because, honestly, I can’t understand why you aren’t taken.”

I breathe out as the muck stirs inside. “I thought I had everything planned. I thought I knew where my life was headed, but when Mark left, everything I’d counted on happening suddenly wasn’t going to happen, and it left me . . . hollow. So, yeah, at first I did hope he’d come back just so I wouldn’t feel so lost. But after, I didn’t put myself out there because it wasn’t worth it, getting hurt like that. I just didn’t want to be in that situation again, you know? Be so vulnerable.”

I glance over to see him nodding and listening intently. “I just got used to doing things by myself, and I was fine with that. I’ve always been independent and a bit of a loner, so I’ve never felt compelled to have a boyfriend.”

He nods again and pauses to take a drink. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about this, but why did you date him?”

I shrug. “He seemed to have what I was looking for at the time, I guess.”

“And what was that, exactly?”

“Well . . . he was nice and attractive, and he had a good career—” I stop to think of the other qualities but come up short.

Dan frowns. “For someone you were going to marry, that doesn’t seem to be a very impressive list.”

“Yeah, I suppose. You know, after all this time I’m still trying to make sense of it; mostly I avoid thinking about it. I mean, he was decent guy—well, up until the end, of course. My parents thought we were perfect together. Everyone thought we were perfect together. Even my mother loved him, and she’s a hard one to please.”

“Did you love him, Claire?” Dan asks softly.

“What?”

“Did you love him? You said your mother loved him, but did you?”

I drink. “Yeah . . . yeah, of course I loved him.”

“You didn’t stay with him for your parents’ sake then?”

My stomach churns; a panic begins to build. I shake my head. “The thing is: I thought he was happy, Dan. I was happy enough, but our relationship—the last part of it, anyway—was a lie, and I had no idea until our wedding day. That’s when I realized the only thing I could ever trust was my career, so I threw myself into it completely and just sort of left everything else behind.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes as I fight to keep my rising emotions silenced in the depths of my belly. After all this time, talking about it still strikes a chord. It pisses me off, actually. I should be over it by now. I down the rest of my champagne, hoping to keep the heavy feelings at bay. I take a deep breath, and as I exhale, Dan slides a hand across my back, soothing me with calming circles between my shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry all that happened to you,” he says quietly.

I glance at him; his face seems to ask a million questions—questions I know I can’t answer, so I do what I do best. I end the topic and try to lighten the mood.

“Thank you . . . but right now, here on this cliff, let’s just say I’m thankful he left me.”

Dan smiles.

“Plus, I was waiting for some hot celebrity to ask me for a date.”

He laughs, and it’s just enough to snap us back into the spectacular night he’s planned.

“Oh really?” He quirks his eyebrow.

“Yes. I’m still waiting for that to happen, though.” I shrug.

“Not to burst your bubble, but that’s sort of a long shot.”

“I know, so I’ve decided to lower my standards. No offense.”

“Of course; none taken.” He laughs loudly. “That’s why I like you, you know.”

“Why?”

“Because I laugh so much when I’m with you—even on the phone, you make me laugh. Plus, you’re talented and beautiful and—” He gazes at me, almost as if he wants to say something else, but says, “And you’re one hell of a cook. That dinner was bloody amazing.”

“You eat out too often.” I nudge him with my shoulder again.

“I do, but you’ve ruined restaurant food for me. What am I going to eat now?”

“Well, you always have Lucky Charms.”

“I suppose, but I won’t survive long on Lucky Charms. You’ll just have to come back soon. Speaking of which, when will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any more vacation time until school ends in June.”

“Fuck. That’s two months from now.”

“I know.” My heart sinks.

With a sweet sideways glance, he says, “Well, we’ll have to plan a few weekends in between, then.”