Below the Line (5 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

The air had cooled considerably, and the sky was so clear that every star seemed to shine brighter than usual. Since he knew the area, she let him drive. When they got to his spot, he parked and spread out blankets and pillows in the back of her truck, making it more comfortable for them as they watched the stars.

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid.” Marissa made herself comfortable, covering up with the soft blanket he handed to her.

“I’ve never done it in a truck bed, but I used to climb out onto the roof of my house and watch the stars whenever I needed to escape.” His eyes were on the sky, but his thoughts were a million miles away.

“A kid should never have to feel like they need to escape from their parents.” She watched him openly. He was so far gone that he didn’t notice.

“It wasn’t always that way. Before
he
came, my mom was different. We had fun. Laughed. We used to have these old horror movie marathons every Friday night. You know, the ones in black and white? She always pretended to be scared because I thought it was funny. We ate popcorn and shared a soda. It was the best thing.” A small smile curved his lips.

“Then, he came and all that went away. The older I got, the more of a threat I became. I hated leaving her, but by the time I’d made up my mind to go, she was a stranger. Sometimes she wasn’t even able to look at me. I think she blamed me for making him act the way he did.” He blinked a couple of times, as if waking up from a dream.
Maybe coming out here was a mistake. Here I am, once again telling her things that I haven’t ever told another person. Things I haven’t even consciously thought about since the night I left.

Marissa laid her hand on his arm, his flesh so much warmer than her own. “I’m not good with this stuff, you know. Comforting someone. Offering condolences. I always feel like it isn’t enough.” She tilted her head until she could meet his eyes. “You made a whole new family. I watched you with them tonight. I watched them, too. They care about you. That’s more than so many others have.”
People like me.

She got through to him and he responded, “Like I said, I’m lucky. They don’t look much like a typical family, but they are the most loyal people you’ll ever meet. I won’t be able to repay them for taking me in and making me one of their own, not in this lifetime.”

“Didn’t look to me like they were asking for payment.” Marissa smiled and winked, trying to look as cheesy as possible to break the seriousness of his mood. When he chuckled, she relaxed a bit and settled deeper into the pillows, her shoulder resting comfortably against his.

They settled into an easy silence. A shooting star raced across the sky, and he turned to see if she had seen it, too; but, once again, she was fast asleep, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Once again, that bit of chivalry that only appeared around her kicked in. He settled her against himself, enjoying the feel of her against his side.
She trusts me. She just doesn’t realize it, yet. Otherwise, a smart, world-traveled woman like her would never let her guard down enough to fall asleep around a man.
He smiled, as his own eyes started to close.

***

The quiet woke her. There was always some kind of noise on a studio lot. She was warm, cocooned by the blanket and Nate’s arms. She tried not to think about how nice it felt to be held.

The last time anyone had held her while she slept was before her mom had died. They had spent every night together, talking and laughing—soaking up every moment they had left.

He looked different asleep. A little younger, a little less cocky—but not much. He didn’t even snore.
What kind of man doesn’t snore?
She chuckled a little bit over that.
Like I have any idea what men do when they sleep.

She fell deep into thought,
Okay, so I haven’t exactly wanted a relationship to get in the way of my career. Is that so bad? I have plenty of time for men and love and kids. Nate is nice, even if he might see himself otherwise. He cares about the people around him and doesn’t mind pitching in to help out when needed. He has made a good life for himself—and he smells nice.

“You’ve been staring at me with the oddest look on your face for the past fifteen minutes.” Nate pushed a lock of hair off her cheek. “Where did you go?”

She could feel her cheeks burning. “I didn’t mean to stare. I was lost in my own thoughts for a bit.”

He touched the red spots on her cheeks. “Good thoughts or bad?”

“Mixed. Nothing much worth sharing, so don’t ask.” His fingers on her cheek felt good, cool against the burning heat. It was also very distracting. “Since we’re both up, I think we should head back. It’s really late.”

“No, let’s stay.” He settled deeper and pulled her with him. “It’s a nice night, and I’m happy right where I’m at.”

She got ready to protest, but he cut her off. “You’re happy right here, too. Deny it all you want, but I know I’m right. Again.”

“You think you know what I’m feeling now?” Marissa shook her head and tried to move away. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m right.” He leaned towards her, stopping when she turned her face away. “You’re scared.”

“I’m
not
scared.” The words hissed out, and she regretted the tone immediately and evened it out before continuing. “I’m not scared. I’m practical and responsible. You make me forget that too often but forgetting that isn’t good for either of us.”

“You’re impossible. Aside from your career, when was the last time you took a chance?” He leaned close to her face and chased her head when she tried to look away. He wanted to see her eyes when she answered.

“Never. I don’t take chances with my personal life.” The words came out with much less conviction than the way she had heard them in her head.

“I never would have taken you for a coward.” He moved back, letting his words sink in.

“I’m not--” she paused, so angry that she didn’t know what to say. He was so confident that he had her pegged, and the disappointment in his gaze set her off. “You want some truth, Nate? All you want is to get laid. I’m sure that a quick fuck means less than nothing to you―just a way to blow off some steam. Something you do whenever the mood strikes you. I’m not that woman.” She stood up in the pile of blankets and hopped over the side of the truck. “Give me my keys. The night’s over. I want to go home.”

CHAPTER NINE

Marissa spent most of Sunday cleaning, doing laundry, and fuming. The ride home last night had sealed the deal for her. Plus, his silence and brooding looks irritated her even further. By the time she pulled into his drive, she had worked herself into a real fit. She stopped long enough for him to get his stuff out of the back before peeling off.

All that anger and frustration made for a sleepless rest of the night. She tossed and turned, reliving the entire night in her head over and over again. It had started out so well. When he wasn’t trying to get her to break all her rules and jump into bed with him, he could be a good companion.

The bitter truth had come to her in the middle of the night. She
did
want Nate—and for more than a quick romp. She knew that hooking up with Nate would bring her nothing but heartache though. One day he would tire of her and walk away. He wouldn’t be the kind to sit at home alone and wait on her while she spent weeks on location shoots. No man would do that.

Tossing her last load of laundry in the dryer, Marissa leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the machine and tried to forget that she had caught any kind of feelings for Nate.

***

Nate hadn’t slept. After swimming what seemed like a million laps in the pool, he still hadn’t worked off enough frustration to be able to sleep. He went for a run but that didn’t do much good. It only resulted in one hell of a cramp in his calf.

Marissa had him all tied up in knots. Last night, her words had stung. She had made assumptions about what he wanted from her, and he had been too mad to argue.

Sure, he had a reputation for being a real player. He liked sex, and he liked it hard, fast, and without strings. He didn’t trust people easily, and he didn’t always trust himself. Sometimes he worried that he was too damaged. Women filled a spot in his life, as long as they recognized that the spot they filled wasn’t permanent.

He wanted Marissa, but he wasn’t treating this like some one-night stand. It had him all confused. They clicked, the two of them. He liked talking to her, too. She was funny when she was relaxed and not taking life so seriously. He didn’t think it was so wrong to want to see her happy like that more often.

Yes, he had come on strong in the beginning, playing the usual game, and he regretted that now. He had made a real effort to correct that behavior since getting to know her.
Can’t she see that I’m changing? It isn’t just about the sex, not anymore.
Although that is something I’m not entirely comfortable with, yet.

He understood that her job took her to different places for weeks at a time and that she would see that as a relationship killer. Easier to never get involved than to have to say goodbye one day when things got messy. He knew that she wasn’t going to change her career and that would be something he would have to come to grips with, if he wanted to make this work. Whatever
this
was.

Sitting at his kitchen table, a third cup of coffee in his hand, he had to admit that he had said some things that he shouldn’t have. Calling her a coward—that had really been bad. He wanted to take it back, but it was too late for that now.

It might piss her off even more but there was only one thing to do.

***

Marissa brought her laundry back to the trailer to put it away. All the anger had drained out of her and left her exhausted. Sitting on her lumpy bed, she shoved her meager wardrobe into the shallow drawers of the ancient dresser that had been supplied. It smelled faintly of moth balls--or mildew-- she couldn’t be sure.

What she wanted was her mom. She would know what to say to make her feel better. She had always known. Even when that brat of a kid, Riley Martin, had broken her heart in the tenth grade and she thought that her world was done.

The memory made her smile. How silly and dramatic she had been at times. Not that her mom had made her feel that way. No, she’d dried her tears, made her a glass of chocolate milk, and sat on the bed with her, talking until the wee hours of the morning.

Her advice back then was that Marissa was going to get her heart broken many times in her life. Men would break it, her children would break it, and tragedy would break it; but, no matter how many times it broke, it would heal, and all it took was time.

Time was something she used to think she had more of than she would ever need. Then, her mom had gotten sick and all that optimism had changed. Realizing that life could end at the drop of a hat had spurned her to go after what she wanted in life. She wanted to be the best at what she did, and so she put all of her energy into accomplishing that goal. She didn’t want her heart broken again, so she did what it took to make sure it would never be an issue.

Have I done myself a disservice by focusing on my career? Yes, I’m lonely at times but isn’t everyone at some point or other in their life? My career goals haven’t left much time for friends, and I have no other family; but, it has not been a bad life so far.

Now here I sit, questioning my life because some man who barely knows me said things that touched a nerve that I hadn’t even known was raw. Dammit.
She banged her fist on the floppy mattress, mad all over again.

After a few minutes, the anger was gone. She rose to take a shower, determined to wash this unsettling confusion down the drain.

***

Nate stopped and picked up flowers. Apology blooms, the florist called them. He was right. He planned to soften her up with the flowers and hope that she would let him apologize so that they could get back to being able to work together without any lingering pissiness.

There was a real possibility that she might not let him in. He couldn’t blame her. He didn’t think what he said was necessarily wrong; but, it hadn’t been his place to say it, especially when she was far from ready to hear it.

Pulling up in the back lot, he got off his bike and straightened his clothes. He had on a new pair of jeans and a shirt he had last worn to a friend’s wedding. It was the first time he had dressed up to go talk to a female since he was fifteen.

It was also the first time since he was fifteen that the thought of talking to a female was making him nervous.