Breaking Josephine (8 page)

I looked over at
Colin, annoyed at his forwardness and nosy questions. He had been rude to me at
the bonfire, and now he wouldn’t quit asking me about my family when I thought
I’d shut that line of questioning down. But he did apologize, and Macy had
basically vouched for him when she introduced us at the beach party, intimating
we should date. Maybe he was just having a bad day when we first met and I was reading
too much into his questions now. I inhaled and tried to shake off the hostility
I needlessly directed at him, realizing I was also still upset from the stares
I’d gotten inside.

“No, I’m about as
far from Cannon Beach royalty as you can get,” I answered. “I’m from Portland,
but my mom died when I was twelve and I lived in an orphanage until I turned
eighteen.” I offered him a weak smile and looked back out at the ocean.

“It must be hard,
not knowing much about your family and where you came from,” Colin said after a
while.

Although I thought
he’d read a bit too much into my answer, I still responded honestly, “No, not
really, I never really think about it.” My mom never told me much about my
father or her life before she had me, but it never really mattered much to me. She
always said we were the only family each other had, and I thought poking around
in the ghosts and shadows of the past would be pointless and only bring up sad
memories of what I’d had and lost.

Trying to change
the subject and get the conversation directed onto Colin and off of me, I
asked, “So are you in college?”

“Just graduated
Stanford, actually. I’m taking the summer off and then I’m off to law school in
the fall,” Colin said, looking at me with a slight frown on his face.

“Do you actually
want to be a lawyer?” I said, trying to keep the focus on him.

He raised his
eyebrows and responded, “No, not really. But William took over my father’s film
studio, not me. And I need to do something to make money, since I can’t seem to
get what’s rightfully mine. I might end up being a politician. Who knows.” He
looked out at the ocean, asking, “Do you have plans for the future? Are you
staying here in Cannon Beach or just here temporarily?”

When I didn’t
answer right away, he looked at me, and seeing the wary expression on my face,
he put up his hands, waiving his question off. “I’m not prying, really,” he
said, “forget I asked.”

“No, it’s okay,” I
said, still trying to be polite. “I’m just surprised you’re interested I guess.
I don’t have any concrete plans, no. I’d like to do more than what I’m doing,
but I’m trying right now to save up enough money to buy a car, and then maybe
I’ll start going to community college and see what I’m interested in.”

“You should get
out, away from Oregon, go somewhere else for college. Maybe the East Coast?”
Colin said.

I narrowed my
eyes, looking at him. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” I asked, half joking,
half not, based on the tone of his questions.

“No, it’s not
that,” Colin said, with a small laugh, lightening the mood, “it’s just that
it’s good to get out and get away from where you know, where you’ve been, and
explore new things. That’s all.”

I paused and
looked at him, then said, teasing him a bit, “I take it that’s what you’re
doing with law school?”

“Well, you’ve got
me there,” he answered. “I’m going back to Stanford. Maybe I should take my own
advice and go somewhere else.”

I was about to
tease him more, relieved the conversation had taken a friendly turn, when Macy
bounded up to my side. “Go where?” she asked. “I think the party is great, why
would you want to leave? I don’t have any idea why I didn’t want to come to
this thing. Ooohh, there’s William. Gotta go. Bye Jo. Hi and bye Colin!”

“Bye Macy,” I said
as she drifted away into the sea of guests. I turned toward the house to look
for a server carrying champagne and my heart leapt in my chest. Dex stood in
the doorway in a classic black tux looking simply magnificent. He wore the tux
like it was his second skin, which surprised me since the few times I’d seen
him, he’d been incredibly casual. He’d slicked his dark hair back off his face,
showcasing his smooth skin and commanding features. His eyes caught the
twinkling lights on the bannister, sparkling like a glacier in the bright artic
sun. He seemed more natural, more in control, more powerful now than I’d ever
seen him before. I felt my pulse race and goose bumps prickle my skin as his
eyes scanned the room.

When his eyes
found mine I saw an instant of recognition and joy, lighting his face and eyes
with an unmatched splendor. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone,
replaced by hot, searing anger. He strode across the house, ignoring hellos,
offers of champagne, and curious glances. Every step he took closer to me sent
a new wave of simmering rage in my direction, his eyes never leaving my face. He
came through the open french doors and out onto the balcony as I instinctively
backed up, teetering in Macy’s too-tall heels, my back crushing into the
railing. He stopped inches from my face, his eyes alive with a burning
intensity of passion and naked hostility. He grabbed my arms and held them in
his powerful grip.

“Who are you?” he snarled,
inches from my face. I was still shorter than Dex, and although I felt tall and
ungainly before, now the urge to cower and disappear under his intense stare
was stifling. But I refused to let him know my feelings, putting my hands on
his chest and shoving him back.

“Let go of me. You
know who I am,” I said, with as much defiance and resistance as I could offer.

“I want to hear
you say it,” he said, still gripping me with ferocious intensity and staring at
me with a pained and pleading look. I saw the confusion and fear in his eyes
and wanted to do anything to take it away. He might have been scaring me at the
moment, but the look on his face made my heart ache for him, and for any pain
I’d somehow caused him.

 “Jo
Sinclair,” I answered. “I’m the woman who dropped her groceries all over the
sidewalk, the woman you kissed in the forest …” I paused, lowering my voice to
a barely audible whisper, “and the woman who broke into your mansion and broke
her promise. That’s who I am.” I let out a trapped breath and forced air into
my lungs. My heart pounded in my chest and my lungs heaved as if they would
burst. We continued to stare at each other for what felt like ages, him
scanning my face for some sign, and me imploring him to accept my answer and let
me go.

As if in answer to
my silent request, his hands fell away from me, leaving searing heat where his
fingers had been. Before I could blink, he’d turned on his heels and walked
back through the house, out the door, and away from me into the night. I stood
there, dumbfounded and staring after him, unable to move, unable to react.

“Um, Jo, are you
okay?” I heard Colin ask next to me. I rubbed my arms with my hands, still
feeling the afterburn of Dex’s hands on me.

“I’m not sure,” I
replied, turning to look at him.

“What was that all
about?” Colin asked, looking at me with a confused expression and running his
hand through his sandy blonde hair.

“I have no idea,
Colin. No idea whatsoever.”

The rest of the
Memorial Day social went by in a drunken blur. Macy and William came up to me
after Dex left, shoving a glass of champagne in my face. Still in a state of
shock, I vaguely registered Colin stalking off down the beach and Macy wrapping
her arm around me and giving me a pat. The champagne in my hand never emptied
and Macy and William hovered around me. Later in the night, as the drinks
continued to flow, we ended up on the dance floor, dancing to the jazz band and
trying to forget the events of earlier in the evening. When the party ended and
the band packed up, I was bundled into the back of William’s Jeep and driven
home. I kicked off Macy’s shoes when I made it inside and collapsed on the bed,
a heap of icy blue chiffon and too much champagne
.

I
woke up to sun pouring through the window and a pounding headache reverberating
in my skull. I rolled over and looked at the time. “9:30 already?” I said, wincing
and holding my head. I sat up, blue chiffon billowing around me. I shrugged the
dress off, gathered it together and placed it in the laundry hamper. I pulled
on a robe and trudged into the kitchen to make myself some much needed coffee. As
the coffee percolated, I went into the bathroom to assess the damage. “Ugh. Well
don’t you look a sight,” I said to the puffy, hungover version of me staring
back in the mirror. My eye makeup had spent the night meandering down my cheeks
and my eyes were bloodshot and swollen. I washed my face, pressing a cold
washcloth to my eyes and forehead. I collected last night’s curls up into a
high ponytail, changed into a tank top and comfortable jeans and dragged myself
back into the kitchen for some coffee.

I sat at my
kitchen table, hands hugging my steaming coffee cup, and finally gathered the
courage to think about the night before. I started with the things I knew. I
knew that Dex kissed me, voluntarily, in the forest. And I knew that the
chemistry between us was undeniable. I had been thinking about him almost
non-stop since we met two weeks ago. And all I wanted was to feel his hands on
my skin and his lips pressed into mine. I knew there had to be an explanation
for what happened at the social. He couldn’t be this crazy—at least I hoped
not.

The more I thought
about it, the more I thought maybe he didn’t know whether I was the woman who
broke into Hartley Manor. When he met me on the street, I thought he knew, but
maybe I had been mistaken. What was it he said to me then? That we hadn’t been
“formally introduced?” Maybe that was just him being polite. And when he tucked
my hair behind my ear, maybe he really didn’t put it together that I was the
same woman who had been in his house. It was dark and my face was shadowed. I
only saw him so clearly because he faced the door and the moonlight that night.
And in the forest, maybe he was apologizing because he didn’t know me and just
kissed me out of nowhere when we’d only spoken a handful of words to each
other. I tried to think about all of our interactions from his perspective. If
I didn’t know me, and didn’t realize I was the same woman, seeing me at Macy’s
party and putting it together might make me mad too. Oh god, I wondered, what
if he wants to press charges? What if what I said only confirmed his
suspicions? I held my head in my hand and thought about all the possibilities.

I was letting my
thoughts get carried away when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it and
there was Dex, wearing faded jeans, flip-flops, and a close-fitting, charcoal
grey t-shirt. He was standing on the threshold, hands in his pockets, looking a
bit worse for wear. His hair was still slicked back, and it appeared he hadn’t
slept much, if at all. Despite his obvious fatigue, he still looked incredible,
the tiredness softening his hard edges and making him more real, more
approachable. I stood there, staring at him, holding the door handle more for
support than anything else.

“Hello,” I finally
managed to stammer. My heart started hammering in my chest as I thought about
the burglary and his pressing charges. I had an urge to slam the door in his
face, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off him and it took all my self-control to
not reach out and touch his face.

“Hello, Jo,” Dex
said, interrupting my runaway thoughts. “May I come in? It’s a bit cold out
this morning, and although I could talk to you standing in your doorway, it
would be more comfortable inside,” he said, with a faint smile on his lips.

“Oh … of course,
I’m sorry, come in,” I said, blushing as I opened the door further. “It’s not
much, but I do have hot coffee if you’d like some.” I shut the door behind him
and offered him a seat at the kitchen table. He took it, his large frame taking
up considerable room in my tiny kitchen. I could feel his eyes on my back as I
reached up to grab a coffee cup off the shelf, my tank top riding up and exposing
a thin band of skin above my jeans. I pulled my shirt down and asked, “How do
you like it?” as I reached for the coffee pot.

“Usually in a bed,
but if you’d prefer the kitchen, that works for me too.”

I turned at looked
at him, a confused look on my face. Reading his expression, I blushed again,
finally putting together what he was talking about. “Coffee. How would you like
your coffee?” I said, waving the coffee pot at him.

“Black, thank
you,” he said, his smile widening.

I took a deep
breath as I poured him the coffee, trying to control the tremors I felt in my
hands. By the way the conversation was going, it didn’t appear that he was
planning to turn me in to the police, but I felt the need to come clean, and I
didn’t want to always feel the tension I now felt in his presence. I resolved
to just confess and take what happened as it came. I handed him the coffee cup
and started talking while looking at the table, too much of a coward to look
him in the eyes.

“Look, Dex, there’s
something I need to tell you—” I began as he started to interrupt. I
waived him off and continued “—no, let me get this out. I am the woman
who broke into your house the other night. I am so sorry. I didn’t know you,
and I didn’t think anyone lived there, and if I had known you I never would
have broken in, and I haven’t sold anything that I stole and you can have it
all back, and I am really sorry. Please don’t turn me in. If you feel you have
to, I understand, but I really am sorry. And I completely understand why you
were so angry at the social—you finally figured out that I was the
burglar and instead of just admitting it, I tried to come on to you, and I
shouldn’t have done that. I understand if you don’t have any interest in seeing
me again, or if you hate me, but I needed to come clean and tell you the
truth.” I got it all out in a rambling rush, took a deep breath, and looked up
at him.