Dare (14 page)

“I can follow you in my truck,” I said, realizing that we were walking in the opposite direction of the parking garage where I’d left it. “Just in case I need to come back in a hurry. In case anything happens.”

“Absolutely not,” Sebastian said. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go. Don’t think about this any more than you have to. All I want to do is make it easy for you.”

I followed him to that sleek little car of his and stopped short of it, feeling numb.

“Rachel? What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “It’s just…you’re being so nice to me. I don’t know why. You don’t have to be. I haven’t been nice to you. I don’t even know why I called you.”

“You called me because you needed someone to be here with you,” Sebastian reasoned. “I’m flattered, really, that I could do something for you—anything. And I want to do it.”

“Things are really confusing right now, Sebastian.”

“I know they are. Let’s just take them one step at a time, all right?” He took my hand and helped me get into the car as if I was some sort of invalid, but I didn’t mind too much. Having him there meant I didn’t have to think as hard about things and could focus on what needed to happen.

“I don’t even know what the first step should be,” I told him weakly as he sank into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition.

“That’s easy,” he said, smiling. “Dinner.”

“It’s late,” I sighed. “I doubt many places will be open.”

“This is Los Angeles,” Sebastian laughed. “Everything’s still open. But I thought you could use some home cooking.”

“Home cooking?”

“That’s right.” The car purred, as we pulled out onto the street, accelerating to pass a semi-truck lumbering along, probably lost on its way to make a delivery somewhere in the city’s honeycomb of streets.

“There won’t be a restaurant that offers home cooking that will be open at midnight on a weekday, even in Los Angeles,” I said, skeptical. “Unless by home cooking you mean diner food.”

“No. When I say home cooking, I mean home cooking,” Sebastian said. He drove beautifully, completely focused even as he spoke to me, as if the car were just an extension of himself. It was well cared for, just like the man who drove it, gleaming and free from dust, trash, and debris. I took care of the old truck I’d been entrusted with, but not as carefully as Sebastian cared for this ride.

“You’re going to have to explain,” I said, as Sebastian nosed his way through an intersection on a long yellow light.

“I live not too far from the hospital,” he said, glancing at me. “That’s what I mean by home cooking. I’m going to take you to my home, and you’re going to eat what I fix you.”

I blinked in surprise. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cook.”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. Because you’re a billionaire. Because you can hire the finest chefs in the world to make your food for you. Because you’re busy. Because you’re you.”

“I like cooking,” he said. “Helps clear the mind. It’s a good skill to have, too. Certainly better than squash.”

“Squash?” I repeated, wrinkling my nose, certain I’d misheard him.

“You know, the sport,” he said. “You would be surprised how many rich idiots play that pointless game. They say it’s to stay in shape, to be social. Go for a run if you want to stay in shape. Go out for a drink if you want to be social. If you want a hobby, take up cooking. It’s useful. It’s essential. And you never know when you’re going to get to invite a beautiful woman to your house and have a chance to impress her with a meal.”

I blushed. “Sebastian…” He’d asked me before to try and believe that he was a good person in spite of his sometimes-craggy exterior. And here he was, trying to be charming, taking my mind off of what was happening at the hospital. He’d answered my call, driving out to be with me even if I’d been awful to him. My heart warmed to Sebastian when I’d been almost convinced that it would never do such a thing ever again.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.” He kept his eyes on the road, straight ahead, even as I took a sidelong glance at him.

“It was…a nice distraction, actually,” I said, feeling suddenly shy even though he knew me inside and out. “Thank you for doing this. You don’t have to.”

“Rachel, you called me because you needed someone,” he said. “I don’t mind being that someone. Would it make me sound selfish if I told you I was glad to be that someone for you?”

“I’m just glad you weren’t angry enough at me to ignore my call like I ignored all of yours,” I said, cringing. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“The truth is…I don’t have anyone here I could call except for you.” God, that sounded pathetic even to my ears. I could only guess the kind of pity party Sebastian was throwing for me inside of his head.

“Then I’m really glad I can be here for you.” He glanced at me, his brown eyes warm even in the darkness of the car. “I mean what I said before, Rachel. About my feelings for you. That still stands.”

“That we’re on the same page?” I teased him. “Very romantic.”

“That I love you.”

That shocked me into silence and sent me reeling off into my own mind. Sure, we’d admitted that we had feelings for each other, but they had been both tenuous and furious at the same time. Our bodies had been responding to each other since we wrecked our cars on the highway, and our personalities were constantly clashing. He was entitled and snooty, secretive and demanding. I was straightforward and oh-so confused. I didn’t know who I was anymore or what I wanted to be. I was devastated that Dad was fighting for his life, buoyed only by the advances of technology, but a wicked shard of my soul thought that maybe this was his punishment for what he’d done—mismanaging everything, ruining everything we had worked so hard on over the course of my lifetime. That was wrong. I knew it was wrong. But there it was. It was inside of me. It was what I felt, and I couldn’t deny my feelings.

I couldn’t deny my anger toward Dad any more than I could deny my affection for Sebastian. Affection, appreciation, and…love. Yes, there it was. Love underneath all of the confusion, underneath all of the angst and anger and irritation.

“Rachel, you okay?” Sebastian smiled at me, and I realized we’d pulled into the valet lane at the front of a high rise. “You don’t have to say anything back. You know. About what I said right now. I just wanted to put it out there, to show you that, you know, maybe I’m being a little selfish. I’ll admit that I’m not that good at being a selfless hero. Swooping in here to save you—or feed you, at least. You don’t need saving. You’re a strong woman.”

He got out of the car, and I accepted the valet’s help in exiting my side of the car. It was so low to the ground that it was almost funny. I was so used to climbing into my truck. You had to practically fold yourself into this car to get in and out of it.

“I don’t think you’re selfish,” I said, following Sebastian inside the lobby of the building. “I do think you’re crazy for leaving your car for a stranger to park.”

“Oh, the valet’s not a stranger,” Sebastian said, laughing as he guided me through the glitzy lobby with his hand at the small of my back. “And what did you think of the car? Not so bad on the inside, is it?”

“Not so bad? It’s a really nice car.”

“See? You just have to give a car a chance, even if it did rob your truck of its bumper,” he said, ushering me into an elevator lit with an elegant array of track lighting. It was, quite possibly, the nicest elevator I’d ever been in, but it didn’t distract me from Sebastian’s words. He wasn’t talking about a car. He was talking about himself—and me.

It was very possible that I had been so blinded by our differences that I hadn’t given our similarities a chance to develop and meld. Of course, it hadn’t helped that Sebastian had been trying to buy the farm out from under us, but I could overlook that now. I needed to overlook that. Sebastian was the only ally I had right now. The only person I had to lean on besides myself.

The elevator dinged, and I followed him out. There was only one door on the floor we’d ended up on. How was that possible?

“Don’t you have any neighbors?” I asked stupidly, as Sebastian unlocked the door.

“Thankfully, no,” he said, laughing as he let me in. “Well, I guess I consider everyone who lives in the building a neighbor. But having the penthouse level to myself…that’s pretty nice. Lots of nice privacy.”

“You know, there’s lots of privacy out in the country, too,” I said, grinning mischievously. “If privacy is your thing. A lot more privacy there than being crammed in a building with hundreds of other people. Just acres and acres of land as your neighbor.”

“Sounds pretty relaxing,” Sebastian reasoned, “but you do miss out on one thing in the country that you get in the city.” He hit a switch on the wall and a whirring noise was all the warning I got before the dark space was illuminated by the lights of other buildings, glittering in the night. The effect was breathtaking, especially with all of the lights inside of the penthouse still turned off.

“Not bad,” I said, though that was a vast understatement. I didn’t even need to see the inside of the penthouse to know it was elegant. The view was that perfect.

“The only bad thing about the view is that we’re not the tallest building around,” Sebastian said almost glumly. “That means at night, if we turn on the lights, we put on a show.”

The lights rose dramatically, illuminating the penthouse in a soft glow.

“I think you’re putting on a show for me right now,” I remarked, looking around, admiring the space. “Wow.” The furniture in the space that was lit up was incredibly eclectic, a surprising mixture of traditional and modern, Eastern and Western art and décor combining into something new. It was as complex as I imagined Sebastian to be.

“I travel a lot,” he said with a shrug, as I stared, mouth agape, at his collection of furnishings.

“I can tell.” I trailed my fingers over a soft woven blanket with colorful designs draped over the back of an armchair. “Everything is so…gorgeous.”

“I don’t buy something unless it brings me joy,” he said, as I continued my visual and tactile explorations of his belongings. “Each of these pieces caught my eyes in my travels, so they serve as memories, too.”

There were singing bowls that were coupled with maracas and hand-carved flutes, pillows covered in silks and satins and wools that were piled around a shaggy rug, a vast couch that looked like it could sleep at least three people on it comfortably, and gorgeous vases, one of which was filled with fresh, fragrant flowers. I sniffed experimentally.

“Honeysuckle?” I guessed, puzzled. “That flower arrangement smells like my childhood.”

“I have to confess that I don’t know what kinds of flowers are in that arrangement,” Sebastian said a little sheepishly. “Produce is more of my thing.”

“Let’s see.” I walked over to that vase and plucked a strand of flowers from it. “Yes, it’s honeysuckle. There’s no mistaking that smell.” It was sweet and heady, like a glorious dessert. I gently pulled the delicate flower apart.

“Hey, that’s my flower,” Sebastian joked. “You’re destroying it.”

“I’m plundering it,” I retorted, showing him the bead of nectar I’d gleaned at the end of part of the flower. I held it up and placed it carefully on my tongue, tasting that forbidden sweetness—just a single drop of it, vanishing just as quickly as it had suddenly bloomed in my mouth.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” he said, watching my mouth carefully.

“You didn’t grow up in the country,” I said, smiling. “This used to grow wild everywhere—up against the house, climbing the wall at one point—on the farm. Better than candy. Try it.”

I dissected another flower for Sebastian and held the droplet out for him, watching it as it dissolved on his wet, red tongue. He closed his eyes briefly as he savored the unique flavor for the first time.

“That’s incredible,” he said, his eyes popping back open. “Can I have another one?” He smacked his lips. “It’s so sweet, but so short.”

“Like life,” I replied, lowering my eyelids as I prepared another flower. “Here.”

Sebastian accepted my offering yet again, but instead of taking a moment to enjoy it, he kissed me swiftly, surprising me, the taste of honeysuckle still on his tongue. My eyes fluttered closed, and I worked to take that taste off of his tongue, to make it last, but it was always so fleeting. Better to seize the moment and enjoy it for its brevity. It was even sweeter that way.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said, breaking away, breathless. “I’m—that was stupid of me. Selfish. Off base. I didn’t mean to—”

“Shut up,” I suggested, and I kissed him again, not caring that the taste of honeysuckle had already vanished, the memory of it, the swell of emotion I felt toward Sebastian just as sweet.

He held my face in his hands, as if it were another one of his precious things and broke the kiss again. “I promised you dinner.”

“I would be fine with dessert first,” I said, smiling against his lips. The shape of his mouth matched mine, and we kissed again, grinning with each other.

Part of my mind told me I shouldn’t be grinning, shouldn’t even be smiling, let alone kissing Sebastian. Dad was in the hospital, the farm was going under, and I was having what felt suspiciously like an identity crisis, but the rest of me didn’t care. All I wanted was to feel good. I just wanted to feel good for a little bit. Or for longer than a little bit. I wanted Sebastian, and I needed him, and I was more than willing to set aside whatever anger I’d harbored toward him just for some succor in this turbulent moment.