DEFIANT (A WESTERN BAD BOY ROMANCE) (8 page)

BOOK: DEFIANT (A WESTERN BAD BOY ROMANCE)
13.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

"This has been an amazing day," she gushes. Then she turns to me, and I feel the world go quiet. My stomach plunges into free fall, and I can hear my blood pulsing, steady in my throat. I let her hold me there with her eyes, and I realize, like a fool, that I've felt this way all along, every second I've been around her.

"
Oh my God!
" a woman shrieks. "
You're Clif Jackson
!"

I smile ruefully and ham it up for a selfie, first with her, and then with everyone else.

"We're partying with Clif Jackson, y'all!"

I do my best to whoop it up, even though it's the last thing I want to do. Everybody gets louder, and I do my best to roll with the flow. But all I want is to be left alone with Katie, just one more minute like when we were riding together.

When I look back at her she's drinking wine and talking to someone else.

The nervous feeling in my gut stays for the rest of the evening until the sun goes down and people start getting out of the water.

"We're leaving already?" Katie asks.

"Yeah," one of the guides says, lowering a hand to help her out. "It'll get cold in another hour. Unless Clif can ride back with you."

"I can see her back, sure."

And just like that, we're alone again.

"It's going to get dark soon," I say softly.

"That's alright. It's so quiet and peaceful out here. I don’t want to ever leave."

I get out of the hot water, into the freezing January night, and step into my boots so I can get the lantern from my saddlebag. Then I wade back in. Katie is sitting at the edge of the pool, her arms resting on the edge and her back towards me. I've got nothing to do but stare at her. The sun goes down all the way, and I light the lantern.

"What are you thinking about, Katie?"

"I don't know.” She pauses. “Time. My dad. Growing older."

I let the silence stretch before blowing out the lantern. A couple minutes later, my eyes adjust to the dark and I can see every single star in the sky, along with the big sweep of the Milky Way. A quarter moon is rising on the other side of the valley.

"I've never seen the sky like this," Katie wonders. "It's incredible."

That's what I was hoping she'd say.

My mind is wandering, too. I think about all the beautiful women I've walked away from, how proud I was that I could always avoid attachments. Now, I don't know how to feel about my feelings for Katie. All I do know is that I really wish she wasn’t leaving so soon.

She turns around to face me in the dark. I light the lantern again. She swims over.

"And what are you thinking about, cowboy?"

"You."

"Me?"

Goddamn, I need more time to think this through, but right now, I really want to kiss her. I let my fingers move through the dark water until they trace across the skin of her waist. Fuck, she's sexy. And beautiful.

Katie closes her eyes, and I know right away she's waiting for me to kiss her. I let my fingers roam her body, up her back.

If I kiss her, there's no going back. I feel like something's going to change forever between us, and it scares me. She already told me I'm obsessed. But then again, she doesn't know obsession; if I kiss her now she would be the only thing on my mind every second of every day from here on out. I don’t think I would have the willpower to stay away.

The thought of falling deeper in love with a woman who is leaving is pure agony.

At the same time, she doesn't need me. She has her own life to live far, far away. She deserves a better man than me. I believe that with all my heart.

I put an arm below her thigh, and one behind her back, so I can pick her up. Light as a feather. I carry her out of the water and put a towel around her shoulders. She looks up at me as she dries off, her big eyes searching.

I want to kiss her so bad. I've never wanted anything like this before in my entire life.

But instead I say, "Time to get going." I reach out and touch her waist.

"Okay," she breathes out.

It's a long, quiet ride back to the ranch.

18
Katie

I
've changed
my mind about Clif.

Don’t get me wrong, he's certainly not relationship material, far from it. I'd never in a million years move to Wyoming to be with him. But he has redeemed himself. Indeed, I was ready to sleep with him again two days ago in that ridiculous, totally romantic hot spring up in the mountains. My mind keeps revisiting that passionate first night we spent together, even if the circumstances...and our actions...were just plain
dirty
. Clearly, we click.

Ugh, I'd do it right now if the opportunity presented itself on this little plane. Mmm, the thought of his warm, hard body pressed against mine makes me shiver. Just talking to him makes me feel hot, and I'm pretty sure he knows it.

Just like he knew how he teased me so at the spring, when he plucked me out of the water instead of kissing me. A masterstroke, really, at least when it comes to the World of Playboys; it’s so sad he’s only a womanizer. He could make a wonderful husband if he spent as much time on thinking about how to charm a woman as he did stringing them along.

In any event, I'm thankful for the distraction from my father's condition. The snow-covered view out the plane’s window is gorgeous. We touch down in Jackson an hour later.

Stepping off the plane the first thing I do is turn on my phone. I immediately receive a message from my best friend, Laurie, who I’ve permitted the hospital to call in the event that the doctors can’t get a hold of me. Cell reception has been spotty the past few days, so it doesn’t surprise me that I might have missed a call or two.

I listen with bated breath as we walk across the chilly tarmac to the small airport terminal.

"Hi, Katie. Your father's doing better. He's out of intensive care..."

Thank God!

I listen to the rest of her message. Even better, he’s in a normal hospital room now with a phone that I can call him on.

Vince hails a cab to go to a meeting. Clif and I pile into the back of a waiting company SUV, which is idling at the curb out front. I call Laurie to thank her before calling my father right away. It’s nice to be comfortable around Clif now. I like having him on my side.

With a lump in my throat I dial the number Laurie texted me.

“Hello?” my father’s gravelly, comforting voice greets from the other end.

"Hi, Daddy! How are you?" I say with a trembling voice, tears burning my eyes.

"Hi sweetheart."

It's the first time I've heard his voice in forever, and I immediately burst into tears.

I couldn't be happier. It feels like the best day of my life.

F
or once
, it doesn't feel that hard to unwind after work. I plug my phone into the speaker and play some soft music before pouring myself a glass of wine.

It goes down fast. Almost too fast.

So much is on my mind right now: my dad, Clif, my job. My poor little brain can hardly juggle it all as I shower and get ready for bed. I change into pajamas and down another glass of wine before dimming the lights and pulling out my tablet to read a little before bed.

I’m reading John Steinbeck’s, ‘The Winter of Our Discontent,’ a very sad, depressing tale to be sure. It’s funny, but I tend to read things that fit my emotional state at any given time, which is sort of bad when you think about it because all I end up accomplishing is making myself feel even worse when I’m already low; it would be better if I read lighter fare when I’m down, but for some odd reason I don’t.

It’s still relatively early, only 7:45pm, but I’m exhausted, and it’s not twenty minutes later before the lights are off; I just can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

Unexpectedly, however, the very moment I switch off my light the doorbell rings.

I roll out of bed and straighten myself before turning the light back on. Who could it be at this time of night?

It must be Clif…who else could it possibly be? A cold shock runs down my body. I take a deep breath and walk towards the door, my heart pounding.

"Noah??!"

"Hey, beautiful. Sorry I haven't called. I finally got some days off and I wanted to surprise you."

He holds out flowers.

"Oh my God! Well…surprise me you did!" I catch myself smiling. I lean in for a hug then hold him out at arm’s length to give him a good once over. He looks...different. No. He looks better. "Come in, come in. Get out of the cold. How did you find me?"

“Laurie—she had your Jackson address. But even if she didn’t I still would’ve come, it just wouldn’t have been as much of a surprise.”

“Sure, I gave her my address in case something important came in the mail. How was your trip out? Take a seat while I throw some clothes on. We’ll go grab a quick drink.”

A half hour later and I’m newly energized, sitting down for a late-night bite at one of Jackson's nicest restaurants. The wine prices are exorbitant, and I say as much.

"Don't worry about it," Noah says, pushing up his glasses. "I'm taking you out. It's on me."

"So they must be treating you pretty well in Hollywood, huh?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," he grins. I like Noah's new look: he's not as scruffy, a little more polished. And his body posture seems more mature, a little more upright. His bushy blond beard is neatly trimmed now and his hair is shorter, too, combed to the side. He's wearing new glasses, and they look sharper than his old oversized, plastic-rimmed hipster ones. He's a director now. It’s amazing how much he’s changed.

But enough on observations and small talk—I want to know what’s really on his mind—such as, are we getting back together or not? I lower my voice and look him straight in the eye, "So Noah, tell my why you came? Why after all this time? I thought you dropped off the face of the planet. It was driving me crazy. I’ve missed you so much."

"Babe, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't called. I’ve just been so busy with everything, it’s been insane. Hollywood is a whole different world; it's not like the little projects I directed before. I wake up every day wondering if I can handle it, and go to bed totally depleted. The pressure on set is unbelievable. And not just the work, but the social obligations I also have now. I don't know. I'm out of my league." He shakes his head.

"Oh, baby." I reach across the table and cup one of his hands in mine. Truth be told, I never thought he was someone who could make it as a high-powered director; I can understand how he might feel somewhat overwhelmed in such a fast-paced environment. Over the years I had always hoped he'd find some kind of job in video production, something just creative enough to keep him happy, but also well-paying enough so that he wouldn't have to work at the coffee shop. But he kept plugging away at his little movies. I'm smiling now. This is so great for him. "I'm so happy you found your big break and that it's working out."

The single appetizer we ordered comes, along with the wine. Noah takes a big gulp from his glass.

"God. It feels good to be away from it all for a few days. How about you, Katie? What have you been up to?"

I tell him about work, leaving Clif entirely out of the story. I feel guilty about editing the truth, but Noah and I aren't
really
together anymore, so it doesn't matter. After a couple more glasses of wine we're reminiscing about the goofy plans we always had, and where we'd move to in the city if we had kids. Noah knows practically every neighborhood in the Bay Area. I catch myself laughing.

I'd forgotten how
funny
Noah is. His wit and humor always made up for his other not-so-desirable traits, such as his obstinacy and impatience.

It's getting late now. The waiter comes back and sets the bill down on the table.

"Feels like old times, huh?" I smile, looking into his eyes just above the flickering flame of the candle.

"Yeah." Noah shifts a little bit in his seat. He's become increasingly tense as the evening has worn on, like there is something on his mind. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being slightly suspicious of him having another relationship while in LA. I mean, why else wouldn’t he call or text or write? It’s not like him to be so distant. Oh well, here goes nothing—the moment we’ve all been waiting for—let’s get this over with.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"Katie, I have to come clean about something."

“Yeah?”
I knew it!

"It's about my break. Did you see my last indie movie?
Delicate
Cornelia
?"

Not what I was expecting. "Uh, no." I feel guilty. He never let me see the rough cuts, and it came out when I was too busy with my father and work and our separation. “I, I just didn’t have time.”

"Well, anyway, that was my big break. It's the reason I was given a chance to direct the second installment of the
Roses on the Vine
. But that's not the whole story. If we watch
Cornelia
tonight, I can explain what happened."

"Okay."

I feel bad. Here I am thinking about all these negative things he might be doing, when in reality he really probably was just working his tail off. Regardless, whatever he's worried about concerning his movie, I'm sure it's not as bad as he thinks; Noah always was a little too sensitive.

We sit quietly and sip on our wine for a few moments.

Finally it's Noah who breaks the silence. "I want to still make time for the two of us. I don't know if I can, with my career and everything that’s going on, but I want to try to make it work."

"Oh Noah, so do I! You have no idea how I’ve longed to hear those words." I've been nostalgic about our relationship this whole evening. The entire night went well, I had a great time, the way we used to be. I feel positive for the future once more.

"I swear to God, I want to make it work. But I can't commit unless I know I can be there one hundred percent for you. I want to give you the time you deserve."

"Aww, that's so sweet."

"Katie, what I'm asking for is more time." Noah is intent, looking straight at me. "I just need more time to figure this out and get my feet underneath me. Please tell me I haven't lost you."

"No, baby, no you haven't lost me. Take your time. I know you’re working hard."

When we get back to my place we immediately cuddle up in bed and watch
Delicate Cornelia
on his laptop. By the time it's all over, I'm wiping away tears.

"That was beautiful, Noah. I can't believe you directed that."

"Well,” he gulps. “That’s what I was trying to say back at the restaurant—I didn’t. It was a French exchange student, Pierre Baguette. He died in a car wreck three days after production ended."

"Oh my God," I cried. “That’s terrible.”

"The movie's dedicated to him."

"Oh Jesus. I’m stunned. I don’t what to say. I love the scene where he teaches her to skateboard. It was just so beautiful, so moving the way it was shot."

"That wasn't me either. That was our cinematographer, Boog."

"Oh. Then why did they give
you
a job, out of everyone?"

Noah's quiet. I realize this is why he was so bothered over dinner. "Because I lied. Not just me, but two others from our crew. Long story short, Hollywood loved it and came calling, and we took credit for everything."

"Noah...that’s…that’s not right,” I sigh heavily, staring at him. He looks sincerely pained.

"Dammit, this is how the world works. It was an opportunity. Half the shit in Hollywood is either directed by hacks or completely stolen. They just have connections. And Pierre's dead anyway. Someone had to take credit. Why does it matter?"

"Well, clearly it matters to you. You wouldn’t be so worked up if you thought otherwise. What about the Boog fellow?"

"No one liked him. He was an arrogant smart ass so we cut him out."

"Oh my God." Quite the revelation, indeed.

Noah turns away from me, sulking. This is so unlike him. I know that he doubts his talent. And having to explain how he lied to get a job can only make it worse. I know it's hard for him to accept. He knows he isn’t very good in the first place, that’s why he struggled for so many years like he did.

"I’m not worried about Boog; he’ll find work. He's really good. I'm just afraid I'll run into him on set at some point, and when I do…well,” his voice trails off.

I sit up and shake my head, looking at Noah lying there.

Yeah, I guess that is the way the world works—hell, all the online work I do is nothing but a gigantic manipulation designed to funnel money here rather than there—and don’t even get me started on advertising and public relations—the world is a dirty, cutthroat place.

I give his shoulder a tender squeeze, then curl up behind him and cuddle. "Baby, I don't care that you lied. I’m no saint myself. Like the old saying goes,
Those who live in glass houses ought not to throw stones
."

Noah doesn't answer. Soon we're fast asleep.

Other books

Holocaust Island by Graeme Dixon
Letters from War by Mark Schultz
Till We Rise by Camila Cher Harmath
The Abduction by James Grippando
The Paper Cowboy by Kristin Levine