I Want You to Want Me (Rock Star Romance #2) (30 page)

“Wrong. Ignoring me, pushing me away, that’s what cost you me. I never opened up to anybody before you. You taught me to never do it again.”

He stood there, stunned, and she took advantage of the moment and stalked off to the elevator.

She pressed the button, stood with arms folded across her stomach.

He came up behind her. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you.”

She ignored him. There was nothing left to say.

“Are you taking this job? In Chicago?”

“I’m not sure which job I’ll take, but it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t concern you.”

“I want it to. I came here to tell you how sorry I am. To tell you that I love you, and I want to be with you. And to ask you not to take a job without considering me first. I want you to take a job with me in mind. So we can be together.”

She drew in a shaky breath. All the anger rushing out of her. “Well, I can’t do that. I have to take the job that will bring in the most money so I don’t lose my home.” And then, more softly. “I can’t lose my home.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“You already did.”

The front door slammed so hard the windows rattled.

“Mail.” Mimi waved a handful of letters as she came into the kitchen.

Violet grabbed her keys and purse. “Anything good?”

Her friend slapped the pile on the kitchen table. “You’re going out like that?”

Violet looked down at her outfit. Shorts, tank top, flip-flops. “What?”

“I thought we’re going clothes shopping.”

“Yeah, so?” Violet had dressed for easy access—pull off her tank, drop her shorts, kick off her shoes.

“So you look like you’re going to clean the oven.”

“I’m trying on dresses. Who cares what I’m wearing? Besides, it’s like a hundred degrees out there.”

“Fashion doesn’t hinge on weather. Tell her, Mother.”

Francesca came into the kitchen, immediately reaching for the mail. Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she flicked through the stack. “I think she looks comfortable on this unbearably hot day.” She looked up with a smile to Violet. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yup.” She flipped her keys around her finger, noticing when Francesca frowned at an envelope. “What?”

She handed the letter to Violet. “It’s from the county, but it’s addressed to Jedidiah Walker Irrevocable Trust.”

“Let me see it.” Mimi snatched it and tore it open.

“Easy, sweetheart,” her mom said. “Don’t want to rip it.”

“Oh, I’m easy. Believe me, I’m easy.” Mimi quickly scanned the documents. “Tax bill.” A curious smile bloomed. “The tax bill for this property’s been sent to an irrevocable trust. I’m guessing Old Man Walker didn’t mention a trust to you?”

Violet shook her head, her nerves flaring. New information. Was it good news—or bad?

“And the lawyer didn’t mention a trust either, so his kids likely don’t know about it.” Francesca tapped it against her hand. “Let’s fax this to Randall, see what he can dig up.”

•   •   •

Three
hours later, Violet faced the mirror in a huge dressing room. Dresses hung off the bars on the wall. Since Francesca wasn’t buying anything new for Emmie’s wedding—she had a lifetime of fancy dresses to call on—and Mimi couldn’t afford one, not until she got a job and started earning money, all of them were Violet’s.

The one she wore didn’t flatter her figure, and the
aubergine
color looked harsh against her pale skin. Also, the way the neckline cut halfway to her belly button made her boobs look indecent.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” Francesca asked. “You look so lost.”

“I would never wear something like this.”

In the mirror, Violet saw the look pass between the women. Yeah, her voice didn’t come out strong, but hey, her days of breakdowns were over. “I’m just wondering what I would wear, you know? This is too revealing. But what would I like? I mean, what expresses me?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Mimi said. “I just go with what I like. What looks good on me. I don’t think about what
expresses
me.”

“That’s because you know who you are.”

Mimi let out a bitter bark of laughter. “Oh, please. I’m the perfect Manhattan businesswoman.”

Now it was Violet and Francesca’s turn to share a quick look.

“What?” Mimi asked. “Like I don’t know how hard I try to fit in my dad’s world? I’m not that clueless. The point is, don’t think about what expresses you. Because that’s gonna change from day to day. Wear what you like, what gives you that zing. Nothing else matters.”

Well, of
course
, other things mattered. She had to choose a dress that fit the occasion, matched the tone or theme of the event.

“What?” Mimi said. “Stop overthinking this. Just choose a dress that makes you zing and let’s go. People to see, places to go, bee-atch.”

Violet glanced at some of the other dresses. She had earth-woman, hippy dresses and polished, elegant ones. She had flirty, youthful ones, and she had nearly risqué ones.

“I just, you know, I don’t know if I can pull off sexy.”

Mimi stood up behind her and set her chin on Violet’s shoulder. “You are incredibly sexy. You’re also down to earth and elegant and beachy. You’re all those things. That’s why you choose the dress that feels right in this moment. And then you buy another dress when you’re feeling different.”

“Sweetheart, when do you most feel yourself?” Francesca asked.

Violet didn’t even have to think. “When I’m with Derek.” Their pained expressions made her look away. “It’s okay. I can talk about him.”

Derek continued to text her now and again.

Thinking about you.

Miss you.

Coming to the wedding?

And the worst.
Please give me a chance.

And, God, the wedding? It would be torture to see him. Would he bring someone? It didn’t seem likely that he’d continue to text her while seeing someone new. Yet pictures didn’t lie. He’d been seen around with a woman named Sam on his arm. Nothing sexual or anything—

Oh, come on. Was she really thinking about him and who he might be dating?

She shut it down. She wouldn’t think about him at all.

“So think about him looking at you at the wedding. What’re you wearing? What makes you feel like the woman he sees?”

In the mirror, her gaze landed on the one dress that had made her heart beat a little faster.

Ah, the zing.
Got it.

Even if she couldn’t have him, she still wanted him to think she was beautiful. And that dress would do it.

•   •   •

A
band of dusky purple-gray clouds buffeted the horizon. With the gentle lapping of waves, the heat of the day still warming the sand, Violet should’ve felt relaxed. She was home. Her closest friends in the world surrounded her. She had jobs to choose from. Everything was all right.

But she ached. And it wouldn’t go away. No, she didn’t want a mercurial man, but she wanted
Derek
. Everything in her cried out for him. It wasn’t going away.

It should’ve passed by now.

“I thought I’d find you ladies down here.”

The three of them turned as one to see Randall coming down the stairs to the beach. In his blue button-down and khakis, he looked handsome and clean-cut.

“Randall,” Francesca said. “Come sit with us. We have way too much food.”

Mimi lobbed a vine of grapes at him. He caught it one-handed and started popping them off the stem. “Delicious. Everything tastes better out here.”

He kicked off his boat shoes and plopped down beside Violet, leaning into her. “I’m beginning to see the appeal.”

She smiled, but she knew he was just humoring her. This place would never suit him. It was too far from the city to make it worth a weekend visit, and no matter what restorations they made on the house, it would never be the kind of place an Oppenheimer used for a retreat.

But did it matter? What if she let him in? What if she just tried? With Randall, she’d have peace, stability. She
glanced at Francesca, head resting against the back of her beach chair, features completely relaxed as she held a glass of wine in one hand.

She’d have the exact life her friend had fled.

Charity balls, auctions, luncheons, vacations with Randall’s friends on the yacht.

That life . . . it just wasn’t her.

“What’s that?” Mimi pointed to the large manila envelope he’d set down on the blanket.

“It’s the golden ticket, ladies.”

“What’re you talking about?” Mimi sat up on her knees, hands pressed together. “Oh, my God, spill already.”

But he only had eyes for Violet. He watched her with a knowing smile. “You want to hear my news?”

She barely nodded, her heart thumping in the cavern of her chest.

“Sorry, what was that?” he teased. “I couldn’t hear you.”

Mimi smacked her arm. “What is your problem?”

“Mimi,” Francesca murmured. “Not everyone shows her feelings on her sleeve.” She gave Randall a chastising look.

“Right.” He sat up, brushing sand off his hands. “Okay, so.” He paused. “They’re dropping the suit. Land’s yours as long as you can keep up your lease payments.”

“They’re accepting the purchase price?” Violet asked, still wary.

“Research shows it’s fair market value for farmland in Eden’s Landing. Jed wasn’t doing you any favors.”

“Ha.” Mimi punched a fist in the air.

“So the trust?” Violet held her emotion in check, waiting for all the facts.

“Before he died, Old Man Walker set up an irrevocable trust for the land. No one can build on it, subdivide it, or use it for any purpose other than farming. In perpetuity.”

Both hands went to cover her face. Her breathing turned shallow, and tears stung.

Francesca set her wineglass aside, went to her knees, and threw her arms around Violet. Mimi dog-piled, and the three of them toppled the chair over, Violet’s head hitting the sand.

Laughing, Randall got up and put his hands on Mimi’s waist. “Okay, okay, give my girl some room.”

My girl
. Did she want to be Randall’s girl?

The women got off her, and Randall reached for her hand, pulling her up. Gently, he brushed sand off her cheek, off her shoulders, his gaze settling on her mouth. “The land is yours, Violet. All yours.”

She bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to cause pain.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Mimi said. “Let it go already.”

“You’re home, sweetheart.” Francesca gave her a warm smile.

Violet couldn’t really see them through the sheen of tears, so she got up and took off down the beach.

She ran, stumbling in the rocky sand, making her way to the harder-packed shoreline. She had to get her head around this news.

She had a permanent home that no one could take from her.

She had a means to support herself on her land. Her products were already selling well, and her new ideas were so good she knew they’d do well, too.

She was safe, stable, secure.

Oh, my God, what’s the matter with me? Why do I feel so freaking empty?

Why is it not enough?

Would she never feel full-up inside?

“What is the matter with you?” Mimi came up behind her. “You should be happy.”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know my reactions aren’t normal?”

Mimi rolled her eyes. “Oh, my God. You’re not seriously hung up on what that old hag social worker said to your grandmother all those years ago, are you?”

“Of course I am.”

“Violet.”

“What?”

“You were
six years old
. The things you remember? A six-year-old wouldn’t know words like that. That’s, like, out of a textbook.”

“I remember.”

“Are you sure you remember her words so exactly?”

“Well . . . I mean, I did read them. In a child psych class I took in high school one semester.” The impact of the words in that textbook had been like a gunshot blast to her heart. It had given form to the idea of what she’d heard at her grandma’s house that morning.

Mimi wrapped her arms around her from behind. “You silly girl. You took some passage you read in a book and made it your truth. Those studies don’t matter. The only thing that matters is what you actually feel. Did you love him?”

She nodded, tears brimming, spilling over. “Very much.”

“Then forget some excerpt from some random study. It doesn’t mean shit. Listen to your heart. Okay?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Okay.”

“And is your heart wanting to do a happy dance right now?”

Her heart wanted to be with Derek, but she nodded. Because she was definitely happy with Randall’s news.

Mimi grabbed her hand and led her back to the blanket, where Francesca and Randall waited for her. They’d packed up, and Francesca held the picnic basket in one hand and the blanket folded under an arm.

No, she didn’t feel like doing a happy dance, but she knew Mimi was right about trusting her heart. She needed to let down her damn guard. So she walked right through it and into Randall’s arms. “Thank you, Randall. Thank you so much.”

His arms came right around her.

“See you up at the house.” Mimi grabbed the beach chairs.

Randall gave the women a nod but never let go of Violet. “I didn’t do much of anything. Jed had it all worked out for you. Unfortunately, his attorney spends July in Nantucket, so he wasn’t around to let us know about the trust. You wouldn’t have had to go through any of this if it had happened a month earlier or a month later. But it’s done now.”

She could see his soothing demeanor turn into something else—something hot and lustful. He wanted her. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers.

She had a second to push him away, let him know this wasn’t what she wanted.

But she didn’t take it.

Because he was kind and constant. Because she wanted to want him as much as he wanted her. She wanted a man whose heart she could count on.

So when his lips brushed over hers, she lifted her arms, hung them loosely around his neck, and waited. Waited for sensation to bloom on her skin, for desire to pound in her blood. Waited for her hips to shift restlessly, for need to carve her wide open.

“Violet,” he whispered as he pressed harder and slid his tongue into her mouth.

But it didn’t come. Because those feelings she waited for came from passion.

Passion didn’t offer security. It died out. She could have that kind of relationship with Derek, but it would end in a fiery wreck.

Oh, wait. It already had.

She didn’t do fiery. So she sank into Randall, tangling her tongue with his. And sure, little sparks flared up along her nerves. If she let herself go, she might come to enjoy his touch.

He was such a good guy.

Then he pulled back and said, “Is this okay?”

And for some reason, that just changed everything.

Because he always asked. He never took.

And God help her, but Violet wanted to be taken.

•   •   •

“What’re
you doing?” Mimi leaned against the doorway, watching her with concern.

“Packing.” Violet stood in front of her dresser, staring into her underwear drawer, wondering how many pairs she should bring.