Rewind (A Perfect Forever Novella) (7 page)

Caroline laughs. “Bobby is the true hero here. He saves the dogs, brings them back to their potential, and finds them homes.”

Bobby steps back to the dog and eases down to lift one end of the stretcher and Caroline follows at the other end.

They disappear into the kennel with the dog. I wander over to a cage and crouch down to be at eye level with the dog. I wouldn’t call myself a dog lover, but there is definitely something in the eyes of these powerful animals that gets to me.

I ease over to another cage and watch the dog stare at me. It’s fear and longing I see in its eyes, almost the same look I saw in Fiona’s eyes while filming on Stockton Boulevard.

I go back to my car and grab my digital camera. I start snapping pictures of the dogs. Bobby is right. There is a documentary here. And working on a film about his dog rescuing activities will definitely give us more time together.

I smile. That is a wonderful way to pull all the pieces of my life together. And right now, I can’t think of anything that would be better than spending as much time as I can with Bobby.

A few minutes later Bobby returns, thankfully alone.

I stare up at him, round eyed. “Caroline, huh?”

Bobby places an arm around my shoulder. “Since when are you jealous?”

“Since I just found out you have a pretty blond living in your guest cottage.”

He laughs. He kisses my  nose. “Would it make you feel better about the whole thing if I told you that Caroline has agreed to take care of the dogs the next few days so we can have some exclusive us time together?”

I bite my lower lip. I can tell by how they feel that my eyes are sparkling. “She’s starting to grow on me.”

And without warning, I pull out of Bobby’s arms and run into the house.

SEVEN

I curl into Bobby holding him close to my heart as I stare out the windows at the faint wash of morning blue. We pretty much haven’t left the bed since yesterday evening. Hours of lovemaking, talking, laughing. We even ate a light supper between the sheets. He is again my best friend and lover in a way so much richer than I have ever known.

“Caroline can cover for me for three days,” he says softly into my hair. “How long can you take off?”

“As long as you want me to.”

“Good. I’ve got plans for you.”

“You do? Better than what we just did?”

His smile is a hint excited and definitely secretive.

I sit up in bed. “Ok, Bobby Rowan, what are you up to?”

He shrugs. “Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. What do you want?”

I laugh. “I want to call work and tell them I’ll be out three days and then I want to have my way with you.”

I grab my cell phone and climb from the sheets. “I’m going to get a bottle of water. Do you want anything?”

He turns to lay on his hip and the sight of him whispers through my flesh like a heady caress. Gorgeous green eyes; kind features; golden tan skin; and messy long, chestnut hair.

“Just you,” he says.

“You’ve got me,  for as long as you want.”

I hit the number for the office, then the speaker button, and go down the hallway toward the kitchen. As I pass Tiki, I toss her a smile. I think she’s getting used to me. Those soulful dog eyes definitely look less worried and standoffish.

I go to the fridge and take out a chilled bottle of water.

“KKK Productions,” Veronica announces.

“Hey Veronica, I’m going to be taking a few days off. How did everything go with the pitch yesterday?”

“Justin emailed you. Didn’t you get it?”

I laugh. “Sorry. Wasn’t checking work email yesterday.”

“Everything went well. Very well.”

“Good. Tell Justin I really appreciate all he’s doing and I’ll be back on Monday. Bye.”

I click off the phone and go back to the refrigerator for a yogurt. Ding. I stare at my phone to find it lit up. I swipe it to unlock and find that my webhosting icon has a notification. I tap it open.

Love-struck Trainer:
Come back to bed.

All at once, everything inside me is running hot, cold, furious and delirious.
It can’t be. It can’t be…

I race down the hall into the bedroom. Bobby is sitting against the pillows, phone in hand, looking wickedly amused by me.

“You…you…”is all I can sputter.

He starts to laugh, and I grab a pillow and  hit him with it. He only laughs harder.

Frustrated, overjoyed, exhausted and suspicious, I sink down on the bed beside him.

“How did you know that was my blog?”

He rakes a hand through his shoulder length hair. “The webhosting company is linked to my credit card. You billed it to me.”

Oh dear. I don’t know whether to be angry or to laugh.

“Why did you start chatting with me as some sort of anonymous cyber fan?”

He touches my cheek with a fingertip. “I missed you. I wanted to know if I still had a chance with you.”

OK, forgiven
. Still, I hold back my smile.

“I love you, Kaley.”

The smiles fills my face. “I love you too.”

He reaches into a drawer and removes a velvet box. He opens it. Nestled inside is an engagement ring.

“Kaley Stanton, will you marry me?”

Laughing and crying, I fling myself into his arms and kiss him fiercely. “Yes, Bobby. I will marry you. I would marry you this second if you wanted me to.”

He slips the ring onto my finger. He places a light kiss there that runs all the way to my heart. “How do you feel about today? In Vegas?”

My eyes round. “You mean just us. No family? No friends?”

“Just us, Kaley. The way it has always been.”

The accidental encounter that led to our lunch together. Caroline covering his chores with the dogs. The ring. He planned this, each part, and I followed trustingly and it worked out brilliantly.

“You planned every part of the last two days and you were pretty sure you were going to get your way.”

His smile is roguish and sweetly charming at once. “Not sure. Hopeful.”

I try not to smile back at his self-satisfied grin. “I bet you think you’ve got me all trained and ready to do exactly what you want me to, Bobby Rowan.”

“You don’t train your Fembot, Kaley. You let her go, if that’s what she needs, and hope she comes back to you.”

I start to say,
I’m not a Fembot,
but Bobby turns me beneath him on the mattress, his kiss traps the words inside me, and I realize it’s better his way.

~The End~

Thank you for reading Rewind. If you’ve enjoyed Kaley and Bobby’s story,  their prequel,  The Girl in the Space Between, will be released in early 2015.

Or you might want to start at the beginning, with Kaley’s parents in
The Girl on the Half Shell.
Available Now on Amazon.
 
Please enjoy the following excerpt:

The room is so quiet it is deafening.

I find Alan on his bed, casually reclined against a stack of pillows, dressed only in flannel pajama bottoms, and reading—of all things—the
Wall Street Journal.
There is a fire lit, the silver candlesticks flicker with flame, the bedcovers invitingly turned down as if in preparation for some sort of romantic scene. But he is focused on the
Journal
.

He doesn’t look at me and I feel stupid hovering by his door, so I start to wander around the bedroom, trying to still my frantic pulse. It’s a good thing that it’s an interesting room, otherwise my deliberate study would seem silly.

Even Alan’s bedroom is something I find weird and demands a certain amount of mental analysis. It looks like something from a nineteenth century English manor, elegant to the point of being almost a touch prissy. There’s an antique mahogany king-sized bed facing the fireplace; floral wingback chairs with pillows positioned before the hearth; and high-tech conveniences camouflaged in antique furniture. There’s a Monet on the wall; tall, polished sterling silver candlesticks; crystal; and fine, leather-bound, first edition books of classic literature. I sink down before a small, mahogany table where I find a stack of newspaper:
Barons;
the
New York Times;
the
Washington Post;  
and
the
Daily Telegraph.

The warmth of the fire surrounds me like a caress, but I am quaking like a leaf. I wasn’t sure what Alan expected after he walked out of the kitchen. It would have been logical to assume that I would leave. But he knew I’d follow him. I don’t know why he’s ignoring me now. I look at the lit candlesticks—he wanted me to follow him.

I bite my lower lip and stare at my knotted fingers. I stayed alone in the kitchen for what seemed like ages, and now that I’ve done exactly what he expected me to do,
nothing.

I struggle for something to say to break the silence. “You do have seven bedrooms. I counted them twice. But there are seven only if I include yours.”

He folds the
Journal
, tosses it on the table and fixes those penetrating, mesmerizing eyes on me. “Is this the room you want?” he asks, his voice gentle. “I meant it when I said you could have any room. It doesn’t have to be my room for you to stay.”

Does he not want me in his room?
A ragged breath forces its way from deep in my lungs. “Do you want me to go?” I murmur.

“Of course not. I want you here.” His voice is husky and his eyes are wandering in a leisurely hold that is tender and oddly comforting.

Thank you for reading. Continue the story of Chrissie and Alan in the second book of the Half Shell Series: Girl of Tokens and Tears coming Fall 2014. Please enjoying the following sneak peek as Neil Stanton re-enters the story:

“Here, you look like you could use this,” says a quiet male voice above me.

I look up only far enough to see the carry size pack of tissue held out in long, tan fingers. I take one and anxiously dab at my tears. On the concrete walkway below there is a pair of some kind of work shoe and dark blue pant legs that look like they belong to a jump suit or something. Oh God, the janitor I barreled into. How humiliating is this? To be the girl alone on a concrete slab, crying and being consoled by the janitor.

I don’t look up, praying he’ll go away.

“Can I sit on your bench?” he asks politely.

I nod. “It’s not my bench and it’s a free country.”

He gives me a small laugh for that. I avoid looking straight at him, inhale another sniffle, and touch my nose with the tissue.

“Thank you. You’ve been very nice,” I whisper.

He settles near me copying my posture, feet on bench, legs bent and facing me.

“You know, Lambert will only bully you if you let him,” he advises kindly. “And he only bullies the students he thinks have potential they are not putting to good use.”

“Thanks. I’ll try to remember that. He doesn’t hate me. I have potential.”

He laughs and from a pack on the ground he takes a brown lunch bag and sets it beside him.

“Rough year?” He is carefully unwrapping some kind of minimart precooked burrito thing.

Jeez, is he going to eat that cold?

“Do you want a bite? It isn’t a terrible as it looks.”

I start to laugh when I really don’t want to. “Thanks, but no thanks!”

“Come on. What’s not to love? Week old beans. Week old rice and I’m not even sure what the sauce is. Be bold. Be brave. Eat a minimart burrito from yesterday.”

Ok, that was funny. I look at him then locking on green eyes and I see a really sweet teasing glint in them. His eyes are large, brightly colored and filled with a smile. Shoulder length blond streaked brown hair peeks out from beneath an army green bandana and the face of the janitor is tanned, really good looking…and really familiar.

Why does it feel like I know him?

“Are you homesick? Is that why you mope around campus all day?”

I lift my chin. “I don’t mope and how would you know what I do all day?”

He takes the keys hanging from his belt and shakes them. “There’s not much to do when you push a broom in the music department except listen and watch everything.” He takes a bite of his burrito. “You have Lambert’s class from 10 until 11. You sit on this bench until noon. You have a practice room from 1 until 2. You sit on this bench until 3. You have your lab with Jared the TA—who is hot for you, would really like to date you, and is afraid to ask—that’s at 3:30. And then sometimes you do another hour in a practice room, but most times you disappear from campus. You are back at 7 for symphony. That’s your Tuesday/Thursday schedule.”

My eyes round and I tense. Jeez, maybe he’s not just the janitor. Maybe he’s a stalker or something!

“How do you know all that?” I ask fearfully.

“I push a broom, remember?” he replies casually.

I start to gather my things.

“Hey,” he says putting his hand on my arm. “You don’t have to run for security, Chrissie. I would never hurt a hometown girl. The rest of the girls I stalk are in trouble, but you’re pretty much safe. We’ve got that whole SB thing going on. Like comrades bonded in warfare.”

His boyish eyes start to twinkle above an endearing smile. I stare at him. Chrissie: he knows my name. SB thing? He’s from Santa Barbara too. I study him more closely and I just can’t place the face. I know I know the face, but I’m not connecting the dots, and I’m not tapping into that instinct thing telling me if I use to like him or I should run.

He frowns. “Now I’m hurt.”

Crap, he can see I’m not remembering him.

He tosses his unfinished burrito into the bag. “Do you forget every really, really cool guy who does you a really, really big favor?”

I feel my heart drop to my knees.
Really, really cool guy
….Oh crap! Neil Stanton. Yep, I definitely remember him. The jerk from that night Rene and I went clubbing at Peppers before spring break. The guy who thought he needed to give me life advice after making a fool out of me. In my memory I can still hear him saying
Didn’t Daddy teach you anything about how the world works
.