Ruined (11 page)

Before he can say anything, I grab my purse and run out into the hallway. Reed calls after me and follows me to the beach, but I turn around and yell to him. "I'll be okay. Just please let me go!" He stops and puts his hands on his hips as I turn and run toward home.

***

I spend hours sitting on the beach, staring up at the moon shining brightly in the sky. The ocean waves restore my sanity for a bit, and I try to block out thoughts of Reed. How could I have fooled myself into thinking it was okay to kiss him? To want him like I do? I am not a woman who is destined to have a normal life, and yet I somehow allowed myself to get sucked in.

A girl like me can't have a life like I want so desperately. It just isn't possible. People judge you. They don't understand that sometimes bad things happen and you have to make a choice. A life or death choice. And no matter which choice you make, you end up dying anyway.

The lights in our house went out at least an hour ago, and I imagine that my mother and Bruce are tired after their trip. I imagine that Kellan is in there somewhere, possibly sleeping soundly for the first time in years. Maybe his past doesn't haunt him like mine does.

I stand up to walk toward the house when I see someone standing at the edge of the water. There were riptide signs on this part of the beach today, but he apparently doesn't see them because he's walking into the water. I run down to warn him.

"Hey! Hey!" I yell, and he finally turns around. In the moonlight, I can barely see him but what I can see is amazing. He's very tall, probably at least six foot two, and his muscles are large and chiseled. Maybe a bodybuilder? He has tattoos on both arms and very dark, thick hair that is messy in a good way. He doesn't smile when he looks at me. Instead he looks irritated, and I wonder if it's a good idea to piss off a random bodybuilder guy at midnight on the beach. I'm pretty sure he could fight a riptide with his bare hands.

"What?" he says, more than a little aggravated at the interruption.

"I, um, just wanted to warn you. Riptides were bad here today. I wouldn't go out too far..."

"Wow. I'm scared." Excuse me, jackass? Who says something sarcastic like that to someone who is trying to help?

"Fine. Have it your way. I was just trying to help."

"Are you a lifeguard? A cop?"

"No."

"Then who put you in charge of protecting me?" he says. I am stunned, and getting angrier by the second.

"You know what? I've had a bad night, dickhead, and I don't need this crap from some random muscled up, tattooed, sarcastic, rude thug on a beach." I turn around, all too aware that I just told off a guy who could pick me up and break me in half. I start moving away as quickly as one can on sand. It momentarily occurs to me that I haven't talked to anyone like that in years. I can almost feel the backbone I thought I'd lost raring up inside of me.

"Hey!" he calls back. For some stupid reason, I stop and turn around.

"Why do you think I'm a thug?"

"Really? That's the part you're upset about?" I ask with a sarcastic chuckle.

"I've been called worse. Trust me."

"Well, so have I. And I don't need it from some guy I don't know and won't ever see again. Have a good swim. Maybe the waves will carry you to a place where people don't care if you're a jackass." I walk toward the house, up the stairs and through the back door without looking back.

As I sneak up the stairs, I think about how good looks can only carry a person so far. If they have a horrible personality, like beach jackass guy, looks don't matter. I change into my night shirt and a pair of shorts, brush my teeth and slip into bed. My room is pitch black dark with only hints of moonlight peaking through my window.

Sleep seems to be avoiding me, and I turn to face the window hoping the sound of ocean waves will carry my mind away for the night. What must Reed be thinking right now? My internship is probably over, and I think I might be okay with that. I can't sit there and work with him when all I want to do is kiss him. Ugh.

Unable to sleep, I put on my headphones and find some soft music on my iPod. I snuggle the covers around me, and wish for sleep. Respite. A way out of this maze I call a mind. Music has always been a calming force for me, and I miss playing the piano for the first time in a long time.

Just as I am dozing off, I feel something. Or someone. Next to me. Getting into my bed. I yank the headphones off and hurl my iPod across the room before sitting up.

"What the hell?" I yelp, pulling the covers up around me and slapping the crap out of whoever is in bed with me. Whoever it is has a rock solid chest because I swear I broke a finger hitting him.

"Damn! That hurt!" he says, and then I realize it's the guy from the beach. I flip on my bedside lamp, jump up and grab a bat I keep by my bed. Terrible, painful memories flash across my mind. I want to run away. I hear sounds, feel things, see things... I'm transported back, and I think I start to scream. Bruce and my mother can't hear me most likely since they're on the other end of this huge mansion, and Carmelita took a vacation day.

"I'm calling the cops!" I say as I reach for my cell phone. He jumps up, wearing only his boxer briefs, and grabs my hand tightly.

"No, you're not calling the cops." His calm voice scares me as he stares down at me with the greenest eyes I've ever seen. He speaks through gritted teeth, and his breath is ragged. I'm sure I'm about to get raped or tortured or kidnapped.

"Let go of me..." I plead, tears streaming down my face. "What do you want with me?" I continue to pull as hard as I can against the tightness of his hand around mine, and I don't have a chance. He's just too strong for me.

"Nothing. I want nothing. I swear. I thought this was my bedroom. I'm new around here. I must have miscounted the doors. This place is fucking huge."

O.M.G. This must be Kellan.

"Kellan?" I ask softly, and he releases his grip as his eyes widen.

"You must be Willow?" he says, still no hint of a smile on his face.

"Nice to meet you?" I say trying to calm the situation. He's almost like a scared animal who has been cornered.

"Boy, having a thug in your bed must have been scary," he says, sarcasm leaking from every word.

"No, having a
jackass
thug in my bed was scary," I say, trying to diffuse the situation with humor. It isn't working.

He walks across the room and turns his back, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. He's so large and strong looking on the outside, but I can feel something about him. He's fragile in some way. I'm pretty keen on other people's emotions. What they're giving off. Where their weaknesses lie.

"Welcome home," I finally say softly. He seems like a caged animal as he slowly paces the room. I wonder why he isn't leaving. Finally, he takes a deep breath and turns around.

"This isn't home," he says and walks out the door, slamming it behind him.

Nice to meet you, Kellan, I think to myself and then try desperately to go to sleep.

I awake the next morning, and I wish that my mind was clear. It never is, but this morning is particularly bad as I have visions of pushing Reed away in my mind. And those visions are mixed with my hot, angry new step brother who crawled into bed with me last night. Welcome to my dysfunctional life.

Stepping out onto the deck, as I do every morning, I get a view I wasn't expecting. There's Kellan, at six in the morning, doing yoga on the beach. Yoga? But he's a convict. Where would he have learned yoga? He's wearing nothing but a pair of low hanging athletic shorts that show off some major abs. I can see those sexy cuts that lead from his sides down into those shorts, and I shake my head to try to erase the thought like a mental Etch-A-Sketch.

I put on some yoga pants, for comfort ironically, and a tank top and head downstairs. No one else is up yet, so I slip outside and watch him for a few more minutes.

"Are you going to keep staring at me like some kind of stalker, or are you going to join me?" he says without turning around. So much for my future as a super spy.

"How'd you know I was here?" I ask, crawling out from behind a dune.

"You learn to keep your eyes open in prison, Willow," he says turning around. His green eyes seem to stab right through me, and they're only more haunting in daylight. "So, are you joining me or what?" His voice is rough and gravely, which stands out in stark contrast to his seeming love of yoga.

"I... uh... I don't know any yoga."

"Really? Rich girl living the beach life doesn't know any yoga? I'm shocked. I guess prisoners are higher class than I thought." Oh, he's so sarcastic and cocky.

"Are you always such a dick, Kellan?" I ask, which sends him shooting back up from his pose and staring at me. I almost see a hint of a smile, but it's gone in an instant. His shorts hang dangerously low, and seeing those lines that dip down into his shorts is causing my eyes to dart around dangerously.

"Yeah. Pretty much. We didn't have any etiquette classes in my cell block."

"Is that going to be your excuse?" I ask, aware that I may have just crossed a line. I cross my arms and wait for his answer, acting a lot more authoritative than I really am. My strawberry blond curls blow in the ocean breeze and I blow one strand out of my face.

"Excuse me?" he says walking closer. I stand firm, but mainly because my feet have sank into the warm sand.

"Are you planning to use your prison time as an excuse for everything? Just curious so I can be prepared to listen to it over and over again." I stare up at him because he looms over me. His large frame is rippled with muscles and I can't find an ounce of fat on him anywhere.

"It's reality, rich girl. I did time."

"First of all, let me clear up this whole notion that I'm a rich girl. Your daddy is rich, not me. Not my mother. We come from humble beginnings, and this isn't home for me either." I sit down on the sand and stare at the water. This guy is really getting under my skin. "So, if anyone is rich, it's you, Kellan." I almost growl the words.

He stands there for a moment, shakes his head and then sits down a few feet away. "Trust me, my father has no intentions of leaving the family legacy to me. I'm as broke as it gets, and I am the black sheep of this family."

"Only because your infractions are public knowledge," I say softly without thinking.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Sorry I interrupted your yoga practice," I say standing up.

His hand comes out and grabs my arm, and a jolt of electricity rockets through every pore of my being. What the hell? Why is he always grabbing me like that?

"Join me," he says gruffly, and I don't know what to make of it. "Come on, I've been locked up with men for five years. It might be nice to have a female to share this with for once. Yoga practice with The Shark and Two Tooth Lopez wasn't exactly fun." I start laughing, and he finally cracks a smile. And what a smile it is. For an ex-con, he has beautiful teeth. I imagine Bruce Avery made sure he had the best orthodontic care as a teenager. He has dimples on both sides, a strong jawline with just the right amount of stubble and those eyes. Man, those eyes. Reed has gorgeous eyes too, but there is something different in his. Kellan's eyes seem to already know me. They pierce right through me.

"Okay," I finally agree. "What do I do?"

He pulls me to the area where he's flattened the sand out a bit. "We'll start out in mountain pose. This is what grounds you, helps you connect with where you are. Stand with your feet together, take a deep breath and bring your arms up like this and then into prayer position..." He explains the position so calmly that I can hardly believe this is the jackass I met last night on the beach. He slides his fingers up my arms as he shows me how to raise them, and I can barely think straight. Maybe I should get my hormone levels checked.