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Authors: Christina Brunkhorst

BOOK: Torn
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Her jaw slack, Chelsea could only gape at the other woman. Finally, she managed to get out a strangled, “You’re
sorry
?”

The woman flushed, tucking a strand of short, blonde hair behind an ear. “Yeah.” She nervously scuffed her platform sneaker against the cracked sidewalk. “I don’t want to screw up my karma by trying to come in between you guys. That’s just
bad
news… karmically, you know? I couldn’t figure out why he blew me off at first; I’m not exactly ugly, you know.”

At that, Chelsea’s lips twitched, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. That much was true; the young lady looked like she belonged with the thin, rich and hungry on the red carpet.

“But then I saw the way he looked at you, the way he held you while you guys were dancing. Wow! You guys made that song come alive! Never thought I’d like a Willie Nelson song, but
damn
!”

Both of Chelsea’s brows lifted this time and she blinked. Now she wondered just what in the hell she and Tyler looked like while dancing because this girl obviously saw something that wasn’t there. Couldn’t have been there.

“Anyway,” the young woman was saying when Chelsea focused back in to their bizarre conversation, “I just wanted to apologize. No harm, no foul, right?”

For the second time in less than five minutes, Chelsea’s jaw dropped. Jesus. Talk about signs.
“Right,” she whispered, managing a small smile.
“Cool. See ya!”

The young woman walked back into the bar and Chelsea leaned against the brick wall of the building, her breath leaving her body in a
whoooosh
. “I need another drink,” she muttered.

“No. You don’t.”

Her head jerked up and just missed cracking against the brick. “Tyler.”

Strains of Willie Nelson’s
Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground
filtered out as the door opened again, and Chelsea winced. Another song that she loved that for some reason seemed entirely too appropriate to the current situation.

“Did you see that Christina Aguilera looking chickee?” she asked him.
Tyler shook his head.
“You blew her off earlier,” Chelsea elaborated.
He shrugged, pursing his lips in a gesture that showed he had no clue what she was talking about.

“Anyway, she came out to apologize to me. She called me
Mrs. Benson
.”

His eyes flashed oddly for a moment, then darkened as he reached for her arm. “I should take you home.”
“And do you know what she told me?” she continued, disregarding him.
Again, Tyler shook his head.

“She told me that she was sorry for trying to come between a couple so
obviously in love
. Told me it was bad for her karma because we were
clearly
soul mates.”

Tyler stayed mute, a dark gold brow lifting slightly. No doubt he thought she was rambling like a typical drunk. Hell, she would have thought that too –– if only she didn’t feel so goddamned sober just now.

“No harm. No foul,” she muttered. At Tyler’s sudden intake of breath, she raised her head from studying the grass growing in the concrete, and peered up at him. “What?”

“I should take you home,” he repeated, taking her hand and leading her across the street to his truck.

“Hm. Take me home, huh. And then what?” Chelsea’s eyes narrowed, and she dug in her heels, bringing them to a stop in the middle of the street. “How much have
you
had to drink?”

“Not nearly enough,” he replied, stifling a laugh. “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t be driving if I were drunk. I may not be perfect, but I’m not a complete jerk-off.”

“Did I imply that you were a jerk-off?” Chelsea asked him, walking with him again.

His lips curved in a wry smile. “No. But at the moment, I feel like one.” He pushed a button on the keychain remote and unlocked the doors. Opening the passenger door, Tyler helped Chelsea into the cab of the truck and watched her, his expression unreadable, as she fumbled with her seatbelt, eventually latching it. Satisfied, he walked around to the driver’s side and hooked himself into the high-riding vehicle. As the engine idled, he buckled-up himself.

“I don’t want to go home.”

Hands turning the wheel to maneuver the vehicle from its parking space, he stopped and stared at her. He shifted the transmission into Park. “What?”

Chelsea licked her lips, then looked him directly. “I don’t want to go home,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to take you home,” he admitted, his voice a soft and low caress in the dark confines of the cab.
“Do you have blankets in this rig?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I can get some.”
“Okay.”

Their gaze remained locked for a long moment before Tyler shifted the truck back into Drive and headed to his hotel. While Chelsea waited with the engine running, he ran inside and asked the manager for pillows and blankets: It was such a nice night out that he felt like sleeping outside with the stars. The manager gave him an odd look, but complied, and shortly, Tyler was tossing several blankets and a few pillows into the back of the truck.

“Where to?” he asked once he’d climbed back into the cab.

She shrugged. “Anywhere. Just as long as it’s nowhere at all.”

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

I
t was the truck’s lack of motion that eventually woke her, and Chelsea Morgan lifted her head from Tyler Benson’s shoulder. ”I’m sorry,” she said, stifling a yawn, “I think I drooled on you.”

His laughter was low and genuine. “You see? That’s what I lo––“ He stopped himself, then smoothly continued, “That’s what I like about you, Chels.”

She stared at him for a moment in silence, then pushed the button to slide down the power window, inhaling deeply of the cool, crisp night air, letting the last of the alcohol clear from her head. “Wow, it’s dark. What time is it?”

“A little after one.”
“Where are we?” she asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door.
His smile was quick and warm. “Nowhere.”
Chelsea tossed Tyler a grin over her shoulder. “And how long have we been nowhere?”
“About twenty minutes.”

She climbed down from the pickup, holding on to the door to keep her balance as she stepped down. “Jeez, that long? Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I like watching you sleep.”

The forthright answer was unexpected and jerked her head up. To his credit, Tyler’s gaze was clear and never wavered. Chelsea was the first to look away.

“Hey… You didn’t make up the bed of the truck,” she stated, her eyes –– and her security –– falling on the back of the pickup.
“Nope,” he replied as he climbed out.
“Why not?”
“Because if I was bed-making, I wouldn’t be able to watch you. And I’ve discovered that I like to watch you sleep.”

Chelsea paused in the act of pulling down the tailgate. “Stop saying that,” she said, her voice tight as she yanked the tailgate the rest of the way down and climbed into the bed of the pickup.

“Why?” he asked as he carried the bedding from the cab of the truck and set the soft pile on the end gate.

She ignored him, focusing on arranging the blankets and pillows to create a comfortable pallet in the truck’s metal box. The vehicle bobbed as new weight was added to its frame. She glanced around and saw that Tyler had hopped into the back to offer her a steaming, Styrofoam cup.

Mumbling a low thank-you, Chelsea took the beverage and sipped carefully. Hot lemon water. “When did you get this?” she asked. “I don’t remember stopping.”

“That’s probably because you were asleep. I picked it up at a gas station,” He left out the part where the clerk inside had craned his neck hard enough to sprain it, trying to get a glimpse into the truck’s interior. Perhaps the man thought Jennifer was with him. He didn’t know for sure. He’d left after signing an autograph, feeling oddly grateful for the privacy glass windows on the light truck.

He didn’t like feeling that gratitude. It made him feel… guilty. Brought to light the fact that not only was he contemplating committing adultery –– again –– but that he was looking forward to the possibility. Even eagerly anticipated being adulterous over and over and over again.

His troubled gaze fell on Chelsea as she sipped at her drink and made herself more comfortable. He watched as she took off her shoes and slid her legs inside the blankets. “Why?” he asked again, his voice soft, almost a whisper as he coaxed her to answer his question.

A long, heavy sigh escaped her as she picked up yet another blanket to wrap around her shoulders. They’d slumped, Tyler noticed, making her posture seem defeated as she reached for the cup once more. She waited so long before speaking, that he didn’t think she was going to answer.

When she finally did speak, her voice was so low he had to sit down alongside her to hear. “Because,” Chelsea whispered quietly as she turned her face away to look out at the darkness, “it makes my heart burn. And that… That hurts me.”

His heart stopped. He was certain it did. There was no other way for his body to express the sudden, fierce joy that speared through him at her words. The shiver that went through him at her quiet admission had nothing to do with the chill in the air and everything to do with the woman next to him.

Kicking off his motorcycle boots, Tyler slipped in beside her and took her hand, gently circling the fleshy pad under her thumb. If a long-ago memory of being dragged to a palm reader by his sister served him, it was
the Mount of Venus.

Tyler knew what she meant. He burned for her too. Her smile was the last thing he saw when he closed his eyes at night and the first thing he sought out each morning upon arriving at work. Her laugh filled him with warmth and, when he held her… As Paul… As himself. She smelled like sunshine and fresh cocoa.

But what didn’t hurt him was her unwitting admission that she had feelings for him. He knew it was because, while Chelsea had no doubts of her love for her husband, he had doubts over his love for his wife and of his wife’s love for him.

The fact that he
didn’t
hurt when he thought about sharing his body, his soul, with a woman other than Jennifer, disquieted him. Divorce was something he hadn’t been raised with. His parents had been blissfully married for over forty years. For himself, there had been two broken engagements before he met Jennifer, but never a broken marriage.

When he recited his vows to Jen at their wedding, he’d fully believed in them. He’d proposed to her, after years of dating, because she made him laugh. He was relaxed with her. She was like… his best friend. And after the obnoxious circumstances surrounding the breakup of his engagement with another co-star, Jennifer was exactly what he’d needed.

So they’d dated. Then married. And life was good. Or at least it had been. Until eleven months ago.

Tyler steeled himself for that customary wave of anger, jealousy, and self-loathing that had always reared over him whenever he’d thought of Jennifer’s affair.

It didn’t come.
“Tyler?”
He blinked, looked down at Chelsea, who had set aside her drink and was stretching out under the blankets. “What?”
“Where did you go? You had this… strange look on your face.”
Extending his legs, Tyler rested his head on his hands, clasped behind his head and sighed. “I was thinking about Jen.”

Feeling her withdrawal even before she physically acted on it, he reached out and pulled her close, setting his free arm around her shoulders. “Don’t,” he whispered.

Eyes closed, Chelsea let out a soft, shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His fingers began to gently caress the curve of her shoulder in a manner she found very soothing.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I can’t help it.” Her laugh was dry and self-effacing, and dosed with irony. “Oddly enough, I don’t like to think of you being… married.”

Tyler’s grip tightened on her arm, then relaxed. “I know. I don’t like to think of you being married either.”
“But we are.”
“Yes.”

They lay in silence as words became unnecessary and Chelsea moved so that she lay closer to him, taking advantage of the heat radiating from his body. Tyler slipped his other arm from under his head and wrapped it around her waist.

He found himself looking at the sky. It was clear, and brought to mind a strip of purple-black velvet studded with diamonds. The stars seemed close enough to touch. They were in the middle of nowhere, somewhere not far from Ennis: A dark, mountainous skyline to their right, the hills and valley below still moist with the runoff from the last snowfall to their left. Was there anything else in creation this lovely? This… centering?

As if in answer, Chelsea shifted in his arms, and Tyler lowered his gaze to focus on her. She stared at him and he had the sudden realization that while he’d been pondering wild, natural beauty of Montana, she’d been pondering him.

“I love Jake, Tyler. I love my husband.” Her statement was spoken in a hushed whisper, but it rang through his ears like a gunshot. He started to look away, back towards the stars, but Chelsea caught his chin with one hand, propping herself on one elbow.

“And Jake loves me. He’s been my best friend for a decade,” she continued, “We’ve been through a miscarriage and have two amazing children. We’ve struggled financially together, and have finally reached a level of security. He is the only person on this planet who has always been able to take my intensity in stride. Even with humor. He makes me laugh… And laugh at myself. We’ve fought and made up, and we’ve always had love.”

“Chels––“

“Our marriage has always been sound,” she continued, as though he hadn’t spoken. “He has never cheated on me. I have never cheated on him…” Her voice softened, but she held his gaze. “Until now.”

“Chelsea… Why are you telling me this? Do you want me to take you home? Because I will, if that’s what you want. I know you love your husband –– I see it in your eyes every time you look at your girls. And when you look at him. I wish it were like that for myself and Jennifer. But it’s not.”

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