Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Oh fuck. I sit up and go faster, reaching the exit but stopping to look both ways. I’m not getting in an accident for them. When I check the rearview mirror, they’re all over some poor fuck on the steps. As much as I’m relieved they weren’t coming for me, it sucks for that guy. Is nothing sacred in this city?
I look back once more, realizing that guy is basking in the attention. Keep ’em occupied, asshole. I take the long way around, and when I finally pull into the convenience store lot, Cat is already waiting for me.
I don’t have many rules in my life. One night is my specialty, but I’m checking her out like she’s my wife. Fuck. I shake my head, aware this is a unique situation. My wife. Damn. I reach around and scratch the back of my neck, not liking how good that sounds.
That tells me everything I need to know. For her sake, we need to wrap this up and both move on with our lives because she deserves better than a guy who has no interest in settling down.
Rolling down the passenger window, I stop in front of her. “Going my way?”
She opens the door and dips her head in. “Seems so.” She buckles up just as I start to pull onto the main road. “Where are we heading?”
The bottom line is that I like the time I’ve spent with her. I like the way she needs me. It’s different from how most women do. It may be out of necessity, but I can tell it’s not a burden she carries regarding me. We’re a team. Fuck my rules and her responsibilities. I glance over at her and give her my best newsworthy smirk. “Anywhere you want to go.”
She looks ahead as if the world is our playground, then turns back to ask, “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“The beach, huh?” I relax, taking the last bite of my sandwich.
“It’s grounding,” she declares, letting the wind gently blow across her face. “The sand and sound of the ocean reminds me of my childhood when we would visit my grandma. Coming to the beach was my favorite thing to do.” Looking at me, she holds the remainder of her sandwich in one hand, sitting with her legs crossed. “I come out here to forget about the rat race of LA and just breathe in the salty air.” Studying my face, she asks, “You never get out to the beach anymore?”
I sneak a glimpse of her when she’s not looking. Even with her hair trapped in a band, some strands refuse to be tamed and blow wildly around her face. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, but the wind has stolen most of it away. She’s just as pretty, if not more so. I turn my gaze to the ocean’s choppy waters. “I could bury myself in what I’m missing out on or live the life I have to the fullest.”
“Do you live your life to the fullest?”
“I live. I’ve had experiences most will never get, traveled the world, and met people from every walk of life.”
“Sounds like a dream, but you don’t.”
“I don’t what?”
Wrapping the ends of the sub sandwich in the paper, she tucks it into the bag, and replies, “All those things are amazing, but they don’t sound like your dream.”
“I didn’t set out to get famous.”
“What did you set out to do?”
“Get chicks,” I reply, chuckling.
She laughs, bringing her knees to her chest. “That worked out.”
“It sure did.”
Resting her chin on her knees, she doodles in the sand, but her eyes stay on mine. “Would you ever move back to La Jolla?”
I look out at the horizon, tossing around that question a few times in my head. “Probably not. Our producers, the record label, our manager, and team are all here. So are my cousins and their families.”
“What about your parents?”
Chuckling, I think about a text my dad sent yesterday from . . . I don’t know where they are. “They travel a lot. They always did. I think I spent more time at Laird and Nikki’s house than I did at my own growing up.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, the words grave in her tone.
“Nothing to be sorry about. They were good parents. We get along well. They just had big careers that took them away a lot.” Tempted by her, I drag my finger through the sand. “Grounding is a good word,” I add as if it’s part of our conversation.
She smiles, facing me as if I’m more interesting than that incredible ocean in front of us. “We should get you to the beach more.”
When I end up touching Cat’s hand, I almost move mine away. I look down instead. “We should.” I’ll be a “we” with her any day.
Sliding my gaze from our fingers to her leg, I weave my way over the curve of her hip and higher to her chest. Still traveling north on her body, her lips make me lick mine, then I reach those eyes that encourage me to dig for treasure, the gold shining in the sunlight.