Chapter Seventeen

My parents’ Ford Escape Hybrid pulled onto the tarmac of the small, private airport next to their airplane. I shuddered at the thought of the carbon footprint, but this was Ransom’s ultimatum if I wanted to go back to Los Angeles.

He was adamant about not passing through LAX.

Mom got out of the passenger seat, rounding the car to hug me.

“Thanks for coming, Bunny. I know you prefer shorter visits, and I appreciate the time you’ve made for us.” She winced. Well, at least she didn’t chide me for that wedding speech. “You pulled through wonderfully.”

“Yes, Sugar Pie. We hope you’ll grace us again with your presence this Thanksgiving.” Dad joined us, as Ransom pulled our suitcases out of the trunk.

No chance in hell they were seeing my face before next year.

I smiled tightly, giving them each a swift hug before inching toward the stairway of the plane. “Thanks for the hospitality. We’ll…talk.”

Maybe.

On the plane, it was only Ransom, one flight attendant, the pilot, and me.

“Where’s Max?” I buckled my seatbelt as we got ready for takeoff.

“Already in L.A.”

“How come?”

“Put him on a paid leave.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t needed.”

“Sounds like code for wanting the coast clear,” I teased, smiling.

The flight attendant came to sit next to us, buckling in, too.

Ransom smiled warmly at me. “Get your ears checked, Princess.”

I decided not to press the subject. After all, we weren’t alone. Also, I didn’t necessarily want to know what Ransom thought about the night we’d shared at my parents’ house. A rejection would crush me. Not knowing where I stood was just as hard, but I prolonged the conversation as long as I could.

After takeoff, Ransom dedicated himself to working on his laptop. When he was done, he speared me with a glare. “Thought about what you want to do yet?”

“How do you mean?” I shifted in my seat, buying time.

Of course, I hadn’t thought about it. I was terrified of my limited options, especially now that I’d been diagnosed with dyslexia.

“For a living,” he clarified. “With your life.”

“Of course, I’ve thought about it.” I frantically searched my brain for something. I was unqualified for most jobs, so I went with an option that required very little reading and a lot of personality. “I’m thinking of becoming a medical clown.”

“A medical clown?” he repeated, blinking slowly.

“Yup.” I grabbed my sketchpad and some pencils. “What’s wrong with that? I’ll be helping people.”

“It’s random.”

“It’ll pay the bills.”

“You don’t give a shit about the bills.”

“And you don’t give a shit about me. You wanted me to get a job, you never said I needed to become a brain surgeon. Now back off and let me live my life,” I snapped.

I was hoping he would dispute that statement. A deep gap stretched between giving a shit and being in love with someone, after all. I mean, he could still care, right? Even if it was just a little bit.

Ransom exhaled, squinting at the powder blue sky we were swimming in. “Be a clown, Miss Thorne. You seem to excel in that area.”

As soon as we landed, I rushed into the taxi. Ransom followed me stoically. I fell inside and tipped my head back against the leather seat, closing my eyes.

I hoped Ransom would take the passenger seat and spare me the looming humiliation of asking him about what happened between us. He’d spent last night curled on the floor as far as humanly possible from me.

Alas, I felt the seat beside me dip as he joined me in the back. My heart jackhammered. I’d waited two long days to broach the subject of us. Now we were miles away from the scene of the crime and it finally felt safe enough.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” I blurted out.

“You becoming a medical clown?” Ransom’s thumbs hovered over his phone screen. He was aggressively punching in a text message. “Gladly. You’re not gonna like what I have to say, though.”

I stole a look at our driver, a friendly-looking, silver-haired man in his late sixties. He was tan and wrinkled. Umm Kulthum blared out of his radio, and he had pictures of his family dangling from the rearview mirror.

Not the prototype to sell a story to the tabs.

“I’m talking about us.” I dropped my voice, just in case.

“Not familiar with that term.” Ransom popped his knuckles.

I felt pathetic, pressing forward when he clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but knew I’d be the loser if I didn’t pursue him. Ransom treated sex as an outlet, as a game. His partners changed often. Me? I needed him. No one else could do for me. He was sexy, but also safe. He could guide me out of my androphobia.

“I’m talking about what happened two nights ago.”

He put his phone down, studying me. His eyes asked me to drop it. I held his gaze, not letting go.

“Mistakes happen.” He shrugged finally. “Look at my track record.”

“That was no mistake. We couldn’t stop.”

“Precisely,” he countered. “That is the definition of an accident.”

We weaved through a long traffic jam, with at least twenty more minutes until we got home. He was stuck in this conversation, whether he liked it or not.

“I have a proposition.” I licked my lips.

“The answer is no.”

“You haven’t even heard it.”

“Don’t need to.” He picked up his phone again. I snatched it from his hand and tucked it into my front pocket.

He arched an eyebrow. “All right. You got my attention. What is it, Princess?”

“Two nights ago…it was the first time I’ve been with a man. And I felt good. Secure. I even…you know.” I shifted in my seat. “Climaxed.”

“I know.” He looked pained. Like he was suffering through the conversation. I bet he was. His sexual encounters never included any sort of pillow talk.

“This is a huge win for me.”

“I’m happy for you. Truly.” He stared at me, waiting for the punch line.

“We can continue doing this…discreetly, until your post is up,” I suggested.

He was still. So still, for a second, I wondered if he’d turned into a pillar of salt.

“Are you out of your mind?” he asked finally. “That would be a gross violation of my contract, not to mention a stain on my already filthy conscience. You’re the ward. You’re under my protection. What kind of scumbag would take advantage of that?”

The driver jacked up the volume of the music, signaling that he had absolutely no interest in listening to this negotiation, and that we ought to keep it down.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Random. If someone is going to be taking advantage of someone here, it’d be me of you.”

“You’re young, vulnerable, and we’re trying to get your life back on track. You have a history you should face, not bury. I don’t want to make things worse for you.”

“I’m of legal age, sound mind, and want to have fun for a change,” I insisted.

“You need to work through what happened to you. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Telling me what I need and what I don’t need is chauvinistic.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase—you can be with other men. But not with me.”

It scissored my gut. The way he didn’t trust that I was okay. I smeared a calm smile over my face, beaming through the pain.

“Thought you said I needed to stay abstinent.”

If you don’t crave me, at least be possessive of me.

“Change of plans. You can sleep with whomever you want.” He paused, frowning down at me. “Provided fuckface doesn’t mind a little audience. I’m not letting you be alone with some random.”

“No one’s gonna want to do that.”

“No?” He made a sad face. “Too bad.”

Tears pinched at the back of my nose. He was being his special brand of asshole again. The message was clear—he didn’t want anything to do with me sexually. A fling was off the table. Texas was a one-off. Who knew? Maybe he wasn’t into me there, either. What if he just felt bad for me because of Craig? A pity fuck. His version of a friendly pat on the back.

Yeah. That’s all it was. He didn’t want me to fall apart at the wedding. To be unwell when his entire job was to keep me together. He was only ever fixing me, not fucking me, that night.

I wanted to be sick.

“Hand me my phone back?” He opened his palm, placing it between us.

I dropped the device into his hand, looking away.

I Siri-texted Keller on my way to the house.

SOS. Need mental TLC and friendly advice. See you at my place.

By the time the taxi pulled up to my front door, Keller’s cherry red Ford Mustang Shelby was already there, blocking the garage door. Keller hopped out of the car just as I materialized from the cab, wearing a neck scarf, oversized glasses, and an ironic Hawaiian shirt.

“Darling! Back from the wilderness.” He kissed the air next to both my cheeks. He slid his glasses down his nose and widened his eyes to what was happening behind my shoulder, AKA the bane of my existence exiting the taxi, then pulling our suitcases out of the trunk.

“My, my. I’ll have him for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks.”

“Just be careful not to choke,” I muttered, sliding my sunglasses up to rest on my head. “He’s a health hazard.”

“He looks like a vice.” Keller smiled to himself, hugging my shoulder. “You wanna tell me you still haven’t sampled him?”

“About that.” I cleared my throat. “Let’s head inside. We need to talk.”

“And leave him with the suitcases?” A mischievous glint zinged in Keller’s eyes.

I tossed a look behind my shoulder, then gave Keller a shrug.

He winced. “Ugh. I can already tell the energy between you two is so not good for my skin.”

Keller and I walked into my house. I grabbed a couple La Croix cans and made my way up the stairs. I locked both of us in my room before Ransom could give me the third degree about screening people before they entered the house.

“Tell me everything.” Keller clapped his hands together. “Starting from the rumors your sister was a bridezilla. The tabloids are having a field day after what was leaked from the pre-wedding photo shoot. Was she that bad?”

“No,” I said, crossing my legs over my bed. “She was worse.”

Keller gasped, flinging himself next to me. “She’s giving me intense Aquarius vibes. Is she an Aquarius?”

“Naturally.” She was an Aries, but it was basically the same thing.

I told him about Hera’s deplorable behavior, omitting the part where the groom had assaulted me. I liked Keller a lot, but I didn’t fully trust him. Not with my truth, anyway. Then I told Keller about my hookup with Ransom, again neglecting all the parts that left me feeling too exposed. I didn’t tell him how much it had meant to me. Falling apart in someone else’s arms. Just that it happened, and that Ransom was not game for a repeat.

“But he seemed into it the night he insisted on sharing a bedroom with you.” Keller munched on the tip of a tortilla chip. “Right?”

“Right.” I moved uncomfortably, taking a sip of my soda. He didn’t have the full context of the situation, the way Ransom had also saved me from Craig’s abusive hands, so he didn’t get the whole picture. “But I think it was just a moment of weakness on his part. We were at my parents’, and everything just…simmered.”

“Once a weakness, always a weakness.” Keller shook his head. “All he needs is a little push in the right direction. Who wouldn’t want to do you? I mean, I would. You’re super hot.”

I smiled, reaching to squeeze his hand. “How are things at Main Squeeze?”

“Oh. Fine. You know. The holiday season is upon us, so I’m waiting for people to gain weight so they’ll start their crash diets.” He hopped off of my bed, sauntering to my window to light up his joint. “That’s what I’m capitalizing on. Other people’s misery. Making a living is such a tedious job, Hal, let me tell you.”

I leaned back on my satin pillow, braiding a lock of my hair absentmindedly. “You can always take a break if it’s too much.”

“And who’d run Main Squeeze?” Keller perched his ass on the windowsill, pushing the rolled cigarette between his lips.

“I don’t know, hire a manager?”

Keller smiled lovingly at me. “Oh, Hal-Pal, I do love you.”

Maybe he did, but he also patronized me constantly, and I didn’t know why. Keller couldn’t possibly run an actual business by himself, right? That was a thing only grownups did.

“Hey, Hal.” Keller frowned, looking out my window as he lit up his joint. In front of him sprawled the stunning view of the Hollywood Hills and my neighbors’ Olympic pool. “There’s a strange car sitting in the back of your neighbors’ driveway.”

“Strange how?” I yawned.

“Strange…like, there’s a person in the passenger’s seat taking photos of me through the window.”

I jumped out of bed, charging toward the window. Shoving Keller aside, I saw a huge, black Escalade parked in front of my neighbors’ garage. A man was sitting in the passenger seat, taking pictures of my window, his face hidden by the huge smartphone he was holding.

My nostrils flared.

“Can you see his license plate?” I tugged my phone out of my pocket, taking pictures of the guy, just in case. Where was Ransom? How did he not see this?

“Nope.” Keller frowned, grabbing his phone. “Let me go to the spare bedroom and see if I can take a picture of it from a better angle.”

“Thanks.”

While Keller tried to get the license plate, I ran toward Ransom’s room. He wasn’t there. I heard the water running in the bathroom next to it. So this was why he hadn’t seen that car. I pounded on the door, my lungs scorching with fear.

Who were these people?

What did they want?

Was this why Ransom didn’t want us to go back to Los Angeles? But it made no sense. I’d never had anyone follow me before.

The bathroom door swung open. Ransom was standing there, condensation rolling off of his glistening, muscular chest and shoulders. He had a small towel wrapped around his waist.

“Sweet Jesus,” I heard Keller groan behind my back. “The man is unreal.”

“What is it?” Ransom demanded, ignoring Keller.

“There’s a suspicious car parked right in front of my bedroom window. And some jackass inside it took pictures of me just now.”

He shouldered past me without another word.

Flying down the stairs, nearly buck naked.