Or maybe it’s just because in this moment, I suddenly want her more than anything. But whatever the reason, I lean down and kiss her, right in front of everyone.
Her lips are soft, parted in surprise, sweet as the ripe peaches I used to steal from the farm. I slide my hand to the back of her head, and kiss her deeper, falling into the bliss of her warm mouth and the gentle slide of her tongue.
It’s everything I’ve been needing, and I didn’t even know it.
Tegan pauses, uncertain against my mouth, and then she’s kissing me back.
Damn.
I’m not the one who’s trouble here, she is. Arching up to meet my lips, tasting me, biting down on my lip with a smirk. Tegan presses her body against me, demanding more, and I have to bite back a groan of desire.
Who is this girl?
There’s fire lurking beneath that calm surface, a passion that could drive a man wild. I spiral, devouring her sweet lips, sliding my hands over her body, needing to be a dozen miles away from this packed bar right now: some place with a door, and a lock, and a bed.
Tegan pulls away with a gasp.
“Happy birthday,” I whisper, relishing the flare in her eyes. The desire there, the hunger. But as I reach for her, the shutters come down again. Panic skitters across her face. She lurches back.
“I’m sorry,” she stammers, conflict clear on her face. “I can’t. Not this time.”
Before I can stop her, she turns and flees, ducking through the crowd.
What the hell?
I start after her, but I can’t get by so easy. I shove people aside with quick apologies, making for the exit. But when I burst through the doorway and look around, she’s nowhere to be seen.
Dammit.
I pace the neon, noisy floors, desperately looking for some sign of that dark hair, those watchful eyes. I’ve covered the whole damn hotel before I finally give it up.
She’s gone.
I catch my breath out front by the fountains. A crowd has gathered, waiting for the next famous show. Right on cue, the music starts, and the water jets arc up, bright against the dark sky. It’s beautiful, as these things go. The Strip shines, a dazzling sea of neon and lights in the desert, but I’ve seen this view too many times to care.
That kiss was like a dose of reality, cutting through the bullshit and reminding me what it’s like to feel something real. Something pure. Enough doing dirty work, swimming with the sharks. Enough of this town, and all the fake, glittering promise.I pull out my cellphone, and dial the number I know by heart. I haven’t used it in way too long, but I know tonight it’s time.
“Ray Jay?” The voice on the other end is puzzled, and I don’t blame him. “What’s going on? Is everything OK?”
“I’m fine,” I reassure him, before he thinks I’m locked up in some county sheriff’s office. “And when will you stop calling me that? I haven’t gone by Ray Jay since I was a kid.”
Emerson snorts. “Can you blame me for getting it wrong when I haven’t seen you in years?” he says it lightly, but I can hear the disapproval in his tone. “You didn’t make it down for my wedding, or Brit’s. We’re still your family, Ryland. Or we would be, if you let us.”
“Then you’re in luck, big brother.” I take one last look at the city lights, and start walking.
“I’m coming home.”
2.
TEGAN
1 Month Later…
It takes me six days to drive from Los Angeles to Beachwood Bay. Six days of crappy motel rooms and drive-through junk food. Six days of yelling along gloriously out of tune to every local rock station along the highway, and six days of wondering if this last-minute road trip is going to turn out to be the best or the second-worst decision I’ve ever made in my life.
The worst, of course, will always be loving Connor.
By the time I pull up outside my brother’s beach-front house, I’m coming down on the side of good ideas. Great, in fact. The sun is sinking low in a cloudless blue sky, and all along the final stretch of highway, I can see gulls swooping low across the water in a graceful, joyous dance. Now, I park in the empty driveway and get out, stretching my legs as I listen to the crash of waves against the shore, and the great stretching silence of the wide-open country.
Bliss.
Dex’s house is modern, set right on the beach with no neighbors for miles around. I fish my keys from my bag and open the front door, but I haven’t even closed it behind me or set down my bags when my cellphone rings. Big brother calling.
“Perfect timing,” I tell him brightly, trying to delay the inevitable lecture. There’s a security panel beeping in the corner, so I head over and study the keypad. “What’s your alarm code?”
“Tegan…” I can hear his disapproval clear all the way from Buenos Aires. “I told Blake he had to be crazy. There was no way our little sister would take off and drive across the country without telling anyone.”
“I left a note!” I protest. “And you guys have been calling every other mile. You couldn’t have had more updates if the news was broadcasting me like a police chase.”
Three older brothers equals three times the overprotective check-ins. Especially now, after everything. But that’s why I’m here, trying to get away from all the worried looks and careful questions; everyone staring at me like they think I’m going to shatter into a thousand pieces.
All over again.
“Alarm code?” I prompt again, as the beeping gets louder.