Fake (West Hollywood 1)

“There are two?”

“Apparently.” Meanwhile, his bag sat at his feet. “It’s up to you where I sleep.”

And because my mind went straight to sex, I just gaped at him. Way to be an adult.

“You can see how you feel about being on your own,” he continued, oblivious. “If you get worried, I can always come in.”

“Right.” My cheeks burned. Dammit. “I sound like a little kid afraid of the dark.”

“But you look like a grown woman who’s coming to grips with having been through a traumatic event.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m having a bad hair day?”

“I’m not joking. You know what I mean.” He licked his lips. “If you’d ever like to talk to someone—”

“What, like a therapist?”

“Yeah,” he said. “No pressure. Mei’s got a list of recommended people and can make you an appointment. I’d cover any costs, of course.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

He turned back to face the view. “Why don’t I take the room next door?”

“Are you sure you don’t want this one?” I wandered into the en suite with its massive shower and immense bathtub. You could swim laps in the thing. Windows looked out at the water while small silver glass tiles covered the wall. Plush white towels sat neatly folded on the long counter and all of the floors were a warm shiny wood. This bathroom was bigger than my old apartment. Talk about fancy. “There’s even a sauna in here.”

“It’s all yours.” He stood in the bathroom doorway, watching me intensely. “Do you like it, Norah?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Good,” he murmured and was gone.

Lunch on the patio was quiet. Apart from the crash of the surf and the cry of the local birdlife. I kept looking at him and he kept looking at me, but neither of us had much to say. Angie and Mei should have prepped us for being alone together. That would have been useful. While we’d managed okay up until now, things had taken a turn for the weird.

Were we still boss and employee when away from home? If no one was watching us, how were we supposed to behave? And where do all of the lost socks go?

I sipped my glass of Pinot Gris and thought deep thoughts.

“Do you like seafood?” he asked, looking at my half-finished salad.

“Yes. It’s delicious. I’m just not that hungry right now.”

He set his napkin on the table. “How about a walk on the beach, then?”

“Excellent idea.” I smiled and rose. This was good, moving around, checking things out. Perhaps I just wasn’t in the mood to sit still. Like I had the jitters for some reason.

Halfway down the wooden steps, he said, “If you’d like a massage or anything, we can arrange for someone to come to the house. You don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks, but I’m not sure about the idea of a stranger touching me right now.”

He just nodded.

We left our shoes at the bottom, the sand cool and soft beneath our feet. This was nice. Very picturesque. And it should have been relaxing, but I couldn’t quite get there. People were sunning themselves farther down the beach. Some swam in the surf. Far enough away to not be of any real concern. Odds were, anyone who could afford to be here wanted their privacy just as much as we did.

Together, we headed for the shoreline, edging closer and closer to the waves. The sun beat down and the water was warm, lapping at our toes. With Patrick beside me and the bodyguards no doubt nearby, I was safe as could be. But the more I tried not to think about last night, the more it intruded on my mind. Bad memories had a habit of doing that.

And all the while, Patrick keep sneaking glances at me, his frown back in place.

“I’m okay,” I said.

Nothing from him.

“Just a little restless.”

“You want to run?” he asked.

“No.” I laughed. Then I frowned. “Actually, I want to scream.”

His eyes widened for a moment. “If you want to scream, then you should.”

“Really?” I smiled. The more I thought about it, the better the idea seemed. “That wouldn’t bother you?”

“No.” The man was serious. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and stared out at the water, all serene. “Go for it.”

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was true. A knot of tension had taken up residence inside my chest. This big, dark mass. I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, opened my mouth wide, and let it out. All of the terror and rage. I screamed “fuck” with my whole heart until my throat started to hurt. Then I screamed it some more just because. Talk about being rowdy neighbors.

Patrick turned and waved at the people down the other end of the beach, letting them know everything was okay. Because we sure had their attention now.