Million-Dollar Consequences

“No, of course not. But the move would be temporary, and you’d have fun there. I know it.”

Meghan’s stomach twisted. It would be fun until it wasn’t. She didn’t have the greatest track record with being responsible. She could handle her podcast growing a bit at a time. Skyrocketing sounded like more responsibility than she wanted to take on. Meghan was the fun, lighthearted, go-with-the-flow sister. She knew her limits.

“Isaac would be a great support system,” Kendall said, seeming to echo Meghan’s worry that she couldn’t do it on her own. But she wanted to. She needed to.

What if she took on too many sponsors or advertisers? Would she feel boxed in, or like she couldn’t create the kind of content she wanted? What if she grew too fast? What if the quality of the show suffered, and sponsors pulled out? It wasn’t as if she could rely on Isaac Dunn to bail her out then. Theirs was a temporary arrangement, not a true partnership.

Rather than share her anxiety about Isaac or her podcast, she placed her hand on her sister’s. “I just got you back. I don’t want to relocate when you and I are finally close. That’s why I was looking at the house in Dunn. You’re happy for the first time since Quinton died. I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

“I have missed you, too. I love having you here. I just don’t want to hold you back or make you live the life I’m living. You deserve to pursue your dreams.” Kendall’s eyes misted and overflowed, leaving streaks in her mud mask. She swiped her cheeks, leaving green residue on her fingers. “Oops.”

“I am pursuing my dreams.” Isaac was a part of that, but her sister was a bigger part. Meghan blinked away tears of her own. “I love you. You can trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“I love you, too. And I do trust you. You are a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. I shouldn’t try and persuade you into doing what I think is best. You totally have this.”

Meghan’s chest puffed up at her sister’s vote of confidence. She was capable of succeeding her way. And that’s exactly what she intended to do.

Isaac, script on his lap, sat on the balcony outside of the bedroom and watched the world go by. A few bystanders below had noticed him in passing. No one had attempted to photograph him, either thanks to the grainy darkness or because they didn’t recognize his silhouette, he wasn’t sure which.

He’d been reading his lines until it was too dark to make out the words. He’d since swapped that pastime for another: mulling over his life. Done contemplating, he stepped inside and locked the patio door behind him.

After talking to his brother, Isaac realized he’d been trying to control every nuance of his relationship with Meghan out of fear. Fear of losing the momentum he had in his career. Fear of losing everything again. It was so obvious now.

Meghan and Kendall had been at the spa all day, which had given him plenty of time to think about what to say when she returned home.

Home.Their temporary home. Everything about them was temporary and had been from the start. There was a part of him unwilling to accept that, but what choice did he have?

The front door opened, and in walked a fresh-faced, bright-eyed Meghan. Her smile was cautious instead of sunny, but it was there. “Hi.”

“You’re radiant. Did you have fun?” He approached her, unable to keep his distance. She was glowing, and he selfishly wanted some of her warmth for himself.

“I didn’t know how stressed I was until the masseuse worked out a knot the size of a grapefruit.” She rubbed her shoulder with one hand. “I might need an ice pack later.”

“I haven’t been helping with your stress level,” he admitted. “I was wrong to try and force you to come to LA. I’ve been so focused on my career I forgot I wasn’t the only one involved.”

Relief swept through the room like a gentle breeze, and he noticed Meghan’s shoulders relax. His next breath was easier to take, even after the concession he hadn’t wanted to make. He couldn’t force her to come with him to LA any more than he could have forced his brother to stay on the publicity train forever.

“You have a right to pursue your dreams your way. You don’t owe me anything,” he said.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you.” She rested her hand on his chest, the barest of touches setting him ablaze. “I hope you know that being with you and getting to know you have meant so much to me.”

“It’s not over yet, Squire.” This was starting to sound too much like goodbye for his taste. “We have wasted precious time lately arguing about this. My fault.”

“I was being stubborn.” She toyed with a button on his shirt. “Think we can make up for it? That lost time?”

“We can sure as hell try.” He cupped the back of her head as she came a step closer. Inclining her chin, she met his gaze.

“Every inch of my skin has been salt-scrubbed and covered in oil.” She licked her bottom lip, mischief creeping into her expression. “You won’t believe how soft I am until you touch every inch of me.”

“That sounds like an invitation.” His voice was a low croak, tension tightening his vocal chords. He’d missed being with her like this. That naked vulnerability they shared in the solace of this apartment. He slipped his palms over her bare forearms. “You’re right. Soft.”

Her lips closed over his and his eyes shut of their own volition. She said his name, followed by, “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“We won’t.” He reached for her shirt, and she lifted her arms. Everything was under control. She didn’t have to come with him to LA. He’d finish filming here, continue making love to Meghan until he had to leave Virginia and then... Well, he wasn’t sure what would happen next, but he knew what was happening right now.

“I’ve got you, Squire,” he promised as he peeled away the rest of her clothes and his hands slipped along her oil-slicked skin.

He had her in his arms in this moment. And like she’d told him before, this moment was what counted.