Elias (New Adult Romance) (West Bend Saints Book 1) (4 page)

What the hell was I doing?

I was driving my 1969 Mustang GT convertible home to West Bend - that's what I was doing.  It was my fucking baby, the thing in life that mattered more than anything in the world to me.  And
she
was in it, this girl whose name I didn’t even fucking know.

I was driving out of Vegas, like this was a normal fucking road trip.  Except I just had just stolen a photographer's camera, punched him in the fucking face, and had a girl in the passenger seat who was the most breathtaking thing I'd ever seen in my life.

So, all in all, it was a normal day in the life.

Hell.

Obviously, she was someone important, some kind of star or politician's daughter or someone in the limelight.  I had no fucking clue who she was.

She had to think I was such a dumb shit.

I mentally began to index the movies I've seen, tried to remember the last thing I saw.  
Was she a movie star?  Maybe she was on TV.
 I couldn’t remember the last time I actually watched a movie.

I'd been focused on other shit.

Like my leg.  Running again, working out.  Getting my shit together.

I stole a glance in her direction.  Her face was forward, her hair messy, the strands blowing back in the wind, nearly vertical.  I wondered why she cut it all off.

 I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.  I was hung over as hell, my mind sluggish, weighed down by the booze from last night.  But I couldn’t think about anything except my skin against hers.

She turned, and I jerked my head away, my eyes on the road, casual like I did this every fucking day, whisked some chick away in my convertible when she was being assaulted by the paparazzi. Whoever she was, she was out of my league.

League, shit.  We weren’t on the same fucking planet, me and her.

I would drop her off somewhere, probably wherever her limo was going to pick her up, and be done with her.  Then I was going to go about my regular fucking business, go home to West Bend, and deal with all of my bullshit.

She didn’t belong in my car.

And she sure as hell didn't belong with me.

We were on a road, a smaller road on the way out of town where the wind wasn’t so bad, when she looked at me.  "What?" she yelled, over the white noise of the air blowing past our faces.

"What?" I repeated her question back.  The wind whipped by me, my words probably caught on it.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“Sorry.”  But I looked at her again anyway, then just as quickly, back at the road.  I didn’t say anything else until we were out of town.  I had been glancing in my rearview mirror, checking to see if we’d been followed, but it looked like the photographer was the only one interested in her, and I was sure my friends took care of him.

Not in the
sleeps with the fishes
kind of way, just in the
significantly detoured him
kind of way.

I pulled over in the parking lot of a diner outside of town, and I finally turned toward her.  “You want me to take you somewhere else?  You have a car back at the hotel?”

She was silent, looking straight ahead.  When she finally spoke, her voice was soft.  “I don’t have anything to go back to,” she said.  “Not right now, anyway.”

Why the hell was I so happy to hear that?  It practically warmed my fucking heart.  I nodded.  "Well, I don't know what your story is, but I guess you're running from something."

She grinned.  "You don't know who I am?  Like, really?"

Her eyes were this hazel color with flecks of gold or something in them, almost like a cat.  I felt like I should know who she was, this girl with eyes like that, this girl I kissed, who had me so turned on I couldn’t think straight.

"No idea," I said, and shrugged, the gesture more nonchalant than I actually felt.  She had me feeling self-conscious, and I didn’t get self-conscious.  Even with my fucking leg.  I just wasn’t that kind of guy.  But this girl was making me antsy.

She laughed.  "River," she said.  Like it was supposed to mean something to me.  What the hell kind of name was River, anyway?

“Sorry,” I said, giving her a blank look.  “Doesn’t really ring any bells.”

I couldn't tell if she was offended or pleased.  “I’m an actress.”

"Yeah?"  I said.  "I never would have guessed, what with the photographer chasing you."

"Hey, you're the one who doesn't know who I am."

"Full of yourself, much?"  I asked.  "What, are you, like a Kardashian or something?  Cause if you are, I'm going to have to kick your ass out of the car right now."

River shrugged.  "No," she said.  "But I know them."

I rolled my eyes.  "Close enough.  Get out of the car."

"They're actually pretty nice," she said, grinning.

"I'm not kidding at all," I said.  "You can get out and wait on the side of the road until some nice trucker named Bubba picks you up."

"I could," she said.  "It might be safer than being in here - how do I know you're not really a serial killer or something?"

"You don't," I said.  "Keep telling me about the Kardashians, though, and you might find out."

"No trunk filled with duct tape and rope and tarp?"  she asked.

"Sounds like a lot of kinky fun," I said.  "But sadly, no.  Sorry to disappoint.  I'm not looking to chop you up into pieces.  Of course, if I were, I probably wouldn't tell you."

"Well."  She paused for a long moment, giving me the once over.  "So you really don't know who I am, then?"

“Nope.”  She seemed surprised by the fact that I wasn’t that curious, but I guess I didn’t give a shit if she was somebody famous.  All right, I was kind of curious.  I mean, how often in my life had I been kissed by a movie star?

The answer would be zero.

I just wasn't going to let on to her that I was curious.  She didn't need to know that.  I mean, hell, for all she knew I could be getting kissed by actresses all the time.

“Okay,” she said.  “What’s your name, then?”

“Elias Saint.”  I paused for a beat.  "Just so you know, paparazzi follow me all the time too."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.  "You must be totally famous."

I angled my head down, looked at her over the edge of my sunglasses.  "Well, I didn't want to say anything, since you were being all braggy and shit, but I
am
kind of important."

"Oh, well, obviously," she said.  "I can tell."

I slid my glasses back up my nose.  "It's the devastating good looks, right?"

"Dead giveaway."  She grinned.

"Chicks dig me," I said, shrugging.  "What can I say?"

"I don't doubt it," she said.  The way she said it, I couldn't tell if it she was being serious or still joking.  The intensity in her gaze made me think of that kiss. 
Hell.  That kiss.
 I turned away, looked straight ahead, afraid she'd be able to read the desire for her that had to be etched on my face right now. 

“Elias,” she said.

"What?"

“Your name.  I like it.  It’s kind of old school.  Biblical."

"All right, River with nowhere to go," I said, abruptly changing the subject.  The last thing I wanted to do right now was tell a movie star about the convoluted origins of my name.  "Where do you want me to take you?"

"Anywhere you like."  I turned to look at her when she said it, her voice husky.  
Is she hitting on me?
 Her cheeks reddened, and I realized she was embarrassed.

I couldn’t help feeling like pushing that button more now that I knew what embarrassed her.

"I'll save that for later," I said.  "Unless you want me to take you right here, right now."  I watched as the red flush grew deeper, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  I hid a smile, watching her squirm.  She didn’t say anything, and I cleared my throat.  "I'm heading home."

When she answered, her voice was hoarse, and the flush was still evident on her face.  "Where's home?"

"West Bend, Colorado," I told her.  The last place on earth some actress would be interested in going.  The fact that she was still sitting in my car made no fucking sense.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll go with you."  She said it matter-of-fact.

"To my fucking house?" I asked.

"Sure."

"Did I ask you to come home with me?"  I said.  Was this girl crazy?  Bringing someone like her back to West Bend?  Bringing her back to my
house
?  There was no way short of hell freezing that I was letting her within a hundred yards of my family.

"Oh," she said.  She sounded disappointed, and I found myself caring.

Fuck.

"No, I mean, I just assumed you were offering me a ride or something."

Yeah,
I thought.  
Or something, definitely
.

My cock was doing all the thinking for me.  When I spoke, the words sounded foreign to my ears.  “You want to come with me to West Bend?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said, grinning wickedly.  “I mean, since you’re asking and everything.”

Shit.
 My cock was
definitely
doing the thinking here.

My head was back on the head rest, my eyes closed, and I listened to the hum of the car as we drove along the highway.  I was in that space between asleep and awake, trying to ignore the thoughts swirling in my head.

Four hours ago, this seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea, driving off with some guy I just met, the same guy who had stuck his tongue down my throat in a hotel hallway.

His tongue.

I could still taste him on my lips.  He tasted like whiskey and sex.

What the hell was I thinking, jumping in some guy’s car and going with him to his hometown?  I only just learned his name.  I knew nothing about him.  We had nothing in common- I was sure of that.  Two different worlds and all.

This is the dumbest idea ever, River.

And I had done some stupid shit, that was for damn sure.

Viper ran around on me, but it’s not like I’d always been an angel.  I went to rehab once, after a bad spell of partying before I was even eighteen.  I’d lucked out with a manager who was good with that kind of shit, hired one of those fixers who can manage anything.  The fixer got me out of that jam.  She was probably busy spinning this one already.  I wondered what she was coming up with.  Running away in the middle of a movie shoot?  Hitching a ride to Colorado with some guy I'd just met?

This wasn't my best moment ever.

But it probably wouldn't be the last stupid, impulsive decision I ever made.  In fact, I thought as I looked over at Elias, his gaze fixed straight ahead, I thought,
he
might be the next stupid impulsive thing I did.

The thought sent immediate warmth radiating to my core.

And just as quickly, I reminded myself that I only just left my fiancé.  My boyfriend of three years.  In Hollywood years, that was a fucking lifetime.

Of course,
he
was the one with his cock in my sister’s throat.  And it had been months since we had sex, since he touched me in any way, shape, or form.  That wasn’t by my choice.  He blamed it on his “art,” this new album he was doing that he wanted to “channel his energy” into.

When the car came to a stop again, I was jerked out of my thoughts.

“Pit stop,” Elias said.

"Duct tape and rope?" I asked, grinning.

"How'd you know?" he asked.  "It was going to be a secret surprise."  He got out of the car, and as I opened the car door, caught the handle.  He reached for my hand as I slid out of the seat.

"Come on, now," he said.  "Don't tell me those Hollywood boys aren't into opening car doors for you."

"Not really."

"Damn shame," he said.  He walked quickly, and I found myself a step behind him on the way toward the store, distracted by looking at his ass.  Then I noticed his gait was slightly unsteady, but before I could think about what that meant, he turned his head.

“Looking at something?” he asked.  His voice had the same light-hearted tone as before, but there was an edge to it this time.

Your ass,
I wanted to say.  It was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t open my mouth.  I shook my head, suddenly mute.

A dark look crossed his face.  “My leg?” he asked.

“What?”  I was confused by what he was asking.

He pulled his pant leg up slightly.  “There it is,” he said, and I felt embarrassed, but not because of his leg.  I was embarrassed he caught me staring at his ass, and now he thought I was some kind of jerk, staring at his prosthetic.  I knew my face was red.  I could feel the heat streaked across my cheeks.  I had been in the limelight for so long now, I wasn’t easily embarrassed.  Yet this guy, whose name I only just learned, had this way of making me flush.

In more ways than one.

“That’s not what I -”  I started to say, then stopped, because he was already walking away toward the store.  I had to jog to catch up with him, and when I did, I put my hand on his arm.  “Elias.”

“What?”  He paused, looked at me, his eyes narrowed.  They were this cobalt blue color, so bright it looked almost unnatural.  

He really should be a model or something,
I thought.  My manager would be drooling over him.  I wondered how he’d gone his whole life without being discovered.

"It's no big deal.  It's a prosthetic," he said.

“I wasn’t looking at your leg,” I said.  “I didn’t even notice it until you just showed me right now.”

“Seriously," he said, his tone patronizing.  "Let it go.  It's not a big deal, but you're making it one.  You were staring; people do all the time."

“I wasn’t.” I said, this time more emphatically.  “I’m not an asshole."  
Why am I even bothering to defend myself to this guy?  Who cares what he thinks?

“No,” he said.  “But most people love freak shows.  Isn’t that the basis for most reality television?”

I felt heat on my chest, radiating down my arms.  I could feel it on my skin.  I always got this rash when I was upset, all red and prickly like hives.  My mother used to say it was because I was allergic to emotion.  It wasn’t a good quality to have in an actress, but hardly anyone knew about it, at least when I was on set.  I managed it.

“You
do
know who I am,” I said.

“What the hell are you talking about?”  He seemed genuinely confused.

“Reality show?” I asked.  I realized I was standing closer to him now, pointing my finger at his chest.  “Is that some kind of snide comment about my wedding?”

"Wedding?" Elias asked.  He made a noise, and I couldn’t tell if it was a cough or a laugh.  "What are you, some kind of runaway bride?"

“No.”  I paused, forgetting for a minute that I was angry.  
I guess I am, aren't I?
 “Sort of.”

“So, you're what, some kind of reality star getting married?" he asked.  The corners of his mouth were turned up at the edges and he crossed his arms across his chest.  He was fucking smirking at me.  What a smug asshole.

I didn’t know why I was so pissed off.  It was something about that cocky smile on his face, like he was so much better than me.

He knows nothing about me.

"Screw you," I said, turning on my heel and walking into the store.  Inside the bathroom, I splashed water on my cheeks.  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, at the flush that covered my cheeks and the pink splotches across my chest.  I put my hands on the sink and took a few deep breaths.

It was his attitude that got me, that
I'm-better-than-you-are
thing that cut through me like a knife.  I had put my past behind me.  I wasn’t that white trash girl anymore.  The darkness from my past, it was filed away, boxed up like the shit of mine my mother kept as reminders, like the tattered stuffed bear I used to cry myself to sleep with at night.

It was funny how life worked...you did everything you could to change who you were, to become the person you wanted to become, the person you thought you were.  And then it just took one comment from someone to make you feel like that stupid little girl again.

Always thought you were better than the rest of us, River.  You're my child, you hear me?  You'll never be better than me.  No matter where you go, how much money you make, how many fans you have, you'll always be my child.

What she said wasn't meant to be comforting.

It wasn’t true,
I told myself.  But my heart was still racing.  I reached inside my purse and pulled out the small box.  As soon as my fingers brushed the leather case, I felt a rush of warmth flood my body.  My heart rate started to fall. 

I'm just looking,
I told myself.

It had been six months since I've done it.  I didn't even do it after I walked in on Viper and my sister.  I ran my fingertips over the leather of the case, but I didn't open it.  Instead, I slid it the kit containing my razor blade back into my bag.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palm.  The pain was a distraction, not even near the same as cutting.  But I focused on it instead.

I took a deep breath, and walked out the door.

And into Elias.

He was standing in front of the bathroom door, not even bothering to be fucking polite about it, his hands on either side of the door frame.  Like he owned the space.

The way he was looking at me made me shiver.

The way this girl was looking up at me, her lips slightly parted, this flush on her cheeks that made them all rosy, like she had just gone running or something... I couldn’t fucking think about anything else except being inside her.  I didn't move from where I was standing in the door frame, not to touch her.  But I felt her inch closer to me.

"Following me?" she asked.  Her voice was soft.

"I want to know what you were really looking at back in the parking lot,"  I said.  "If it wasn't my leg, what was it?"

She exhaled forcefully, and I didn't know if she was pissed off or not.  Until she answered.  "Your ass."

"Excuse me?"  I heard her, but I wanted to hear her say it again.  I felt this thrill rush through me, and I swear to God all the blood in my body went straight to my cock.

"Your."  She took a breath, punctuating the word.  "Ass.  I was looking at your ass while you were walking in front of me."

I felt myself grin.  I couldn't help it.

"What?" she asked.  Her lips were so goddamned pouty I couldn't think straight.

"So you're some kind of reality star or what?"  I opened my mouth, and that was the question that came out.  It wasn’t the question I wanted to ask.  The question I wanted to ask was the one about whether she was getting married.

River sighed, loudly this time.  "No," she said.  "But my wedding was supposed to be televised.  Live.  Last night.  To Viper Gabriel."

"Shit."  Viper Gabriel.  "You're dating Viper Gabriel?"  Now I recognized her.  I had seen her on the cover of magazines.

Fuck.
 She wasn’t just a
little bit famous
.  She was really fucking
famous.

And she was telling me she had been checking out my ass.

"Was," she said.

"Was what?"  I was confused.  I was preoccupied with the fact that I couldn't seem to get the blood flowing back in the right direction - toward my brain.