Falling for Fate (28 page)

F
ate attempted to stifle the shiver that ran up her back and broke through at her shoulders, but she could tell by his slightly upturned mouth that he’d seen it.

When the doors opened, he placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her gently to where he was parked. The gesture was oddly familiar and comforting, yet it incited a riot of sensation in her stomach.

“Nice,” she said once they reached the sleek, black sports car. “What is it?”

“An Audi R8 Exclusive. I’m quite proud of it.”

She could see that in the boyish way his chest poked out as he grinned at her. “It looks fast. And kind of like a speeding ticket waiting to happen.”

“Yes, well. I’ll try to avoid that if I can.” He opened her door, eying her legs appreciatively as she slid onto the leather seat.

She quietly enjoyed the luxurious feel of the leather against her skin while Dean drove them out of the garage. Her stomach did a complicated series of twists and turns right along with the car.

“Are we in a hurry?” Fate’s eyes dropped to the speedometer once they’d merged onto the highway.

Dean eased off the gas pedal and his gaze drifted to her. “Aren’t we?”

She didn’t answer, just pressed her lips together to keep her nerves from spilling out of her mouth.

Pressure built inside her until she couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“I didn’t realize you were such a nice guy,” she said, breaking the thick silence.

Dean briefly glanced away from the road to arch an eyebrow in her direction. “Mama raised me right. If I don’t open your door anywhere, ever, you have full permission to slam my head in it.”

Fate laughed lightly. “Good to know. But I meant back at the office. With the janitor.” She watched Dean’s features pull together as he frowned at the traffic ahead of them.

“Jack? He’s a good guy. Hard worker, good father. Better than most, actually.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she suspected that he was comparing Jack to his own father. From what she’d seen, Dean and Daniel Maxwell’s relationship was on the strained side—to put it mildly.

“What about you, Dean? Are you a good guy?”

His features smoothed into a smirk. “Sometimes. If the stars align just right.”

She could recall a night when they had. The one that had somehow managed to become both the best and worst night of her life.

“What are you blushing about over there?” His question was innocent, but the heat in his eyes said that he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

She grinned and shook her head. “Are you going to interrogate me on this drive or can we listen to the radio?”

Dean pressed a button on his steering wheel and a glorious sound filled the car. Fate’s breath was stolen away by the woman’s voice and she had to work to find her own again.

“Who is this?”

“The Civil Wars. You’ve never heard of them?”

The name was vaguely familiar. She’d been a country music girl until Trevor. Trevor preferred easy listening and called the bluegrass and folk songs she liked “inbred anthems.”

She stilled and listened to lyrics about knowing better. She was enraptured by the haunting combination of voices that sounded ethereal to her ears when it changed seamlessly to words about poison and wine.

Dean chuckled softly beside her, disrupting her trance. “I take it you’re a fan?”

She nodded. “I’ve never heard anything like it. Do they ever come to New York?”

Before college, she and her friends used to attend concerts all the time. There was something about seeing music live. It seemed closer to her soul that way.

Dean cleared his throat. “They broke up. They don’t perform together anymore.”

Her skin tingled in a way that didn’t make sense. Her body was reacting as if she’d just learned that a dear friend had died. She didn’t know these people, but somehow, knowing they would no longer make this music together was painful—hollowing.

“They sound so perfect for each other. Why’d they break up?”

Dean shrugged. “Why does anyone?”

Because people lie and cheat. They betray, and they let you down. Because, sometimes, it’s easier to let go…

The memory of Trevor and Melissa’s indiscretion was closer to the surface than she’d realized. The melody escaping the speakers had peeled back a layer of her defense and left her exposed.

“Were they married?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah—to other people, I think.”

It was then that she heard it. What made the music so beautiful and unique. The love and the longing. The ebb and flow of two people resisting and giving in to the pull of temptation. There was passion there—Fate could feel it as if they were in the car with them. She’d never felt music quite that deeply before—not even when hearing it live. It had always been surface level.

The song changed again while she was contemplating this. A remake of No Ordinary Love swirled tendrils of emotion through her, and suddenly, Dean couldn’t drive fast enough.

His watch gleamed out from under the cobalt-blue button-down dress shirt he was wearing. She examined his strong hands wrapped firmly around the steering wheel. She wanted his hands everywhere, his skin on hers, his mouth claiming her. When the steady internal throbbing began, she wanted to tell him to pull over and make her forget the pain and replace it with unadulterated pleasure just as he’d done when he’d been a stranger on the beach.

“You okay?”

She pulled herself from the fever dream the music had pulled her into. “Yeah,” she breathed. “But, um, you could drive a little faster.”

T
he beach house wasn’t at all what Fate had pictured. The few she’d seen on her impromptu jog a few months ago were cottage-style, whitewashed, clapboard two-stories. As they pulled into the driveway of something much more modern and made of entirely more glass than she’d expected, Fate noticed a sleek, silver convertible already parked next to the house.

“You already have company?”

It occurred to her that, despite their one night and the debauchery that had taken place in the city, Fate knew very little about Dean’s preferences. Maybe one woman wasn’t enough to satisfy him and he was planning a group event.

Dean’s gaze flickered briefly to the sporty car before landing on her. “No. That belongs to our neighbor. My dad lets her park there because she doesn’t have much of a driveway and her garage is full.”

Her.
She opened her mouth to inquire further, but his tone had made it clear that this wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. Dean was out of the car and opening her door before any more was said about the mysterious neighbor with the pretty car and full garage.

“Thanks,” Fate whispered, suddenly feeling shy as she passed by him.

The house loomed intimidatingly over them—holding the promise of something life changing.

He nodded and retrieved her bag from the back seat. Walking together to the house, they paused only long enough for him to punch in a code and open the door.

“Dean?”

The voice was warm and seductively feminine.

Fate had just stepped into a dark, slate-tiled foyer when Dean turned to see who’d called his name.

“Brynn?”

Angling her face around him, Fate saw a woman in a bright-pink Lycra tank and tight, black yoga pants. She might’ve been older than them both, but the outfit, the super-sculpted body, and the blond bob cut made her look pretty youthful.

“Hey,” the woman said, stepping closer. She’d apparently been about to get into her car. “I thought that was you. Your dad was just here last weekend.”

Fate waited to see if he’d introduce her to the woman walking toward them, but he did the absolute last thing she expected.

“Here. Make yourself comfortable,” he said, setting her bag down. “I’ll be right back.” With that, Dean walked out of the house, letting the door close behind him as he made his way to
Brynn.

This was not how she’d expected this weekend to get started. Once she’d recovered from the shock of being unceremoniously ditched, she set her bag on the kitchen counter and lifted herself onto a barstool.

Surveying her surroundings—ultramodern décor with stark contrasts of dark and light—Fate wondered briefly if this was where she would’ve ended up had she not taken off running after their encounter on the beach. It was almost amusing, the fact that she’d ended up here anyway. It felt inevitable and also kind of like returning to the scene of the crime. A few miles away sat the resort where she was supposed to have gotten married.

Life was either a random slew of coincidences or controlled by some unforeseen power that had an exceptionally twisted sense of humor.

The longer Dean remained outside with his neighbor, the more Fate wondered why he’d brought her here. He wanted them to finish what they’d started. She kind of understood that impulse. But remembering Keaton’s comments and how they’d freaked him out, she wondered if Dean had really thought this through.

Driving to his beach house for the weekend didn’t feel like a way to finish anything… In fact, it felt a whole lot like the
beginning
of something rather than the end.

Which begged the question, why had she agreed to come?

If Gwen’s theory was correct, they really could just use this weekend to get each other out of their systems. That was the option that would wrap everything up the neatest way possible.

Yet…Fate had felt the twinge of something other than physical attraction on the way to the Hamptons. She didn’t have a name for it, but the ease and comfort she’d felt while riding with him away from the hectic city toward the beach combined with how much she’d enjoyed the music and the conversation—it was dangerous. It was too familiar, a feeling that would be too easy to crave. She wouldn’t be that woman again, wouldn’t be like her mother and go from letting one man call the shots to another. Dean could have her body this weekend, but there was no way in hell she was handing over her heart.

So when he walked inside and gave her a tentative grin, Fate shoved any feelings of jealousy she was harboring toward his neighbor into a tiny ball in the pit of her stomach. This weekend wasn’t about that, about feelings or starting a relationship. Dean had made that clear and she’d agreed.

“Sorry. She was—”

She waved her hand and tossed him an easy grin. “No need to explain, Dean. I’m not your girlfriend.”

He appeared temporarily unprepared for her reaction but regained his previous demeanor quickly. “Okay then. In that case, let me give you a tour.”

Dean took his time showing her the lavish living room, where pretty much everything from the fireplace to the television to the surround sound system was handled by a remote control. She’d already seen the kitchen with its professional, chef-quality, stainless steel appliances and sleek, marble countertops, but Dean paused by the bar to inform her that either they could order in all weekend or make a quick grocery store run. Fate skimmed her hand along the countertop and considered this. A trip to the grocery store would probably be a very couple-ish thing to do.

“I’m a fan of ordering in myself. And if we get cabin fever, we could always eat out.”

Dean smirked, briefly reminding Fate of a teenage boy who’d scored the winning touchdown. “Sounds good. I like to eat out from time to time myself.”