No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1) (15 page)

I’m about to start apologizing for being such a presumptuous twit when he says, “Sweetheart, as happy as that makes me, this can’t happen between us until you know more about what being in a relationship with me means.”

He wraps the towel around my torso and dries me in a fatherly manner, not an ounce of sexuality about it. This conversation seems painful for him, and his downturned mouth and crinkled-around-the-edges eyes tell me there’s so much more to this complex man than meets the eye. “You have to understand my life has an eighteen-wheeler full of baggage I’m towing.”

I step away from him and clutch the towel to my breast. It takes every bit of courage I possess, and I throw it all into the wind. This might be the biggest mistake of my life, but I have to explore what there is about him that makes me desire him so much. I must. I’ll never be satisfied with another relationship until I find out what there is about Aaron Emerson that pulls me to him.

With a deep breath, I place my heart on the chopping block. “But that’s what I don’t care about. You’re a good man. I mean, look. You’re using your money to benefit Bethany’s organization.” I press the clutched towel deeper into my cleavage. “Everyone has baggage. I have a grandmother and mother who make up at least a shipping container of issues. I don’t care about your past or what you do for a living. I care about how you make me feel. I don’t want to read about your life on a lighted screen. I want to lie in your arms, pressed against your rib cage as I use my finger to trace your tattoos, and you tell me your stories and share with me the good, and bad, and ugly. Even if I did read all about your eighteen-wheeler full of baggage, it wouldn’t change how you make me feel in here.” I touch my heart. “I don’t want practical. I want you.”

Allowing my towel to drop to the floor, I become the most vulnerable I’ve ever been in my life. “This is me. I’m Mary Kay Landry. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I want to get to know you better. If you want the same thing without putting stipulations on us then come over here, kiss me, and make love to me like we’re two people who can’t wait to get know each other better.”

Before my eyes, I watch a man wage an internal war while I remain bare. I’ve laid my heart open for him. He has to walk metaphorically and physically to me.

A chill overcomes me, and an involuntary shiver passes over my skin. I beg him to not make me stand here like this any longer, but I’m willing to if that’s what it takes.

He’s probably six feet from me, but it might as well be a mile. He drags his hand through his hair and looks to the floor. He shifts from foot to foot. Never making eye contact, he shares, “I’ve been a fan of your site since Jude showed it to me about a year ago. Me running into you at Eddy’s wasn’t an accidental meeting.”

Who’s Jude?
The tiny hairs on my arms stand up as he confirms what I expected. My face remains passive as I try not to let him see just how much his revelation bothers me. “I assumed.”

“I invested in your sister’s organization not because I’m a good person. I was hoping to meet you.” He’s still not within my reach. His eyes jerk to mine, probing, looking for ammunition, I assume. He’s trying to make me run. If this is a test, then I’m passing. If this is a warning, I’ll look back on tonight and chastise myself for not listening.

I swallow hard. “Wrong motivation. Right outcome.” My arms want to cross over my chest to shield me from these truths, but I will them to stay by my sides.

“Cost me a million dollars.” He smirks and leans forward on his toes.

I don’t blink an eye. “Am I worth it?”

His eyes lock with mine, and he smiles. His whole demeanor changes, becomes more relaxed. “Sweetheart, you’re cold.” He turns to walk out of the large, open room.

“Aaron,” I say his name with authority and purpose. “Give us this chance.” They’re the four hardest words I’ve ever said and ones I could come to regret, but as my father tells me, you can’t steal second base by keeping your foot on first.

With five long strides, he turns around, closing the distance between us. He scoops me in his arms, cradling me to his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle my cheek against his. He carries me down the long hallway which runs to the back of the home and dead ends at a closed wooden door. Aaron opens it with one hand, and as we enter his bedroom, he uses his foot to push the door closed.

The room is sparse. A large bed dominates it and is pushed against a brick wall. There’s little else besides two matching driftwood nightstands and a full-length large mirror with smoky glass located across from the bed. His linens are white and appear to glisten in the only lighting in the room which comes from outside. The curtains are open on a wall of windows which look out onto a rectangular-shaped pool and pool house. The lights in the pool are on and the rain hitting the top of the water makes for an ethereal light show.

Aaron places me so carefully in the middle of the large bed that one would think I’m breakable. He disappears through a door and returns quickly with a thick, plush, white bathrobe.

“Put this on.” He places the robe next to me and removes each of my shoes, dropping them next to the bed. “I’m going to make you some hot tea.”

I want to scream
I don’t want fucking tea. I want you,
but I don’t. Instead I use the bathrobe as a blanket and turn to watch the raindrops’ light show.

A teakettle whistles in the kitchen, and I hear Aaron banging around.

He walks back into the room, startling me. “You’re beautiful,” he says, almost to himself.

Smiling at his seemingly honest compliment, I reply, “thank you.”

I sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed. Aaron rests the tea cup and pot on the bedside table closest to me. He crawls over my legs and joins me, leaning against the brick while his fingers play a rhythm on my thigh.

Pouring myself a cup, I wrap both hands around it. I didn’t realize I was cold until I felt warmth. The first hot sip slides down my throat, and a warm sensation spreads from my chest outward. Aaron tucks the robe around me and leans his head against my shoulder.

His fingers continue to play an unheard rhythm on my thigh. I’ve noticed them before drumming against his hip. Is there a beat in his head he’s playing? Is this a nervous habit? He seems tense, and therefore I feel on edge. I’m about to ask him to tell me what’s going on when he says, “I have to be honest with you, MK. I think we’re a mistake. I think I’m going to screw this up, and in the end, you’re going to hate me enough that you’re going to leave me and I’m going to die a bitter old man who tasted the forbidden fruit and had it snatched away.”

The street goes both ways, buddy.

Sighing, I rest the cup on the bedside table. “Are you trying to scare me?”
Because if that’s the case, then it’s working.
But I must be brave enough for both of us.

“Yes,” he replies as he straddles my lap. He takes my hands and pins them above my head against the uneven, raw brick. His eyes are heavy and his lips swollen. Glancing down, I see a bulge in his pants which contradicts his admission. “I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone else. I want to dominate your body and your mind.” He pauses and licks his lips. “I want you all to myself. I want to know when I make love to you that I’m all you want. Other men are nothing but muscles and flesh. I want you like I want music, and I’ve seen what happens when I desire something that much. I ruin everything else around me. It’s like I sold my soul to the devil, and the only good thing I can have in my life is music.”

Wiggling out of his hold, I take his face between my palms. “That’s not true, Aaron. I’m not the best Christian, but I do believe in God. If you want goodness in your life, you have to invite it in. You have to work for it, like you did for your career. You have to put positive energy into the universe so you can get it back.”

He looks up at me with knitted brows, and I wiggle out of his hold. “Donating to my sister’s charity is putting good out into the world. Don’t sell yourself short. If you truly studied NoPinkCaddy, you’d know I write about this frequently. You have to set your expectations and standards high. You have to expect a partner to treat you well because you take care of yourself. I don’t like you setting us up for failure and warning me off. That’s asking for me to eventually break your heart. We may not be ultimately compatible and go our own ways, but you can’t start a new relationship just assuming it’s going to fail.”

I’m not sure if I got through to him, or if he’s just ready to change the subject, but he crawls off my legs. “You’re so damn smart. Why aren’t you a relationship counselor or shrink?”

“Ha,” I laugh. “I think I kinda am. You know I do have multiple psychology classes on my college transcript,” I reply in my mock bragging voice as I pick up my cup of tea.

A big clap of thunder sounds as lightning illuminates his bedroom.

“I love the rain,” I comment as I take a sip.

“One of my biggest hits I ever wrote was while I was high on coke and watching it rain in the desert.” He tenses when he says this, and I feel as if he’s once again waiting for my reaction.

I calmly reply, “Sing it for me.”

I rest the cup on the table and snuggle into the down comforter. We both scoot so our heads are on the same pillow, with him behind me. Aaron contours his lean body against mine.

He sings, and his voice is raspy, deep and beautiful. He wraps his arm around me and presses his front into my back. We’re both looking outside as the haunting ballad fills the room. I’ve heard the song before but the accompaniment is a driving rock beat so usually, the beauty of the lyrics are somewhat lost. Hearing him sing it acapella is breathtaking.

When he’s done, I roll over and place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Amazing.”

He smiles but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’m not sure I can write like that without being high.” There’s a sadness about him I don’t understand. Seemingly, he has it all. Based on what little I know of ACE, they’ve been off-the-charts successful. Yet, he seems alone, as if he’s isolated on an island.

“I know you’ve recently gotten out of rehab. It was mentioned tonight. You’re the gossip of New Orleans society.” I reach up and play with some of the strands of his hair.

His eyes narrow as his lips turn downward. “Yeah. Clean and sober sixty-two days.” His voice is sarcastic, and I don’t understand. Is he embarrassed that he’s an addict? Does he not want to be clean?

“That’s great.” I keep my tone even.

“Is it?” He kisses my forehead and rests his hand on my hip. “I knew how to be Johnny Knite, the enigmatic rock star and CEO. I could do lines of coke in my private bathroom, step into the boardroom and sign an artist or listen to tracks off a new album and give mind-bending feedback and suggestions. I could stay up for days and write songs for ACE and other artists, that are chart-topping and Grammy-winning. With coke and booze, I was the goddamn self-appointed leader of the rock-and-roll world.” His tone is still sarcastic.

“And now?” I place my hand over his heart, both the drawn and the real one.

His laugh is rueful. “And now I’m sober. I don’t know how to fit into this new world. I don’t know who I am or where I belong.” He pauses. “I don’t know if I can still be me without assistance.”

“When the band was just starting, did you do drugs?” I’m curious if he’s always needed something to help him along.

He shakes his head and his lips part, as if he’s contemplating my question. Finally, he says, “I don’t think so. I swam instead.”

I’m questioning my street lingo IQ, so I ask, “Swam as in swimming laps?”

A huge smile spreads his cheeks, and he chuckles. “Yeah, as in swimming laps.”

Sitting up, I swat his chest. “Quit making fun of me. Just making sure I understand.” I lie back down. Come to think of it, his body is built like a swimmer’s—broad shoulders, lean waist, long arms and legs.

“When’s the last time you swam?”

“For exercise?” he asks, and then pauses for a minute. “Years.”

“Maybe it’s time you gave it a try.”

My statement hangs in the air. I actually think he’s considering it. He has a pool. I’m not sure if it’s heated, but if not, he can get a wetsuit. I make a note to see how much they cost in the morning.

A bright flash of light fills the room and a loud clap of thunder follows milliseconds later. Rain beats against the windows. I’m warm and dry and snuggled against Aaron’s chest, finding my peaceful place again. He taps a rhythm on my back, and it feels like a new type of massage.

A thought pops into my head. I have a mini internal battle and decide my curiosity has to be satisfied. “What was it about my site that made you want to meet me?”

NoPinkCaddy has been live for seven years. I interact with girls all over the world. Never in that time, though, have I had anyone seek me out to meet me because of it. Sure, I’ve run into a stranger, mentioned my site, and they’ve said they follow it or a friend of a friend has complimented it, but I’ve never been hunted down because I’m the girl who runs NPC.

He quits tapping and looks down at me with the sweetest expression on his face. It’s like his features soften, and his eyes brighten. “You’re just so genuine and real. And beautiful without trying, and self-deprecating—never minding when the girl off-camera teases you. You’re also brave. It’s hard to discuss failed relationships and show a restoration project gone wrong. Most people wouldn’t post unless it was perfect. I felt a connection and wanted to meet you.”

Wow. I didn’t realize I was any of those things. “Ummm . . . thank you.” I swallow. “What would you have done if you’d met me at Eddy’s and I’d sucked?”

He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “I’d certainly not have rented out half a restaurant to impress you and then dry humped you in the ladies’ room like we were fourteen-year-old horny kids.”

My cheeks heat. “That was impressive.”

“The restaurant?”

Feeling very bold, I reach down and grab his semi-firm penis. “No, the package.” Flipping on top of him, I pin his arms.

There’s a glint in his eye that I find very sexy. “Alright, MK. You’ve got me. Now, what shall you do with me?”