Slave to Love (7 page)

He’s really handsome, his pale
hazel eyes are incredibly striking and I like the way he holds my eye contact when we speak. His full, beautiful lips expand into what is a breathtaking, captivating smile. And he’s got this sun-bleached hair that is thick and full, and he keeps brushing it out of his eyes. By any definition of the word, this guy is hot. Tall, well-educated, eloquent, interesting, career-oriented. And nice. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check.

And I’m sitting here at the Salty Sow, an ultra-hip gastropub in East Austin that he chose, trying my hardest to stay engaged in the conversation and keep my mind from wandering, from wondering. Is he back in Austin? Has he even thought about me? What does he think of me?

But the bigger question is –
what is wrong with me?

He’s a narcissistic creep who treats women like shit and I just need to get through the California event at Universal, his Austin event and the planning meetings around them. Get through that and then I’m done with him. His business totally reverts back to Cuntessa’s team. And then hopefully, this totally OCD obsession I have with him will evaporate.

I haven’t heard a word my date has said to me in the last minute. His name is Tyler and I need to join him at this dinner and come back from wherever la-la Hale Lundström fantasy land I’ve been hiding in. He deserves it and even more so, I deserve it.

Excusing myself, I go to the ladies room, where my obsessive behavior continues. No phone calls. No texts. No emails. The mirror isn’t confessing any great secrets. I look the same. So why do I feel so damn different? I feel like I’ve lost myself. Sierra is gone. I see her, but she’s gone. And I want her back. Not this pathetic shell who is so obsessed with this douche who doesn’t give a crap about her.

The Sierra I know would never pine over a man who disrespected her. She’d kick him in the balls and tell him to fuck himself. Not fantasize about him and keep checking her phone every two minutes like a silly teen waiting to be asked out to prom. Who is this pathetic girl? It certainly can’t be Sierra Stone.

Rejoining Tyler, I’ve brought with me from the ladies room a brand new resolve. Live in the present. The here and now. In my head I’m hearing an old song about loving the one you’re with and wonder if I should make that my theme song.

He’s actually the nicest date I’ve had in a long time. He embodies the quintessential Austin ethos, laid back and friendly. And I need to give him a chance. I really need to give him a chance.

Don’t fuck this up, Sierra.

Flying back first thing in the morning. Need to meet.

A text from Hale. Our first contact in ten days. I’m elated. I’m angry. My heart hurts and I don’t know if it’s happiness or despair. Need to meet could mean anything. I’m trying not to read too much into it.

Sure. When?
My fingers are shaking.

Dinner
This is so Hale, no question mark after it asking me if I’m available.

Where?
Oh Sierra, you are so easy. You didn’t even make him work for it.

I’ll pick you up at 7:30

Pick me up where?
I need him to clarify it.

At your house, Sierra.
I can hear the exasperation in his text and I’m amusing myself.

That’s really not necessary. I’ll meet you somewhere
. You haven’t contacted me in 10 days, douche, so now I’m going to fuck with you a little.

I will pick you up at 7:30

Seriously, it’s not like it’s a date or something.

Just promise me you won’t shit in the restaurant.
Ha-ha, amusing. Throw my own words back at me.

I’m very professional on business dinners, Hale.
I’m shaking my head. I can’t date him. This is business. Anything else will end badly for me. Very, very badly.

Yeah well, we have a dinner date tomorrow night. Goodnight, Sierra.
I really don’t like being dismissed.

Hale
I’ve let five minutes pass.

Yes, Sierra

My ass is off-limits
The guy needs ground rules.

So are you saying your ass is not on the table?

Yes

I can still work with that. Goodnight, Sierra.
Dog.

Girls will be girls. It doesn’t matter if we are sixteen, thirty-three (my age) or sixty-three. Girls will be girls. And based on that irrefutable fact of the universe, I am forced to call an emergency meeting of The Swale Club.

Three-way call initiated. Text shared with all parties. Monica and Beverly up to speed, it’s time to beat this topic to a dead horse.

“You have to call Cuntessa about something tomorrow and dig around. Find out if she saw him in the last few days.” Beverly is all about gathering facts and then putting together a strategy.

“I’m reading this,” Monica cuts in, “you really have to look at the sub-text. It’s like he’s totally over this exile and just wants to come back and go for it. He’s really very funny, Sierra. I like his sense of humor.”

Why am I the only one not laughing? I really need to lighten up.

“The ass comment,” Beverly laments, “I’d kill for my darling husband,” her voice drips with sarcasm, “to say something like that to me.”

“He wants your ass against a wall, Sierra. Or maybe on your kitchen counter.”

“Well, that’s not happening. I have to work with the guy. We have two very major events to get through. When I no longer am in his ‘quasi-employ’, then maybe we can explore having something. This might not mean anything. This could just be his normal pig self.” I keep reading his words. Just reading his double entendres is killing me. I want to know what his mouth tastes like and what it feels like to be nestled against his muscular frame. I want to know if my kisses can get him hard. And I want to feel their power pressed up against me.

“You’d better call us immediately after he leaves,” Beverly demands.

“If he leaves,” Monica loves to torment me.

Travis Heights is quintessential Austin
. The location, bordering the Colorado River, makes it prime and expensive real estate and like many other older Austin neighborhoods, homes are being bought strictly for the choice location of the lot and then knocked down, giving way to large new homes next door to 1940’s Craftsman cottages.

As I pull up to Sierra’s house, I think how much it looks like her. Sunshine and comfort, amid change. And I wonder if what is changing is actually me. A year ago, I would have been banging Robyn Stiles in my office and last night she just grossed me out.

Taking a deep breath before I knock, I have no idea how to play this. The last time we saw one another I was completely inappropriate. She has to be nice to me because basically she works for me. But what would she be feeling if work were out of the equation? Would she even return my texts?

Lifting my hand to knock feels like an uncovering of my fate and I’m immediately grabbed by that uncomfortable clench in my belly, something that I learned to quell overseas and does not happen often to me. I am not yet ready for this answer.

Her smile is automatic as she opens the door.

“Hale.” She seems genuinely happy to see me. “Come on in.”

Relief is instantaneous, fears dispelled by just a smile. Refreshing is the word that comes to mind, especially after the likes of Robyn Stiles, as I take in the girl that mirrors her neighborhood. Quintessentially Austin. In a short white linen sundress and well-worn cowboy boots, Sierra is clad in Austin’s version of “dressed up”. With loose tousled hair and not a lot of make-up that I can detect, she looks even more beautiful standing here than the dream that’s haunted me for ten days.

“Great place,” I look around as I peer over her shoulder, so that I don’t stare at her too long. It reminds me of a beach cottage. The walls are a sky blue that gives the place the feel of a perfect sunny day.

“Your garage is probably larger than my whole house,” she laughs nervously.

“This is really nice. Did you do the decorating?”

She nods and I continue, “I’m always amazed by people who can put things together and create a great space.” I pick up a photo of Sierra with two other women, they are clearly laughing hysterically.

“Would you like something to drink?”

I can tell that I am making her uncomfortable as I stalk around her living room, picking things up and learning about her by her choices in the finely crafted surroundings. It’s the coffee table that catches my eye.

Pointing to it, “Sticks?”

“Yes.” She looks amazed that I know who created the beautiful hand painted table depicting the four seasons.

“Surprised I know that, huh?” I raise my brows, feeling very proud of myself.

“You must have a girlfriend that enjoys dragging you to high priced craft furniture stores.”

She’s astute and has totally nailed me here.

“Ex-girlfriend who loved New Hope, Pennsylvania.” I can almost see her mind spinning and I answer the question, “But we never bought any.”

“Okay.”

It’s evident that she’s not sure how to answer me. I am really making her uncomfortable. The opposite of what I want to happen.

“Here’s the shocking part. I’m the one that liked it. She didn’t,” I confess.

“That in itself is reason enough to make her an ex.” Sierra smiles for the first time.

Laughing, “Damn right.” And I get my second smile from her.

I look at my watch, “Hey, we need to head out.”

“Where are we going?” She grabs a big oversized soft leather bag.

“The Carillon.”

“On the UT Campus?”

I nod. “Have you been?”

“No, and I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Sierra stops dead in her tracks when she sees my car. “What is that?”

Laughing, “It’s a Lotus.” I’ll never tire of saying that.

“I probably should not have worn a dress.” Sierra is looking at the car, clearly trying to figure out how to negotiate her way into it.

“You look very nice tonight.” She knows I’m messing with her by the amused look on my face, and I am silently praying she’s commando under that dress and really sweating it out. “Do you need help getting in?”

Smiling through gritted teeth, “I think I’m capable of getting into a car.”

“Okay.”

Smiling, I fold my long frame into the low seat of the Lotus. It takes practice to get in and out of a low street racing car. And I’ve never done it in a dress.

“Ready,” I ask mockingly, eyebrows raised, when she’s finally in and tugging at her hiked up hemline.

With a dirty look, she whacks me in the arm. “Ass.”

Laughing, “We’ve previously established that.” And down her street I tear, loving the guttural sound of the engine and feeling like a teen showing off to my girlfriend.

Just a few minutes later as we’re pulling up to the building housing the restaurant, Sierra concedes, “I’ll bet this is a great car to take out into Hill Country.”

“Totally, we should drive out to Bandera some weekend.” I did it again, just overstepped it with her, because I’m not thinking, and it just seems so natural.

Parking the Lotus, I quickly head to her side to help her out. She gives me a look and I laugh, “I’m only trying to be a gentleman.” I feign innocence.

“Mmm-hmm.” Even her mmm-hmm is dripping sarcasm.

Not commando. White lace. Oh God, she’s destroying me. I want to rip them off and lower her onto my lap. Impale her and discover what kissing does to her with my cock inside her.

Damn it. Will I be able to keep the promises I want to make?

Our waiter comes by and I order two Manhattans, smiling at Sierra.

“Craving cherries?” Her eyebrows are raised.

Oh man, she really is going to kill me tonight.

“Only if they are yours.”

“You want mine?” she asks and I can see she feels it. She feels our energy.

“More than you can imagine.”

“I would hate to deny you.”

“Good girl. Then don’t.”

The waiter places the Martini glasses in front of us and I lift mine, “Good to see you again.” And I hope she can see how sincere I am.

“Good to see you.” She takes a sip and her nose scrunches up. “This tastes different.”