Midnight Heat (Firework Girls #2) (10 page)

I locate the dirt path leading into the forest and say, “Can we start walking now?”

“Ah, we have ourselves a convert,” Cute Connor says with a wink. “But you can’t go on the next platform without me. You’ll have to hang tight.”

“I suppose,” I say with a grin, watching as the next person comes down.

We don’t say much as we watch the rest of the group join us, one at a time. No one gets stuck, not even the newbies, though Cotton Candy screams the entire way. She’s giggling by the time she gets back on her feet though and I can’t help but laugh. Good for her for doing it.

A few people exit the platform and linger at the trailhead while the last people come down, but I stay. I want to watch everyone make it across. The middle-aged couple is last, but they do it and both seem like they enjoyed it. I hop off the platform and jog to the front of the group as we finally start down the trail.

I want to be first in line for the next go-round.

The next run is longer and gives us a fantastic view of a cliff face as we zip farther down the mountain. I was, in fact, first in line, but Grayson was one of the last. Bobby and his girl are one of the first ones too and I hang out with them a bit as we wait for the other members of our group. As the platform gets more crowded, however, I exit and wait at the trailhead with a few others.

And so it goes. We work our way from one zip line to the next, and I start to see why people seek out these kind of experiences. I try to practice good etiquette and let others go first, patiently (or not so patiently) waiting my turn. Grayson and I don’t talk again until the second to the last run, when we both end up on the receiving platform together, before anyone else.

It’s probably a good thing this hasn’t happened too often, because even though Cute Connor isn’t too far away, ready to receive the next person, I feel like Grayson and I are alone together. And that gets me all stirred up and wishing we could be
together
, in every sense of the word. I’m acutely aware of his presence, now that I’m not distracted by other people and breathtaking views.

I’m leaning on the front railing, my eyes on the cable, and he’s doing the same thing, though more than an arm’s length away.

“I think your brother’s coming next,” he says, “but I’m not sure because his girlfriend was fighting him for the next place in line.”

I groan. “She’s not his girlfriend. Thank god.”

“You don’t like her?”

I glance at him and he’s smiling at me knowingly. There’s that cute dimple again.

I smile too, then take a deep breath, my eyes back on the line. “It’s not really my business.” That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.

He nods, considering me. “So you’re not feeling like you have to be his mom as much?”

I shrug. “I wish he had a mom, but he doesn’t, and I’m not her, either. I guess even if Mom were still alive he’d be breaking away and making his own decisions.”

“It’s normal.”

I nod.

“But it’s hard?”

I nod. It’s been the hardest thing for me to let go of during the past year, but I know it’s better for both of us if I do. “It’s getting better, though.”

“Good for you, Chloe.”

I look at him, drawn by the almost intimate tone in his voice. But he’s not looking at me. “Here he comes,” he says, nodding his head.

Sure enough, there’s Bobby. I look just in time to see him flip upside down and back up again. “Woooo hoooo!” he hollers, thrusting his arm in the air.

“Big dork,” I say, laughing.

“Seems to run in the family,” Grayson says smiling.

“Hey! I’m not a dork!”

He laughs. “It’s okay. It’s adorable on you.” He’s still not looking at me, but he’s smiling.

So am I.

The last run is the best. We’ve worked our way down to the coast, and this line goes right over a little cove. Sailing down, the water stretches as far as the eye can see to my right. To my left is Swan Pointe, the resort up on the hill, and the beach dotted with people. I’m soaring above the ocean, getting closer and closer to the roaring waves as I near the final platform. Then, too soon, I’m back on my feet and my first zip lining journey is over.

I grin at Cute Connor and he gives me a wink. “Good job,” he says.

Only two riders remain, Grayson one among them. Most of the others have left the platform and are in various stages of removing their harnesses, or else heading up to the ridge where the van will pick us up to take us back to the resort.

I’ve taken off my helmet and rustled my hair with my fingers, but I’m not ready to go yet. I watch as the second-to-last rider comes down, Shane’s aunt. She finishes her run with a big smile. Connor unhooks her and she climbs down the platform too.

I turn back to the line. It’s still, waiting for the last rider. As am I. The surf is rhythmically pounding the shore, and the cool California breeze plays with my hair. I lean on the rail and put my chin in my hand.

Then I see him. Sailing over the cove. Larger than life, or so it seems to me. No matter where he’s been today, my heart seems to want to pull in that direction. For just a moment, I indulge. I watch Grayson coming down the line toward me and pretend he’s mine once more.

For just a moment.

Then he’s on the platform, smiling and looking so handsome and thanking Connor amicably and I can’t go up to him like I would if he were mine. I have to watch him from a distance, only able to wish I could close the last twenty feet between us.

He catches my eye and I almost forget to look away, but I manage it.

He’s here with Sam. He shouldn’t see me looking at him like that.

We’re the last ones to get free of our harnesses and end up walking toward the pick-up spot somewhat together. Connor and Fred are staying behind to pack up and say they’ll meet us there.

The more Grayson and I walk in silence, the more uncomfortable the silence becomes. What happened in the past is looming between us again. I feel it. Or maybe it’s just me. But now that we’re really alone and can talk openly, I can’t let it go.

“Grayson,” I say softly. “I owe you an apology.”

We continue on for several steps.

I glance at him. His face is unreadable. It’s almost like he’s trying to make sure I can’t decipher his expression. Maybe he is.

“I shouldn’t have left like that,” I say. “I was... I was scared but...”

He finally looks at me, brow furrowed.

“It’s no excuse and I know it,” I continue, looking him in the eye and willing him to really see me. I want him to know I’m sincere. God, how I regret leaving him like I did. “It was childish of me. I’m really, really sorry.”

We come to a stop, looking at one another.

“Scared of what?” he asks. Again that unreadable face.

For a moment I wonder if I imagined his intent with me that night. If I made something, where there wasn’t anything. Part of me is so certain he felt things for me too, that night, but looking at him now I wonder. I do.
Was
it just me?

I take a deep breath. “I’d just broken up with Brad and you came along and it was...”
Amazing. Incredible. The best night of my entire life.
“It was just a little too much too soon for me.”

He’s listening, but his expression is still guarded.

I can’t say that I blame him.

“Look, I...” I’m stumbling all over my words. I don’t know if this is helping or making things worse or what I’m even trying to accomplish. “It wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to do, Chloe?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I just wanted to... I don’t know... try to explain myself. It’s just sounding like a bunch of excuses, though, I know. I’m not trying to do that. And I’m not asking anything of you, obviously. I mean, you’re with Sam. And Sam’s great. I love her. I’m not trying to...” I sigh again. God, I just need to shut up now. “I’m sorry. That’s all. What I did was terrible and I’m truly, truly sorry if I hurt you, Grayson.”

He gives me the same impassive look he’s been giving me the whole time. “You didn’t,” he says.

I feel a little knocked back on my feet.

I’m not sure why his comment should make me feel badly. It’s not that I wanted to have hurt him. “Oh,” I say, trying to sound calm. “Well. I’m glad.”

“Don’t worry about it, Chloe,” he says and starts walking again.

I fall in alongside him, too stunned to say a word.

We catch up to the others at the bottom of the hill. The shuttle van is just pulling up and there are a lot more people waiting to board than came with us earlier in the day. It looks like we’re picking up a few resort guests from the beach too.

The van comes to a halt and the doors open. We load up. Bobby and Miss Cotton Candy sit near the front. I decide to keep my distance and sit in one of the benches closer to the back. Grayson comes down the aisle and slides in next to me.

I wish he hadn’t.

Being in his presence for so long today is starting to take its toll. In spite of everything that’s happened, even in spite of what he just said, I still want him. And not just physically, though there is that. It’s
him.
Unlike the Night of Grayson, we’ve barely talked and haven’t touched at all, but I’m as drawn to him now as I was that night.

In spite of everything, that connection I felt with him is happening again. Against my will.

Again.

The first night I fought it because I wasn’t ready for another person in my life. I couldn’t deal with being Chloe and
somebody
. Not then.

I could now though. I wouldn’t hesitate to jump on board the Grayson train, if only things were different.

But things aren’t different.

That train left the station the moment I walked out on him, and now he’s with Sam. He’s out of my reach in every sense of the word. So why can’t I get my heart to stop reaching for him? Why am I tormenting myself?

And why did he sit by me? He’s not talking and doesn’t seem to want to talk. I don’t know that I can handle talking right now anyway.

The shuttle idles in place, waiting for a large family hurrying up the hill to meet us. They’re hauling overstuffed beach bags and sun umbrellas. They climb on board, the bus swaying as they load in. The bus is nearly full though, so they spread out, squeezing in where they can. I assume the van will make the short trip to the resort and come back for the second group of zip liners that came up the mountain with us.

The father is the last man to board. He’s a large gentleman and asks Grayson if the space next to him is taken.

“Go ahead,” Grayson says, scooting over.

I quickly move over myself, trying to avoid coming into full contact with Grayson’s body. I don’t need that. Grayson, too, seems careful to give the man room without touching me.

This isn’t a small man, though, and the seats aren’t very long. There’s more shuffling and scooting and before I know it the window is pressing against me on one side and Grayson’s pressing against me on the other.

My heart is pounding. He’s so close I can smell him. I remember that smell. His thigh is pressing hard against mine, all the way up to my hips. We’re both wearing sleeveless tops, so our bare arms are touching. God, I remember this body.

“Sorry,” Grayson murmurs.

The bus lurches into motion and our bodies move together.

I’m not looking out the window. I’m looking at the seat back in front of me and barely breathing. Grayson is immobile too, but maybe he’s just pinned in. Like me. Maybe he’s not happy about being pinned in.

But I like it.

I like it way too much.

To keep from putting my hand on the top of his thigh, I chant to myself:
He’s here with Sam. He’s here with Sam.

Because that’s the only thing holding me back. If it weren’t for that, I’d risk everything my heart can hold just to put my hand on his knee.

As we head back to the resort, I realize I could move my forearm away and across my lap. That part of my arm doesn’t
have
to be touching him like the rest of me does. But I don’t move. My breathing is shallow and I’m tuned into every move his body makes

Then I realize he could move his forearm too, if he wanted to. He’s not, but maybe the fact that our bodies are touching doesn’t mean the same thing to him that it does to me.

I look down at his hand, resting on his knee. I take it all in: his tanned skin, the slightly raised veins, his short, clean nails. I remember the feel of that hand as it caressed my body: along my waist, over my breasts, up the inside of my thighs.

I look sharply out the window. I have to stop. I have to stop thinking like this.

But I do not move and my heart continues to pound.

We pull up to the hotel and the bus comes to a stop.

It’s almost over. This moment with Grayson. And I don’t want it to be.

The doors open and people start to climb off. I’m still not moving. The man at the end of our bench heaves himself up and shuffles down the aisle.

Grayson does not move. Not one inch.

I slowly look at him, then he slides out and away and my body is cold where Grayson used to be.

Isabella’s family provided a “casual dinner” in one of the resort’s banquet halls tonight. The tables were exquisitely decorated and the buffet was overflowing with food. My favorite was the bacon-wrapped dates (I went back for more twice), but the eating seems more or less done now.

Isabella and Shane are over at a table with three sets of grandparents. I’ve been sharing a table with Bobby, Ashley, a couple of Isabella’s young cousins from Texas (all-American girls who don’t look related to her one whit), and of course Sam and Grayson.

This is how it’s gone down.

Sam is the sexy, charming, endearing little flirt she’s always been. Grayson is gorgeous, gracious, and enjoying the evening, so far as I can tell. He laughs at Sam’s stories and quips—like we all do—and I look at the two of them as little as humanly possible.

Not looking at him doesn’t stop me from entertaining my little fantasies. This evening, I’ve imagined all sorts of ways Grayson and I could end up together after all. Maybe Sam won’t care. She’s not in love with him and I did have him first.

Not that Grayson wants me.

He’s over there right now, talking to Bobby and laughing and looking perfectly charming. Sam’s smiling too. They both look happy enough to me. Of course, anyone looking at me might think the same thing. I’m putting up a pretty good act. I’ve even entertained the table with my Christmas tree story.

In fact, anyone who didn’t know better would look at our little group and think there couldn’t be anything wrong with the world at all.

That just shows what any of us knows, doesn’t it?