He opened his eyes to look at her, hoping a visual reminder of her current state would bring him to his senses, but when he saw how tightly her eyes were squeezed shut as she kissed him, something twisted in his chest. She looked as though she were savoring him in equal measure, sending his determination into a tailspin. It took her fingers working his belt buckle to snap him back to reality. He broke the kiss and gently held her away from him.
At first, she looked confused, then her cheeks flamed red. Her hands fluttered at her waist, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Brent cursed under his breath, knowing at the moment she was only capable of seeing this as rejection, when he was really doing it for her. She stumbled a little and he reached out to catch her, but she shoved his hands away. “Get out.”
“Hayden—”
“Just get out.”
He stared at her a moment, wanting to say more, but rationalizing that she might not even remember what he had to say. She wouldn’t want to hear it, either. Having no choice, he turned and left her there, looking stricken. Each step to his car felt more painful than the last.
Chapter Ten
Hayden woke with a scream on Saturday morning when her mattress dipped and shook. She shot up in bed and searched wildly around the dimly lit room for the intruder. I ought to at least be given the courtesy of seeing my murderer’s face before I leave for the sweet hereafter, right? When she saw Story at the foot of her bed, she deflated with relief.
She pushed her sleep-mussed hair out of her face. “What is the meaning of this? Ryan Gosling was about to go full frontal in my dream.” A total lie, by the way. Someone had been about to go full frontal, but it hadn’t been Gosling. Much to her supreme irritation, Brent continued to make appearances in her subconscious no matter how much she tried to banish him from her mind.
“Bah. Dreams never deliver on that kind of thing.” Story eased a hip onto the bed. “He would have pulled down his pants and there would have been a cantaloupe in place of his peen.”
“Hmmm. Either way, its low-hanging fruit.”
“Ooh, funny even before coffee. She’s the total package.”
“Tell it to Gosling.”
“I will.” She waggled her eyebrows. “If he happens to be in Atlantic City this weekend. Which is where we’re going. As in, now! Road trip, motherfu—”
“Get out of my room.” Hayden pointed at the door. “I venture into New Jersey for no man. Or woman. Even you, blondie.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Hayden noticed for the first time that Story was immaculately dressed. Before 9:00 a.m. on a Saturday? Unacceptable. “I miss the ocean. The good weather is going to be gone soon and I’m in the mood for some fun.”
“Then go screw your hot boyfriend.”
“Presently. Oh, I need to tell you about this new thing he did. I had my leg back like this—”
“Oh fine! I’m getting up, you fuck monkey.”
“Works every time.” Story bounded to her feet and fist-pumped. Hayden couldn’t help but smile, excitement starting to wiggle its way through her system. Maybe a weekend out of Manhattan was exactly what she needed to clear her head. She hadn’t given her mother her decision about Stuart yet, had been putting it off as long as possible. If she decided to follow her marching orders down the aisle, one last weekend of freedom seemed strongly in order.
“So what’s the plan? Are we driving or taking the bus from Port Authority?”
“Daniel is driving. If we pack light, all of us should have no problem fitting.”
Hayden froze in the process of putting her hair in a ponytail. “Who is ‘all of us’?” She’d obviously been at a disadvantage waking up to the news and agreeing before the sleep cobwebs cleared completely, because if she’d actually thought about it for two seconds, she would have assumed Daniel was coming to Atlantic City. No way would he let Story out of his sight overnight in a strange place, especially after their little foray into Brooklyn. But his car only held four passengers. Who was occupying that fourth seat? She said a quick prayer it wouldn’t be the one person she wanted to avoid.
In an attempt to take her mind off her thwarted attempt to drunkenly seduce Brent, she’d worked herself to the bone all day Friday and into the wee hours of the morning. Pounding the pavement, arranging meetings with potential donors for her youth charities by day, drawing up proposals by night. If her father’s company, whose name was all over her nonprofit organizations, did tank, money wouldn’t come quite so easily and the kids would ultimately suffer. Hayden wanted the coffers flush to avoid any loss of income or skittish donors at all costs.