Steal(Seaside Pictures Book 3)(24)

Some nights it took hours.

Other nights it took minutes.

Lucky me, that after one brief conversation with Ang — and I was leaning toward hour two. One conversation that no matter how many times I twisted it around, tried to make it fit, it just didn’t.

I was in a weird place.

A place where I wanted to hate her.

And a place where I was suddenly just exhausted from all the hate.

Keeping every single part of myself indifferent wasn’t something I was practiced in when it came to women.

I’d never been good at it.

Until she’d forced me to be.

Until I saw the way he looked at her and knew — the more I attached myself the more he would wonder what was so great about her — the more he would want to take.

I miscalculated.

The math never lined up in the first place.

And maybe that was the problem — I was always waiting for her to cheat, waiting for her to leave, waiting for to mess up — judging her from my stupid pedestal.

So when she fell. I turned around and walked away.

I told myself I was right.

I told myself I was better off.

I told myself a lot of lies in order to get through, and now I felt like a zombie as I walked through the dark beach house.

I had everything.

But her.

Money. Fame. An actual career I liked half the time that no longer had my face splashed all over every tabloid in the country.

And I was just as empty as the spare bedrooms in the house I was renting.

I just didn’t know how to get back to that place, the easygoing person I used to be, the guy who blindly trusted and didn’t give a shit, because when you’re that person you leave yourself open to pain.

But when you’re empty. Controlled. Boring.

Old.

I rolled my eyes.

At least it meant safe.

Safe from her.

Safe from hurt.

I paced the house for another twenty minutes and suddenly found myself at her door, leaning against the frame, watching her deep breathing as she tossed and turned in bed.

She finally shot up, scaring the ever loving shit out of me, and threw the covers over the mattress, and walked toward me, her sleep filled eyes heavy, her face irritated.

She grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Neither of us is sleeping. And I only know one way to shut your brain down.”

My body went on high alert.

“Down boy.” Her groggy voice had my body burning, my hands aching to touch, my cock twitching. Great. That’s just what I needed as I laid down next to her. “I meant a duet.”

My heart dropped. “What?”

How the hell did she remember that?

“What’s wrong?” She threw an arm over my chest and sighed, “You’re shaking.”

I licked my dry lips and closed my eyes. “Sorry, Ang, just go to sleep.”

“I can’t, your knee keeps bumping me and you keep sighing and I could have sworn you were tapping your fingers against my shoulder a few seconds ago.”

I sighed, “Sorry I didn’t realize, sometimes I do that when—”

“When what?” Angelica was officially up, she moved to a sitting position and put her long hair in a ponytail. “When you what?”

“I get stressed.” I shrugged, unable to really explain the nervous energy that always swirled around me. “Don’t you ever just have problems shutting down?”

She looked away. Guilt marred her face. I should have seen through it, but I didn’t. “Yeah, I mean this is the life, all of us do, we have weird hours, even crazier fans, and our schedules don’t really allow for down time.”

I groaned, “Don’t remind me about schedules we both have to be up in two hours.”

“Sorry.” She yawned again.

And I knew, she was probably thinking about the last time we’d laid like this, the last time we’d sang. Before it all went to hell.



“Okay, so what do you normally do when you can’t sleep?”

I felt my body flush. “Nothing.”

She moved to her knees, leaned in and whispered, “Liar.”

I smirked and shook my head at her. “Fine. I sing, all right?”

“What do you sing?”

I looked away and wiped at my face, “Ah, you know… songs.”

“What kind of songs?”

“We really doing this right now? At three a.m.?”

She nodded.

“Hell.” I wiped my face again with my hands, “Fine, I sing… shit.”

“You sing shit.”

“No, I said shit because I panicked.”

“Come on, Will Sutherland, with your sexy smile and even sexier six-pack.” She ran her fingers down my stomach. “Just tell me.”

“Disney.”

“Disney what?”

“I sing Disney.”