Surprised by the change in subject, I slide my head up to see his eyes, and ask, “What guy?”
“The one in the suit after the show. The one chasing you.”
I try to remember who he’s talking about, placing the time. “Oh, Jack.”
“What?”
“No, not you. His name was Jack.”
He’s not amused by the coincidence. “Was he your date? Were you with him?”
“No, I was at a dinner and we were seated next to each other. He was at the show with the group. It wasn’t a date.”
“He wanted it to be,” he states flatly.
Exhaling, I sigh. “I think he wanted it to be.”
His hand rubs my arm, warming my skin. “So I’ve got to worry about you being stolen out from under me while I’m gone?”
“I could ask the same thing of you.”
It’s a breath released, a whisper on the tongue, but I hear him. “You don’t.”
Somewhere between showing my ID to a hot guy at a bar and finding out he was famous, I could see a difference in Dalton. What I thought I was getting and what I got has intensified, changing both of us. “You don’t either,” I say, feeling it deep inside where no one else has been for a long time.
Needing fresh air to clear the heavy away, I ask, “You want to go to the beach?”
“We can try.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, sitting up.
“Paparazzi follow me, Holliday. I don’t think they followed me here, but I can’t do the normal things you’re used to without attention.”
“Would you rather stay in?”
“I’d rather go to the beach if that’s where you want to go. You just need to know our trip might be cut short if they do show up.”
Twenty minutes later we’re walking down the sidewalk with a few feet between us, neither of us talking. I find myself scanning the area as if looking for spies. He keeps his attention forward, but I have a feeling he’s also checking out the area behind his sunglasses. He’s just less obvious than me.
“This is nice,” he says, regarding the neighborhood.
“I like it here. It’s quiet for the most part.”
“How do you feel about holding hands?” he asks. A small smile slides onto his face.
“Holding hands is nice. You held my hand when we left the bar in Vegas.”
With a laugh, he adds, “I didn’t want you to escape.”
I bump into his arm with a giggle. “Little did you know, I wasn’t going anywhere without you.”
“You sure did put on a show about going up to my room.”
“Eh, a girl can’t come off too easy.”
“You made me do a little work.”
“You had it easy. Or maybe I’m just easy.” I laugh. Reaching over I take his hand and with the warm breeze blowing, we swing them between us. The connection is not just easy, but also wonderful.
“I take risks—in business and in my personal life. Sometimes it pays off and sometimes I get royally fucked over. But where’s the fun in playing it safe?” ~Johnny Outlaw
Jack Dalton fascinates me. He has so many sides to him and I want to discover every one of them. Sometimes I feel anxious, like if I don’t get to know all of him right now, I might lose the chance. Being at the beach is one of these moments.
“You live close. Do you come down here a lot?” Dalton asks as we cross the street to the beach. He walks straight to the ocean, kicks off his shoes and lets the water cover his feet.
“Every day if I can,” I reply. The sun is lower and from this position behind him, his body is silhouetted much like when he’s on stage.
“You’re lucky,” he remarks, looking around.
“Is your life that sheltered?”
“Sometimes.” Turning back to me, he asks, “Can I buy you an ice cream?”
The innocence is so darn charming. “Sure.”
He takes my hand and picks up his shoes and socks with the other, and we start walking. “What do you like to do, Holliday? For fun, when you leave work behind?”
“I like meeting friends. I would rather hang out with a small group then party at a bar with all of L.A. What about you?”
“This might destroy any illusions you might have had of me, but I like to have video game tournaments with my friends. Pretty geeky, but since going out is… complicated, it’s easy to hang with friends at home or somewhere private. Favorite cocktail? Old-fashioned like you ordered in Vegas?”
“I needed something strong that night,” I say, laughing. “There’s no way I could have survived that event sober. I like margaritas if I have a choice. There’s this restaurant down the street that makes really good ones. It’s a neighborhood place, very low key. I should take you there sometime. What’s your favorite drink?”