Come Away with Me (With Me in Seattle, #1)(27)

“He’s a wreck, Nat.”

“Just stop.”

“You have to talk to him.”

“Stop! Jules, I can’t talk about this.”

My voice catches and I take a deep breath, willing the tears to stay at bay.

“Okay, we’ll talk after the session then.”

“Don’t you have work?” I ask.

“I called out. I’m going to be here with you.” She gives me a small smile.

“I love you, Jules.” I turn to leave, but a thought occurs to me. “Do me a favor?”

“Of course, what is it sweetie?”

“Strip my bed and wash all the bedding?” I couldn’t stand to have to smell him later when I’m wallowing in self-pity.

“Sure.”

***

It was the worst session of my life. I was scattered, sad, and edgy. The couple was great, they were very much in love, sexy, and I know that I got some great shots, but I feel badly that it wasn’t the fun session I usually provide, so I’ll refund the session fee. It’s the least I can do.

I change into khaki shorts and a blue tank top, thanking the Lord above for my best friend when I see my bed has been stripped, washed and remade. My muscles have been reminding me all morning of last night’s activities, and with every turn and stretch my heart breaks just a little more.

Downstairs, I grab my iPhone to check messages and return calls, snag a tall glass of sweet tea from the fridge and join Jules on the back patio.

“How did it go?” she asks.

“It sucked,” I reply with a shrug and sink into a red plushy chaise lounge.

“Sorry.”

“I’ll refund their money, but I think they’ll still be happy with the photos.” I turn my phone on and take a deep breath.

“Are you sure you want to check that?” Jules asks from the chaise beside me. Her eyes are closed and she’s drinking in the sunshine.

“I have to see if any clients called.

I’ll ignore him.” I refuse to say his name out loud.

I have seven missed calls, five voice mails and three texts waiting for me.

There is absolutely nothing waiting for me from Luke, and I can’t help but be disappointed. He said he didn’t need this, so does that mean that we’re just over, just like that? Most likely, yes.

Luke Williams can have anyone, why would he want me?

I turn the phone off, slam it on the table beside my drink and pull my knees up to my chin, rest my forehead and let the tears come full force.

“Oh, honey, don’t cry.” Jules climbs on my chaise with me and wraps her arms around me.

“I just feel so foolish,” I mutter into her shoulder.

“You really didn’t know who he is?”

“No. He looks a little different now.”

I reply defensively.

“Yeah, he does. He’s aged well.”

Her smile is in her voice and I can’t help but agree.

“He has.” I sigh. “Of course, now I see it. I should have known as soon as he mugged me at the beach.”

“Maybe you were just too surprised.”

“I guess, but what excuse do I have after that? I spent almost two solid days with the man, Jules.”

“Hey, stop beating yourself up. You have been enjoying a sweet, sexy man for two days. There’s no crime in that.”

“I told him so much. I told him about mom and dad, the rape, everything. I even showed him my studio.”

Jules looks down at me with wide eyes. “And you had sex in your own bed.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“How did he react to all of it?”

I sit up and take a sip of tea. “He seemed sad for me that mom and dad are gone. The rape infuriated him, and he wants to kill that slimeball. He was really cool about the studio, and said that it was sexy and I’m talented.”

“Well, that all sounds encouraging.”

“And last night was just…” how do I describe it? “Amazing and wonderful.

He loves my curves and when he touches me, just… wow.” I can’t stop the smile on my lips and Jules smiles back.

“You made it with Luke Williams.”

And my smile is gone.

“I’m sorry, but give me five minutes to gush. Is he as hot naked in real life as he is in the movies?”

“He was naked in the movie?” I squeak.

“From behind, yeah. It’s my favorite part.”

Oh I definitely don’t like it that all of America has seen Luke’s ass.

“I think his ass is better in person.” I reply.

“Oh, you’re killing me!” Jules sounds fifteen and I giggle. “You know, he hasn’t had a new movie since the last Nightwalker five years ago.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Jules shrugs and climbs back onto her chaise, taking a sip of my tea. “Rumor had it that some crazed fan broke into his house and hurt herself.”

I gasp. “Was he hurt?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think he was home. But who knows how much of the television tabloid stuff is true? I heard he just left LA and stopped acting.

I had no idea he’d moved here.”