Chased by Love (Love in Bloom: The Ryders): Trish Ryder (9 page)

TRISH AND BOONE had been rehearsing for hours. Boone had been running hot from the moment they’d begun practicing, and he’d only gotten hotter since. Every time they were near, he got this look in his eyes like he was fighting his desire to kiss her, and she was no better. Her stomach fluttered and her nipples pebbled with every brush of his skin. Because of that, and the fact that Boone seemed to detach from his character during intimate scenes, she’d been careful to choose scenes that didn’t require close proximity. If she were being honest with herself, she’d admit the real reason she’d chosen those safer, distant scenes was that this primal dance they were executing was too exciting to chance ruining it.

Since they weren’t rehearsing scenes that caused Boone to detach from his character, she had the added bonus of watching him come into his own in the role of Rick Champion. He was not only taking the rehearsal seriously, but he’d also asked for advice on several key lines, and he’d practiced them over and over until he’d gotten them right. He was owning the role instead of just acting it out.

Trish held her breath as he wrapped a scene where his character was getting ready to play his first big gig after arriving in Hollywood. His emotions were spot-on, fear and excitement as real and palpable as the damp prestorm summer air whipping around them.

“Let’s show this town who’s boss.” Boone pretended to high-five a band member and strutted off the porch.

“That was amazing!” Trish followed him down the steps and into the grass.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He turned and their arms brushed. It was simple skin-to-skin contact, but her entire body tingled with awareness.
Sweet heavens. If this slow burn ignites, we’ll set the fields ablaze
.

She was about ready to pounce, but she forced herself to focus.

As the afternoon turned to early evening, fast-moving clouds rolled in, and the wind picked up.

Boone looked up at the ominous gray sky. “Do you want me to grab you a sweatshirt?”

He’d been overly attentive all day, asking if she wanted a drink, practically demanding she eat something because
existing on fumes isn’t healthy
, and when she’d gotten a call from Fiona and screamed with delight at the news of Jake’s new movie, he was quick to land by her side to make sure she was okay. He was suddenly treating her as he had the kitten, like she was his to take care of. And she was surprised by how much she liked it.

“No, thanks, but maybe we should move inside.”

He shook his head. “Too confining. I think we have a little more time before the rain reaches us.”

“You wouldn’t practice inside yesterday either.” She crossed her arms and stared him down. “In fact, other than cooking, sleeping, and showering, you haven’t been inside at all. What’s going on?”

“I don’t like to feel boxed in.”

“Okay. I get that. But what are you going to do when we have to do the bedroom scene?”

He waggled his brows. He’d made a few playful gestures this afternoon, and she loved seeing that side of him, although she had a feeling it was an avoidance tactic.

“I’m serious, Boone. We have to rehearse them at some point, and the more time we put into the scenes that you’re uncomfortable with, the easier they’ll be when the crew arrives.”

“Who says I’m uncomfortable with the bedroom scene?” He stepped closer, bringing a full-on heat wave with him.

“No one,” she managed. “I meant because you hate rehearsing inside. It’s the warehouse scenes and the other scenes where you’re confronted with Delia’s addiction that seem to make you the most uncomfortable. But I wondered about the bedroom scene because you really don’t want to rehearse inside.”

Slowly, and seductively, his gaze slid down her body. “Baby, if you want to take me to bed, all you have to do is ask.”

“Yes, please.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean that.” She was seriously losing it, and he was seriously deflecting. And now he had the sexiest grin on his lips. She. Needed. To. Focus.

“I’m going to table that offer for a little while.”
Little while
came out as a whisper, or maybe a whimper.

“You? On the table?” An illicit grin formed on his lips. “I’m liking the sound of this.”

She held her palm out to keep him from coming any closer. “And you’re the master of deflection.” He shifted his eyes away, and she knew she’d hit the nail on the head. “Boone, if you have an issue with acting out the scenes that deal with Delia’s addiction, you need to clue me in.”

He hiked his thumb over his shoulder toward the house. “Bedroom scene. Let’s do that.”

“Boone.”

He wrapped his arms around her and leaned down like he was going to kiss her. As badly as she wanted him to, her concern over his reluctance to talk about whatever was holding him back from those scenes won out.

“Sounds like
you’re
afraid of the bedroom scene. I promise to be gentle. At least at first,” he said coaxingly.

 She pushed from his arms. “First of all, I wouldn’t want you to be gentle.” She waved a hand in the air, trying to slow her racing heart and get the image of being in bed with Boone out of her mind. “Just throwing that out there.”

His lips curved up in a devilish grin. “Thought you weren’t into meaningless sex.”

“I’m not, and stop distracting me. What’s going on with you and the druggie scenes?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

He walked away through the knee-high grass, and she followed.

“Boone, you can talk to me.”

“I am talking to you.”

“Then let’s do the warehouse scene.” The wind kicked up and she crossed her arms to ward off the chill. “We can do it on the porch. It’s only a couple of lines.”

He gritted his teeth, making no move to follow her to the porch.

“I thought there wasn’t a problem.” She set her best speak-up-or-else stare on him.

He shifted his eyes away. “There’s not.”

“Then come on before the storm hits. God only knows how hard it’ll be to get you to practice once we’re trapped inside.” She dragged him toward the porch.

“There’s always the bedroom scene.”

“Aren’t you so kind to remind me?” She lay down on the porch, as if it were the warehouse floor, and smiled up at him. “I’ll remind you, when they’re in the bedroom, Delia is higher than a kite, and you seem to have issues when she’s like that.”

He stood over her, watching her intently. “Aren’t you supposed to be totally out of it and
silent
?”

She sat up and pointed at him. “I know you can do this scene, so whatever’s going on in that crazy head of yours, turn it off. You can do this. I know you can.”

His gaze softened. “Why do you have so much faith in me?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him down on one knee. “I’ve heard you sing. I fell under your spell last night and kissed you in front of the whole frigging town. I’ve watched you rehearse all day and you have been brilliant. Passion lives inside you, Boone. Even when you try to hide it, it’s lying in wait. All you have to do is set it free.”

Without any cognitive thought, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, and in the next breath, he took control, sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips. She opened for him, soaking in every delicious second of their long-awaited first kiss of the day. His lips were soft, though the kiss was hard. He lowered himself down to both knees and cradled her in his arms, deepening the kiss. Thunder rumbled in the distance, competing with the pounding of her heart.

“See?” she said as their mouths parted. “It’s right there. Passion.”

**

THE PASSION BOONE felt when he was with Trish was unequivocally more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced. He’d been trying to ignore it all day, but she was like a force of nature, believing in him, pushing him like no one else had the guts to.

“That hasn’t been there for a very long time,” he admitted. “That’s all you, beautiful.”

She smiled up at him, looking so feminine and happy, he wanted this moment to stretch on forever. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, her eyes were like grass and honey, with amber flames burning just for him. She touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes, reveling in her softness, the intimacy he hadn’t realized he’d been longing for.

“Then we should be able to nail this scene,” she said sweetly.

The scene
. His eyes came open.
Delia, overdosed and unconscious on the warehouse floor
. In his mind he saw Destiny strung out. Destiny promising she’d get clean. Destiny in her coffin. His chest constricted, and he rose abruptly, trying to breathe past the ice coursing through his veins.

“Boone? What just happened?”

He paced the length of the porch, but she was on his heels, peppering him with questions.

“What’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me?” She followed his every step. “Talk to me, please. Was it the kiss?”

Every word echoed in his head, pinging between the painful memories.

“Boone?” Trish touched his shoulder and he spun around. Their eyes connected, and as if his gaze had burned her, her hand flew to her chest. “Good Lord, Boone. What’s wrong?”

He stormed around her and off the porch, but she was relentless, and she followed him across the field in the dimming light and the cold wind.

“Trish, go back to the house,” he shouted against the looming storm.

“No!” She grabbed his arm, but he kept walking, trying to outrun the memories. “Talk to me.”

“I’ve got nothing to say.” Thunder boomed in the distance. He stopped walking and stared at the trees bending to the wind. “Go back, Trish. Please. I’ll be inside in a few minutes. I just need some space.”

“No.” She looped her arm though his and gripped his forearm.

The worry in her eyes crushed him. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her as he had last night. Kiss her until the pain went away and all that was left was the fire between them, but that wouldn’t be fair. She didn’t need to deal with his crap. He’d barely been able to pull away last night. He didn’t trust himself to pull away now.

“It’s starting to rain. Please go back.”

She shook her head.

“Damn it, Trish. You’re too stubborn. This has nothing to do with you.”

“But it has to do with you.” She gazed into his eyes, and in a softer voice she said, “Let me in, Boone. Talk to me.
Please
.”

“Ever since I took this role, my life has imploded.” The wind picked up, howling between the trees. “You don’t need this in your life.”

“How do you know what I need or don’t need? That’s presumptive.”

She smiled with the tease, and he closed his eyes against the rush of emotions bubbling up inside him. How could he tell her about Destiny and those awful years when reliving them was the last thing he wanted to do?

“Boone, can you really look me in the eyes and tell me you
want
me to walk away?”

He cupped her face in his hands, desperate to let her in, to soak in her comfort, and afraid to hurt her—afraid to hurt himself. “Why? Why do you want to be closer to me of all people? Can’t you see I’ve got shit going on in my head that’s not normal?”

“Normal? What the hell is normal? Was it normal that I stayed up all night thinking about how I wished we hadn’t stopped kissing last night after I’d just told you I didn’t want to be a groupie?” She smiled, and his heart squeezed.

“I told you I don’t have groupies!”

“No shit. You’re so stubborn that’s
all
you heard, just like I’m so stubborn I don’t care if this isn’t about me, or if you don’t want to deal with me because you would rather keep your feelings all bottled up until you explode.”

He paced as raindrops wet his cheeks. “Go back, Trish.”

“What happened back there?” she pushed. “Why did you detach like that?”

He ground his teeth against the truth.

“Boone, I won’t judge you. If you can’t do the movie, that’s okay, but at least tell me why. Whatever happened back there, whatever is happening now, it’s not good for you.”

He took a step back, but she stepped forward with a determined look in her eyes.

“Tell me.” She took another step closer. “Tell me what you’re running from.”

“I’ve lived it, okay?” He pushed away and paced, the rain and wind picking up speed. “We lost Honor’s sister to an overdose, and I thought I’d dealt with it, but apparently I didn’t, because those scenes that you claim I’m avoiding? They’re fucking killing me. Dragging me back to a place I don’t want to be.”

He pushed his hands into his hair and clenched his eyes shut, turning his face up toward the rain, wishing it could wash away the memories—and at the same time, wishing it wouldn’t. Because he didn’t want to forget Destiny; he just didn’t want to feel the pain of losing her—especially to something so meaningless as drugs.

He felt Trish’s hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Her arms wound around his neck and he drew in a jagged breath.

“Trish,” he warned, anger and hurt cutting like knives through his skin, his heart, his guts.

“Shut up. Ryders don’t run from the hard stuff. So you might as well give in, because even if you do want me to fuck off, you’ve gotten under my skin. You’re pretty much stuck with me.”

“I don’t want to feel it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t you see that?”

“Yes.”

“Then please, go back to the house before you get soaked.” He twisted out of her grip and turned away.

She stalked around him and crossed her arms, chin held high. Her hair was wet, matting against her face. Her shirt and shorts clung to her body like a second skin, and she was trembling with cold, but the look she gave him was a thousand degrees of compassion.

“You think acting is pretending, and I get that, because that’s exactly what it looks like, but it’s not. Do you know
why
I’m an A-list actress? Because I climb into the heads of my characters and
feel
what they feel. The story might be pretend, but the gut-wrenching sadness, the pain, the glory, and the joy?” She pointed at him as she spoke. “That’s as real as the day is long. So when you say you don’t want to feel the pain of losing someone you loved, I get it. When I’m acting, the lights, the crew, and the cameras? They all fail to exist. When I’m in Delia’s head, I
am
Delia. I’m feeling the agony of being controlled by a drug I can’t get out from under. Of losing the man I love day by day because of that drug. Of knowing that I alone have the power to set him free from the fucking nightmare that I’ve created for him by needing to be taken care of and worried about.”