The Rider List: An Erotic Romance (26 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Evan

“So that’s it,” the woman says. “What do you think?”

I stand in place but turn and look around one more time. “I think it’s perfect.”

She’s an older lady, probably mid-sixties, and she’s very talkative, explaining every little detail I could possibly want to know about, as well as details that I couldn’t care less about. This is a big-picture kind of thing—do I like the place or not, and could I see myself living here?

“I think it’s perfect, too,” she says. “Now, obviously there’s work that needs to be done, and I can give you the names of some great local contractors who I trust.” She walks around the kitchen, touching countertops and the stove, the island in the middle of the room, rattling off idea after idea for upgrades and minor repairs.

We’ve been in the place for almost an hour. As we were walking around, she told me there were a few other places she could show me if this place didn’t turn out to be what I expected.

My phone rings. I fish it out of my pocket and see Audrey’s name on the screen. “Mind if I step outside?”

The woman holds up her hand. “Take your time.”

I step outside on the back porch to answer.

Audrey sounds terrible as she tries to say my name, and some other words that come out garbled.

“What’s wrong? Slow down.”

She takes a deep breath. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

The view out here is amazing, but suddenly it’s all a blur. None of it matters when Audrey sounds like this.

“You didn’t see the stories?”

I look back inside to see if the woman is watching me. She’s nowhere in sight. “Stories about what?”

Audrey begins to cry but manages to tell me there are two stories about me.

“Where?”

“
Rolling Stone
and TMZ.” She’s gasping for breaths through her crying. “I’m so sorry, Evan. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so sorry. You’re getting started again and this happens. Just look at the stories. I can’t….I don’t want to ruin everything you’re about to do.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but whatever it is, she thinks it’s because of her. “Audrey—”

“I can’t,” she says.

“Where are you?”

“Home.”

“I’m coming over there.”

“Evan, don’t.”

“I’m hanging up now and I’ll be there in a half hour.”

I hate hanging up like that, but there’s no way she’s talking me out of it.

Walking back into the house, the woman immediately sees that something’s wrong. She just looks at me.

“I have a…a little crisis I need to handle. I’ll call you this afternoon. I haven’t changed my mind. Sorry I have to run like this.”

“No problem, Mr. Crawford. I’ll be around all day.”

Sitting in my car with the engine running, I pull up
Rolling Stone
and then TMZ. Jesus, what a mess. But it’s something I can deal with later. Right now, the important thing is Audrey.

There’s an emotion coursing through my body, and it’s not a good one. It’s different than anything I’ve felt before. It’s the deepest sense of dread I’ve felt about anything involving another person.

She’s slipping away. Worse, she’s
trying
to slip away. I think I know the real reason, and it has nothing to do with what she said.

I know in this moment that there’s zero doubt that I love Audrey. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before, but I somehow recognize exactly what it is.

She’s fucking crazy if she thinks it’s ending like this.

Turning on the car, I back out of the driveway, almost hitting the mailbox that needs replacing anyway, and I’m on my way to Audrey’s house.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Audrey

My mom comes down the stairs and finds me sitting at the kitchen table. I’ve just hung up with Evan and I’m crying. Mom’s hair is tied in a bun on the top of her head, her eyes are puffy, and she’s doing that just-woke-up zombie kind of walk.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her eyes opening wider, a look of concern on her face and in the tone of her voice.

I rub my face and shake my head. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. I didn’t even know you were down here until I just saw you.” She pulls a chair out, slides it across the floor next to me, and sits. “What’s wrong?” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I haven’t seen you like this in years.”

I fall against her but can’t talk.

“Audrey, talk to me.”

When I regain my composure a few seconds later, I tell her everything—from the details of my breakup with Wyatt, to meeting Evan, to Wyatt’s unexpected return and how crazy everything got over the weekend. At several points during the story that gushes out of me, Mom looks at me like I’m someone she doesn’t know.

“How in the world has all of this been going on and I had no clue?”

The answer is: she works a lot, she works odd hours, she’s not here very much, and she’s disengaged from my life. But she has her reasons. I don’t blame her. She’s doing what she can to maintain our family.

And, truthfully, there were times when I could have gone to her about all of this but didn’t. I had no way of knowing it would all culminate like this and that I’d wind up an emotional train wreck over it.

So I don’t say anything. She’s not looking for an answer, anyway. I just let the silence hang between us until she speaks again.

“I think I know that band. Or the name, anyway. He’s on his way over here?”

I nod.

“Look at me,” she says, her finger tucking under my chin and raising my head. “You’re running.”

My vision is blurry from the tears, but not so much that I can’t see the smile on her face and her head moving back and forth slowly.

“I’m not runn—”

“You are,” she says, interrupting me. “You really are. All your life you’ve been afraid of people leaving you, and with good reason, and now here’s a guy you’re obviously crazy about and you’re running from him before he runs from you, and you don’t even know if he’s going to do that.”

I shake my head. “It’s not like that.” The words come out weakly.

“It’s exactly like that. You just don’t realize it yet. But you’d better before he gets here.”

I wipe my eyes and nose with a tissue she hands me. “No, I know. You’re probably right.”

“I am right. Give yourself a chance.”

“Why don’t you give yourself a chance?” I ask.

She laughs. “No way am I dating right now. No, I’ll wait until Sophie’s sixteen or so. I’m in no rush, and she doesn’t need that kind of upheaval in her life. Maybe I’ll wait until she finds her own guy who’ll make her world crazy.”

Something occurs to me and it makes me laugh.

“What?” Mom asks.

“I never thought I’d be sitting here in this kitchen with you telling me I should be with a famous rock star.”

Mom raises her eyebrows. “I didn’t say that. But you’re twenty-two, you’re smart, and I know what’s going on in that head of yours even if you don’t. I think you do, by the way; you just don’t want to admit it. I’m just saying…give
yourself
a chance. I’ll decide if I like this guy later.” She smiles.

She starts to pull me in for a hug, but there’s a knock at the door. Mom looks at me. I have a sudden sense of dread: the only thing that could make all of this more unbearable is if it’s Wyatt knocking, and he and Evan are here at the same time.

“I’ll let you get that,” Mom says. “And I’ll stay out of your way.” She stands and walks over to the coffee pot. “No reason for me to meet him yet, especially looking the way I do.”

I know I don’t look too hot myself, but I don’t have time to get myself fixed up. This is it. This is how it’s going to be.

Walking to the front door, Mom scoots by me and goes back upstairs. “I’ll let you two have the downstairs. Sophie’s still asleep but I’ll make sure she doesn’t come down if I hear her wake up.”

Taking a deep breath, I reach for the doorknob and when I open it, Evan is standing there shaking his head. “Come with me?”

“What? Where?”

“Just come.” There’s almost a pleading in his voice.

“I haven’t even showered or anyth—”

“That can wait. This is more important.”

As desperately as I want to go upstairs and wash my face and brush my hair or at least pull it back, I don’t want to make him wait. I’m not even sure he’d go for that. So I step outside and close the door behind me.

His car is still running and he takes my hand. As we walk down the steps and the sidewalk to the driveway, he says, “You don’t have to say anything, and I’m not going to talk, either.”

I look at him and cock my head to the side. “Okay?”

“It’s going to be awkward for a few minutes. But just trust me.” He opens the passenger’s side door. I start to get in, but he puts his hand on my arm. I look up. His eyes flick back and forth between mine as he speaks. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

We don’t speak as he drives, and there’s no music in the car. He was right—it is awkward. But he’s driving fast, and it’s the quickest trip I’ve ever had from my house to the island. The whole time I’m wondering where he’s taking me. To the bungalow? Probably. That’s where we’d have the most privacy.

But as soon as we get off the bridge, I know where he’s going.

Down one side street, then another, in the opposite direction from the resort. We’re heading away from the beachfront and instead to the Intracoastal Waterway.

People are out walking. Families with little kids, a couple and their dog, and the usual golf cart full of kids. Groups of people carrying lawn chairs and coolers.

Evan wants to talk at the old house. It’s not sunset, my favorite time to be at this house, but it’s still my favorite spot.

He slows down as we approach the house. The tires crunch along the crushed-shell driveway when he pulls in. Evan turns off the car, gets out, and walks around the front over to my side. He opens the door and I step out.

Wordlessly, he takes me hand and leads me along the path to the front porch.

“Why are we—”

He cuts me off. “Wait. Don’t say anything. Let me say what I need to say. I have to say this.”

“Okay.”

We’re standing on the porch, the overhang blocking the mid-day sun.

Evan starts with, “If you think you’re getting rid of me that easily, you’re wrong.”

I want to stop him right there. I want to tell him that between the time we hung up and the time he showed up at my house, I realized it was a mistake. But he told me to let him have his say…

“First of all, you haven’t ruined anything. You couldn’t. That story in
Rolling Stone
is bullshit and the truth will come out. The video looks bad, but it doesn’t matter.”

“How?”

He laughs. “I know you watch the news and read things online. Haven’t you noticed there’s almost no such thing as bad publicity? What happened the other night at The Windjammer was nothing. People stage things like that. They
pay
to have things like that staged. Seriously, it’s nothing. So just forget about those things. Okay?”

I look at him.

With a smile he says, “You can say something now, but make it quick.”

“Okay. Got it.” I’m holding back a big smile myself.

Evans face quickly turns serious. He takes a deep breath. “I know what you were doing, by the way. You’re scared. You think we’re getting closer and I’m going to leave.”

His words are spot-on. He gathered that much from the little things I’d mentioned when I told him about my dad and about Wyatt, and it amazes me.

“You need to know, I’m in unfamiliar territory myself,” he says. “I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone. I’ve never stayed up all night thinking about someone. I’ve never spent a day totally distracted from doing what I needed to do because this insanely beautiful, smart, perfect woman dominates all of my thoughts.”

He pauses and my stomach is a tight knot, in a good way. My eyes are getting teary, very lightly, and one drop escapes, slipping down my cheek. Evan raises his hand and catches it with his thumb.

It’s a good thing he wanted to do all the talking because my throat is so tight, I couldn’t get more than a word or two out anyway.

“I love you, Audrey Mitchell. And I know you love me, too, even if you’re not ready to say it yet.”

I don’t plan this. I don’t think about it for even a half second. I just reach for him, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my face in his chest. “I do. I love you.” I manage to get those few words out.

He holds me tight. “There’s something else.”

I look up at him.

He looks out to the front yard. “Look.”

When I look at the yard, I see…the yard. It’s only half-covered with grass. Most of it is sand. It takes me a moment to notice. The For Sale sign is gone. My stomach sinks as I realize Evan has brought me back to this house, my favorite spot, one last time so I can see it before the new owner moves in. I look up at him. “Thank you.”

Evan looks at me, his brow furrowing. “That’s it?”

“What?”

“I thought you’d be more excited. I mean, the ‘thank you’ is nice, but I was expecting something a little more dramatic. Maybe a scream. A little jumping around might be in order as well.” It’s the heaviest tone of sarcasm I’ve heard him use, and that’s when it hits me. He hasn’t just brought me here one last time. He purchased the house.

Pulling away from him, my hands fly up to my face, covering my mouth. I look out at the yard, then back at him. “You didn’t.”

He cocks his head and twists his mouth in a forced grin. “Oh, I did.”

“No.”

“Yes. That’s what I was doing when you called. I had a realtor meet me here this morning. We looked around inside and out. It needs a lot of work.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He bought this place for… Wait. For me? For us?

Evan has done this a number of times since we first met, and he does it again. He tells me something that answers a question I’m thinking, as if he can read my mind, even though I know he can’t.

“You don’t have to move in right away. Take your time.” He steps closer to me, closing the distance I created when the shock set in. “I bought this place because you love it so much, but also because I want you to be sure I’m not leaving. I came a long way to get here, and I don’t just mean the drive. I’m not going anywhere. So…come and go as you want, move in when you’re ready, and I know that might be a while with everything you have at home, but I’ll wait. I do have one condition, though, and it’s not negotiable.”

“What’s that?”

“One night a week, you stay here with me. At least one night.”

“Deal.”

Evan kisses me. It’s long and slow and gentle, but he’s breathing in deeply and I know he’s as overwhelmed by all of this as I am. He has one hand on the side of my head, his thumb caressing my cheek as he closes his mouth but keeps his lips pressed to mine.

When he pulls away slowly, I say, “What do I get out of the deal?”

He grins. “I won’t come out of the house yelling if I catch you stealing the crab traps.”

I laugh. “That’s a pretty good deal.”

“I’ll throw in some perks, too. Sweeten it up a little.” He kisses me again, this time quickly, just a quick one on the lips. He looks at the front door. “I was going to say we should go inside and look around, but it’s going to have to wait.” He takes my hand and leads me down the steps to his car.