“Are you sure you want to drive home? The house has a lot of rooms,” Erik said over the whipping wind that fluttered the material of his shirt. “I’m sure Darius would let you stay the night.”
“I am sure he would but I rather like electricity and I have some work that I need to get done.” She’d yet to hear from the beer company and she wanted desperately to get the commercial for Erik. Throwing herself into the job helped keep her mind occupied on other things. Of course, her job revolved around Erik so it was difficult.
He opened her car door, not even close to touching her. Yet every nerve in her body knew he was there. She climbed inside the car and shivered from the chill that permeated the air. All roads in her life for the immediate future led to Erik. She shut the door, ready to leave so she could clear her head.
After he tossed the suitcase in the back seat, he had to force the back door to close, no easy feat since the wind looked like it was determined to blow him over. “Text me when you get home.”
Belle put the key in the ignition and gave him a thumbs up. “Because nothing says romance more than a thumbs up,” she murmured under her breath. The night had been perfect and if she were on a real date, she’d have taken the kiss to an entirely different level. But she wasn’t on a real date. There were at least twenty people watching her in person, who knew how many more were in the countless rooms of the house.
She cranked the engine, pleased it started. He stepped back to give her room to reverse the car. Hands shaking on the steering wheel, she managed to put the car in gear. Her lips still tingled from the kiss; her body charged. The conversation had been great, the comfort she felt with him was unusual for her. She’d stopped shy of divulging what happened after her mother’s death. It was too painful.
The windshield wipers slapped against the glass, the tears she’d held back rolling down her cheeks. Every year, her mother’s death hit her like a ton of bricks, never getting any easier.
Wind buffeted the car and she clenched the steering wheel tighter. The house had two entrances, a main one and the little used back entrance. Tim had told her to use the back one since it was closer to the freeway exit.
Belle reached inside her purse for her phone but she couldn’t feel it. Stopping the car, she dug inside the bag. It wasn’t there.
Rain pelted the windshield but the thunder and lightning had stopped. Perhaps she’d left it in the suitcase. She twisted in the seat, intent on looking until she realized what happened. She’d given her phone to Tim to hold for her during the gazebo segment. “Fuck.” She tried never to cuss but the word was fitting. She reversed the car, the tail end fishtailing. Crap, she’d back into mud. Heart in her throat, she put the car into drive and pushed her foot on the gas. The car tires spun, the engine sputtering.
“No, no, no,” she said, gripping the steering wheel. The car jumped, a horrible ticking sound ringing in her ears. The tires found solid ground once more before the engine died. “Not tonight.” She turned the ignition. The car tried to turn over and revved to life at the press of her foot on the gas.
“Please don’t die on me again,” she pleaded, the tears coming harder, more angry than sad. The new car couldn’t come soon enough. She drove back the way she’d come, moving slow. The car hopped a few times, and died. Panic hit and she tried the ignition only to be met with the loud ticking sound. Way to go, Belle. No phone and no way to call for help.
Climbing out of the car, she slammed the door. Rain hit her face and she opened the back door to retrieve the silver suitcase. Slamming the door as hard as she could, she stood on the side of the road for a long moment, trying to get her bearings. She had no idea how far she’d driven. Woods lined both sides of the road. The cement was black, a shade darker than the dirt on the shoulder. Wind continued to whirl around her, bringing dampness in its wake. She started to walk, rain soaking her head. After stepping in the first puddle, she began to cry in earnest. Could this get any worse? She’d been in such a hurry to get away from Erik, she’d forgotten her phone. Truth was, when she was around him, she often forgot about everything else.
A flash of lightning highlighted the house and she felt a spark of relief. Thunder followed close behind. She increased her pace, wishing she had a pair ratty tennis shoes instead of sandals.
Rounding the bend, she saw the house had a few spots of light but the power was still out. Across the circular driveway was another house. The guest house where Erik was staying. She veered in that direction.
Erik could text Tim and find out where her phone was. Then she’d call a tow truck and go home. It had been a long day and it was about to get longer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Erik knelt in front of the fireplace on the thick rug, warming his hands by the gas fire. The power might be out but the vertical pilot worked. If the house had a generator, he couldn’t find it. The main living area had several solar lights under the kitchen countertop and along the molding, giving off a pale blue light. Several battery-powered faux candles were over the mantel and he turned them on for the hell of it. Thankfully, his phone had juice and he was able to see if Belle texted him.
The date had been cut short by the weather. After she’d left, Darius had assured Erik that he had enough footage and wasn’t needed, and the power outage was actually a great hook for the audience. A knock sounded at the front door. He stood and strode across the hardwood floors of the large main room. The mid-century modern guest house had an open concept floor plan, with two guest rooms and the master suite. All in all, it was impressive. If he only had someone to share it with. Like Belle.
He opened the heavy wooden door and frowned. “Belle?” Ask and you shall receive. He tamped down the unwarranted thought.
“My car broke down,” she said, lower lip quivering. It was dark outside but he could see from the solar light on the porch that she was wet.
Erik stepped back and allowed her to enter. “Come in and I’ll get you a towel. Why didn’t you call?” He led the way to the guest bathroom and flipped on the phone’s flashlight app.
“Tim has my phone. I forgot I gave it to him.” She slipped past him and grabbed a towel off the rack.
“There’s some battery-powered candles on the toilet. Just flip them over and turn on the switch.”
She clicked one on, the shadowed light outlining her bra through the wet fabric of her shirt.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He averted his gaze, throat dry at the sight of the tight shirt molded to her breasts.
“It’s not your fault. Can you text him and find out where he is?” She lifted the towel, the fabric blocking his view of her chest, and began to dry her hair.
“Sure. Let me grab you some dry clothes first.” The visual that popped into his head of her stripping out of her wet ones burned a path into his pants. Damn, he really needed to stop thinking with his dick.
“I have some in my bag. Crap, I left it on the porch. Can you grab it for me?” She shut the door with a click, blocking out temptation.
“Sure, then we can go see about your car.” It would give him something to do besides think about Belle behind that door. Naked. Striding across the room, he retrieved the bag. It was soaking wet. He hoped she didn’t have a laptop in there. It wouldn’t fare well. He knocked on the door. “Your bag is outside the door.”
