“So? What’s good is good. And that song, Bodhi, it’s good. No, it’s great. And I’m not just saying that because we slept together. I’m saying it because I truly believe you have a gift. In fact, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’ve been wasting your talent in a boy band. You could be the next great country-rock star.”
* * *
We were still on the coast when the sun began to set. Since we weren’t bound by the clock any longer, we pulled over to watch the day turn to night from one of the many sand dunes lining the beaches.
“This isn’t your first sunset, is it?” I asked, leaning against him, the heat of his body warming me in places he couldn’t touch.
“No.” He hummed low in his throat, drawing my gaze. The sun’s filtered rays cast his face in an orange glow, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a more handsome man. Until he smiled a soft smile. “But it’s the first time with a pretty girl.”
And then it was quiet, just the sound of the surf and his brilliant blue eyes on mine. Trembling inside, I slowly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. We sat there for a moment, connected. To each other. And the sea. And the sunset. And then his arms banded around me and he pulled me closer. This was a new feeling, tender and sweet, yet no less erotically charged than the knock down wrestling matches of last night and this morning. My body tingled in response to the sensitive side of Bodhi. I’d glimpsed it in the song he wrote. But now I could feel it, our bond, to the tips of my toes.
Easing me onto the sand, he shifted, and we were face to face. His hand slid up my arm, past my shoulder, and landed on my cheek. Then his mouth was on mine again. Tasting. Exploring. All against the backdrop of the brilliant sky.
“Are you for real?” I asked, a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my stomach as his hand continued to roam. Everything about us felt urgent. Intense.
Maybe it was the fire, but each moment seemed more precious than the next. Whether Bodhi was on board or not, when all was said and done, I’d have no regrets.
“Don’t be fooled by the fancy packaging, Breeze.” His gaze fell to my lips. “Under everything I’m just a screwed-up guy trying to find his way in this world.”
Fully embracing his troubled soul, my fingertips skimmed his cheek. “I see you, Bodhi.”
He jerked back, brows drawn together. “What did you say?”
“I see you,” I repeated hesitantly. “Why?”
After searching my face for a long moment, the smile returned. “It’s just a line I use during my shows to slay the elementary school girls. But coming from you, it doesn’t sound nearly as cheesy.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“You know what I meant.”
And I did. That was the weird part of our connection. It was like I’d known him forever. Like his heart spoke to mine. A tender beat I wanted to hear forever.
17
Breeze: A Fist Full Of Nickels
Bodhi drove slowly down the street, taking in all the stately mansions. “Damn, these are nice houses. Which one is yours?”
Sinking deeper into the plush leather, I chewed my lip. “The single story on the left.”
A moment later when the house in question came into view, Bodhi swung his gaze in my direction and gaped like a fool. “That’s your house?” I jerked a nod. “You have got to be shitting me right now?”
Yes, I lived in Cliffside Estates, an exclusive enclave nestled on a cliff overlooking the Pacific. The mini mansions lining the street were well lit, gleaming masterpieces of architecture. Except for ours.
“Not shitting,” I said with a sigh. “That’s my house. Just pull into the driveway and don’t say a word.”
Before we’d even rolled to a stop, Bodhi collapsed into a fit of laughter. I’d thought about warning him beforehand. But what was the point? The reaction would’ve been the same. Laughter. And it was kind of funny. Though our neighbors probably wouldn’t agree.
You see, in every upscale development there was always one house that pulled down real estate prices. That was ours. My family home may have been located in Cliffside Estates but it was no majestic manor. Surrounded by multi-million dollar estates, our ramshackle dwelling was often referred to as ‘The Black Hole’.
The house had been in my family for sixty years. A throwback to another era, the modest split level boasted outdated bricks and a funky shaped roof. Blanched and weather-beaten, the house was the singular eyesore in a land of giants.
Once upon a time, all the houses on the street looked like ours, back when we’d lived a quarter of a mile walk to the cliff’s edge. But erosion from powerful storms destroyed the homes closest to the bluff, forcing the removal of those residences in danger of crumbling into the surf. Suddenly, our humble abode had become prime real estate.
Investors took notice and came knocking. They offered virtual fortunes and one by one our neighbors fell. Their homes were bulldozed to the ground to make way for new, stately mansions. We were the holdouts, the ones who didn’t bow to the pressure. What the stakeholders hadn’t bargained for when they were making their offers was that not everyone had a price tag and thateveryonewas my mother. She was the frustrating homeowner with an aversion to all things materialistic. Money meant nothing to her, although admittedly she inherited a nest egg from her own parents which allowed her to live comfortably the rest of her life.
“My parents are… How should I put this…?”
