Julie Kenner - Tame Me

By the time it wraps, I am feeling incredible about myself, about Ellison, and about the world in general.

I say good-bye to Ellison, then sit while Leo has me run through my questions again. When he’s finished, Ryan approaches, and it’s all I can do not to throw myself into his arms.

“You were wonderful,” he says.

“She was,” Leo agrees. “Got a way with the camera, too. You’re gonna do good, Jamie. Hope we work together again.”

“Thank you,” I say, then invite him to join us for a drink in the hotel bar. He declines, and I’m secretly grateful. I would have been happy to have him along, but I’m happier to have Ryan all to myself.

“A drink,” he says as we ride the elevator down. “I had planned to buy you a celebratory trip to Paris, but if you’d rather have this instead...”

I laugh, then pull him in close for another kiss. I’m still laughing when we get out of the elevator car, and my good mood lasts until we reach the middle of the lobby.

It fades there because Bryan Raine is coming right toward us.

“Jamie,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t get the chance to say hello upstairs. I’ve got a part in Johnson’s next movie, and he wanted me to drive in and take a look at some pages. Maybe we can grab a drink? Catch up?”

I clutch Ryan’s hand tight. “No,” I say. “I really don’t think so.”

I continue walking, holding onto Ryan for support. “Asshole,” I mutter as we reach the lobby bar. “Look at me,” I say as we take a seat. “I was in a great mood, and he went and fucked it up.”

“Hey,” Ryan says, giving my hand a squeeze. “Forget about him.”

I nod. “I know. You’re right. Shit.” I stand up again. “Order me something fabulous. I’m going to run to the ladies’ room.”

I take off that way, then spend the next five minutes staring at myself in the mirror and asking myself what the fuck is wrong with me.

When I come out, I’m calmer—at least until I see Bryan standing by Hunter, looking about as trapped as a gazelle being stalked by a lion. Hunter says something else, and then Bryan takes off like a shot, not even noticing me as he rushes past.

“What the hell?” I say to Hunter as soon as I arrive.

“I told him to keep the fuck away,” he says, then takes a sip of his Scotch. “I got you a Cosmopolitan. It seemed like a fun treat.”

I, however, am not interested in the drink. “You just sent him away?”

“Yes,” Ryan says.

I shake my head, a little bit baffled, a little bit angry. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m feeling other than a little pissed off. Hadn’t I already taken care of the asshole myself?

“I don’t need you to step in to play guard dog for me,” I say. “I dealt with the guy myself, didn’t I? I’m not one of your job responsibilities.”

“You’re right,” he says, and his tone is clipped enough that I can tell he’s irritated, too. “You’re not a job responsibility. You’re the woman I love.”

I freeze, his words hitting me with the force of a slap. Automatically, I shake my head. The woman I love.

I want to believe it—god, how I want to believe it. But it can’t be true. And even if it is...

I run my fingers through my hair. “Hunter,” I say. “Hunter, don’t.”

“I love you, Jamie. Stay. Don’t go to Texas. Stay with me.”

I am shaking my head, fighting to make reason take over, because if I run solely on emotion, I know I will be lost. That’s the old Jamie, after all. The one who fucks up. The one who gets all twisted around and makes a mess of her life and has to run home to Mom and Dad to get her head back on straight.

The new Jamie thinks .

But damned if the new Jamie knows what to think about this.

He looks blurry, and I realize that I am crying. Brutally, I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand. How can I be so miserable, I wonder. This man loves me. And yet...

“You can’t possibly,” I whisper. “You barely know me.”

True. Yet wasn’t I falling in love with him, too? Hadn’t I told myself that already? Wasn’t I already trying to hide from reality?

“We barely know each other,” I add, this time speaking to the both of us.

“Why does it have to take time to fall in love?” Ryan asks. “If the push is hard enough, the fall is going to be fast.”

I only look at him, wanting to believe.

“And has it really been that fast, Jamie?”

“We haven’t even dated,” I protest.

“I’m not the least bit interested in dating you. Dating suggests an exploration. A process of discovery. But I already know you, Jamie. I know you, and I want you. And I love you.”

He takes my hand, and for a moment all is right with the world. But then I glance across the bar, across the lobby. I see Bryan Raine arguing with a bellman, and my stomach twists as I am reminded what a mess I am.

Raine is the epitome of what I am running from—bad decisions.

But how the hell do I know if Ryan Hunter is a good decision or a bad one?

“I’m sorry,” I say as I tug my hand free. I want to say he is everything I have ever hoped for. I want to say that I love him.

Instead, I say, “I have to think. I’m sorry, Ryan. I have to go.”

The highway stretches out in front of me, and I keep driving, thinking that if I can just get a little farther, maybe to that next mile marker, I will figure it out. But the highway always stays ahead of me, and there is always another mile marker, and I fear that I am thinking too hard.

What am I doing?

I know the answer, of course. I’m running.

What I can’t figure out is why.

I tell myself that I am right to leave him. Maybe not forever, but for a while. While I get my head together. While I stick with The Plan.

Because isn’t the point of The Plan to keep me from doing exactly what has happened with Ryan—to keep me from getting twisted up with a guy?

That’s true—except it’s not.

Because Ryan hasn’t twisted me up. If anything, he’s untangled me.

I reach into my pocket and close my hand around the lock as tears sting my eyes. What am I doing? Who in their right mind runs from love?

Because I do love him. More important, I know that he truly loves me.

I lift my foot off the accelerator, cringing a bit when I realize that I’ve pushed the Ferrari past one hundred. But she really is a sweet ride.

I slow, planning to turn the car around and head back, but something isn’t right.

Once again, the car is making an odd noise, although this time when I listen more closely, I realize that the thwump-thwump isn’t coming from the Ferrari, but from somewhere outside the car.

Frowning, I glance at the land off the shoulder. It is mostly dirt, but that dirt is billowing now, blowing and blustering, forming small dirt devils that spin and spin.

A shadow passes over. And I slam on the brakes as a sleek black helicopter with Stark International emblazoned on the side lands on the shoulder ahead of me.

I kill the engine and race out of the car. I don’t see him, not yet, but I don’t slow. I know he is there. I know he came for me.

And then there he is, jumping from the helicopter to the asphalt below. He ducks to avoid the wind that the still-spinning blades are kicking up, and when he is clear, he makes a twirling motion and the helicopter ascends once again.

I throw myself in his arms. “You came for me,” I say, my voice soft with wonder.

“I will always come for you.” He kisses me. A hard, deep kiss that claims me as his own, and that I feel profoundly all the way down to my toes.

Even after we break the kiss, I cling to him, wanting to reassure myself that he is real. “I was about to turn around and come back.” I tilt my head up at him. “I needed to get to you. To tell you. I love you, too, Ryan Hunter.”