One Last Promise (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 2) Read online

  Damon tried to take some solace in that he’d made great progress in stripping away his shiny but altogether worthless veneer of vanity. But without that which he’d relied upon for so long, how could he relate to the one person he wanted to know better than anyone when he’d only just begun to rediscover himself?

  * * *

  “Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” asked Paul with repulsion. “No offense, but that’s probably the dumbest show I’ve never seen. She goes around with a wooden stake, stabbing vampires. And it lasted seven years? How is that possible? Were there any vampires left? I mean, was everyone on the planet a vampire? I don’t know one person who watched that show. Did the producers get government aid to keep it on the air?”

  Kelsey bit back her irritation. How could someone have such a poor perception of a show he’d never watched? Aided by a handful of beers, Paul seemed more carefree (and opinionated) now than at any point in the past while talking with her. She liked that he no longer filtered his viewpoints, but she couldn’t tolerate his demeaning tone. And judging by how Marisa and Cassandra stared at him in shock, while Alex looked at him with disgust, Kelsey learned that she wasn’t overreacting.

  “The whole concept of vampires is idiotic,” Paul said. “For one, they sleep.” He paused, waiting to see if anyone else would chime in to defend his argument. “Vampires are dead. Does anyone else see a problem there? I mean, people sleep to re-energize. But since vampires don’t have energy, why do they need to sleep?” He glanced around the table again, once more looking for someone who might support him.

  “Hello!” Kelsey said, unable to keep quiet any longer. “It’s a television show. No one said vampires exist.”

  Paul took a swig from his bottle of Bud Light. “You know, I actually saw a vampire cry. How is that possible? First off, he’s evil. So why is he crying? Did he get kicked out of the Monster Squad or something? Second, if he drinks blood, how did water get into his body? Shouldn’t he cry blood?”

  “Wait,” she asked, trying to lighten the mood. “You saw a vampire cry? Was it a baby vampire? Because I hear they can be pretty temperamental when they’re young.”

  “On television,” he said, irritation shrouding his facial features. “I never saw a real-life vampire in person.”

  “I’d hope not. If it was a ‘real-life vampire,’ you wouldn’t see him ‘in person’ unless it was Halloween. Or if you went to Comic-Con.”

  “Yeah, but how many comedians know real-life vampires? None, since vampires don’t exist.”

  “Exactly,” she said, grinning, hoping he picked up on her attempt at humor. Apparently, Paul thought that Comic Con was a convention that showcased comedians, rather than where comic book creators and novelists, as well as the cast and writers from movies and television shows, discussed or updated fans about their past, present, or future works.

  “This is getting annoying.” Paul guzzled some more beer and, noticing that everyone at the table glowered at him, slammed down the empty bottle onto the table. “What gives?” Then he scanned the vicinity. “I need another one of these, pronto!”

  “You might want to cool it with the drinking?” Alex said, staring him down.

  After a delayed reaction, Paul swung his neck toward Alex. He met his gaze for a few moments, and the anger vanished from his expression. “You’re right. I’m getting a little careless.” He met Kelsey’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” Then he turned to Marisa and Cassandra and Alex in quick succession. “Sorry, everyone. I don’t drink that often because I tend to get a little worked up when I do.”

  Marisa’s worried expression revealed that she now understood what Kelsey meant about Paul’s affinity for switching from one behavior to the next whenever circumstances dictated that he take a different approach.

  Likewise, Kelsey got the impression that Paul not only hated admitting that he’d lost control while drinking, but that he hadn’t intended to do so. He gave the impression that he couldn’t handle his liquor, but Kelsey suspected that he’d buried a different truth, one that counteracted his admission. She only wished that she could identify his true intentions, because few people could shift from antagonistic to kind in a matter of seconds and truly mean it. That gave further credence to the notion that she couldn’t trust him.

  Nonetheless, she was glad to get an idea how he acted while under the influence – if the alcohol had any effect on him whatsoever. She imagined what Paul would look and act like if he’d finished a few more beers, and the mental snapshot made her shiver.

  Anxious to tear that image from her mind (along with the consequences that might accompany it), she recalled how a similar conversation with Damon had played out a few weeks ago: humorous and more than a bit flirtatious. Granted, Damon hadn’t been drinking, but when she’d seen him with a beer in his hand at the Halloween party last month, he’d been talkative and fun to be around. That didn’t give any indication how he’d react after downing an equal number of beers that Paul had consumed, but Kelsey suspected that he would remain in complete control.

  Perhaps she needed to witness Paul giving in to excess in order to see how he might act without second-guessing every thought that entered his mind. After all, his inclination to flip-flop from one emotion to the next made her doubt his convictions. But now, after finally acting like himself, Paul had given her enough evidence that she couldn’t consider him as boyfriend material. If she did, she would always doubt the sincerity behind everything he said or did.

  A chill of sorrow swept through her heart as another man stepped through the revolving door of her romantic life. But a moment later, an image of Damon’s charming smile entered her mind, casting enough warmth to chase away the cold. Still, it was uncomfortable sitting next to a man she saw no future with, and it made her even more uneasy knowing she would need to give him the bad news soon.

  Alex checked his cell phone. “Damon texted that he’s on his way over. Good timing, considering we’re already done eating.” Although annoyed, he couldn’t hide the enthusiasm in his voice.

  Cassandra placed a hand to her chest in relief. “Where’s he been?”

  “I don’t know,” Alex said. “But he wouldn’t have bolted without us if he didn’t have a good reason.”

  Paul chuckled at that comment. Then, as if realizing that he should have kept quiet, he analyzed the beer bottle wrapper as though it held the mysteries of heaven and earth.

  A shard of anxiety stabbed Kelsey’s heart. “What happened? Is he okay?”

  “What do you know?” Alex asked Paul with a stern, uncompromising expression.

  Paul shrugged, more interested than ever in the bottle. “Only that he got kicked out of the resort for fighting.”

  “Fighting?” Cassandra asked, eyes widening with concern.

  Now that Kelsey had mentally cut ties with Paul, albeit without his knowledge, she wondered about Damon’s relationship with Cassandra. Did they care deeply for each other? Had they slept together yet? Knowing Damon’s reputation, he’d probably seduced her on their first date. Kelsey’s mood soured at the thought. Besides, they would share a room tonight, wouldn’t they? Then again, she planned to do the same with Paul. Panic constricted her chest. How would she get out of that one? She diverted her thoughts by re-focusing her attention on Damon and Cassandra. Were they exclusive? Did they have a future?

  “Yeah,” Paul said, “he attacked me. Right there in front of a little ten-year-old girl.” He grinned. “This time, he didn’t get a punch in.” He turned his smile on Kelsey. “But I gave him what he deserved.”

  “Yeah, right,” Alex said with a snort. “That’ll be the day.”

  “Fine, don’t believe me. But you can’t hide the evidence.” When no one responded, he said, “On his face…where I hit him.”

  Kelsey didn’t like the idea that Damon had resorted to violence twice with Paul, regardless of whether or not she had any interest in him. Not that it mattered, considering that Cassandra looked so unsettled, lending the impression that t
hey cared a great deal about each other. And even if they didn’t, Kelsey didn’t want to get together with a man who used his fists to settle disputes. Her career supplied her with more drama than she would have preferred, and she had no interest in dealing with it in her personal life.

  “I don’t believe you,” Alex said.

  Paul tossed a hand in the air, disinterested. “Call the resort. They’ll confirm it.”

  “If you got in a punch, how come you didn’t get the boot?”

  “He was swinging fists and cursing. Why would I stick around? I let security handle the matter and got out of there.”

  Alex narrowed his eyes. “We’ve been sitting here for over an hour,” he said, looking around at those around the table before setting his gaze on Paul once more. “And you didn’t think we’d like to know?”

  “No offense, because I know you two are buddies, but he’s not someone I want to spend more time thinking about than necessary, especially since it might cause some…complications.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Cassandra.

  Paul stretched his hands across the tabletop. “You two are together, right? I didn’t want to upset you.”

  Cassandra settled her attention on Kelsey. “Why did he want to fight you?” she asked Paul without turning away from Kelsey.

  Kelsey felt the weight of that stare, but surprisingly didn’t feel much heat behind it. She sensed neither anger nor resentment. Strange! In reference to Cassandra’s question, Kelsey could feel Paul’s eyes on her, but she didn’t want to look his way. It might give him the wrong idea – that she supported him. So she lowered her gaze to the table.

  Paul said, “I think he has a thing for Kelsey.”

  Hearing the bitterness in his voice, fright took up residence inside Kelsey’s chest. Paul couldn’t have mentioned that at a worse time – not with Cassandra already staring at her with…what? Animosity? Dismay? Kelsey couldn’t tell. As for Alex, she already knew how he felt about Damon getting together with her. And Marisa had also expressed her feelings on that front.

  Nothing she could say or do would satisfy everyone at the table. Even worse, the intensity of their attention bearing down on her compounded the confusion she already felt about Damon. After a few seconds of silence, she raised her head, a fuse of anger rising within her. “What are you all looking at? What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell me that you’re not interested in him,” said Paul.

  Cassandra perked up, looking eager to hear the truth. But far from annoyed or disgusted or frustrated that Kelsey might have feelings for Damon, she appeared hopeful that Kelsey had a crush on him.

  “Exactly,” said Alex.

  Not hearing anything from her best friend, Kelsey turned to Marisa. “And you?”

  “I just want you to be happy.” A gentle smile marked a huge difference between her and the others at the table. “Whether it’s Paul or Damon or…” She saw a gaunt elderly man wearing bifocals walking past their table holding a plate piled high with cheeseburgers and fries and said, “Or that guy!”

  The man, sensing the group of twenty-somethings looking his way, stopped and turned to them, a French fry dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Pesky kids.” He shook his head and mumbled incoherently as he returned to his female companion a few booths up ahead.

  Marisa laughed.

  Kelsey appreciated the effort to release some of the tension at their table, but no one else followed up by doing likewise, and she couldn’t imagine sitting here, only to sit under more silent judgment, so she grabbed her purse, got to her feet, and walked away from the group.

  “Where are you going?” her brother asked, half getting out of his seat with worry.

  “I don’t know.” She weaved her way through the tables until she pushed through the exit doors to find Damon getting out of a cab only fifteen feet away from her. “Get back in,” she said.

  Startled, he looked up and a puzzled grin appeared on his face. Rather than re-enter the taxi, he stood beside the opened door and waited for her to step inside. “Where to?”

  She jumped into the cab. “Anywhere but here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “So,” Damon said, gesturing toward the interior of the taxi. “Come here often?”

  Kelsey burst out laughing. She wasn’t sure if she did so because she didn’t expect him to resort to such a tired opening line, or because she was relieved to escape the situation at the restaurant. Regardless, she sat beside the man she most wanted to spend her time with. She just didn’t know if she should be sitting with him.

  “That’s all you’ve got?” she asked.

  “Oh come on! I have way better pick-up lines than that.”

  “Really?” Since she didn’t want to contemplate what went down only a few minutes ago, Kelsey played along, hoping he provided some laughter. “This I’ve got to hear.”

  Damon laced his fingers together and stretched them out, cracking his knuckles.

  “Was that supposed to impress me?”

  “Are you nuts?” He faced her. “All right, I only use this one when I’m desperate to hook up with a woman—”

  “Which happens every night,” she said, playing along.

  “Correction: every other night. Come on, give me some credit. All right, so here goes: ‘I may not be Fred Flintstone, but I bet I can make your Bed Rock.’”

  Kelsey laughed with such gusto that she felt her stomach muscles straining as she tried to inhale between each chuckle. “You did not!”

  “I did, but I never said it worked.”

  Tears sprang into her eyes, and she wiped away the moisture with the back of her hand as her laughter died down. “Next?”

  “Do you believe in love at first sight? Or do I have to walk by again?”

  She placed hands on either side of her mouth, creating a bullhorn effect. “Boo.” She lowered her palms. “Everyone’s heard that one before.”

  Damon feigned surprise. “So that’s why it never worked. Go figure. All right, how about this one?” He licked a finger then touched her shoulder.

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “What was that?”

  He smiled and said, “Here, let me help you out of those wet clothes.”

  Her tongue clicked against the bridge of her mouth. “Oh, God, that was atrocious.” Her humor died down a little, but she couldn’t get over how relaxed she felt in his presence. Just the sound of his voice put her at ease. What would it sound like if he whispered sweet nothings in her ear? While they were naked in bed?

  She scratched that image from her head. Nothing good could come from making a rash decision while…well, she wasn’t drunk. Maybe a little stressed out, but that didn’t usually lead to casual hook-ups. Or did it? Even though she hadn’t engaged in what could be considered casual sex in over a decade, she no longer knew what constituted as an aphrodisiac.

  “Hmmm. None of that worked, huh?”

  Grinning, she shook her head.

  “Well, I may not be the best guy here,” Damon said, motioning to the hefty, taxi cab driver with yellow teeth and a bad comb-over, “but I’m the only one talking to you.”

  “If those helped you get lucky, I fear for the future of the female race.”

  His upper left lip perked up, but only for a second. He looked down, lost in thought, no longer interested in tossing around silly pick-up lines. “Normally, I’d be all for hitting a bar or a club, but more than anything, I just want to get back to Max. I haven’t left him alone this long in…forever. I hope that’s okay with you.”

  Damon may have said otherwise, but Kelsey sensed that he needed Max’s friendship just as much as the other way around. She therefore couldn’t imagine Damon leaving Max at home night after night, while he slept with one woman after another. That presumption made it easier not to feel bad about enjoying his company.

  Kelsey nodded. She found herself looking forward to seeing Max again. Hopefully, her friends (and Paul) wouldn’t be back for quite some time. She
didn’t want to deal with their questions or concerns. She just wanted to unwind. And get to know the man next to her, because the love he displayed for his dog made Kelsey reconsider his dignity. As Damon hunched over to the taxi driver and gave him the address of the cabin, Kelsey no longer lumped him into the category of men who sought only meaningless one-night stands, which confirmed her impression that the passion with which he wrote his romance novels came from a yearning to have a lifelong relationship with the right woman.

  “Tell me about your writing,” she said.

  That request made him look up. “What do you want to know?”

  “Why romance novels?” Rather than specify exactly what she wanted to know, she figured that he might be more willing to discuss this topic without constraints.

  Damon paused to reflect on her question. A few moments later, he said, “Why not? Romance has everything that a good action movie has: violence (broken hearts), suspense (the whole will-they-or-won’t-they), and action (sex). So why not write romance?”

  “Well, you’re a guy.”

  His eyebrows shot up in shock. “No!” Damon placed his hands on his thighs, inching them downwards ever so slightly toward the spot between them with a frightened look on his face. “Oh, no; it can’t be!”

  She smacked him in the arm. “Come on, seriously.”

  “So what? Women write spy novels. Why can’t men write romance novels?”

  “Yeah, but how many men like watching romance movies or reading romance novels?”

  “More than would care to admit it.”

  “So you’re saying men like romance stories, but they’re afraid of letting women know because they’ll feel emasculated?” Watching his lazy smile take shape while he considered her without one word made her stomach tighten with more pleasure than she dared to admit.