“Jake’ll be there?” The golden brown eyes seem not threatened, but rather intensely possessive.
“He doesn’t miss a moment to grandstand.” I almost tell him about the phone call, but something makes me keep quiet about that fact.
“I might have to beat his face in,” he grouses, that jealous streak flashing hot. “Good chance for me to do that. At this event.” He folds his arms over his chest resolutely, tipping his chin upward with a defiant slant. I’m glad my name isn’t Jake Slater right at the moment.
“Oh, you wouldn’t.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” He grins, shifting his weight. “But I could definitely protect you from him. So count me in.”
Relief washes over me, knowing I’ll have Michael with me, because although I didn’t realize it, I’d felt on edge about the gathering until this moment. Not just about Jake, but all those potential Bens that could be there, waiting, without me knowing it.
“Good,” I sigh aloud, “because I definitely need you with me.” As soon as the word “need” passes my lips, I regret it—regret seeming clingy. Regret trying to put too much onto our relationship. Regret defining him into the role of my protector, which seems too serious a step, despite how intense we’re becoming. “Not need, exactly,” I stammer, trying to retract my verbal misfire, “but you know. It would be cool, to have you there. I mean, Jake’s such a jerk, and he’s short, too. Did you know that? Well, he’s not exactly short, but he’s way shorter than you, so no, I don’t need—”
A slow, sexy smile spreads across Michael’s face, as he says, “Baby.”
“I’d love to have you come, that’s all,” I continue chattering, looking toward his friends again.
Michael just keeps smiling. “Of course.”
“Cat will probably go, so that will be fun,” I continue. “We can laugh together, I mean—”
He takes me by the shoulders, staring hard into my eyes. “Becca, I love it,” he insists warmly. “I’ll go. I can’t wait.”
I’m doing it again, the neurotic rambling thing that only seems to emerge around Michael Warner. For whatever reason, he gets me so worked up that the superfluous word problem simply unleashes upon him. “Just tell me to shut up next time,” I caution him, laughing. He touches my hand, reassuring me in a brief, explosive moment of his skin brushing against mine that makes all my nervousness wash away.
“I wanted to thank you,” he says, voice becoming quiet. “For the other night.” The walkie-talkie holstered on his hip erupts in a crackle of communication. He listens, and with a flick of his wrist, silences the noise, then continues, “You really helped me about…well, everything.”
Looking up into his eyes, I say, “I’m glad I could help.”
“Laurel really liked you. I could tell,” he says. “She’s a little shy, you know. Real shy, actually, but she warmed right up to you.”
“How’s it been going? With her?”
“Better since you worked your magic,” he replies. “I took yesterday off, we went out together, all three of us, biking and stuff. She goes home tomorrow.”
“You’re feeling better.”
“I’ve been angry a long time, Rebecca,” he answers, leading me out the doorway onto the sunny sidewalk. Away from his co-workers, so he can talk openly. Once we’re in the bright sunlight, standing in the walkway that runs the length of the soundstage front, he continues, “Been carrying all that crap around inside of me. I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling bitter toward her. Toward—” he pauses, adjusting his tool belt, “—a lot of people.” Alex. He means Alex, and I understand that it’s hard to talk about that.
“It was really easy to see how much she loves you, Michael,” I tell him, thinking of the look on her face the other night when she realized he’d left the house. Her realization that she’d overstepped, trying to help with the doll.
“But it’s still hard to trust,” he admits. “I can’t help that. It’s just true.”
“Of course it is.”
His demeanor brightens. “So, hey, Casey’s stoked that you want to learn to surf,” he announces, his dark eyebrows hitching upward in excitement. “He’s told me to pick out a board for you.”
“Casey,” I repeat, wondering how Casey got involved in our big surfing plan.
“Yeah, he teaches loads of people,” he explains. “Me included, way more than Al ever did.” My stomach knots nervously, thinking of Casey and his disapproval of me, imagining having to learn anything from him, especially anything scary. “So, I’m bringing a long board for you, next weekend,” Michael continues. “Okay?”