Twist of Fate (Taking Chances #2) - Tia Louise Page 0,83
Heck, I think she is straight out of Brooklyn.”
“Not Compton?”
I exhale a laugh, looking at my phone when it buzzes with a text. Link to $89 plane ticket from Charleston to L.A.
“What did she say?” Daisy’s still watching me from the couch, swirling her glass of wine.
“This director wants me to be the lead in his new film. She thinks it could lead to big things.”
“Wow…” Her voice is quiet. “That’s really exciting.”
“She wants me to fly out to L.A. tomorrow.” I walk over to sit on the couch beside her. “What do you think?”
A sad smile curls her lips. “I think it’s what you’ve always wanted.”
Inhaling deeply, I look over at the turntable she brought up from the store. “Spencer made you a pretty nice offer. The Southeast region?”
“Yeah,” She exhales shifting in her seat. “But I have time to think about it.”
“It’s what you’ve always wanted.” Our eyes meet, and hers wince a bit.
“It was, but it’s funny how things change over time. Things that sounded so exciting then can be less attractive now.”
Pushing off the couch, I walk over to the French doors overlooking the one street through the village. The sky is a blanket of stars, and the light breeze carries the scent of the ocean. It’s the kind of night where you make a wish and know it will come true.
I feel the warmth of Daisy beside me. She stops, and her voice is laced with resignation. “I think you should do it.”
It hits me so hard. Emotions clash and spiral in my chest. I’m frustrated and curious, sad and elated. I feel validated and restored, flattered… and when I look into her big brown eyes, I’m miserable.
“What about Melody?” My voice is thick, and I clear it.
“We can work out a way for her to visit you. You can video chat… We’ll figure it out.”
“If this takes off it could change my life.”
She nods, blinking slowly, and her words are wistful, but kind. “It’s your dream coming true.”
My dream… Standing here, I’m not so sure anymore.
Twenty-Eight
Daisy
Leave it to Betty Pepper to have albums. Turning away from the heartbreak of Scout’s incredible opportunity, I walk to the old turntable and pick up a cardboard sleeve.
“Which one is that?” His voice is changed, the sunshine not as bright.
“I think these belonged to Bucky.” I flip past UB40 with a shudder and pause at an old Boyz II Men album. “Oh, no… Not this.”
Scout reaches for it, and when he reads the title, his eyes flicker to mine. “It’s fate.”
Sliding the shiny black vinyl from its cover, he places it on the Victrola and positions the needle, switching it on. The thump of drums precedes an electric organ playing “End of the Road.”
“Dance with me.” He holds out his hand.
My heart aches as his strong arms close around me. Our hands are clasped, and I close my eyes, moving closer to press my cheek against the warmth of his chest. When I inhale, I’m surrounded by his special blend of citrus and sweat, masculine and strong.
I never believed I could hold him. I never knew why he would ever want to hold me. Now we’re at the end of the road. Still, I can’t let go…
Of all the songs at all the moments in our timeline, this is the saddest of them all. Mist burns my eyes, and I struggle with the war in my chest. He deserves this chance. He’s worked so hard, and he’s overcome so much.
“Hey…” He nudges my chin with his finger, and I lift my face. When I see the shine in his eyes, a single tear spills over, dropping onto my cheek.
He touches it with his thumb.
His brow collapses.
His mouth covers mine, and I wrap my arms around his neck. The warmth of his body melts into mine. His hands slide to my waist, under my thin tee, palms against the smooth skin of my back unfastening my bra.
I exhale a noise as he lifts me off my feet. My arms are wrapped around his neck, my legs around his waist, and our mouths seal together. Our tongues curl and heat burns between my thighs. His dick is a steel rod against me, and my back hits the wall.
He lifts his face to find my eyes. “Yes?”
“Yes.” I want this so much.
Our mouths clash again, and my feet hit the soft pine floor. He turns me to face the wall, a warm palm pressing against my stomach before sliding lower, into