The Swan and The Sergeant - Alana Albertson Page 0,20

my consciousness and leaving a trail of even more questions, like what it might be like to feel those hands touching my bare skin.

Warmth climbed up my neck, and I shook the thought away, scolding myself. As much as I was attracted to his fantastic body, masculine scent, and deep voice, I had to remind herself that Bret’s reappearance into my life would only be brief.

Sure, I could have a fling with him, but I knew I would end up getting hurt when he left again.

Besides, all he did was give me a hard time about my choices. He infuriated me. Drove me completely crazy.

And if I allowed myself to get used to him being around, then I’d have to learn to live without him.

Again.

Bret

I maneuvered my brand-new truck up the winding Hollywood Hills. Towering trees framed the street, and it was difficult to focus on the road. Being this close to Selena unnerved me. Despite the fact that she drove me absolutely crazy with her spoiled and selfish outlook on the world, she looked and smelled incredible. I tried to keep my mind on the road and not on thinking about kissing her neck, tasting her lips, and caressing her body.

“It’s the next driveway. Just enter Code 0114 in the keypad.”

I eyed Selena. January fourteenth was the anniversary of the day Selena and I won Nationals.

Selena seemed to understand my questioning look. “Don’t get all weird on me. It was just the first major competition I—I mean we—ever won. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure, it doesn’t.”

I turned into the driveway and pressed the numbers into the black alarm pad. A huge gate opened, and I drove to the front of Selena’s house. It was less extravagant than I had expected, just an old Spanish-style bungalow with talavera tiles framing the entrance, not some sprawling Hollywood mansion.

Selena took the keys out of her purse and opened the door. “It’s super late, and I’m beat. Are you sure you don’t want to crash here tonight? We can leave as early as you want tomorrow morning.”

I hoisted Banjo out of the backseat of the truck, attached his leash, and led him to a bush to pee. It was dark, so I couldn’t read Selena’s face. She had just invited me to spend the night. I wasn’t sure I could sleep in the same house as her. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Selena just laughed and turned on the lights. “Relax, Bret. It’s really not a big deal. You can use the guesthouse out back.”

Guesthouse? I should’ve known that there was more to her house. It sure made my tiny place off base look like a slum. She’d probably laugh if she saw my small apartment, which was about the size of her living room.

In the main house, there were red tiles on the floor and dark wooden beams on the ceiling. Her yellow-painted walls had pictures of Dima and Selena everywhere: winning competitions, on the television show, on the red carpet. But I was taken aback when I noticed a framed picture of Selena and me winning Nationals. The same picture from the magazine cutout Benny had sent.

“Why do you still have this picture up?”

Selena smiled. “It was my first national win.”

I remembered that night well. After we celebrated with Dima, who had coached us, I told Selena I loved her for the first time.

Banjo jumped up on Selena’s brown leather sofa and curled into a ball.

“Well, I’m tired too. So just show me the guesthouse, and I’ll get out of your hair. We have to leave at zero six hundred tomorrow morning.”

Selena laughed. “I’ll assume you mean six a.m. But it’s okay, Bret. You can relax—we don’t have to be there until five in the evening.”

“I don’t like to be late. Punctuality was never your strong suit if I remember correctly.”

Selena walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. “Do you want a beer? Dima mostly stocks Vodka, but he does have some Russian beer.”

“So, Dima fills your fridge, too? What else do you do together? File taxes? You sound married.”

“Stop, Bret. I have a place here, and he has one closer to the studio in Glendale. Sometimes he crashes here—in the guesthouse. How about that beer?”

I would’ve loved a beer to relax and take the edge off the tension in the room. But I didn’t trust myself alone with Selena.

Before I could decline, Selena popped off the cap of a bottle and handed it to me.

Why was she