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  "But I don't want--"

  "Sorry, but I really have to go. Take care," I say into the phone just before I disconnect.

  As I reach the table, I look down at Cat... her big, brown eyes swimming with focused curiosity.

  "Ex-girlfriend... Tarryn," I say by way of explanation. "She has phases where she gets lonely and reaches out to me."

  "How long did you date?" she asks hesitantly. Possibly feeling the need to explain her question, she adds on, "When you meet people within the confines of The Silo, it's sometimes hard to picture them in real relationships."

  I laugh and sit back down at the table, picking up my fork. Food wasn't getting any warmer, but I was still hungry. "Seven years. Started when we were seventeen. We met at prep school. She was a competitive alpine skier too."

  Cat's eyes flare wide in a holy shit type of way. "Seven years is a long time. Which begs the question... how old are you?"

  "Twenty-eight," I tell her before taking another big bite of the meatloaf. It really is pretty good. "And you?"

  "Twenty-four. I was twenty-one when I married Samuel."

  "And you've got the best of your life still to come," I tell her.

  Cat gives me a faint smile, pushing some macaroni around on her plate before asking, "Why did you two break up? That's a long time to be with someone."

  "Well, if you ask Tarryn the reasons, she'll say it's all my fault," I tell her with a wry grin.

  Cat's eyes go round and she dips her chin in mock astonishment. With an exaggerated gasp, she teases, "What? No way. Rand Bishop has faults?"

  I laugh because she's cute as all get out. Now that I think about it, I never saw Cat smile very much at The Silo. Damn sure never saw her make a joke, but she's a fucking natural.

  "I'm not without faults," I tell her, pushing my empty plate away. I contemplate a second helping, but she's touching on a fairly serious subject even if it's with some levity. Because even though Tarryn is the one that cheated on me, and it was ultimately the demise of our relationship, I did help drive her there. That's a tough pill to swallow sometimes.

  "Everyone has faults," Cat says simply. "It's called being human."

  "Well, to make a long story short, since I'd really rather take you back in the bedroom, I've got a white-knight syndrome. Or, at least that's the definition my best friend, Jake, has labeled me with."

  "A white-knight syndrome?" she asks skeptically with a cocked eyebrow.

  "I'm the type who likes to rescue the damsel in distress. Or so Jake seems to think."

  "But you don't think that?"

  I shrug. "Tarryn has her fair share of issues. She didn't have an easy life growing up, but her natural talent on the slopes got her a full ride to Carrabassett Valley, which is how we met. I saw her skiing as a way for her to have a different life, so I tried to help push her along."

  "Encouragement is good," Cat points out.

  "Yeah... it wasn't just encouragement. I mean, I really pushed at her. Pushed her to train, lead a clean lifestyle, and work harder than she ever has in her life. Because that's what I did to be at the top of the game, and I wanted the same for her. It was her ticket out of a mediocre life. It takes hardcore training to compete at the Olympic level. Tarryn's a great skier, but she's not a great athlete. I wanted her to follow me in my path, and really... she just wanted to be a regular girl. She didn't want the gold medals the way I did, and I just couldn't understand it."

  Cat's face softens with understanding. "You wanted it bad for her, but she didn't want it for herself."

  "Exactly," I say pointing a finger in her direction. "The last few years weren't great before we broke up. I was traveling, and she was living here doing some ski instruction. She started seeing someone else, and when I found out about it, I wasn't all that broken up. I think it all just sort of withered up and died from neglect, but I recognize my part in that for sure. I pushed her so hard that she became bitter. On top of that, I was traveling a lot for competitions, and we were apart most of the time because she wasn't skiing at my level. So, the way she looks at it is that I pushed her right at someone else."

  "That doesn't excuse cheating," Cat says hotly. "If she didn't respect the relationship, she should have ended it."

  Again, I shrug. She's not telling me anything I haven't thought about more than a time or two since we broke up almost four years ago. "I agree. But I've let it go. And I learned from it."

  "That you shouldn't rescue damsels in distress," Cat says, and I can tell by the pointed look on her face she's talking about herself.

  "No, that's not what I learned," I tell her with a censuring look. "A good man always helps a woman if she needs it. But I learned that sometimes my definition of who needs help is different from others. In Tarryn's case, she didn't need what I was pushing on her, and since I can practically see that beautiful brain of yours trying to work out how this means I view you, let me assure you, two nights ago, you needed rescuing. You needed a hand up, so I gave it to you. That's all it was, Cat. Plain and simple."

  "So none of your attraction to me has to do with the fact that you see me as lost and needing rescued?"

  "I was attracted to you long before I found you sleeping in your car, Cat. Hell, I've even fantasized about you when I was getting my dick sucked by another girl." I lean forward and put my forearms on the table, staring at her hard so she understands what I'm saying. "But I'm not going to lie either. I couldn't stand to see you hurt and alone. If that's my white-knight complex, so fucking be it. It brought me into your life on a deeper level. But most assuredly, the reason I was jacking off in the shower to you, and the reason I think I'll be fucking you repetitively tonight, is that I find you fascinating and attractive on more than just a physical level. If it was just physical, I'd be at The Silo right now instead of my mouth watering to get back on your pussy again."

  Cat sort of rears backward in her chair and blinks at me in confusion. "You find me fascinating?"

  "You're smart, tough as nails, and resilient. You have a wicked sense of humor, although I'd like to see more of it. You cook a pretty damn good meatloaf and survived an intolerable situation with plenty of grace intact. Oh, and you give the best blow job I've ever had in my life."

  She giggles over that last part, which is exactly what I was hoping for. It wasn't a lie about it being the best blow job ever, but I knew it would lighten the seriousness of what I was saying.

  "Look, Cat," I say, causing her giggles to dry up, but she looks at me through smiling eyes. "I like you. I think you like me. I think we sure as hell like fucking each other. You've got a place to stay until you get on your feet, so the pressure is off. Let's enjoy this and see where it goes, okay? I could totally be on board with us going at it with each other every night."

  "Are you saying you want to be exclusive?" she asks hesitantly, the smile dying instantly and her lips flattening out.

  Well fuck... maybe I was reading her wrong. Maybe she can't give up the gang bang or something.

  "Well, if that's not something you're interested in--"

  "Okay, let's do it," she blurts out.

  "Be exclusive?" I ask, just so I make sure we're on the same page. I know what it's like to be on the very opposite page from where you think someone is.

  "Yes," is all she says.

  "What about The Silo?" I cautiously ask.

  "That was never really my thing," she says sadly, and it makes my heart squeeze in pain that her asshole husband made her do that. "I only went back after he died because it was at least something I knew, and I didn't feel so alone there."

  "Then it's agreed... we take a break from The Silo," I reassure her. Of course, I'd have to get with Bridger and explain to him that I was taking a hiatus. I'm only a part-time Fantasy Maker there, so I won't even be missed. Plus, I know he won't begrudge me this.

  Whatever this is, but I'm rolling with it.

  Cat stands up from the table and picks up both plates. I stand as well, quickly taking them from her
hands. "You cooked so I clean."

  "Not going to argue there," she says smugly and sits back down.

  I intend on making quick work of the kitchen because now that I've disclosed my baggage with Tarryn--which admittedly pales in comparison to hers with her dead husband--I really, really want to get back to the business of sex with this gorgeous creature.

  "Why does she call you now?" Cat asks, and it takes me a moment to realize she's shifted back to Tarryn.

  I don't bother to turn to look at her, working at filling the sink with soapy water. "I have no clue, but it's been a pattern since we broke up. She'll get involved with someone, and then I won't hear from her. Sometimes for months. When she's single again, she calls me. Or sometimes, she shows up on my doorstep to talk, or she'll ask me for a favor that is seemingly innocuous, but she tends to think if I help her out, I'll want to get back together with her."

  "Maybe it's because you're not competing anymore, so now she thinks you're more ideally suited at this point in your lives," Cat points out.

  I scrape the tiny bit of food left on Cat's plate in the garbage and stick both plates in the suds before turning my attention to packaging up the leftovers. "Just because I'm not competing anymore doesn't change who I am. She's still the same person who gave up because things got too hard, and I just can't respect that. What that really tells me is that no matter how hard I might have pushed her away, she wasn't the right one for me anyway."

  "It's fascinating to me that you've had this whole other life outside The Silo," she says almost in awe. "You just never think about the people you come in contact with there outside of that building."

  "The Silo is about fantasy, not reality. It's easy to leave your real life at the door."

  "Except that was my real life, inside The Silo. There was no fantasy for me," she says, and my gut clenches hard.

  I grab a towel, give my hands a quick dry, and turn to Cat. "That's over with," I tell her softly. "The day Samuel died is the day your real life started."

  I watch her carefully. The way her brown eyes look at me blankly a moment, as if the words bounce off, and then a small flare of hope sparks as she swallows hard. Finally, a small nod of her head while she murmurs in agreement with me, "Yes... my real life has just started."

  Good.

  She understands.

  Now I wonder what she's going to make of it.

  Chapter 10

  Cat

  "All right," Rand says as he turns the ignition of his Suburban off and unlatches his seatbelt. He turns to look at me in the passenger seat beside him. "I'm going to go hang out with my buddy, Jake, while you do your thing. Just come find me there when you're done."

  "It could be a while," I remind him as I also take my seatbelt off.

  He just gives me an amused smile before his left hand shoots out to grab me behind the neck. Pulling me across the expanse of the front cab, he presses a hard, swift kiss to my mouth before letting me go. I actually go dizzy from the unexpected move, but mostly from the display of affection he just laid upon me. I have to restrain my fingers from touching my lips, hoping to savor the tingling he left behind.

  "It's Teton Ski and Snowboarding," Rand says as he releases me, and then points over my shoulder. "Two blocks down East Broadway. And take your time. I've got nothing else going on today."

  "Okay," I murmur as I grab my large satchel purse from the floorboard. In addition to my wallet, lip gloss, my sunglasses case, and a handful of pens, it also now carries a copy of a resume Rand helped me type up this morning. It's pathetic and small, and we couldn't put all of my "work" experience on there, but I did do some waitressing in addition to dancing, and I served on the board of a charity in Vegas that Samuel asked me to do. I'm hoping my youth and eagerness to learn will make up for my pathetic work history.

  One of my goals today is to walk the town square and see if anyone is hiring.

  When Rand asked me last night just before we fell asleep what my plans were today, I told him I intended to find a job. He offered to drive me to the town center as he was taking his ski equipment into his buddy's shop for a tune-up with ski season fast approaching, or at least that's what he said was the reason. I suspect he just wanted to offer gallant services to me, and it warmed me so much that he wanted to do that, I graciously accepted. I hope to cover most of the businesses surrounding the town square with my resume. Maybe something will come through.

  Before I committed to staying in Jackson, there was a moment last night when I thought about just heading back to Vegas, even though I didn't have any money to get there. I knew I could get a job stripping pretty quickly. I'd have immediate cash by which to live, so it was a decent option if I could just make my way back home.

  But then I took serious stock of where I was in that moment and realized I didn't want to go to Vegas. I wanted to stay right there, in that bed with Rand, with his arms wrapped tight around me and his beard tickling my neck. I wasn't ready to give up the security he was temporarily providing me, nor these new and delicious feelings blooming inside my chest whenever he looks at me. It was my very own Christmas every time he touched me or smiled at me. I was soaking it up like a greedy sponge.

  We both exit his Suburban, me taking a bit longer as I carefully use the running board to step down in my Fendi heels. I look at the shoes that cost $750, wishing I had that cash in my pocket rather than the designer label on my feet. Hopefully, that won't be an issue by the time I meet Rand over at the ski shop after I finish all my errands.

  "Good luck," he says with a smile at me over the hood of his vehicle. "Call me if you need anything. I'm just going to be hanging out."

  "Will do," I say, hitching my purse up as Rand turns toward the rear of his Suburban where he has his skis stashed. Apparently, a tune-up is nothing more than getting the skis repaired of any damage from the season before, such as nicks and stuff, as well as getting them waxed. Again, I suspect this is not something that had to be done right now, but was rather his excuse to drive me to the center of town, which I find almost unbearably sweet because I don't understand what I've done to deserve that consideration.

  I step up onto the sidewalk that borders the town square, which is nothing more than a small park with large shade trees that are still full and green, a few benches, and a small walking path. I head in the opposite direction of Rand, with no intention of job hunting right away. Tucked inside my purse is all the jewelry Samuel bought me. Well, I actually bought it myself, but it was with his money. Even my engagement ring I picked out and bought, at his insistence and with him pushing his own personal credit card into my hand since my limit wasn't enough to cover the three-carat rock.

  Rand has no clue I'm doing this, and I suspect he'd try to discourage me from something so rash, especially since I have a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and his amazing cock fucking me every night. But the one thing Samuel taught me, and taught me well, is that no one is truly looking out for me but myself. I can't rely on Rand to be there for me, and while I'm fairly confident he wouldn't abuse the trust I've placed in him the way Samuel did, I still have to be ready to jet out of here at the first sign he's something less than I hope him to be.

  That means I need money.

  I'll sell my jewelry, or at the very least, I'll pawn it. After that, I'm free, mobile, and I won't be beholden to anyone.

  I won't be owned again.

  Except... I have that nagging feeling like I want to be owned by Rand or something, but that's just crazy. Samuel owned every part of me, and I hated it. There's no way I could possibly want that from Rand.

  Right?

  I glance over my shoulder at Rand receding in the distance as I continue to walk away. He's already got his skis pulled out and the door shut, standing at the corner waiting for a light to turn green so he can cross. He doesn't look back at me as I turn right onto South King Street, which houses Libertine's Jewelry just half a block down.

  I decided to start with actual jewelry stores, indep
endently owned and small. I figure they would be the most likely to buy from me. I actually purchased a piece here last summer, so I hope the owner remembers me.

  With my gaze lowered to the sidewalk to make sure I don't lodge my spiked heels in a crack or something, I'm almost knocked sideways by my shoulder colliding with someone.

  "I'm sorry--" I start to say as I turn toward the person, but I come to a dead stop with my mouth hanging open and my blood turning to ice.

  Kevin Vaughn stands there leering at me.

  I can tell by the mixture of contempt and challenge in his eyes that he had seen me coming down the sidewalk and purposely ran into me. He's not surprised to see me the way I am him.

  "Hello, Catherine," he says as he takes a step toward me.

  My eyes take in his appearance. Samuel was old and practically withered with the slew of medical problems he had, but I could always see in his face that he had once been a good-looking man. His sons both have the same bone structure and look.

  Kevin Vaughn keeps his blond hair perfectly cut, styled, and sprayed. Fake tan that is so well done it looks real. Thousands of dollars of veneers that make his teeth almost neon white. Dressed in designer labels. He loves money and he loves spending it. As the director of operations for Samuel's hotel empire, he makes a lot of money.

  He also has a small dick and a large problem with premature ejaculation, so I always think of that whenever I'm in his presence. Otherwise, he'd skeeve me out too bad just by the way he looks at me.

  It tore me up to admit to Rand the other night that Samuel let Kevin have me. I'm not sure if the offer was ever made to Richard or not, but he and I never fucked. In fact, Richard was unfailingly polite but reserved around me. He was married to a nice woman, had two kids, and managed Samuel's investments, seeming to enjoy a much quieter life than his plastic brother.

  The first time with Kevin was my first Christmas with Samuel, which was just an ordinary day to me. Samuel and I ate breakfast together in almost total silence--the only sound interrupting us was the doorbell ringing.