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He cupped her face to bring her gaze back up to meet his. “And the watch?”
“That’s him counting the time he should spend with his family versus how much his latest arm candy should receive.”
“Prick.”
She laughed. Mostly because laughing would stop her from crying. She dropped her forehead against Tristan’s chest. “So, yeah. I’m totally looking forward to this trip.”
He placed his chin on top of her head and simply held her for a few minutes. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable this time. She knew he wanted to say more. The tension in his shoulders and back was worse than a tightly strung bass. She gently ran her fingers up his spine and kneaded his muscles with a little bit of nail action.
Sparks liked a bit of gentle soothing. Tristan required a different tact. A firmer hand.
When a soft groan rumbled against her cheek, she smiled against his shirt. Her two guys were so different and yet so infinitely fascinating.
She peered up at him. “I’ve lived with this my whole life.”
“What?”
The outrage in his voice made her feel better, even if it was short lived. “I didn’t figure it out until I was a teen—or maybe twelve. I was booted out of St. Catherine’s for creating a skate park on school grounds.”
“Skate park? You?”
“I’m quite adept on a board, thank you.”
He laughed and opened the door to his Jag. “Now this I have to hear.”
She gave him a cheeky grin and got in. Her tales of being a delinquent entertained Tristan through the forty-minute ride to the airport. She’d grown quite enterprising in her quest for male companionship in her teens. All female boarding schools would do that to a girl.
By the time he pulled up at LAX and pulled her suitcase out, he was chuckling about her fourth expulsion. The part she’d been able to keep to herself had been the fact that she’d walked into her father’s study and heard him on the phone with Collette.
Even with her innocent twelve-year-old ears, she knew from the tone of his voice that it wasn’t a professional call. And while he always played the part well enough, it wasn’t the same voice he used with her mother. There was a terrifying intimacy to the way he spoke to the person on the phone.
It had been the first time she’d learned about the public Thomas Reece and the private.
And the first time she’d run away. She’d stayed with her friend Candy for three days before her parents had even noticed she was missing. Good times.
The snap of her telescope handle on her bag brought her back to the present. The airport was already decked out in white twinkle lights and huge wreaths with festive ornaments the size of small cantaloupes. Los Angeles never did anything on a small scale.
“Thanks for driving me.”
“Anytime, beautiful.”
“I wish I was staying here for Thanksgiving.”
“I do make a mean turkey.”
She frowned. “Are you going to be alone?” She had been so focused on dealing with her own family that she’d forgotten to ask him about his plans.
“Nah, I’m working.” He smoothed her furrowed brow with the pad of his forefinger. “I have plenty of people on my staff who want the time off for their families. It’s perfect. I get to create my version of Thanksgiving and make the dishwashers clean up after me. Totally win-win.”
“How many times have you told that story?”
He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be fine, Jules. I promise.”
“You worry about me, I worry about you. That’s how this thing works.”
“Considering we still have no rules, I’m not so sure about that.”
Before she could say anything more on the subject, a baggage guy came forward offering to take her bag. Tristan looked around at the crowd of people. She wanted to stand on her tiptoes and kiss him. One last hit of that spicy fresh scent to get her through the day.
