Lost in LA Read online

  Rikard smiled. “Did you ask about his mom?” She shook her head and he finished his drink. “What kind of word do you live in, little girl? The first thing I do when I consider a new relationship is to find out everything I can about the woman. Why wouldn’t you do the same for a man?”

  “That’s mercenary.”

  He shrugged. “That’s the real world. Nolan’s mother turned a ten-thousand-dollar bank loan into a multi-billion-dollar empire. Her privately held real estate investment company, Isla Investments, is one of the largest commercial landowners in California. Just think of what that means. Millions of square feet of office buildings, apartments, marinas and hotels line her balance sheets. And Nolan’s set to inherit it all.”

  She shrank in her chair as she felt the weight of the implications, realizing Nolan’s food truck schemes meant as little to him as any other man’s hobby. “No wonder he’s not worried about attracting capital investment for Modesto.”

  “There you go, finally putting the pieces together.”

  She had told Nolan she wanted to avoid the confusion and vulnerability of second-guessing their interactions, but he had kept quiet about his place in the world. Will his mother group me with Penny Lane before we ever have a chance to interact? Do I care? She faced Rikard as the memory of Nolan’s cardamom-laced kisses faded like a treat she would never be able to savor. “Thank you for telling me.”

  He smiled. “My pleasure.”

  She rose from the chair and moved toward the stairway. “Why didn’t you let Jack scare me away if you wanted me out?”

  He shrugged. “You didn’t deserve his anger.”

  “Just like I don’t deserve Nolan?”

  He refilled his glass and looked at her.

  Realizing his critical assessments extended far beyond the daily weather report, she shook her head and climbed the stairs.

  “Maybe you do deserve him or maybe you don’t. The last roommate to occupy your space didn’t deserve to hook up with Beth the cougar, but he did. If it all works out, they might pop out a few cubs and live the American dream.”

  She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “I’ve lived here for, like…three days.”

  “Three days.” He leaned back and spread his arms wide. “Three days and you’re already sneaking out of Nolan’s room and camped out by the pool like it’s somewhere you own.” Leaning forward, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “What happens when three days turns into three months? Co-living isn’t a practical solution for entrepreneurs once they acquire spouses and children. I’ll be out of a home before you two little lovebirds make it to three years.”

  “I don’t think Nolan would do that,” she said, trying not to think of happily ever after like a balance sheet asset.

  He shrugged. “Why not? I’ve done plenty of stupid things for a woman. I told you about Lisa.” He straightened and refilled his drink. “I followed her here, but she formed a new strategy the minute she met Nolan. He wasn’t interested and I was no longer her favorite. It’s a brutal transition to watch your love life go from Romeo and Juliet to friend-sidekick.”

  “Romeo and Juliet never worked out.”

  He leaned back and raised his hands to encompass the co-living commune. “Who says? I realized how much I had been missing person-to-person communication and community interaction, but I had also been missing wealth.”

  She took the first step toward packing her bags. “You’re going to lose it all one way or another.”

  “That’s a bet I’m willing to take.”

  She considered the resignation behind his words and wondered if he recognized the coldness in his heart. Nolan’s generosity and capability pulsed just beneath his skin, but she wondered if the blond man’s touch would chill her to the core. He would do everything necessary to see life’s drag race finish with a win. “But how do you come out on top?”

  He shook his head. “I’m still trying to figure that out, but I highly doubt you’ll be there to see the outcome. Run away, little girl.”

  * * * *

  Wylie considered the piles of clothes on the floor and wondered whether to bother putting them away. She put her phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and sat on the floor, folding her body until she found the comfort of Child’s Pose. Why couldn’t he have just shown up like a knight in shining armor and waved his magic wand? At least then I would have known where I stand. She closed her eyes and listened to her heartbeat. Because I wouldn’t have let him. No wonder he’s not in a hurry to recoup the tow fees or cash my check. She shifted her hips and sank deeper into the pose. Rikard’s in charge of Accounts Payable. I bet he’ll cash it.

  A solid knock on the door let her narrow the field. Assuming Antonia had not returned from dinner, she took a deep breath and rose to face a man. “Nolan.”

  He smiled and leaned against the doorjamb. “Care for a swim?”

  “I spent the day with my friend, Penny Lane,” she said. “She’s homeless. Her best friend died and she lost her apartment.”

  “That sounds fun,” he said, his voice as even as the expression on his face.

  “I didn’t make any progress on a new source of certification. I didn’t make any progress on sorting out my life or hers.”

  He straightened and folded his arms. “You can’t fix people’s lives for them. The best thing you can do is to give them the option to make a good choice and help them understand the consequences, but it matters that you care. It matters that you’re trying.”

  She exhaled, knowing the insecurity of sleeping rough had triggered her emotions, but the reality of seeing the camp where Penny Lane lived had brought it all home. I see how much I have left, but what does self-sufficiency get me? Smug independence and no one to share it with? “You’re so good at putting other people first. How did that even happen?”

  “Sometimes you have to accept what you have to move on with your life.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “I have my health, mostly. A roof over my head. A family that will welcome me home. Why isn’t that enough?”

  “When is it ever enough?”

  “When you’re dead and you’ve got nothing left to prove.”

  Nolan laughed. “There’s always tomorrow. In the meantime, I’d rather focus on using what we’ve got. How did your class go?”

  She shook her head and scooped up a sweatshirt, sliding past him and aiming for the anonymity of the rooftop deck. She needed somewhere she could breathe and establish the equilibrium between her and Nolan. Her attraction to the man had felt like an indulgence when she’d thought they were two adults journeying to claim their status as full-blown Santa Monica residents. Now she realized that Nolan had the property and pedigree to claim an unfair advantage. Rikard told me nobody ever goes out on the deck but Nolan. Was he trying to warn me and save me the embarrassment of this heart-to-heart conversation? How far would he have let the relationship progress before he brought it crashing to the ground?

  Nolan followed her but kept his distance and his back to the views of the Pacific. “The Abramowitzes invited us to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Did they keep an eye on the lot for your mother?”

  His gaze narrowed. “What does that mean?”

  She wanted to hear surprise in his voice. She wanted denial and the humble bravado of a food truck vendor whose motives went beyond profit margins and sweet potato fries. I can fall for a home-fry hottie with a heart of gold, but what right do I have to fall for a millionaire? Is everything between us a competition? Rich boy only wants what he can’t have?

  Rikard’s comments had given her a reason to retreat before Nolan or his family rejected her humble origins, but they failed to give her a place to hide. She wiped away a tear and recalled telling Nolan her tears were an anomaly. Now she wondered if her subconscious recognized the gap between their worlds and gave her the pretense she needed to slip into her shell of self-sufficiency. “Just give me a minute to get my act together.”

  Nolan nodded and followed
her to the deck.

  Pressing her body to the railing, she breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the cold humidity of the ocean air. She needed space to build a wall that would preserve her pride and rebuff Nolan’s rejection. She needed to remember the vulnerability and determination of choosing her SUV over a one-way ticket to Oregon. The pleasure of her prior evening with Nolan felt like a dream sequence, but she needed Nolan’s response to keep her from feeling like a convenient perk of the household. “Rikard told me your mom’s loaded.”

  He rolled his eyes and sat on the outdoor couch. He looked at her, as ready and confident as a boardroom executive. How had she attributed that confidence and generosity to a heart of gold?

  “Rikard’s an ass, but he’s loyal.”

  She frowned, remembering the way he had left his friend sitting in the back seat of the truck like a faithful hound. The hound doesn’t bite the hand that feeds it, but he knows how to scare off the competition with a well-placed growl.

  Nolan remained seated and gave her time to process her thoughts.

  What happened to the Mooney Mansion? It burned down. Chesterfield Square? A legacy of violence. Isn’t it better to keep your head down? She shook her head and decided to leverage Rikard’s cutthroat intervention to regain her standing on shaky ground. “Not a little bit loaded, Nolan. Rich like Midas. I’m not comfortable with that lifestyle.”

  Nolan smiled. “She would prefer Cybele.”

  Wylie wiped away another tear and wondered why her body chose to release the waterworks when her frustration had nowhere else to go. “What does that mean?”

  He looked at her for a long time, his thoughtful gaze making her feel a hundred times more vulnerable than when she had been naked in his arms. When he stood and reached for her, she widened her stance, prepared to hold the moral high ground, but instead of tugging, he trailed his fingers along her arm and she closed her eyes at the gentle touch. His sweetness overcame her reluctance and she softened as he pulled her into his arms. “It means my mom’s a force of nature, but only because she’d rather have me on the board of Isla than shilling potatoes from a food truck.”

  “But you’re not just shilling potatoes,” she said against his chest. “You’re trying to interrupt the market and give people a new alternative.”

  “My mother doesn’t care about projects unless they’ll turn a profit.”

  She opened her eyes and looked up. “But you do?”

  “I spent a lot of time trying to prove myself when I was younger. People always wanted something from me—a party, a favor, a referral. I got tired of people asking for things and tuned the world out. Then something opened my eyes. Ask not what your wealth can do for you… Ask what you can do with your wealth.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He smoothed her hair.

  The heat of the connection encouraged her to dry her tears.

  “I saw a man I could have helped, but I did nothing. Millions of people die every year.” He exhaled. “I can’t improve the world unless I start by helping one person.”

  “You’re helping a lot of people,” she said. “What you’re doing counts.”

  He nodded and tipped her chin up until she caught the reflection of the light in his deep green eyes. “Where we come from doesn’t matter, Wylie. It doesn’t matter to me and it shouldn’t matter to you. What matters is what is happening between us.”

  “You’re not just taking advantage of me like I’m another household perk?”

  He frowned and glanced toward the house. “Who would do that?”

  She thought of Jack but kept her mouth shut before she hiccupped. “I was okay just being hot, but not okay being hot and convenient. The balance of power is off between us. I felt more comfortable when you told me you just liked my butt.”

  His hand dropped and rested at the small of her back. “I do.”

  “I’m not a convenience store.”

  “Wylie, where is this all coming from? I’m baring my soul but it’s falling on deaf ears. Rikard pointed out a difference in our upbringings and you’re falling apart on me?”

  “I’m not falling apart,” she whispered. “I’m just trying to figure out where I stand. I don’t want to be the next charity case you’re working to forget.”

  He stroked her cheek. “The contract downstairs says you have as much right to be in this house as any other member of the commune.”

  “But you own it.”

  “Yeah. So, go file your lease with the courthouse and call the authorities if I don’t honor the terms of our agreement. In some ways, you have more power over me now.”

  The thought of holding Nolan to a list of rights and responsibilities made her smile, but she doubted the contract extended to interpersonal relations. She looked at him and saw a man who had gone out of his way to be kind to her and give her the space she needed. He had helped her to bed and given her the lead when she wanted more. “But you lied to me.”

  He took a deep breath. “Is there a difference between lying and omission?”

  “There is when we’re talking about a lie this big!” She pulled back and looked at him. “We’re not peers. We’re never going to be peers.”

  “Is Rusty your peer?”

  She shook her head and thought of her ex-boyfriend’s beat-fueled club. She had called him for a job, not for a personal reference, but she still felt ownership over his fate. What would I have done if Nolan and his friends had come to the club for more than social intervention? I would have done my best to get Rusty through the tight spots and help the two men find common ground. By doing more than kiss Nolan? She shook off her visceral attraction to the man and faced her reality. “No, but at least I can relate to what he does and the place he calls home.”

  Nolan widened his stance. “Well, let’s see. In the last few days, we’ve sold low-cost street food to a hungry crowd, cleaned up a food truck and had mind-blowing sex. Which part of my life can’t you relate to?”

  “The part where you also stormed a racist club like a hipster Robin Hood, bailed out my SUV from the tow yard and gave a homeless woman a place to live for below-market rent. I don’t want to feel indebted to you. I thought I was standing on my own.”

  He dropped his hands and she felt the cool wind against her back. “What’s wrong with leaning on someone when you’re down?”

  She thought of Penny Lane and the crowd of community members lined up to explore the Social Club. Wouldn’t it mean more if they did it on their own? She stepped away from the heat of his chest and traced the soft contours of his beard. She knew strength existed behind the soft veneer, but she had yet to find her bearing. “What happens when the support steps back? You have to trust your accomplishments and know you can do it again.”

  He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “Exactly. Modesto is my accomplishment. It doesn’t matter if I feed thirty people or thirty thousand. I’m still making a difference.”

  “I’m just trying to feed one.”

  “One?”

  She added Penny Lane to her roster. “Or two.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  She counted the people who had shown her kindness over the preceding days—Rusty, his girlfriend and their flock of ambitious waitresses, the patrons who had come to her classes, even the librarians who had ignored her lingering presence and given her a place to rest.

  “The point is”—he flexed his fingers—“I don’t want fake relationships in my life.”

  “Great, we’re getting divorced.”

  He frowned. “We were never married.”

  “Conscious uncoupling,” she said.

  He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter what you call it. John and Patty still want us to join them for dinner. So much hinges on their property. I don’t want to disappoint them.”

  “Nolan, I can’t pretend to be your girlfriend. Nobody believes the two of us are together. Price Ross gave me a funny look. John and Patty seemed like they were just humori
ng my presence.”

  “That’s not true. They believed our relationship when they spent the afternoon sitting by the pool.”

  “At your house!”

  He smiled. “Not a problem. You don’t want to play house? I’ll introduce you as my mistress.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t like it when you keep things from me. Rikard tried to scare me away from you, but he had a point.”

  “Rikard’s a control freak who hates the unexpected. That’s why he makes such a good accountant. Straight and narrow. Unlike you, he doesn’t see the depths within people.” He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. “But I hear you loud and clear, roommate. You want to treat this thing between us like fringe benefits? I like your ass.”

  He slapped it and she winced, realizing she deserved the quid pro quo for smacking his chest.

  “I like your quiet determination to get back on your feet, even if it means sleeping in your ridiculous SUV.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.” He paused on the stairs and she sighed. “Okay, I was terrified.”

  “Good. You’re too young to end up as a statistic on the evening news.” He turned to close the door and strode toward his bedroom. “So before you go accusing me of being a spoiled brat, remember I tried to do the right thing. I tried to be a gentleman. I asked you out to dinner and you declined.”

  “Well, it wasn’t like I could get ready for a date.”

  “Now you’ve got several to choose from. I still want to take you out to dinner. I still want to order cocktails and tease out your thoughts. My interest in you hasn’t changed—has yours?”

  “Slightly.”

  He paused. “Slightly?”