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“No.” Burkett moves his mouth in an unattractive manner. “But you sure can make life a fuck load more difficult.”
Damon smiles, a triumphant smile. God, is that the only time he laughs and smiles? When he’s sticking it to people?
Clearly, Damon’s point was made. He can’t stop this project, but he can mess with it. That’s where his power lies.
Burkett starts to fidget his hands together as he keeps speaking. “I also have the Indians arguing that they have hunting rights over some acres of land near my targeted area.”
“Aboriginals or Indigenous, Burkett. You should learn theproper terms before you go building on Canadian soil. And depending on the proximity, you might be dragged in court for the next couple of years...”
Burkett pulls on his white hair as Cora Smith takes the lead. “If you set up realistic expectations for us to follow through on, we will. We’re even prepared to enter into a contract with your firm to do so.”
The look of surprise on Damon’s face comes and goes but I don’t miss it. They discuss more details, more technical things, so I type away until finally, less than an hour later, we’re on our way out.
The sun feels good on my face, though it’s windy out today and I’m glad I have my leather jacket on.
After cabbing back to the hotel, Damon tells me to dress comfortably. If he sees my confusion, he doesn’t comment on it. We still have quite some time until our flight this evening and I was hoping to relax, maybe order room service, and chill.
Instead, I dress in my jeans and T-shirt again—that’s the most comfortable thing I brought—and black ankle boots. I wear my leather coat and wait for him outside my hotel room. I already cleaned up all my stuff in the bathroom and put away my clothes in my carry-on.
“Where are we going?” I ask him when he steps out of his room.
I stare at him sporting washed up dark jeans, a white shirt, and black boots of his own. I can’t even comprehend the two different sides of him. The one with the immaculate suit who’s cold and conniving, and the man with a leather jacket that makes me silently beg him to rough me up and kiss me.
“You’ll see.”
I’m curious. So curious, I want to ask again. But I know it won’t change the outcome of his answer. Damon has a personality that’s hard to budge. When he makes up his mind, he’s done.
With traffic, it takes close to an hour before we finally arrive. And when we do, my face drops.
Completely.
He brought me to heaven but also my own personal hell.
Because that’s where everything stopped, everything changed, where all the fun and adventures and laughter and happiness left our bodies, and we became living mummies.
“Damon, what’re we doing here?” My palms are a sweaty mess, and my thoughts are in shambles.
We’re at a dirt track. He brought me here to ride a dirt bike in the sand. He brought me here to let loose and have fun.
And I want to.
I can see some bikes in the horizon, and my body shivers thinking about being next.
“Hey.” Damon pulls on my arm as I’m about to walk to the little boutique, to sign up, pay, and get the equipment needed. “You look like you’re about to faint—are you okay?”
He’s holding me with both hands. Both hands are on my neck, beneath my jawline, and I can’t think properly.
First, not with him paying this much attention to me. Second, I can’t have him this close. Not to me. I think of Harvey, and I’m bleeding. Truly bleeding inside.
I shouldn’t be here. I promised. I shouldn’t.
Third, he brought me here.
My hell. Not everyone has the same definition of hell. Mine is different. My hell exists every day. It’s things I desperately want but can never have.
Harvey’s smile. His attention, his love, his body.
And this.Bikes.
