Matchmaker 10: October

I kissed her on the the back of her neck as I tried to shoulder aside the guilt. Lydia wasn't like me. This entire month, she'd given to me while asking for little more than my presence and to be treated with respect. I kissed her shoulder, my lips thinning even more as I wrestled with my conscious. What kind of man, what kind of person did I want to be? Did I want to be the asshole playboy who thought only of himself, or did I want to be more like Lydia, kind and thoughtful of others? She'd shown me that kindness didn't equate to weakness. She was the strongest person I knew, so sure of herself and what she stood for.

I slowly rolled her to her back. She sighed softly as she turned, and a small smile tugged at her lips as my lips began slowly dancing over her face to wake her with butterfly kisses. I wanted to be like Lydia, strong and self-confident, kind and thoughtful. I wanted to be a better person than I was, and I needed her help.

Her smile spread, her eyes still closed, as she steered my lips to hers. I had to have her. I kissed her slowly as I moved, her legs opening to me in silent invitation. I entered her slowly, gently, her moisture coming as I slowly sank into her, her closeness almost overwhelming me with emotion. She sighed softly as she wrapped me up, drawing me into her warm embrace as I slowly thrust into her. I didn't know what was happening to me, but I could think of nothing except holding this incredible woman close and never letting her go. I tucked my arms under her and drew her tight, drawing on her strength as my thrusting hips slowed, then stopped.

"Don't stop," she murmured.

I restarted my hips, but I soon stopped again, fighting for control of myself.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

"Nothing," I murmured.

"Did you come?" she asked, her voice playful.

"No."

She was silent a moment before she gently pushed at me. I refused to move, not wanting her to see me as I tried to gather my scattered thoughts and reel in my rampaging emotions. She pushed again, more insistent this time. I pulled back from her and smiled at her concerned look. Another example of what I aspired to be.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She studied me a moment. "No you're not. What happened?"

Beautiful, smart, strong, and perceptive. "Nothing."

"Something happened. Is it something I did?"

"Yes..." I said as gently kissed her. "But probably not what you think," I continued as I began to thrust again.

"What have I done?" she asked, her voice slightly breathy as she spoke.

"You've shown me how to be a better person."

"A better person?"

I nodded, caressing her lips with my own. "I want to be more like you."

"You want to be—God that feels good—what does that mean?" she asked as her face twisted slightly in pleasure.

I smiled down at her. "It means just what it says. It means I'm tired of being the spoiled playboy. I'm tired of using people and of having—fuck—of having people use me. I'm sick of the rat race of Hollywood. I'm tired of riding that train and I want to get off."

"I don't understand."

I began plunging into her harder and faster, our lovemaking clarifying my thoughts, and my newfound clarity making me want her, and want to be like her even more. "What's to understand?" I asked, the pleasure she was giving me making my voice tight with stress. "You make me a better person. I like this new me better than the old one. I want..."

I paused, both in voice and motion. What did I want?

"Don't stop!"

I began pounding into her again, harder and faster than before. "I want you with me! Fuck!" The words had been spoken and couldn't be taken back.

She pulled me into a hard and lust-filled kiss. "Shit, you feel good!" she snarled as our lips parted. "What are you saying? That you love me?"

"Goddammit! I don't know! Maybe!" I snarled before I kissed her again, my cock slamming into her hard and fast. "Maybe I'm starting to fall for you! Fuck! I don't know! I just know I want you and I don't want you to leave!"

She began to keen softly. "I have to!"

"No you don't! Come to California with me!"

"I can't!"

"You can!"

She shook her head as her face twisted. "No! I have—" She paused as her face twisted in pleasure. "I have my life back in—" She paused again as she pulled my lips to her for another furious kiss. "Oklahoma!" she finished, her voice loud and strained.

I began pounding into her, my passions carrying me away, and I decided to go all in. "I think I'm falling in love with you!" I cried, my voice loud and harsh. "Fuck! I'm going to come!"

"You love me?" she cried just as loudly.

"Yes!" I snarled moments before taking her lips as I splashed into her.

She tightened under me, her fingers biting into my back as we moaned into each other's mouths. I ground myself hard into her, our tongues dancing as we held each other, before I broke from the kiss with a shuddering exhale. An instant later she relaxed with a soft sigh of her own.

Now that I'd come and my passions were cooling, I was slightly embarrassed at my actions. We were quiet for many long moments, alone with our thoughts. I lay lightly across her, my cock still buried deep, as I considered what I'd said, trying to digest the words I'd cried out in a moment of passion. I hadn't thought, only spoken, and the words were oppressive in the silence of the room.

Do I love her? I didn't know, but I had four days to figure it out before she had to leave.

Do I love her? I wasn't sure, but I certainly felt something for her, something I'd never felt for any woman before.

Do I love her? Maybe, but what I did know was I didn't want her to leave. I wanted her to come to Hollywood with me.

Do I love her? I thought for a long moment as a slow smile tickled my lips. I wanted to go to sleep with her in my arms every night and wake up with her there the next morning. I no longer wanted to have to try to remember the latest's woman's name sharing my bed. I wanted something meaningful, something worth having. I was tired of being shallow.

I smiled into her shoulder. Do I love her? I felt something for her, I wanted her to come home with me, and I wanted her in my bed every night. I didn't know anything of love, but if this were Hollywood, this is the point where romantic music would begin playing as we realized we were meant for each other.

"Did you mean that?" she finally whispered, those four little words drawing me from my thoughts.

I rose slightly and watched her eyes. I could lie and tell her I was sure, and I could make her believe it because that's what I did, convince people to believe things that weren't true, but she deserved the truth. "I think I might."

"But you don't know?" she asked, her face and eyes serious.

"No. It's only been three weeks, but I feel something for you."

She continued to hold my gaze. I expected her to smile, but she didn't. "I don't know what to say."

I smiled. "Say you'll come to Hollywood with me."

She shook her head. "No. I don't want to live in Hollywood."

"How about somewhere else then?"

"Where?"

"I don't know. If you'll at least consider it, we can work out the details later."

She continued to hold my gaze. "I don't know," she murmured. "It's been a fun month, but..."

"But what?" She shook her head. "You don't trust me? You don't trust that I might be developing feelings for you?"

She couldn't hold my gaze and looked away. "No..."

"Because of my reputation?" She nodded slowly, still unwilling to meet my gaze. I gently took her chin and turned her face to mine before I lightly kissed her lips. "I know it's asking a lot for you to trust me, but I've changed." I thought a moment and decided this was no time for half-truths. "I'm trying to change," I amended. "I want to change, and I want to change because of you."

"I don't understand."

I pulled my softening manhood from her and tumbled to the bed before I sat up, took her hands, and pulled her into a sitting position beside me. We were facing each other, and I reached out to softly caress her face.

"Spending the last three weeks with you has changed how I look at myself, and I don't particularly like what I see. I didn't care about anyone but myself and I used people. I don't want to be like that anymore. The world has enough assholes, it doesn't need another one."

"You don't need me for that."

"But I do. If I didn't, I wouldn't have been the way I was. You showed me another way, a better way."

"I didn't do anything."

I shook my head. "That's where you're wrong." I paused, but when she didn't say anything, I continued. "I like that you're you and don't pretend to be anyone else. You made me realize how shallow I could be. I'd almost lost myself, forgotten who I was. I was Barrett Quillon," I said, pitching my voice to be ringing and authoritative. "Hollywood's temperamental bad boy and gift to women." I held her gaze. "I don't want to play that part anymore. I'm tired of it," I said in my normal voice.

"What do you mean?"

I smiled. "There is no Barrett Quillon. He's a nobody."

"You're not a nobody. You're one of the—"

"Barrett Quillon is made up. He's a part," I said, talking over her. "He's what everyone expected him to be, but I don't want to be him anymore. I want to be me, Barry Quiloski."

She blinked at me a moment. "Your name isn't Barrett Quillon?"

I smiled and extended my hand. "Barry Quiloski. Nice to meet you."

She took my hand with a smile. "Nice to meet you... Barry."

"We have four days for me to sort out my feelings. I don't want to waste a moment of them," I said softly.

She continued to watch my eyes. "What are you going to do?"

I smiled. "I'm going to show you that while you might not be able to trust Barrett Quillon, you can trust Barry Quiloski."

She licked her lips slowly. "I don't know what to say."

I touched her lips with my finger. "Don't say anything. Words are shallow. Believe me, I know. I've been speaking words other people have put in my mouth for for more than ten years. All I ask is you give me a chance. Give me a chance to understand what I'm feeling and a chance to prove to you that you can trust me."

She took my hand and kissed my finger. "There's not much time."

"I know."

She smiled. "I think we can spare enough time for you to finish what you started this morning, don't you... Barry?"

I slowly pushed her back to the bed and followed her down. "Always time for that."

I wanted to cry. I shouldn't, but I did. I didn't want to return home to Oklahoma, but I couldn't go with Barrett to Hollywood. My business, dogs, and family were in Totlenville, and that's where I belonged, but I couldn't help but wonder what it'd be like to be with him. As much as I'd like to stay with him, I didn't want to live in Hollywood, so the next day I'd board an American Airlines jet, and I'd probably never see him again.

I sat by the huge fireplace watching it snow, the exterior lights of the house making the flakes sparkle like tiny jewels. The crackling pop and ruddy glow of the flames provided a warm and comfortable counterpoint to the stark chill beyond the window. I held a mug of chocolate flavored coffee in my hands. I was up early, enjoying the quiet of early morning, wanting to be alone with my thoughts.

This past week had been a whirlwind of emotions. Having him confess he was falling for me had been the last thing I expected. I knew from speaking with Brooklyn she was a professional matchmaker, so somewhere in the back of his mind, Barrett must have been thinking of a lasting relationship, but after meeting him, I'd quickly given up the idea that I'd be the one. He and I were simply too different.

But something strange had happened. He'd changed. While he still loved attention, over the past few days, he'd convinced me he really had changed, or was changing, and wasn't simply acting. I still wasn't sure I bought into the idea he was falling in love with me, but I was coming around to the idea that he did have feelings for me. He might be an actor, and a good one, but I didn't think even Barrett Quillon could act all the time.

It was how he looked at me that had convinced me. He still looked at me with the same lust as he always had, the look that left me feeling warm and squirmy inside, but now there was something more there. I'd first noticed the change after the American Investigator incident. Maybe I had changed more than him, but at that moment I realized how steady he could be. He seemed genuinely concerned for me, something he clearly wasn't when he'd first arrived in Maine.

He'd been correct in predicting there'd be more pictures. A.I. had somehow discovered who I was and had trawled my friends and neighbors for information. There were pictures of TuxedOES Kennels taken from the road, and breathy gossip from around town about how I was recovering from a broken heart and making one last desperate attempt to find love. Then there were the pictures, including one of Barrett and me when I was wearing my blue dress, along with several others, most of them capturing us in an intimate moment.

It made me mad and want to laugh at the same time, but Barrett had never wavered in his steadfast support, comforting me and helping me understand there were worse things in life than having my picture on the cover of a tabloid. In the end, Barrett and I had spent several minutes in an enjoyable game of 'guess when and where the picture was taken,' and by the time we'd identified the location and date of each picture, I'd changed my outlook. I still didn't like having my picture taken without my permission, but it no longer upset me. Not as much anyway.

Oddly, it was the pictures in A.I. that had started me thinking. Looking at some of the photos, if I took a step back and looked at them critically, they were all pictures of two people who appeared to be very much in love. I'd revisited the two issues of A.I. often in the last several days, looking at the photos and studying our expressions and body language. I had no pictures of myself where I looked as happy as I did in the ones published in A.I. Could it be that I was falling for Barrett and I simply hadn't wanted to admit it to myself? If a picture is worth a thousand words, the photos in A.I. were a novel, and the plot was clear.

I wished we could have more time. I couldn't fall in love in a month, and I didn't think he could either. I felt something, but dammit, it wasn't enough for me to give up everything I'd worked so hard for and move to California. It was too big of a risk. Once he was back in Hollywood, he could go back to his old ways and I would have thrown everything away for nothing.

If we just had more time! I took another sip from my mug while watching the flakes drift down, my thoughts as varied and abundant as the snow beyond the glass.

"What are you doing up?"

I smiled and turned toward the stairs as a sleepy Barrett made his way slowly down them. He'd pulled on the pants he was wearing when he went to bed, but he was shirtless because I was wearing it. I smiled to myself. I'd once read that a woman wearing a man's shirt was like him planting a flag on conquered territory. It didn't seem like such an outrageous claim now.

"I couldn't sleep."

He smiled as he stepped off the final tread and made his way slowly to me. I placed my mug aside as he pulled me to my feet and into his arms to hold me tight. "I could help you with that."

I smiled. I'd never slept as well as I had the past two weeks... with the exception of the last couple of days. "I know, but I didn't want to wake you."

"What did I tell you?" he murmured, and my smile grew. I'd never had a lover that seemed so into me, so willing to make love to me on a moment's notice. He made me feel like I was the most important, most desirable thing in his world, and I was thriving under his attention.

"I know."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just thinking."

"About tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"It's not too late to change your mind."

I shook my head and he sighed. He hadn't pressured me, but he never missed an opportunity to point out we could continue whatever enjoyable activity we were engaged in if I'd just come with him. I once countered with the suggestion of him coming to live with me in Oklahoma, and he'd surprised me by saying he would. His admission had thrilled and chilled me at the same time, and had led to an awkward moment of silence before he'd given me an out by saying it would take some time to arrange.

"Come back to bed," he whispered, and I nodded.

He led me up the steps and back to our bed. I expected him to seduce me, but instead of ravaging me, he picked up his phone. "What?" He smiled as he tapped and swiped before he turned the phone toward me. "A house?" He nodded. "What about it?"

"It's a rental property I just bought."

"A rental property?"

He nodded. "Twenty-eight hundred square feet on an acre lot in Big Bear. My offer was accepted yesterday." He held my gaze for a moment. "What do you like to do, Lydia? If you could do anything, what would that be?"

I couldn't figure out what he was talking about. "I don't know, why?"

"Work with dogs?"

I nodded and shrugged in the same motion. "I guess. Why?"

"You run a kennel and breed and train dogs. Would you want to keep doing that?"

"Barrett, just tell me what you're driving at."

"I'm just asking questions. What do you enjoy doing the most?"

I shrugged again. "Training dogs, I guess. Why?"

He nodded slowly. "That's what I thought." He licked his lips slowly. "You don't want to live in Hollywood, right? How about somewhere else? Like... Big Bear."

I shook my head. "I can't. I have my kennel to run, and my dogs."

"I suggest you call your employees later, and why can't you bring your dogs with you? I think you'll find TuxedEOS Kennels is booked solid for the next six months."

"What have you done?" I asked, my voice quiet.

"Nothing. I've bought a piece of rental property in the small town of Big Bear in the mountains just East of Los Angeles. I've reserved all the empty slots at TuxedOES Kennels for the next six months, and I'm looking for a tenant for my property. The owner doesn't mind if the renter has dogs."

He was quiet, clearly waiting for me to answer. "You can't buy me."

"I'm not trying to buy you. I'm removing any excuse I can that prevents you from coming to California with me."

"I don't need your charity."

He shook his head. "There's no charity. I expect you to pay rent. Now you can afford to hire more help to run your kennel so you can come to Big Bear and train dogs. People will pay good money for well trained dogs, and I can introduce you to people. Maybe you can train dogs for movies and television shows. If it doesn't work out, you can always move back to Oklahoma and resume your life just as you left it."

I gently pulled the phone from his hand and, after some swiping and poking, found the calculator. I entered the numbers and my hand began to shake as I saw the result on the screen. I looked up at him and he smiled.

"I think you can afford to hire some help and still make your house payment and pay rent, don't you?"

I nodded slowly. I entered the numbers again, just to be sure. The result was the same. I stared at the 168,000 on the screen. That worked out to more money in six months than the kennel made in the last three years. I swallowed hard.

"I can't," I murmured, shaking my head again.

"You can't, or you won't?"

"What about my other customers?"

"Now you're just making excuses. I booked only the open slots. All the people you've already booked still have theirs. If someone wants to use your kennel, I can probably be talked into giving up a few of my reservations to make space." He took my hands and held them. "If you don't want to do this, just say so. I close on the house in thirty days. That should give you time to get everything in order. You trusted Sasquatch, or whatever her name was, to run your business in your absence for a month. Can't you trust her for six?"