The Hottest Deal

by Paige, Violet

  The Hottest Deal

  Violet Paige

  Head Over Heels Press

  Copyright © 2019 by Violet Paige

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Copyright © 2019 by Violet Paige

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  (Note: previously published as Bucking Bareback. This novel has been extensively updated and revised with additional material as part of the Hollywood Billionaire Deal Duet.)

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Scott

  2. Avery

  3. Scott

  4. Avery

  5. Scott

  6. Avery

  7. Scott

  8. Avery

  9. Scott

  10. Avery

  11. Scott

  12. Avery

  13. Scott

  14. Avery

  15. Scott

  16. Avery

  17. Scott

  18. Avery

  19. Scott

  20. Avery

  21. Scott

  22. Avery

  23. Scott

  24. Avery

  25. Scott

  26. Avery

  Keep in touch with Violet

  One

  Scott

  The pilot called over the speaker to announce the plane was making its final approach into Austin. I folded my book and tossed it on the floor. Home. It had been four long months since I had been home. I had tried to outrun my life, but failed. I fought. I hid. I resisted. I lied. But now I was back, only this time I wasn’t alone.

  Avery was tucked and curled against my side—where she fit perfectly. She had fallen asleep soon after takeoff. I studied her face, half-covered with her auburn locks. I envied the sleep she found. There was no way my mind would have done anything but cycle through everything that could go wrong. If I held on a little tighter, pulled her a little closer, maybe there was a way to protect her. I didn’t want to move my hand from her hip or shift to wake her.

  There were certain moments that I knew I couldn’t get back. This was one of them. We were still us. Just Scott and Avery. The minute the plane landed, it would all change.

  They would be waiting. They were always waiting.

  The flight attendant hovered nearby and I waved her off. Her name tag said Ally. She was only trying to follow safety procedures for the landing, but we needed more than seat belts for what was ahead of us.

  I wrapped my free arm across Avery and drew her against my chest as the wheels hit the pavement. If only keeping her safe was always this easy. The impact jostled us both and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Hey.” She smiled.

  “Hey.” I planted a kiss on her forehead before she stretched into an upright position.

  “I slept the entire way?” She looked toward the window. Her nose wrinkled in disappointment.

  I straightened my legs. They were cramping up, but it was worth it to let her sleep like that. “Yep. You seemed tired, so I let you nap.” I didn’t want to tell her all the selfish reasons I wanted her pressed against me.

  “We’re in Texas?” She leaned closer to me, her eyes darting back and forth like she was trying to read my mood.

  “Darlin’, we’re in Texas.” I couldn’t believe we were in my home state together.

  Was it really this morning that I said goodbye to everyone at the campground and left Perry Island with a hole in my heart?

  I was prepared to live with that heartache. After all, I was responsible for everything that had happened.

  The lies.

  The deceit.

  The paparazzi swarm. It was all my doing. When I thought I had left Avery behind, I thought a part of me had stayed behind too. The pain had wrapped my bones and suffocated me. The only thing I knew to do was leave. Give her what she wanted—as much distance and space from me as possible.

  It was hard to believe that was over. The hurt and the pain from losing her had evaporated. She was here with me. We were together.

  Leaning across the love seat, she brushed her lips against mine, and I instinctively pulled her into my lap. It didn’t take much for her to distract me. I blamed the pretty blue eyes she batted in my direction. It didn’t matter—I would kiss her anytime and anyplace she’d let me.

  Everything about her lit me on fire. I growled in her ear, wishing there weren’t a flight attendant and two pilots on board with us.

  “I can’t wait to take you home.”

  Avery pulled back and grinned. Her eyes shot across my shoulder to the window behind me. “Me either, but it looks like we have a welcome wagon.” She pointed.

  I knew, flying into Texas, there would be a press group, but I was hoping, for Avery’s sake, it would be minimal. I had only gotten her back a few hours ago, and this firestorm could shake the newly formed foundation we had built.

  I took her hand in mine and squeezed it a few times as we looked through the windows of the jet. It might be dark, but there was no mistaking the mass of people gathered with cameras.

  “You ok with all of this?” I surveyed her face before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Her eyes widened as the jet came to a standstill on the tarmac. The flashes shot through the air like lightning strikes, and the door hadn’t even opened yet.

  “I think so.” She whispered the words toward the window, and I worried it was already too much.

  “We can wait it out.” I thought about the best exit strategy. “Or, why don’t I go out and talk to them, and then I can have someone from the airport sneak you to the car? That could work.” I was trying to formulate a plan B and C, but she stopped me.

  “No.” She turned to face me. “We’re doing this together. This is a part of you, and I need to get used to it. You are Scott Sullivan, right? The World’s Most Sought-After Bachelor,” she teased.

  I loved that she was determined to face the reporters, and loved it even more that she was ready to embrace this part of my life, but I felt the familiar pain under my ribs as I inhaled. It was sharper with each breath. This was the last welcome I would have planned for her. There had to be a way to shield her from it.

  I wanted to run to the cockpit and tell the pilots to fly straight back to North Carolina, back to where we could disappear on a nameless beach and blend in with the locals. Texas was home, but I felt homesick for the Sand Dollar and everything we had on Perry Island. Life was simple and easy there.

  What if she felt the same way? What if she regretted the decision to fly to Austin? She was only supposed to be in town for a few days to meet with Dalton at Blue Steel Records. This could be over before I even got to show her the ranch.

  My real life was outside the walls of this plane, and it might be more than either of us could handle. When I had the chance to get her back, all I could think about was kissing and holding her, laughing and talking with her. Loving her. Now protecting her was part of it too.

  Watching the flashes ricochet off the jet, I worried my selfishness to have her back had outweighed my judgment. No one would voluntarily sign up for this.

  “You sure? They can be kind of brutal. You don’t have to get used to it tonight. We can ease into it.”

  I thought back to how she had been ambushed in the parking lot at her father’s store and followed by
a pack of paparazzi. Even her parents wound up as targets.

  Avery wrapped her hands around my neck and smiled. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. Besides, I have a feeling there is no easing into life with Scott Sullivan.” She winked and I had to chuckle. That was usually my move.

  There was no denying those blue eyes. If she was ready to do this, I was going to make damn sure I controlled as much of the press onslaught as I could.

  “Ok, well just stay next to me. I’ll make a statement and then we’re off to the ranch. It will be quick and painless.” I forced a smile, knowing there was nothing painless about facing the assembly on the tarmac. There would be questions, and there would be false accusations. Emmy would inevitably come up.

  “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.” She reached for her backpack and slipped it over her shoulder. “I’ll let you do all the sweet talking and I'll just watch you in action.” She poked me in the side.

  “I’m glad you find the humor in all of this.” I shoved the book into the side pocket, pulled the zipper on my bag, and stood. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You never do.”

  She clutched my hand as we waited for the flight attendant to open the door. “I know that. Stop worrying.”

  Despite the private jet and the private terminal, the press was still allowed to congregate. I usually flew out at abnormal times, missing the frenzy, but ever since the breakup-reunion story of Emmy Harper and Scott Sullivan made headlines last week, the reporters were anxious to catch a glimpse of me, maybe even snag a quote.

  We would have to walk down the plane’s stairs, through the private terminal, and reemerge through another set of doors before we could duck into the car. I could manage the system effortlessly. With Avery, it was going to be a completely different experience.

  Unlike Em, who sought the cameras, spoon-fed reporters quotes, and worked her audience, Avery was new to this twisted game.

  “Mr. Sullivan, you may exit the plane now.” Ally, the flight attendant, smiled brightly as she swung the door to an open position. “It was a pleasure flying with you, sir.”

  I nodded at her and thanked both pilots. I looked past the door. The ground crew had already attached the stairs. There wasn’t anything keeping us on the jet. Still, I felt as if my boots had lead soles weighing me to the threshold.

  It had already been said, but I felt like I was pushing her into the very thing that ruined every relationship before this one. I had to ask again.

  “You’re ready for this?”

  “If you don’t get off this plane, I’m going to start thinking you don’t want to take me home.” Her eyes flared.

  “All right, all right, pretty girl. Let’s do this.”

  I clasped her hand in mine and pulled Avery behind me as we descended the steps, leaving the safety of the jet and diving headfirst into tomorrow’s headline.

  Two

  Avery

  No handbook can prepare a woman for her debut into the public spotlight. It’s a sink or swim situation. I knew as long as Scott kept his hand wound around mine I’d be on the swimming end. If he let go, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to come up for air on my own.

  I clasped a little tighter around his palm. I felt steadier this way. Scott wouldn’t let them drown me like they did in the store parking lot. He was here this time. Together. We were together.

  I hoped I had convinced him with enough smiles and laughter that I could take on the press. With the crowd gathered below, nothing could be farther from the truth.

  The flashes came in rapid succession until I felt my feet hit the runway pavement.

  “Scott, where’s Emmy?”

  “Is this the new girl?”

  “Welcome back to Texas.”

  “Is Emmy still heartbroken?”

  “Have you spoken to her?”

  “Do you feel responsible for ending the relationship, Avery?”

  My head whipped in the direction of the last question. The questions and comments flew from all angles. The tenseness started in my shoulders, rounded my elbow, and locked in my fingers. Scott knuckles were probably white from how hard I held on.

  I studied him amid the flashes, looking for the same panicked look that had crept across my face, but he was smiling.

  “Hey, y’all. Just happy to be back home.” He grinned, his white teeth in perfect rows forming a killer smile. He slapped one of the reporters on the back as if they were buddies. “There’s no place like Texas.”

  The comment stung a bit, but I reminded myself he had to play the part for the reporters. He was a professional. There was a reason the press liked him so much.

  “What about Love & Bondage, Scott? Have you signed yet?”

  “The author tweeted today she wants you for the movie.”

  “Did you hear Chip Heart is up for the role too?”

  I followed Scott as he weaved through the crowd, navigating a path like an expert. He didn’t acknowledge the Love & Bondage questions.

  He threw his free hand in the air to wave to the group. “We’ll see y’all later. Have a good night.”

  He held the glass door open and shuttled me inside the private airport.

  “You did great.” He smiled. “One more door and we’ll be on our way to the ranch.” He started down the tiled corridor, his boots echoing off the walls. “Avery?”

  Maybe this is what stage fright felt like. Maybe it was what rookie singers dealt with before a performance. It was one of the reasons I stuck to songwriting. I couldn’t form a word. My throat was dry, and if I was supposed to take another step forward, I wasn’t sure how to make my legs execute the movements. The resolve I had felt when we were on the plane melted as soon as the reporters started pelting us with questions. All I could think about was the day they assaulted me in the General Store parking lot. It was sickeningly familiar.

  “What’s wrong?” Scott’s hands were on either shoulder, his grip firm. “Hold on, let’s sit down for a second.”

  He led me toward an open door, maneuvered me into the room, and placed me in a recliner. It didn’t look like a regular lounge room. I noticed the navigation charts on the walls, the warming coffee pot, and the low hum of the news channel running in the background. This must be where the pilots congregated before flights.

  Scott shoved a cup of cold water in my hand. “Take a sip,” he ordered.

  I did as he commanded, as if under some kind of hypnosis. The water felt cool on the back of my throat, soothing the dryness.

  “Ok, I know that was a lot to handle out there, but if we can make it through one more door, it will be over.” He knelt in front of me, brushing the hair away from my face. “The ranch is gated, and there are twenty acres between the road and the front door. No press there, I promise. But you take your time. We’ll stay here as long as you need.”

  For a few moments, I felt my lungs fill then relax as they were depleted of air. Was it only this morning I had packed my bags for Austin, prepared to make this journey alone? There was no Scott. There was no us. No we. I was tackling this trip on my own. Diving headfirst into my songwriting career. All that changed the second he spotted me on the ferry.

  “Avery?”

  His voice urged me to answer.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you want to try it? The car is right outside the door. We’ll be out of here in a second, baby.” His hands rested on my knees as I sipped the last drops of water.

  He had warned me about the Emmy questions, but hearing them still startled me. When I was with Scott, I didn’t think about anyone else, especially not his ex. But Emmy was clearly on everyone else’s mind. The cocoon we had lived in on the island all summer was over. From now on, I would be sharing Scott with the prying eyes of the world. The problem was, I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

  He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, keeping his gaze on me.

  “Ok,” I whispered.

  “Ok?”

  I nodded. “I’m ready. One more door, righ
t?”

  Scott stood tall in front of me, and then pulled me against him. “One more door. That’s it. You’ve got this.” He led me to the corridor.

  It was a simple glass door. The kind that allowed people to enter or exit the private terminal. There was a single doorknob on it, with a chime that rang every time someone opened it. I stared through it as we walked closer, knowing there was more to this door than any other I had faced.

  The camera lights bounced around us. Scott ushered me into the passenger side before jogging to the driver’s seat. An airport worker handed him a set of keys, gushed a few fan words, and then closed the door behind the star.

  Scott’s hand slid to my knee. The paralysis that had gripped me was finally subsiding. It wasn’t normal, but breathing felt easier.

  “Ready to see the ranch?” He winked then shifted the car into drive. “You just made it through the hardest part.”

  * * *

  The only ranches I was familiar with were in movies. There was nothing even close to resembling a ranch on Perry Island unless you could call Paul McIntire’s place a beach ranch.

  Wagon wheels, rustic fences, and open fields with running horses were the first images I associated with Scott’s home, even though I had never seen a single picture of it. It was a clichéd stereotype, but it wasn’t as if he had given me anything to go on.

  I should know these things about where he was from. We had spent an entire summer together. Shouldn’t I know what his house looks like? What color his bedroom is? If he even has a single houseplant? I wondered if there were more things I didn’t know than I did.