by Ella Fox
I flushed, my face so hot I felt like I could’ve cooked an egg on one of my cheeks. He smiled softly and stared at me as he waited for a response. Meanwhile, I was having trouble formulating anything that wasn’t holy shit or some version of it.
“I… don’t quite know what to say,” I admitted.
Something that looked a lot like fear flashed in his eyes. “I’ve been operating under the assumption that you’re feeling this too. Am I wrong?”
I shook my head emphatically. “Not at all. I’m just, well, stunned.”
“Why? Talk to me.”
“Um, because I’m me and you’re you,” I answered.
“What does that mean?”
“I’m no one and you’re one of the biggest movie stars in the world,” I blurted.
He frowned. “Don’t talk about yourself like that—I hate it. You’re not no one. You’re funny, compassionate, smart as hell, easy to be around, and so beautiful it takes my breath away. As for me, I’m not my job. Being famous is a byproduct of what I do but it isn’t an accurate reflection of who I am as a man. Do not let the fame intimidate you. You know the real me, Shaelyn. Not the smoke-and-mirrors persona the managers, marketing professionals, and agents create, package, and sell to the public.”
I knew that, I did. After all, before I met him I’d been guilty of assuming he was nothing more than a cocky bit of gorgeous muscle. Not only was he so much more than that, he was kinder and more thoughtful than any man I’d ever met. In spite of the fame, his parents had raised a man who, in my opinion, stood above all the rest. That was why I felt comfortable being honest with him, even when I worried that my truth made me sound idiotic.
“Believe me when I tell you that deep down where it matters, I know that. I know myself well enough to understand that sometimes I’ll forget—and you’ll need to remind me. I hope that isn’t too much to ask.”
“I can do that. I just want you to be with me and be happy.”
“Knowing that we’re going somewhere from here is the happiest I’ve ever felt. I’m just afraid to relax and believe that this is reality.”
“We have all the time in the world for me to make you believe it.”
The electricity between us seemed to crackle like heat lightning. I wanted him to shove his plate to the floor and pull me onto the table so that he could touch me.
“Jesus, your eyes,” he growled. “Baby, I would love nothing more than to kiss you right now but that can’t happen for nine more days.”
I nibbled at my lower lip and nodded. “Okay,” I breathed softly. The way his eyes flared with heat when he looked at my lips had me praying the next nine days would pass at warp speed.
Chapter Eighteen
August 1998
I’d worried it might be over-the-top but the house in Santa Monica turned out to be perfect. The house was older but very well kept and the vibrant Mediterranean colors of the tiles throughout the interior made it cozy and inviting. We’d arrived late in the afternoon on Saturday and were so impressed with the view from the rooftop deck that we wound up ordering pizza so that we could watch the sunset up there.
As relaxed as I’d been Saturday night, by Sunday afternoon I was a nervous wreck as I got out of Garrett’s car to go into LAX to get Tia. My nerves were one hundred percent because I hadn’t said anything to her about what was going on with Garrett. It wasn’t that I was hiding it, but I wasn’t about to advertise it, either.
I felt like I’d be jinxing it if I said anything before something definitive happened. I’d never realized how many pessimistic tendencies I had until they kicked in at full force. I felt as if I was one of those if you’re not fully satisfied items on late-night infomercials. If you’re not fully satisfied return within thirty days for a full refund. What if once the age thing wasn’t an issue Garrett realized that I was nothing special?
I’m not sure what it said about me that even with all of his assurances I was more prepared for him to leave me in the dust than I was for him to get to really care. We’d been in a bubble in Utah, but I knew that wouldn’t be the case in Los Angeles. Everything was bigger, louder, closer, and less open. The hat-down-low thing he’d had so much luck with in Moab wouldn’t be nearly as effective in LA. Where one town didn’t look past the ball cap the other town knew what to look for and saw it as a game of Where’s Waldo.
I was trying to decide exactly what to say to Tia when I saw her. She knew Garrett had rented a house for us in Santa Monica but she had assumed—and I’d let her—he did that because he felt bad about what happened with Jewel. I knew I’d need to say something to her before we got out to the car. Otherwise, she would jump to conclusions and that was never good.
As on edge as I was about the coming disclosure, I was thrilled when I saw her strawberry blonde hair in the distance as she made her way to baggage claim from the escalators. It was crowded at the airport so I had no choice but to jump up and down, waving my hand in the air as I called her name. Once we made eye contact, she barreled toward me at high speed, leaving the other passengers in the dust.
“Ten days in Santa Monica is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she squealed as she threw herself into my arms. “Especially after what a dud Arizona was this summer. Remember I told you how my dad has been on a strictness-is-love kick that made him more uptight than a nun trapped in a whorehouse?”
I let out a laugh as I stepped back. “Of course I remember. We emailed about it earlier this week. I’d have to be a total idiot to have forgotten so quickly.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” she pointed out. “Anyway, about my dad. It got worse. He interrupted my packing last night to sit me down and ask if I’d consider wearing a promise ring.”
“A what now?”
“A ring symbolizing a commitment to keeping my virginity until marriage,” she explained.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Did you tell him it’s too late for that, or?”
“Of course I didn’t tell him,” she groaned. “I wanted to because I want to be honest with him but seriously ever since he started up with that weird church he’s been judgmental and mean about anything that doesn’t align with their teachings. I don’t want to lose my dad so... I told him I’d think about it. As soon as I said that he came out with more detail and it’s not as simple as just throwing a ring on your finger. There’s a commitment ceremony.”
“What’re you going to do?” I asked as we got to the luggage carousel.
“It’s terrible but I have to get my mom involved. She’ll tell him to shove off and hopefully that will be that.”
“I sure hope so because the idea of you telling your dad you’re not a virgin sounds awful.”
“I know,” she groaned. “Anyway, enough about me. Any word on Jewel?”
I wrinkled my nose. “She took a plea and agreed to serve a ten-day sentence. She’ll also pay a thousand dollar fine and take twenty-one hours of mandatory drug and alcohol classes. Since this was a first offense and she wasn’t a Utah resident they worked out a deal where this won’t go on her permanent record.”
“How do you feel about that?” As she asked the question, she stepped forward and hefted her big red suitcase off the carousel.
“Conflicted,” I answered as she rolled the bag to my side. “One part of me is relieved that she won’t have a felony on her record because it would’ve made it harder to get a job. The other part of me wishes they’d thrown her in jail for a year or two.”
Tia nodded as she walked forward and pulled off a smaller version of the red suitcase. “That makes perfect sense. Has she tried to contact you or Goldie?”
“There were some messages on her answering machine and the club said Jewel tried calling there a few times but there’s been no actual contact.”
“Probably not a bad thing. Jewel needs a permanent time-out.”
I didn’t disagree but I knew my mother would pop back up. I wasn’t lucky enough for her to go away per
manently.
When Tia grabbed one last small red bag, I realized I was out of time. I had to give her the heads-up about Garrett before we got to the car and the time had come to do it.
“So, um, I have to tell you something before we go outside,” I said as she started to walk toward the exit.
She stopped and looked at me. “Okay. Hit me.”
“Garrett drove today so he’s out in the car waiting for us.”
“Am I supposed to be surprised?”
My brows shot up. “Um, what do you mean?”
“C’mon, Shae,” she laughed. “I’ve got two decent eyes and a pretty good brain. I see what’s going on. For the record, it’s hilarious to me that the annoying trendy girls I go to school with would be green with envy if they knew he had the hots for my best friend.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
She gave me a disbelieving look. “There’s no way you don’t know this, Shaelyn. You’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind. Since you’re none of the above…”
“I only found out for sure a few days ago,” I admitted. “Until he flat-out said it I thought we were just friends.”
“So you’re saying you never noticed the way he looks at you?”
It was clear I needed to pay better attention because she was now the third person to mention that very thing. “How does he look at me?”
Her brows came together as she considered the question. After a few seconds, she snapped her fingers and smiled. “He looks at you like you’re something precious he’s had on layaway for a long-ass time and he’s two payments away from taking it home.”
That sounded… not very romantic.
“That’s the comparison you’re going with?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Would you rather I’d said he looks at you like you’re a hot bun he wants to put his hot dog in? Because that’s also accurate, but I was trying to be classy.”
I choke laughed so hard that several people walking by looked at me strangely.
“So is that it?” she asked. “You just wanted to tell me he’s in the car?”
I stopped laughing as I shook my head. “Well, no. He told me he’s been waiting for me to turn eighteen—”
“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard!” she screeched.
Another group of people walking toward the exit gave us weird looks. Apparently our loudness wasn’t the norm for LAX.
“Anyway, now we’re ticking off the days until I’m legal.”
She clutched her chest dramatically. “This is so romantic I might die,” she whisper-yelled. “Also, your birthday is only eight days away which means it’ll be go time in a few days.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen or when,” I admitted.
“I can guess,” she laughed. “To that end you and I need to get into a Planned Parenthood tomorrow. You need to be on birth control like, now.”
I wondered if Garrett had any clue why I was bright-ass red when we got out to the car.
The night before my birthday, Garrett took me to dinner. It was the first time since leaving Moab that we’d gone anywhere alone, and even though I was nervous about being in LA where we might be seen, I was still glad it was just the two of us.
I had no idea where we were going, which was exciting but strange. When I’d asked what I should wear, he’d simply answered “a dress.”
Goldie, Tia, and I had spent four hours two days before scouring the Third Street Promenade shops until I found something that we all agreed was perfect. The black spaghetti strap A-line dress was the absolute embodiment of the term little black dress. In addition to the dress, I got a small black shrug to go over it, six silver bracelets for my wrists and a silver necklace with a little star that dangled just above the start of my cleavage. I finished the outfit with a pair of open-toe black espadrilles that had wraparound ankle laces and a jute sole.
I was happy with the way it all came together and was happier still when I opened the door for Garrett and saw the expression on his face as he walked inside. “You’re stunning,” he’d breathed.
I blushed at the compliment even as I stared at him like he was a seven-course meal and I’d been on a no-food diet for four weeks. Garrett Riordan in black slacks and a black button-down was a four-alarm fire.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Words, baby. I can’t tell if you’re just nervous or if you don’t want to go. Give me something.”
“Of course I want to go,” I assured him. “You’re just… wow.”
He smiled softly. “I feel the same way about you.”
Everything about him just did it for me. The permanent scruff on his face, the sensuality of his lips, his powerful hands, the sheen of his hair, the way he smelled, even the width of his shoulders. I thought the word sexy should have a photo of Garrett next to the definition in the dictionary.
“Where are Goldie and Tia?” he asked.
“I thought they were coming down right behind me but they must’ve stayed upstairs.”
“Let’s go up and say goodbye then,” he said as he closed the door behind him.
“No need to come up,” Goldie called as she waltzed into the kitchen with Tia right behind her. “Tia ran to the store and got me some more film for my camera so I could take pictures of you two before you go out and paint the town red.”
“Goldie!” I scolded. “Don’t be cheesy—I’m not on my way to prom and it’s not like you can just run down to the store and have anyone develop these. Imagine if they wound up—”
Garrett shushed me as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “I think that’s great. I’d love to have more pictures of Shaelyn and me together.” We had photos from Utah but the ones of us together were mostly way up close because he’d taken them himself while we were hiking and sightseeing. There were a few from his trailer but none of those were relationship-looking photos. At least not in my mind.
To me he said, “Don’t worry about random assholes selling off photos. If Goldie doesn’t mind, I’ll take them to the guy my family works with. He develops our pictures without selling them. A bunch of celebrities exclusively develop with this guy and none of us have ever had a problem. It’ll be fine.”
After Goldie said she’d be more than fine with him handling developing the film, I happily posed for a few photos with him before we said our goodbyes and left for the night. He held the door to his midnight blue Range Rover open for me and made sure I was situated before he went around to the other side and got in.
“Will you tell me where we’re going yet?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry, it won’t take long to get there.”
My curiosity grew as he turned off Pacific Coast Highway and started driving up a steep and narrow mountain road. When he took a turn into a long driveway, the mystery deepened.
“This is an olive farm that rents out space for weddings, parties, and film shoots,” he explained as he parked in front of a large yet rustic-looking white farmhouse.
After he helped me down from the car, he took my hand in his and guided me along the flagstone path that wove around the house. I caught my breath as the full view hit me. Everywhere you looked was a stunning view of the Santa Monica Mountains, Malibu Canyon, the Pacific Ocean, the olive grove, or the most beautiful flower garden I’d ever seen. It was like a postcard, absolutely stunning in every way. It was just before six thirty at night, which meant the sun would set within the next ninety minutes and somehow that made the view even more impressive.
We walked to a large flagstone patio that overlooked the ocean. In the center of the patio was a round table with white chairs set in the middle. Above the table, there were rows of white paper lanterns. Garrett pulled my chair out and waited for me to sit down before he sat across from me.
“I hope you’re hungry. The menu the chef showed me made my mouth water.”
I was starved, but I doubted any chef on
earth could’ve made anything to compete with the mouthwateringly beautiful man seated across from me. Realizing that he was waiting for me to answer, I smiled. “I can always eat.”
We didn’t have long to wait before a server arrived with a cart that held shrimp cocktail, shrimp and crab ceviche, roasted butternut squash soup, a bottle of sparkling water, and two glasses full of ice with split wedges of lemons on each rim.
I went for the ceviche first, moaning as the flavor spread across my tongue. The hit of jalapeno and acidity of the citrus juices married the salty flavor of the seafood perfectly. I’d had ceviche twice before, but it had never been so vibrant. The same was true of the shrimp cocktail. The cocktail sauce was fresher and zestier than any I’d ever had, something Garrett agreed with after he took his first bite. The butternut squash soup was good but nowhere near as interesting as the other two things, so I only took two bites.
“Are you not feeling the soup?” Garrett asked as he swallowed a bite.
“It’s good, but really only eat three kinds—cream of broccoli, French onion, or matzo ball. Everything else is just meh to me,” I explained.
“Shit. I knew you ordered French onion at every restaurant we went to that had it on the menu so I assumed you liked soup in general. I should’ve told the chef—”
“Nothing,” I interrupted. “His menu is perfect so far. Don’t stress.”
Our next course was a crispy Caesar salad with homemade croutons and shaved Parmesan. The fresh dressing was incredible and my enjoyment of it pleased Garrett. I could see how much effort he’d gone to in order to make our first real date unique and memorable.
Our main course was the softest filet mignon ever. The smooth béarnaise on top was to die for and the scalloped potatoes and perfectly cooked asparagus filled out the meal delightfully. We were about halfway through that course when the conversation veered from what we’d done for the last week—mostly spending time out at the small pool in the backyard of the rental, trips to the beach, and a private tour of Universal Studios—to something else entirely.