by Mia Kayla
“You said you liked him? Then, talk to him,” she said softly.
I jolted up, beyond frustrated with the situation. “About what? About the fact that I didn’t orgasm? About the fact that even if I liked him, it wouldn’t matter? We live on opposite spectrums of the universe. I’m running a business here, and he’ll be off to Hawaii, filming for months.” I shot off the bed. “Or the fact that I’m pretty damn sure he’s still in love with his dead girlfriend? Do you know that he has her name tattooed on his chest?” I exhaled a shaky sigh, and wrapped both arms around my center.
Even if I wanted to, I could never compete with that. I’d lived my life being second best by default, and now that I had a choice, I would never be second to anyone else.
She gently touched my arm, compassion filling her features. “You have to talk to him.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
That was the finality of it all. Jordan Ryder had flipped my world, but he’d be gone. Gone from Rosendell after filming. Gone from my bed and gone from my life.
Now, all I needed was for time to move faster.
When I entered my apartment, it was too quiet. I stuck my head through the door, as though I were a teenager creeping back into my parents’ home after sneaking out, but this time, I was a grown-ass woman, and this was my house.
I let out a sigh of relief when the space was dead, dark, and silent. I stepped in and flipped on the lights, and just then, the non-breathing, palpitating, couldn’t-get-a-breath-in reaction happened but full force.
The dirty dishes and pan from earlier were nowhere to be seen, probably washed and put away. All the seats were pushed in properly against the table. My kitchen was spotless.
But that wasn’t what had me freaking out.
A dozen roses sat on the kitchen table with a card. I had a great time last night with the most amazing girl. I’ll call you later.
My hands trembled as I held the card in my fingertips. What is going on between us? What is going on with me? There was an internal shift happening, one I couldn’t control and one I most definitely couldn’t ignore.
I closed my eyes, breathing deeply through my nose. What I really needed was a bag to hyperventilate into.
Normal. Normal. Normal. I needed and wanted my normal, carefree, calculated, organized life back. And I was determined to get things back to the way they were supposed to be.
Chapter 17
It was now or never, but crap, it had to be now. I had kept my distance from Jordan for days, but I couldn’t avoid him anymore because it was the first day of filming.
What I prided myself in was that I was the utmost professional at work. Armstrong Realty was our legacy, and there was no way in hell that I was going to mess up my job for a good-looking man and his hard, toned body.
There was a blockade along the streets to Wells restaurant, so I parked a few blocks away and walked to the barricades where a tall man was standing guard. I visited every tenant who moved into one of our locations on the first day. And this time, even though I had slept with said tenant, it wasn’t going to be any different.
Multiple women stood by the barricades with signs and posters of Jordan, waiting for a glimpse, an autograph, anything. My insides soared. Besides all the drama with Jordan, this was the right decision. After filming, I was going to get this place rented. For good.
The publicity that this town and my property were getting was already noteworthy. The news had spread via media outlets, and our local newspaper featured Jordan Ryder on the front page, indicating that he was filming a movie at Wells.
I pushed past the women and walked straight to the security guard. “Christene Armstrong. I’m the landlord of this place.”
He raised a thick eyebrow. “Are you on the list?” He had an earpiece on and a clipboard in his hand.
I hadn’t talked to Jordan since the day I stormed out of my own apartment and had ignored his calls and texts ever since, pretending I’d gotten a bug. That was a few days ago, so I was pretty sure I wasn’t on the list.
But I had to show up here today to make sure everything was okay because that was my job.
“No, I’m not on the list, but I’m the landlord. Ryan can vouch for me.” I should have asked for Jordan—woulda, coulda, shoulda—but I didn’t.
The security guard pressed his earpiece and began relaying the information to whoever was on the other line. My four-inch Prada shoes tapped impatiently against the concrete.
When I turned around, the few women had grown into a slew of women. Their chirpy, cheery voices echoed behind me.
“Is Jordan really here?”
“You think we’ll get a glimpse of him?”
Jordan had fans young and old, different ethnicities, different backgrounds. Some of the women looked like they had just woken up, and, after watching the morning news, strolled right over here while some were in crisp business suits just like myself.
When I heard the shrill screams, I turned back around. Jordan walked out of the building in a white T-shirt and dark, faded blue jeans. I guessed he hadn’t made it to makeup and wardrobe yet.
The roars of the women heightened the closer he came. A bodyguard I recognized ran toward him, and the women pushed and shoved, causing me to teeter on my heels.
“Hey. Watch it!” I shrugged off the shover behind me.
“Jordan!” they screamed.
I almost had to plug my ears, not wanting to go deaf. One woman shoved me to the side and jumped the barricade. Another followed.
The commotion happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react.
The bodyguard moved in front of Jordan while the security guard grabbed a woman’s waist. Goodness, this man created chaos everywhere he went. Too bad the commotion and havoc were happening in my heart now.
“Tene, move past the barricades,” Jordan called out, getting pushed back into the building.
More security, about four burly men, approached from nowhere. Their loud voices carried.
“Move back, ladies. Anything past this barricade is trespassing and bound for prosecution.”
“Jordan, we love you!” one yelled.
“Have my baby!” another called out.
I was frozen still, shocked from my surroundings when the bodyguard with the earpiece grabbed my elbow and ushered me past the barricades.
Jordan threw an arm around my waist, moving us closer to the building.
When we entered, he rounded a corner and caged me in. He clenched his jaw. The muscles of his cheek jumped. “Why haven’t you been calling me? And why the hell did you ask for Ryan when you came here?”
There had been no lead-in. No hello. No, “How are you?”
My heart picked up in speed, the way it normally did when we were this close. I averted my eyes and watched people with headsets and earpieces scatter about.
The anger in his voice confused me. I wasn’t sure if he was pissed that I hadn’t called him back or that I’d asked for Ryan first and not him.
“He’s the set manager,” I answered.
“Well, I’m—” He cut himself short and gritted his teeth, frustrated.
I could guess what he was going to say, but I didn’t want to confront that fact.
“You’re my what? Sex slave?” I joked, trying to make light of the situation, though my heart was beating a million times a minute. I glanced back at his bodyguard less than a foot away, who had no reaction to my words. “I’m just your landlord.”
As soon as I sidestepped him, he gripped my elbow and ushered me to the edge of the room, away from his bodyguard.
“We need to talk,” he insisted.
“Why? Is something wrong?” I slowly breathed in through my nose, my eyes roaming the room, landing anywhere but on his eyes. My lungs seized, and in two seconds, I knew I’d hyperventilate. “I mean, the place looks amazing. Did you guys need something regarding the property?”
“No. It’s not that.” There was a tightness in his tone, a shar
pness in his eyes.
I glanced behind him again and watched the camera crew position their equipment.
“Tene!” He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.
His warm breath blew against my face. He smelled of mint and cigarettes and my favorite cologne in the whole world.
“What is the matter?” he practically begged. “You haven’t been taking my calls. I’ve been texting you nonstop.” He lowered his voice when a female crew member passed us. “I feel like a stalker.”
“A little ironic, right?” I laughed, playing it off. My skin was on fire, spreading from his hold on my chin, down my neck, to the rest of my body. “Since you’re the actor and you have a real-life stalker out there on the loose.” I gritted my teeth in a fake smile that puffed out my cheeks.
“Stop.” He pushed himself against me, and automatically, my body reacted, the warmth transforming into a fire within me, my body wired.
I couldn’t breathe again. I needed out.
Out. Out. Out.
He must’ve noticed my internal struggle, or maybe it was the fact that I was really starting to gasp. “What’s going on with you?”
Can’t. Breathe. Again.
Need air.
I pushed at his chest, needing room to fill my lungs. I’d given this spiel many times before, but the only difference was, this time, I was lying. “Listen, Jordan, what’s going on with you?” I spat out, putting this on him. “Don’t make this weird …” I motioned between us. “… the after-sex relationship.”
He narrowed his eyes, not giving an inch. “Don’t fucking give me this speech. I’ve perfected this speech. I wrote the original after-sex, it’s not you, it’s me speech. You can’t pull this card.” His tone was hard, but there was hurt behind his eyes. Hurt that I’d put there.
Why couldn’t this be easier? Why couldn’t it just be a forgotten one-night stand?
“The infamous bachelor …” I pushed fire in my voice, but I lacked it in my gut.
“That’s my old life, former life,” he growled.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true.” His neck stiffened, and the veins on his forearms bulged as he fisted his hands at his sides. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Tene. And you not picking up my calls is driving me crazy.”
Air. All I wanted was air. “So, what’s that supposed to mean? When have you ever wanted a serious relationship?” I threw at him, reaching for straws, trying to ignore the desperation in his stare. “I see you all the time in those magazines. Bachelor for life.”
His voice got quiet, personal. “That’s a facade.”
I shook my head, pretending not to buy it. “Oh, the lines you spew.”
“This is different,” he insisted, running one hand through his hair.
I needed to leave, to get out of his vicinity, away from this conversation, so I could have air to fill my lungs again. My eyes made it to the exit, to where I needed to be. “How is it different this time?”
His breath was a soft whisper against my cheek. “It’s different this time because it’s with you.” His blue eyes shone brightly, unwavering, firmly fixed against mine.
I fell against the wall, and my fingers spread against my chest. I felt like a breathless girl of eighteen again.
I couldn’t take the intensity of his stare, the softness in his voice, the warmth of his hands on me.
“I know something is happening here. Something more than a fling.” His fingers pulled me in at the waist, and he ducked in closer, his head by mine. We were locked in this tug-of-war, his eyes open, vulnerable, almost begging.
“Jordan …” I heard off to the side.
We both peered up to see a young woman with a short red-haired bob. Her name tag said, Susie.
She peeked over her clipboard, headset on her head. “We’re starting in five minutes.”
The moment he stepped back, I dug my heels in the ground, getting some semblance of control back.
I secretly thanked her for the interruption. I needed time to think. “Go,” I said, moving from under his arms.
He pinned me with a stare. “We’re not done here.”
Little did he know, I was more than done. I should have been done with him the first day I met him. He’d fulfilled a purpose and helped me in renting out this property. My issues with him and this loss of control in my life would disappear once filming was over, and he was back in his Hollywood Hills home.
His hands grazed my hip before moving away, leaving a trail of heat from where he touched.
Ignore the heat. Ignore the heat.
Once he was out of my sight, I leaned against the wall and tipped my head back, closing my eyes. Finally, I inhaled deeply, taking in what felt like my first real breath of the day.
When Jordan started filming, I talked to Ryan, ensuring everything was okay with the Wells restaurant and that the production crew had all they needed.
I left to tend to my other tenants. I had to get as far away from Jordan Ryder as possible. And I didn’t just need space. I also needed time. But I needed more than a few days. I needed months, years, infinity to forget everything that had happened between us.
After a crazy day at work, my thoughts raced nonstop about the actor with the blue eyes who knew so much about me without saying a word. I texted Angie that I’d meet her at Allswell. It was her natural habit that she ended up there after work.
I readjusted my Armani suit and strolled out of my newly waxed car with a smile plastered on my face. I pushed through the doors of Allswell and almost tripped on my two left feet when I spotted Jordan by the bar. Filming had obviously wrapped up.
Wyatt was laughing. Cade had his hands fisted at his sides, silent but with anger brewing under the surface. And Jordan looked outright … pissed? His feet were planted far apart, his nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed. He was pissed all right.
My sister grimaced and averted her gaze, not wanting to look at me. I tilted my head and assessed her. She looked … apologetic? She bit her thumb the way she always did when she’d done something wrong.
Wyatt held his belly and laughed harder. And Jordan? He charged toward me, stomping his feet hard enough that the ground shook. Angie’s eyes widened, and she shuffled in my direction right behind him.
They reached me at the same time.
“You.” He pointed a shaky finger. “That’s why you’ve been acting the way you’ve been acting,” Jordan said.
Angie reached for his arm as an attempt to pull him back. “You heard me wrong. I think I misinterpreted the whole thing.”
They bickered back and forth, and the louder their chatter became, the more annoyed I got.
I waved a hand. “What the hell is going on?”
Jordan stepped into me, and five fingers tightly gripped my waist, eyes firm with determination. “I want a fucking do-over.”
“Do-over?” I reeled back. “For what?”
Angie grabbed his arm again, practically bouncing on her toes. Her eyes went wild, and her voice increased to an alarming pitch. “Jordan, it’s fine. You’re fine. Everything is fine. Please don’t.” She tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. “Please. This is all a big misunderstanding.”
I sighed heavily, stepped back, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Again, what the hell is going on?”
“Why did you fake it?” Jordan spat out.
I blinked, stunned into a stupid stupor. The world stopped. The chatter in the restaurant quieted to a soft lull. I must’ve heard him wrong because my sister would never in a million years betray me.
The color drained from my face, probably leaving a white pasty ghost behind. I gritted my teeth and turned directly to the shorter, cuter version of me. “Tell me you didn’t.” I pointed the finger at her, and she flinched. “You told him?”
Her chin dropped to her chest.
“You told him!”
She apologetically raised both hands. “I swear to God, I didn’t.”
�
��Then, how the hell did he find out?”
Her voice was whisper soft, and if she had the ability to shrink, she’d be as tall as a mouse. “I told Cade. Then, Cade told Wyatt.”
I went cross-eyed, blew out a breath, and looked toward the ceiling, anywhere other than to the sister I loved so dearly because I was two seconds from putting her in a choke hold, WWE-style.
Breathe, Tene. Just relax and breathe.
It didn’t work.
My fists flew to my hips. “Really, Angie? Really! Do you tell him everything? Why, oh, why, did you have to tell Cade that Jordan had missed the mark?”
“I’m still here, you know,” he said, sighing heavy with exaggeration.
“And you …” I shook my head. I most definitely didn’t want a do-over. “It’s fine. It happens, you know.”
He pulled me to the side, away from curious stares, and then dipped his head by mine. “That does not happen to me. Ever.”
Cocky, are we now?
“Like, never? Like, no one has ever in the history of your sex life faked it?” Him and his damn ego. “Well, let me tell you. It wasn’t that good.” But, god, it was really good.
His eyebrows flew to his hairline. Yep. Shocked him with that one.
I moved past him. I needed that drink badly. But, suddenly, Jordan swooped me up and carried me over his shoulder, causing me to face his ass.
“Jordan!” I screeched. The draft could be felt up my already-short suit skirt.
He swatted my bottom, and I yelped.
He turned toward the door where I got an upside-down view of my sister and Wyatt looking ridiculously amused at my situation. And Cade’s face twisted. I thought he’d have been more pissed that we’d slept together.
“Angie!”
My sister’s response to my pleas was to throw up her hands as if to say, What do you want me to do?
I’d remember this moment. If she were drowning or quite possibly wanted me to wax her bikini line again because she was embarrassed to go to a salon and have a stranger do it, I’d deny her. The things I did for her, seriously, and this was how she repaid me?