by Logan Chance
He leans in. “Well, are you the one writing the lies?”
I smile. “No.”
“Then there’s no reason to be sorry and no reason to read this garbage.”
He places his hand over mine, and this feels very much like a moment. I can’t really move because I don’t want his hand to leave mine. And it doesn’t. He rubs his thumb, slightly, and a firestorm of want blazes across my skin. Through my skin, into my cells. I try to appear unphased by his touch—by the look in his eyes. The blue is a slim halo around the black of his dilated pupils. I read an article once that said dilated pupils are an indicator of sexual attraction. My brown must be completely gone. “I should go to bed,” I manage to get out.
He removes his hand, and I curse myself for opening my mouth.
I play with the chain around my neck, so I don’t grip his t-shirt and drag him into me to put out this fire he ignited with a simple brush of his thumb.
“What is that?” He reaches for the star charm and moves in to study it.
He’s so close. So tall. So, everything.
“It’s a necklace my grandmother gave me,” I tell him. “It’s supposed to be a supernova.”
His eyes meet mine. “Ah, see, no one can compete with a supernova.” His voice is a husky caress. “They’re the brightest of all.”
Another thing the article said about sexual attraction is you unconsciously mimic reactions when you want someone. I lick my lips and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip before his teeth briefly capture it. No. There’s no way.
“Well, they burn really bright because of a catastrophic explosion,” I explain in a breathy whisper, “and then they’re destroyed.”
Like this. If he were to kiss me, not that he would, because he’s Ethan Hale, but if he did, I know I’d be obliterated in the end. Nothing left but ash. While he moves on to cause the next flare.
I pull away. “There are clean sheets and a blanket in the hall closet.”
He slides his hands in his pockets. “Thanks. I’d rather not stay in a hotel this week and deal with people.”
“No problem,” I tell him.
Because that’s another thing you do when you’re sexually attracted to someone, you make really really bad decisions.
“I can’t believe you’re famous now,” Charla says as she finishes Dottie Robert’s haircut.
Dottie, a friend of my grandmother’s, looks over at me. “I knew you when.”
“I’m hardly famous. I had one picture printed. Besides, I haven’t done anything to become famous for.” And more importantly, I’m not looking for fame.
“I think being related to him is enough,” Charla adds.
Related. I seem to keep forgetting that detail. Last night in the kitchen, when we were playing some distorted version of tease, I didn’t feel related to him. When I wanted his lips on mine, I didn’t feel that brotherly bond.
Because he isn’t my brother. We just met, and from what I can tell, we haven’t completely hit it off.
Maybe he wasn’t even on the same page as me.
Maybe he was just admiring a necklace.
Either way, I won’t be stupid enough to get that close to him again. I’m sure he knew I wanted him to kiss me.
That’s why this morning, the instant my alarm clock went off, I was out of the house in record time.
I finish straightening my station, so I can get out of here.
“All I’m saying is,” Charla continues to pelt me with her wisdom, “I bet being his stepsister will change your life.”
I feel like it already has.
“Nova, you should have sex with him before he becomes your brother,” Dottie chimes in, to my horror.
“Oh my God,” I exclaim, snagging my handbag from the little hook at my station, “I’m not going to have sex with him. Have you not been listening to me? Him and I don’t really get along too well.”
“Too sexy?” Charla asks.
I laugh a little. “Too annoying.”
But, he isn’t annoying, really. It’s like his bravado is a veil, shrouding the real man hiding beneath.
“Who’s annoying?”
I stiffen. When I look over, Ethan stands next to the front counter.
Not a word is spoken.
It’s funny to watch the gawk effect he has on everyone. Myself included.
In perfect-fitting jeans and a black t-shirt, he looks like a rugged biker today instead of a polished movie star. His hair is all wind-tossed and untamed, and it’s seriously turning into a fetish this obsession I have with his hair.
And then, outside the glass front, a camera flashes. Coffee guy.
Ethan glances over his shoulder. “Fuck,” he mutters.
There’s no way I’m going out the front door to be barraged by coffee guy again. It takes a few minutes to devise a plan with Dottie as a distraction. While she walks outside pretending she’s lost her car, I take Ethan’s hand, rushing him toward the back door. “Follow me.”
When we exit out into the alley behind the building, he takes a deep breath. “How do they always find me?”
“He must be stalking the salon,” I surmise.
“Well, I guess that ends the plans for today,” he says, annoyed. “I should head back to your place. I’m sure there’s something cool on Netflix.”
“Or...” I chew on my bottom lip, hoping he goes for my idea, because coffee guy shouldn’t win. “I have somewhere private we can go.”
Curious, he tilts his head. “Oh yeah? Don’t you have to get back to work?”
“Nope, I’m done for the day.”
“Let’s do it then.”
Undetected, we head to my car parked in the back of the lot. Ethan grins at our success as we drive away, leaving coffee guy oblivious to our whereabouts.
A few miles out of town, I pull into our destination: Sky View Ranch.
Wood fenced pastures and paddocks surround us as I drive down the mile-long entry road. The sprawling four-hundred-acre guest ranch brings visitors from all over the country wanting to experience the beauty of Montana and be a cowboy while doing it.
I pass the colossal, red cedar main house and park.
“They have horses here. I’m going for a ride,” I say, shutting off the engine. “My next segment is trail riding.”
He looks a little uncertain. “I’ve only ridden a horse once, in the movie coming out soon. Wasn’t a big fan.”
“Really? Maybe this will change your mind.”
We exit the car and walk toward the three stables situated to the left of the parking area.
“Yeah, the movie was a lot of fun to shoot,” he says, “but the horse riding, not so much.” He looks down at me. “Maybe I didn’t have anyone fun to ride with.”
I wink. “Well, they don’t call me fun girl for nothing.”
Brody, the owner, wearing his trademark black Stetson, heads our way. I give him a warm smile, because Brody is cool. His family has owned this land for generations, and a lot of money from the ranch goes back into Pity Falls.
Gravel crunches under his cowboy boots until he stops in front us. “Hello, Nova. Ready to ride?” he jokes, waggling his dark brows.
“Absolutely.” I turn my attention to Ethan. “This is my friend, Ethan Hale.”
“I know who he is.” He sticks out his hand to shake Ethan’s. “Kind of hard not to know when a movie star is in Pity Falls.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ethan says in a tone that implies it’s not nice to meet him at all.
Brody doesn’t seem to notice. “Let’s get you two on some horses,” he says. “Follow me.”
He leads us inside the airy middle stable filled with natural light from skylights in the pitched roof and continues down the wide path between the stalls to the end.
He places a hand on the iron gate. “This is Belle. She’s gentle.”
Soulful brown eyes stare at me, and I am in complete and utter love. I stroke my hand against the horse’s chestnut face, and she sno
rts her approval.
“I think she loves me,” I tell them.
Ethan reaches in to caress her long nose.
“What’s not to love?” Brody asks. Ethan’s hand stops stroking. “I figure Hollywood here can ride Buttercup. She’s the friendliest.”
He opens the neighboring stall next to Belle and leads out a beautiful cream-colored Thoroughbred.
For the next half hour, we go through the motions of saddling up the horses, and let me just tell you, mounting a horse isn’t so easy when you’re short. Brody offers a mounting box, but Ethan steps in, placing his large hands on my waist, and gives me a lift. He ascends Buttercup like a conqueror, and we set out across the rolling countryside.
The horse’s hooves clop against the dirt trail as we trot down the path cut through a sea of green grass dotted with wildflowers.
“Thanks for saving me with the paparazzi,” Ethan says when we’re about a mile into our ride.
“Does it ever ease up?”
“The movie comes out soon, so they’re really snooping around. And this movie is another one with Harley and I, so the press is all over it.”
We come to a small creek, dismount, and lead the horses over so they can take a sip from the bubbling water.
While the horses drink, we take a seat in the meadow surrounded by trees.
“It’s so quiet here,” he says. “It’s the complete opposite of LA.”
“Must be exciting being in a large city.”
“Yeah, it can be.”
“Most of the people I grew up with moved on to bigger areas. I want to too.”
He lies back in the grass, staring at the sky. “Why?”
“Well, I feel like I should want more.” I watch the horses, so powerful under their shiny coats. “I’ve applied for a position in Seattle. It’s more everything.”
I don’t know why I’m telling him this. I haven’t told anyone yet.
His head turns to me. “Sometimes having more ends up being less.”
I nod, plucking a wildflower. I can see that side of it too. “I guess it all boils down to whether we can ever be satisfied. We want something, we get it, we don’t want it anymore.” I twist the flower around my finger into a ring. “Do we ever stop looking for more. Are we ever just happy?”
Look at my mom, will she ever find what she’s looking for? Would I be content just being content for the rest of my life? I feel like this is getting really deep while staring at a horse’s ass.
His blue eyes trail across my face and stop on my lips. “I think sometimes the best things find us when we aren’t looking.”
A hawk circles the sky, detecting some unknowing prey, and that’s how I feel looking into his eyes. Except, I’d offer myself up. “Tell me more about this movie,” I change the subject. “I haven’t seen any previews yet.”
“It’s a post-apocalyptic end of the world movie. Hero saves the day, gets the girl kind of story. It’s called End of Us.”
“I’m sure I’ll go see it,” I admit. “I always see your movies.”
He props up on an elbow, his eyes meeting mine. “Really? Are you an Ethan Hale fangirl?”
I laugh and throw a blade of glass in his direction. “Maybe.”
“I’m sure my dad will be taking your mother to the premiere. You should come too.”
My eyes widen. “The premiere? Me?” My mind races to my closet and if I’d have anything to wear to such an event. I don’t.
“Sure, it’ll be fun.”
“I don’t even know.” I smile. “Maybe.”
His eyes darken in the fading sun. “Cool, that’s a yes.”
“I’ve never even been out of Montana before.”
“Really? You’ll love Cali. Maybe I’ll even introduce you to my friends.”
“Gee, thanks.” I laugh.
“I’m actually excited to be seeing them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Are they coming into town?” I ask.
“No, I have to head back to LA. A few press junkets for the movie.”
I'm not sure why I’m disappointed to hear he’s cutting this trip short. But I am. Which means I need to cut this outing short.
“We should head back before Brody thinks we’re lost.” I rise and swipe the grass off my shorts. “I don’t want him to worry.”
I grip the reins of the horses and lead them over. He stands, studying me. “Wouldn’t want Brody to worry,” he says. “I’m sure he’d like to give you private riding lessons.”
“He’s offered,” I tell him. Brody has been after me forever to do a horse riding segment.
His eyes narrow, and he takes the reins from my hand. “I guess cowboys are your thing?”
“My thing?” I slip my foot in the stirrup and reach up, getting nowhere. “I’m gonna need a boost.”
I brace for his touch, to no avail. This time, he puts one hand on my waist and the other on my ass, palming my cheek, lifting me up. My heart gallops as I slide onto the saddle.
He mounts Buttercup without a word. I sneak peeks all the way back at the way his body moves in rhythm with the horse. God, everything becomes sexual when I’m around him. It’s best he’s leaving tomorrow, because the more time I spend around him, the more I want him.
When we arrive at the ranch, he holds his arms up to help me dismount, and I slide down his hard body in a soft caress. His hands linger on my waist, gripping, and I swear he pulls me in closer. By the way he’s staring at my mouth, he’s going to kiss me, and I’m going to let him.
“How was it?” Brody calls out, and we step apart. Ugh, damn you, Brody.
“Great,” I say, with way too much enthusiasm as Ethan remains silent.
For the next hour, we unbridle and brush down the horses, and after they are settled back in the stalls, Brody walks us to my car.
“If nothing goes wrong, I’ll be back to film tomorrow after work,” I tell Brody before I slip into the car.
Such an innocent remark. Don’t even know what I expected to go wrong.
But in two days, everything does.
Chapter 11
Ethan
LAX, a paparazzi’s waiting room. They park their asses on benches and wait the day away, hoping they’ll catch a glimpse of someone famous.
Today, I’m their lucky someone.
They rush me as soon as my father and I come out of the security area.
“Ethan, over here,” they shout in a chorus, like I’m God.
I’m only a god in the bedroom.
Phones fly out, capturing the moment for social media. Cameras flash, blinding me, as my father leads me to the car waiting outside. It gets old. I would’ve liked to stop and grab a soda, because I’m fucking thirsty, but it’s not as refreshing when someone is yelling and asking how it tastes. It tastes like fucking Coke, man. Tastes the same in my mouth as yours.
Maybe Nova is right: we’re never satisfied. I don’t particularly like she’s making me feel ungrateful with her innocent musings. I just want a damn Coke. But, this is the life I’ve chosen, so I give a wave to the cameras before hiding away inside the safety of the black car.
“Can’t say I haven’t missed LA,” my father tells me as the driver navigates through the streets, toward my house in Malibu, to drop me off. When we arrive, I unload my bags, and take a quick dip in the pool I wanted and barely fucking use.
Nova said I could text her if I need anything, and right now I can think about all the things I. I need from her. But as I push the bad boy thoughts from my mind, I make a promise not to text her while I’m here. I’m sure she’s busy with Woody anyway, hee hawing it up.
After a million laps, to drown these obsessive thoughts about Nova, I towel off and check a text from my Dad.
Dad: Hey, I’m running out to pick up a present for Dahlia. Do you have Nova’s number? I need suggestions.
There goes that promise. I could send my dad the number and be done, sure, but then I couldn’t get another hit of what’s becoming my drug of choice: a blonde
with honey colored eyes.
Me: I’ll text her and see what she says.
I leave the pool area and head into the kitchen, nabbing a bottled water from the stainless fridge, and send off a text to Nova.
Me: Dad needs suggestions for a Dahlia gift.
There. Nice and simple. But then I send another, because it’s so addicting.
Me: How’s the ride?
While I wait for her to answer back, I flip through my contacts to Declan’s number and send him a text telling him I’m in town and we should get together. Still no Nova reply.
I head upstairs to shower and get ready for tonight. Pablo, director of The Ranch, is having a party in the Hills, and I plan on checking it out. It should be good to let loose for a few hours. And an even better excuse to meet Samuel Davis, a huge producer who has a role I want. If everything goes smoothly, I could be considered. So, it’s time to schmooze.
After my shower, I check my phone and see a message from Nova.
Nova: She likes weird things, like birdhouses.
I laugh and type out a reply.
Me: What the fuck? Birdhouses?
Nova: Yeah, lots of birds in Montana.
Me: And what about you? What do you like?
She answers back immediately.
Nova: Not birdhouses.
I push the boundaries a bit, because I didn’t miss she didn’t answer about the ride.
Me: Cowboy hats?
She takes a full minute for her response, and then we just keep going.
Nova: You don’t need to buy me anything.
Me: Fine.
Nova: Fine.
She’s so frustrating.
I look around my bedroom at all the things I wanted: the biggest 4D Smart tv on the wall, California king size bed, leather chairs in the corner, highest quality sound bar. Am I satisfied? Nah. Probably the only thing in this massive room that I wouldn’t replace is the Captain America watercolor on the wall.
I toss the phone on my bed and get dressed for the evening—my favorite Lucky brand jeans with a deep charcoal-grey t-shirt.
In the garage, I throw on Tom Ford shades, and slide into the leather front seat of my Audi R8 Spyder Quattro. Now this is a car. Actually, it’s more than that. This puppy cranks out 602 horsepower, with some major serious torque. I start the engine and bring my baby to life.