Crashing Into Love

by Melissa Foster

  “So?” Trish leaned across the table and whispered, “Give me all the dirt.”

  Shea reached for Fiona’s hand. Fiona took it and gave it a grateful squeeze. Trish’s hazel eyes were wide and expectant. She somehow managed to make a gray cotton tank top and jeans look hot. When Fiona didn’t answer right away, she reached across the table, revealing the large, colorful butterfly tattoo just above her elbow.

  Fiona released Shea’s hand and shooed Trish’s hand back to her side of the table. “I’m fine, you guys. Jeez. It’s not like I expected him to forgive and forget overnight.”

  A blond waitress came and took their orders. Fiona waited for her to leave before filling Trish in on the harsh details she’d already shared with Shea.

  “I saw him three times, and each time he was a little more receptive.” At least that was how she was playing it in her mind, regardless of how cold he was toward her the morning she’d waited for him on Old Hill Road or at the bar.

  “I’d say he was more than a little receptive at the fair.” Shea leaned against the corner of the booth and raised her slim brows. “Don’t you think?”

  “Yes…and no.”

  “Why? Tell me. I’m good with figuring out guys,” Trish urged. She was nothing like the typical actress stereotype. She loved geology as much as Fiona did. She’d even studied it in school because her parents had insisted that if she wanted to be an actress, she had to have a fallback career, just in case. The personalities of the geologists that Fiona worked with rarely veered into the excited range unless they were talking about earth processes like earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, investigating metals or minerals, or discovering new ways to extract natural gas, water, or oil. Trish’s personality was what had first drawn Fiona to her, during a geology course their freshman year. Fiona had been impressed by her intelligence and her forthright demeanor. Trish went head-to-head with the professor the first day in class, and from that day forward they’d been best friends. It was wonderful to be friends with someone who had the same interests she did but was more fun than most people who understood her field of study.

  “Well, you know how I told you that Jake and I had this zing between us?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Zings are good.” Trish smiled.

  “Very good, if you know what I mean, and he definitely felt it, too.” Fiona felt her cheeks heat up as she thought about the impressive bulge in his low-slung jeans.

  “He got hard,” Shea said flatly.

  “Shea!”

  “What?” Shea took a sip of her water.

  The waitress brought their food, and Fiona waited until they were alone again to respond.

  “You don’t have to tell the whole restaurant that he got aroused,” Fiona whispered.

  Trish rolled her eyes. “Fi, you’re in LA. Nothing shocks people around here. Go on. This all sounds good, so what’s the bad part?”

  “That was it. I mean, there was this moment when everything else disappeared. The fair, the noise, the smells. God, did I ever tell you how good he smells?”

  “Yes,” they both said in unison.

  “Sorry.” Fiona pushed salad around on her plate, then speared a few pieces of lettuce with her fork. “We were so close, and it all came right back to me. The way it felt to be in his arms, to kiss his lips.” She sighed dreamily, longing for what they’d had. “I was sure we were going to kiss, and then…” She shrugged. “He turned and left.”

  “He left?” Trish’s shoulders slumped.

  “Yup. Told me that I didn’t know who he was anymore, and then he was gone.” And my heart broke a little more as I watched him walk away. She turned her attention to Shea. “It was this amazing high, like when we rode that roller coaster, and then suddenly I was spiraling down toward the earth at a million miles an hour without any brakes.”

  “Oh, Fi.” Trish’s eyes filled with compassion.

  Fiona spread her palms on the table. “It’s okay. I’m good. Really. I’m not giving up. He softened toward me. It might have been only for a second, but I saw the old Jake in his eyes. I know he’s in there, and I have a feeling he’s not over me.”

  “No matter how much he claims to be,” Shea pointed out.

  Fiona glared at her.

  “No, she’s right, Fi,” Trish said. “He probably wants to be over you—don’t you think? Sounds like from what you’ve told me, you really hurt him.”

  “She was his first love, and she didn’t just hurt him—she broke his heart. The whole town talked about it for, like, a year.” Shea draped her arm around Fiona. “Oh my God, Fi. Is that why you said you didn’t want to come back when you left for college?”

  Fiona had tried to forget how bad it felt to be the talk of the town for hurting Jake. In truth, it had taken her a long time to want to go back home. She’d found a summer job in Pennsylvania and had remained there after that first year, and by the time she’d come back the following summer, the gossip had died down. She’d seen a few harsh stares, but they’d quickly stopped.

  “It was part of the reason. But it was really hard to be in the place where most of my recent good memories were of me and Jake.” She shrugged again. “But eventually I sucked it up. I couldn’t leave you alone, right?”

  “I would have eventually dragged you back. When I could drive, of course.” Shea laughed. “Now, my brave, confident, beautiful sister tossed aside the one and only Jake Braden. And she’s going to get him back, because she’s Fiona Faith Steele. Right, sis?”

  “That’s my hope.” She knew she didn’t sound very hopeful.

  “What am I sensing here?” Trish asked.

  “It’s just…It hurt to see him so angry and to know I caused it. And he wasn’t just angry. You were right, Shea. I really must have hurt him worse than I imagined for him to react the way he did, and that’s a horrible feeling, knowing I hurt someone I love.”

  “You were a kid,” Shea said. “You need to forgive yourself and harness that energy to win him back.”

  “We’re here for six weeks. Take your time, figure out what you really want, and then go for it. I’m here for you, and if you decide you don’t want to pursue him, then we’ll just have fun and pretend he doesn’t exist.”

  “You’re the best friend ever, Trish.”

  “Hey.” Shea stuck her lower lip out in a fake pout.

  “You’re the best sister ever.”

  Trish pointed her fork at Fiona. “You know what they say about best friends.”

  Fiona arched a brow.

  “A good friend backs up your story and posts bail for you. A great friend helps you hide the body, but the best friend…The very best friend knows how to dispose of the bodies.” Trish flashed a conspiratorial grin. “I’ve got your back, girlfriend.”

  “Good to know, although I don’t think we’ll be needing that particular skill.”

  “Yeah, I know, but still. I’m here for you no matter what.” Trish leaned back in her chair and looked around the restaurant. “How cool is it that we’re ten minutes from the studio where I’ll be filming Raiders of the Past with Zane Walker? Did you ever imagine when we were in college that I’d actually end up here?”

  “Now, that’s something I can finally answer.” Fiona lifted her glass in a toast. “Yes, I did. I never had any doubt about you making it as an actress. And here’s to Steven Hileberg, who found the sexiest, sassiest, smartest actress to play the part of the leading lady. Here’s to having a hot and brilliant best friend.” They clinked glasses. “And to a hot and brilliant sister who would definitely help me dispose of the body if I asked her to.”

  “You know it.” Shea clinked glasses again.

  “I hate that I’m nervous just because I’m working with Steve Hileberg. I rarely get nervous anymore,” Trish admitted. “I have all my lines memorized and everything, but the production assistant is super stressed. When I arrived yesterday, he was running around like there was a fire in his pants, and that makes it harder to remain calm, especially when Hileberg h
as a reputation for being a hothead perfectionist.”

  “Why is the production assistant so stressed?” Fiona knew it was probably a naive question, but she assumed the actors would be more nervous than the assistants. Of course, she had no idea what a production assistant really did.

  “They pretty much have to be running at full speed all the time. The main PA gets all sorts of hell if anything goes wrong. Let me check my calendar and see what’s on tap for this week to make sure we’re on the same page.” Shea pulled out a day planner and studied their upcoming schedule. “You have a preproduction cast dinner a week from Friday night.”

  “You must have that date wrong. Production starts tomorrow, so that wouldn’t be preproduction.” Trish flagged the waitress over and asked for the check.

  “I know. They should just call it the cast dinner. Apparently, Zane Walker wasn’t free until then, and you know the world revolves around Zane.” Shea reached for her wallet. “I’d like to revolve around Zane. He’s totally yummy.”

  “You can have Zane. I only want Jake, and I have a feeling he might freak when he realizes I’m here.” Fiona reached for her purse. “I’ve got it, sis.”

  Trish slapped her credit card on the table, stopping them both. “My treat. You’re my PR rep, and you’re my personal assistant. This one’s on me.” She waved her credit card at the waitress.

  “Thanks, Trish,” Shea and Fiona said in unison.

  “You also have a meeting with the set director tomorrow morning, and you need to be on set at least an hour early for your scene tomorrow afternoon in case they’re ready early,” Shea said to Trish. “But you know this already.”

  “Old hat to me. Get there early or they freak out.” She rolled her eyes. “Fi’s got all this in her calendar, and she’s already given me hell about making all the meetings and scenes on time. Fi, even if you and Jake become an item, you’ll still help me keep my schedule, right?” Trish tapped her finger nervously on the table, but Fiona knew Trish would do just fine without her. She’d been acting for years and didn’t even need an assistant. She was just trying to give Fiona a sense of feeling needed, and she appreciated her efforts.

  “Of course. You do know I might suck as an assistant, right? I’ll do my best to nag you and make sure you don’t miss anything. But if by some miracle Jake and I do end up together, all bets are off. I’ll try to do a good job, but my brain may end up in the clouds.”

  “I’m sure it will. I’ll send you texts, Fi, so you don’t forget.” Shea put her purse in her lap. “I won’t be on the set, but, Trish, you don’t even need us. I think we all know that.”

  “What? Yes, I do! I need you like I need chocolate. You comfort me.” She fluttered her eyelashes with the tease. “So, Fi. You didn’t tell Jake you were coming?” Trish shifted her eyes to Shea in a way that translated to, I’m not sure that was such a great idea.

  “It’s not like we had a chance to catch up and talk about work. It was all I could do to remember to breathe when we were together.” Fiona had been worried about the same thing ever since she’d seen Jake at the fair. “Besides, this was your idea.”

  Trish held her hands up. “Agreed. It was totally my idea for you to come and try to work things out with him. It’s what you’ve wanted the whole time I’ve known you. But given that you saw him and didn’t warn him you’d be here…” She scrunched her face and sucked in air between her teeth. “I just worry. I mean, what if he’s got a girlfriend on set—or six, given his reputation?”

  Trish’s words hit too close to home. Fiona tried to ignore the pain ripping through her chest at the truth behind them. “That wouldn’t change if he knew I was coming, so…”

  “Fiona can handle it. Right, Fi?” Shea patted her on the back, then turned her attention to Trish. “And if not, then we’re here to get her so drunk she won’t remember why she was here in the first place, and I’ll hire you a personal assistant, so Fiona can go out to the desert and dig up rocks until she feels better.”

  “God, I love you.” Fiona hugged Shea. “I’ll be fine. I know all about his reputation. Although he claims he didn’t sleep with Sarah Chelsum.”

  “The girl from the bar that you texted me about?” Trish asked.

  “Uh-huh. He said he just took her home.”

  “That’s true,” Shea agreed. “After you told me what he said, I asked Jeanette, who asked Lisa, who asked Cara, who is Sarah’s very best friend. She confirmed it. Not that Sarah didn’t try to get all up in his junk, but he turned her down and left her at the front door, and apparently she tried to play it off like he didn’t until I started nosing around.”

  Fiona couldn’t repress the smile spreading across her lips. “So…I guess I did have an effect on Mr. I’m Not the Same Guy I Was, after all.”

  She tucked that little confidence booster away. She needed every bit of confidence she could muster after the way Jake had left her standing there behind the snack building at the fair.

  IT FELT DAMN good to be home. Jake stretched out on the leather sofa in the expansive living room of his Mediterranean-style home, closed his eyes, and reveled in the comfort of being back in his world, where he was king and no one passed judgment on him. He’d arrived home and found a group of friends already celebrating his return. This was a common occurrence, as his friends knew that his backyard was there to be enjoyed, and when he was in LA, he often left his doors unlocked for his buddies to come and go as they pleased. It had driven Pierce mad the last time he’d visited, because the house was never quiet. Jake liked it that way. The less time spent alone and in his own head, the better. And since running into Fiona, he needed chaos to silence the echoes of her voice. His thoughts had taken all sorts of reverse sprints, revisiting their encounters and dredging up memories that sent him into a tailspin he had yet to recover from.

  He felt the feathery touch of delicate fingers trail up his abs and grinned as the woman leaned in close. Even with his eyes closed, he knew it was Jerria. Her perfume gave her away.

  “I’ve been wondering when you’d get back,” she said in a throaty voice.

  Jerria had acted in one of the flicks where Jake had been a stuntman a few months ago. He couldn’t remember which one, and as she pressed her breasts against his chest, he wondered why he felt claustrophobic instead of hot and bothered in a good way. She kissed his neck and made a sweet little noise in her throat that should have turned him on, but it had the reverse effect. He pressed himself in to the couch and gently pushed her back.

  “Hey, Jer.” He pushed up to a seated position, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. Why the hell did he go from being relaxed and happy to be surrounded by friends to wishing he were alone? He glanced out the back doors, remembering when Pierce had come to visit when he and Rebecca had first begun dating. His brother’s voice came slamming back to him. There’s a hell of a lot more than tits and ass out there waiting for you. Jake had laughed him off, thought he was being punked. But as his mind reverted back to Fiona’s hopeful eyes, the feel of her close to him, the way his body reacted to her with something much more profound than merely a desire for sex, he realized his brother wasn’t joking.

  Jerria had blond hair down to her ass and wore a skimpy yellow bikini. Pert nipples gave away her aroused state. A week ago she’d have been the perfect welcome-home gift. A no-strings-attached romp all wrapped up in a teeny-weeny bikini. Now he was bothered by the assumption that he’d fall into bed with her—even if the assumption would have been true a week ago.

  This was totally messed up.

  “I’ve missed you.” She ran her fingers through his hair.

  Jake gripped her wrist and pulled it from his hair; then he slid her other hand off his thigh, where she’d taken purchase like a cat clawing its prey. He pushed to his feet and paced, leaving her to stare, jaw agape, from where she was kneeling beside the couch.

  He was just as confused as she was.

  “I’m too tired for this,” he mumbled. Maybe that was it.
Like hell that was it. Fiona had gotten under his skin.

  “Jake Braden too tired for sex?” She moved to his side, and he shrugged away from her pawing fingers. “I’m sure I can wake you up.”

  Everything felt wrong and grated on his nerves. The music was suddenly too loud. Jerria standing in his living room in a bikini with lust in her eyes made him feel dirty. The din of his friends out back felt like an intrusion. All combined, it riled him like fingernails scratching a blackboard.

  He needed to escape. He snagged his keys and headed out the front door.

  It was dark, and the cool night air woke him up. What was he doing? His eyes swept over the four-car garage, his Harley and Ducati sitting out front, and past that, the seven-acre estate. He debated climbing on one of his bikes and driving fast and far, but something told him that when he returned home, the demons would still be haunting him.

  He headed back inside and did what he’d never done in all the years he’d lived in Los Angeles. Instead of opening his doors to stars and models, he kicked them out, reclaiming his house. He ushered his friends out the door with excuses of needing to prepare for his upcoming gig.

  Unfortunately, that left him with silence.

  Jake wasn’t very good with silence.

  He sank into the couch and palmed his cell phone. There were any number of people he could call and shoot the breeze with, but that would negate having the house to himself. He didn’t want to shoot the shit. He wanted to understand what the hell was happening in his head. He leaned his elbows on his knees, then sat back with a frustrated sigh and stared up at the ceiling.

  Jake clenched his jaw against the nagging realization that he’d been pushing so far away that he’d fooled himself into believing it didn’t exist.

  Fiona hadn’t just gotten under his skin—in sixteen years, she’d never left.