Ship-Wrecked (Love Is... Book 6)

by Cassie Cross

  Ship-Wrecked

  Cassie Cross

  Contents

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  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Coming Soon!

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  Chapter One

  When I was a kid, my dad built a little stage for me in the backyard, complete with red velvet curtains that my mom sewed from an old bolt of fabric she found at the thrift store. My brother Beckett draped strings of Christmas lights along the curtain rod draped across the two wooden beams holding the whole thing together, and I was artfully lit by two flood lights hanging up on the side of the garage.

  Every Friday night during the summer, right before dinner, they’d dutifully watch my truly terrible one-woman shows. After, my dad would hand me a bouquet of carnations that he’d yanked from the garden, and when Mom tucked me in those nights, she gave me the confidence to keep trying, to keep getting better, to do whatever it took to make my dreams come true.

  Their help and encouragement carried me through my teens, when the stage productions became more sophisticated, and an agent found me one humid August evening when I was playing Beatrice at Shakespeare In the Park.

  Now, with twelve commercials, two TV shows and ten movies under my belt, my life is every bit as amazing as I dreamed it’d be. It’s a glamorous life that only comes with two real downsides, but those downsides are the bane of my existence at the moment. They are, in no particular order:

  1. The paparazzi, and

  2. The internet

  Have I used the paps to my advantage before? Yes. Have they ruined my life? Also yes.

  The internet is another double-edged sword. Perfect when I want to buy the veggie peeler from the Instagram ad that sucked me in at 2 AM, but not-so-perfect when pictures of my boyfriend cheating on me with his gorgeous co-star are splashed everywhere, courtesy of the aforementioned paparazzi. That’s when everyone and their mother become armchair body language experts analyzing my every move, guessing my emotional state, and plotting revenge on my behalf.

  I just wanted to be humiliated and heartbroken in peace, not have pictures of me drowning my sorrows in a couple of scoops from Salt & Straw with my best friend Kendall posted on all the gossip sites.

  I should ignore it, I know, but it’s hard not to look. It’s like knowing there are people whispering about you, being able to listen without them ever knowing, and somehow not doing it. The temptation is too strong!

  That’s why I’ve grown to love the little things, like walking my dog Gigi on a sunny fall day, and stopping off for a coffee at my favorite shop where I know no one will notice or care that I’m there. It’s mid-morning on a beautiful Tuesday, and I have twenty minutes before a meeting that my publicist hastily arranged yesterday. A certain dread has been gnawing at my stomach since she called, and I want to drown it out with an iced vanilla latte with a mountain of whipped cream on top.

  Gigi’s happily trotting along, sniffing at the trees that line the sidewalk and excitedly looking to passersby for pets. I scoop her up and put her into the bag that’s slung across my shoulder. My brother makes fun of me for having a “purse puppy,” as he calls her, but I’m a woman on the go who was in need of an easily portable friend. She’s sat with me through countless flights, and curled up in my lap on sets across the world. I just love her to pieces, and it seems like the feeling is mutual.

  The barista—Jen—greets me with an infectious smile when I walk in. She makes the latte and hands over a little treat for Gigi. I stuff a twenty in her tip jar for the kindness and head back out into the sunshine, where I take a seat at one of the two tables outside and put Gigi down at my feet.

  A few people walk by without paying any attention to me, but one girl makes a stutter step, gives me just a quick second glance, trying to place my face. I don’t get it often living here in a city full of famous faces, but occasionally I’ll get that look, just a second or two of an eye squint or a flash of recognition.

  I take out my phone to keep me occupied and to check the time, and on my third sip of coffee, my bag shifts to the left and Gigi takes off like a bat out of hell, her leash trailing behind her. I bolt up and run after her, hoping one of the people on the sidewalk will grab her before she does something stupid like run into the street. Thankfully, it seems like her target is a golden retriever at the end of the block who is safely on the sidewalk.

  I run around a few people, break through one group, only to see Gigi and the golden retriever meet with happy kisses and wiggling butts. The retriever’s owner isn’t anywhere in sight, but he has a water bowl at least, so he’s not completely abandoned.

  I go for Gigi’s leash first, just to get ahold of her, but she and her new friend are too excited. The golden starts chasing her around the tree trunk, and before I know it, the golden’s leash is wrapped around my calves and my balance is quickly fading. One playful lunge at Gigi later, and I’m on my way to busting ass on the pavement. I cringe and prepare myself for impact.

  Impact that never comes. At least where I’m expecting it.

  Instead of hitting the sidewalk, I fall back into what feels like a wall of muscle that smells like soap and happiness. The wall of muscle’s muscular arms wrap around me and set me to rights, leaving me fully vertical and a little bit dazed.

  Wall of Muscle untangles the leashes and scoops Gigi up, then gives the golden a few pats on the head. When I get a glimpse of his face, I hear angels singing.

  He’s tall, broad, could probably carry me, the golden and Gigi up Runyon Canyon without breaking a sweat. He has sparkling blue eyes made brighter by the sun shining on them, artfully tousled blondish-brown hair and a movie-star smile with a slightly crooked front tooth.

  As a matter of fact, he may actually be a movie star. He looks kinda familiar, but I don’t want to do that thing that people do to me and stare at him a little too long trying to place his face.

  “I think this fell out of your bag,” he says, looking down at Gigi. I wrap my leash around my wrist to be safe, but he doesn’t let her go. He does, however, hand over my bag. And my coffee.

  I think I’m in love.

  He’s wearing a nice-fitting v-neck t-shirt that shows off his muscles. Maybe I stare at his forearms for a little longer than is appropriate.

  “You saved my coffee. And my bag. And my dog.”

  He smiles, and it’s breathtaking. “Yeah, well, it didn’t seem like a good idea to leave the first two unattended, and the third looked like he was about to knock you on your ass.”

  “She,” I correct. “Gigi.”

  His cute brows crinkle. “You named your dog Gigi?”

  “I adopted her right before I left to work in Paris for a little while, and my brother was making fun of me for getting a dog that I could carry in a bag but thought purse puppies were common in Paris and suggested I name her something French. He jokingly started calling her Gigi, and it stuck.”

  He’s smiling at me like he’s completely captivated. Yeah, he’s totally an actor.

  “Sorry for rambling, it’s not really an interesting story.”

  “Oh,” he says, leaning in closer. “I’m interested.”

  My heart knocks against my breastbone a few times, and then Gigi breaks the spell by licking a dollop of whipped cream off of his arm that must have splashed there during his daring
rescue. He scratches that spot behind Gigi’s ear that makes her right hind leg go haywire, and I think she’s fallen in love.

  My phone buzzes, the five-minute countdown to my meeting with my publicist.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, genuinely meaning it. “I have a meeting in a few that I need to get to.”

  “One you can take your dog to? That’s my kind of meeting.”

  “I hope it’s a good one,” I say, looking down at the golden retriever who’s nudging my hand and wanting more pets. I happily oblige, then look over into the nearest cafe to see if I spot anyone inside. “Maybe I should stay and make sure this little guy’s owner comes out.”

  “I can do it,” the guy says, but his eyes stay glued to me. He rakes them down my body on his way to glance at the dog, and the weight of his gaze makes my hair stand on end. “I think this belongs to you.” He moves to put Gigi back in my arms, but she doesn’t want to budge, not that I blame her.

  “Maybe not anymore,” I laugh.

  He manages to hand her over to me, and I take a step away, just to remind myself that I absolutely cannot stay here any longer.

  “Thank you for the rescue,” I say with a smile.

  “Anytime. It was definitely my pleasure.” He grins back and licks his lips. I have an intense and overwhelming desire to kiss them, which is a new thing for me. I’ve never really understood what kissable lips were until I saw his.

  “You’re gonna stay and make sure his owner comes out?”

  He places his hand on the center of his chest and says, “Promise.”

  “Okay, um...thank you. Again. Bye.”

  He laughs. “Bye.”

  I float over to my publicist’s building, only a little disappointed that he didn’t ask for my number. It’s probably for the best. The last time I got drawn into something with a pair of gorgeous eyes and a hot body, he made a fool of me and I’m still living it down. It’s better to stay away from eyes and bodies like that and find a nice, boy-next-door accountant to settle down with when the time is right. Someone who maybe doesn’t set my world on fire, but someone who’s safe.

  Yeah, that would ne nice.

  Stupidly, I take one last look as I open the door to head to my appointment. He’s petting the dog, but he looks up and our eyes meet.

  I smile once more and step inside.

  “I have an idea that I want to float by you,” my publicist Claudia says from her perch on the couch across from me. Next to her is Keith, another manager with the firm who I’ve met at a few parties. The addition of a third party into this proposal makes me entirely too curious about what this idea is, and it also makes me dread the answer.

  I glide my hand down Gigi’s back for a little emotional support.

  “Okay,” say, dragging the word out.

  “Cam was an asshole for cheating on you, and he deserves an eternity in Hell being miserable for what he did, but sweetie, I think we’ve done about all we can with the jilted girlfriend angle.”

  “I am the jilted girlfriend,” I argue. It’s a fact, not an angle.

  She looks over at Keith like she expected that one. They have some kind of non-verbal communication that makes me uneasy, then she rests her elbows on her knees and leans forward like some kind of high school guidance counselor. “I know you are,” she says, like she’s soothing a hysterical child. “But I think it’s time for us to knock him out of the spotlight and get our own win.”

  “How?”

  “You have three movies coming out in the next four months. You’re the lead in one of them, and it’s a romantic comedy. We need to get you in the news with a positive spin, and we need to get people’s eyeballs on you and their butts in the seats of your movies. It’s critical that this run of pictures is successful, and I want to give you the best shot that I can.”

  “What exactly are you proposing?”

  She looks over at Keith again. “We’ve been talking, and I think we’ve come up with something that will boost your exposure in a good way. A mutually beneficial situation.”

  My pulse ratchets up. “Mutually beneficial for who?”

  “I want to set you up with one of Keith’s clients. He has a tendency to get in bar fights, and you have a tendency to go on sad little ice cream dates with your friends.”

  My eyebrows scrunch together. Sad little ice cream dates? I don’t pay her 15% to put down my comfort food preferences. “Listen—”

  “I think you two would look great together, and nothing sells more than a bad boy changed by the love of a good woman. And he’d dote on you, you’d become the next hottest ship.”

  “The next hottest ship?” I ask, wondering how on earth she even knows that word.

  “Absolutely.”

  “You think the way for me to move on in the public eye is to get involved in a…in a showmance?”

  Claudia and Keith answer simultaneously. “Yes.”

  “You want me to fake date someone for publicity,” I say, like some kind of idiot who can’t completely grasp the concept. It seems insane, but Claudia’s insane ideas have always had huge, positive effects on my career.

  And, if I’m honest with myself, I know she’s right. I had gained some steam from being the wronged woman, but now, three months later, Cam and Angelica are still together and I’m still going to Salt & Straw with Kendall on Saturday nights.

  Maybe a showmance isn’t the worst idea.

  “Who is it? Who do you think should be my fake boyfriend?”

  Keith looks through the glass doors behind me and motions for someone to come in.

  The air in the room swooshes as it does, and I give myself a moment to calm down. I put Gigi on the cushion next to me, then stand up to meet my fate.

  Only I’ve already met him.

  “You?” I ask, completely stunned as I stand face-to-face with Wall of Muscle.

  “Me.” He laughs, and it makes my knees kinda weak. “I’m River,” he says, offering his hand.

  I want to kiss him again, and that’s how I know that faking anything with this guy is the first stop on a road to disaster for my heart. I should say no, I should ask if there’s anyone else. I should pretend I have a stomach ache and vacate the premises.

  Instead, I take River’s hand. This tingling warmth rushes up my arm when his skin touches mine.

  “I’m in big trouble,” I whisper. My brain’s filter is completely gone.

  The corner of his mouth quirks up. “What?”

  I clear my throat. “I’m Skye.”

  “Skye,” he repeats, like a prayer. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Chapter Two

  River and I must stand here for too long gazing at each other with dopey grins on our dumb faces, because Claudia clears her throat to break us out of it. When I look over, she and Keith both look like a couple of cats who ate canaries.

  Like they know they’ve made a good match.

  A good fake match. It’s incredibly important that I remember that.

  “You two know each other?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No. Well, kind of…yes? We just met downstairs. Gigi took off to make friends with a golden retriever and River here caught me when I got caught up in their leashes. And he saved my coffee.”

  “A true prince,” Claudia teases.

  Hearing her name, Gigi lets out an anxious whine. I look down, and her little paws are resting on River’s calf; she’s just begging to be picked up. River obliges her, and she gives him a few kisses in return.

  “The dog’s owner came back, by the way” he says. “It was a girl, her name is Maggie.”

  The fact that he actually stayed makes me smile. “The owner or the dog?”

  “The dog. I didn’t ask the owner’s name, although I can go back down there and find out if you really wanna know.” He playfully makes a move toward the door, and I grab his big bicep to drag him back.

  “Not so much, no. So…I’ll be honest, my first instinct is that this is a bad idea, but all the things
I’ve thought were bad ideas turned out to be great ones because Claudia is a genius, and that’s why I keep paying her.”

  “Thanks?” Claudia says, unsure if she should be offended.

  River looks over at Keith. “I don’t know if I’d call you a genius, but…”

  Keith laughs. “I’d worry about you if you did.”

  I take a seat and River follows, still holding Gigi.

  “Just so we can get better acquainted, you’re here because I’m a…what did you call it, Claudia?”

  “Jilted girlfriend,” she provides helpfully.

  “Yes. Although I guess now it’s jilted ex-girlfriend. My ex was a costar in a movie of mine, and we became involved on set. Apparently that’s a habit of his, even when he’s already in a relationship.”

  A look of unchecked fury on my behalf flashes across his face, but it melts into a sympathetic look that I’ve come to hate in the month since those pictures came out. Somehow it’s nice and comforting on him.

  “Yeah, I read about that.”

  I nod, closing my eyes. “Of course you did.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says like he genuinely means it. “You’re here because I could use a little…” he looks over at Keith for some help.

  “Reputation boost.”

  “I heard you like to get into bar fights. Mmmm, unchecked male aggression.”

  From the way he rolls his shoulders, I can tell my assessment rankles him.

  “It’s not unchecked, it’s targeted at a specific person, a…a group of people, for reasons that…” he looks over at Keith and Claudia, who are hanging on the edge of their seats, waiting for an explanation. “For reasons that aren’t really important right now except to say that while it is aggression, it is definitely not unchecked. I don’t go around starting random bar fights.”