by Elicia Hyder
“Won’t you be at the party tomorrow?”
“Of course. He’s coming with you, right?”
“He is.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.” She glanced at her watch. “Since you’re working tomorrow, you should wrap things up early and get out of here by noon.”
I straightened in my seat. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. I’ll tell Audrey myself.”
I clapped my hands together. “Thank you, Ava.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m supposed to tell you that Jake’s going to do one song for the video tomorrow. We were thinking we could start the video inside the house before he walks out to greet the guests. We’ll show the cake and maybe ask a few of his friends to jump in on the video—”
“His friends?” I asked.
“Yeah. Lincoln Hunt, Marty Atkins, and Clint Jones will all be there, I’m sure.” Something snagged her attention. “I think Trip Wiley might be coming as well.”
I straightened in my chair. “Trip Wiley? The Trip Wiley?”
“Yep. The actor. They’re pretty good friends, and Jake mentioned something about him being here on location.”
I gripped my temples and laughed. “How is this my life?”
“Welcome to Nashville, sweetheart. After he introduces a few of his guests, then he’ll go straight to the stage and play a condensed version of the album’s second single. It’s not even out yet.”
“Which song?” I asked.
“An acoustic love song called ‘Never Be Mine.’ Audrey thinks it will be a great way to tease the audience with it before it hits the radio, and the sound quality will be better for the video.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. That had been my idea. Not Audrey’s. I flopped back against the seat. “Wow.”
She smiled and nodded. “It’s brilliant, right? As difficult as she can be, Audrey does have some of the best ideas in the business.”
My teeth clenched. “Yep. That’s a brilliant idea.”
“You OK?”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Sure. I’m fine. It’s going to be dark Saturday night, so I’m assuming this time we will have lights and audio.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Is there some kind of script Audrey wants to follow?” I asked.
“I think she’s going to let Jake wing it.”
My eyes doubled. “Is that a good idea?”
She smiled. “Have you ever seen Jake perform live?”
“No.”
She stood and leaned one hand on my desk. “You’re going to see why he won Entertainer of the Year last year.”
I knew that was meant to impress or excite me, but the warning bells clanging in my mind made it hard to feel anything other than terror. Uncensored. Unscripted. And broadcast live to hundreds of thousands of people. I let out a shaky breath.
“Don’t worry. He can handle it.” She pointed at me from my door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucy. Don’t work too late.”
When she was gone, I drafted the copy for the social-media posts including the links to buy Jake’s new album online. All I would have to do at the party is log in, press record, and pray for the whole thing not to blow up in my face.
At noon, I tiptoed down the hallway and out the front door without being noticed. The last thing I wanted was for Audrey to spot me and make me stay. I also wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold my tongue if she stopped me. Jake performing the acoustic song had been my idea. Not hers. But to confront her would only put a damper on my otherwise wonderful day. I don’t think I exhaled until I reached the parking garage undetected.
It was nice not having to navigate the treacherous interstate during rush hour, and I made it home in record time. Olivia was there, dressed for work with her hair in a tight bun on her head. She split a glance between me and the clock on the oven when I walked into the kitchen.
“Is everything OK?” she asked.
“Yeah. My boss let me leave early.”
“That’s nice.”
“Guess what.”
“What?”
I gripped her arm. “I’m going to West’s house tonight.”
“Congratulations.” She held up a finger. “Hold on a sec.” She walked to her bedroom, then returned a moment later and handed me a business card. “She does the best Brazilian wax job in Nashville. Just off Church Street in Brentwood too.”
I looked at the car. “Oh no. I’m not getting waxed.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself, but he would love it.”
I put my hand on my hip. “How would you know what he would love?”
She leaned in like she was going to tell me a secret. “Because he and I do the same job.”
“Olivia!”
She winked. “Or hopefully he does, for your sake.”
The heat that filled my face actually burned. “You’re…That’s…” I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my god.”
She was laughing at me. “Are you going to make it to practice tomorrow?”
I fanned my face with a piece of junk mail off the counter. “Yes. I’ll put my bag and a change of clothes in the back of the car just in case I don’t come home tonight.”
“I may not come home either. Styx lives just a few blocks from the restaurant.”
“How’s that going?” I asked.
She grinned. “Good. We have to be really careful though. She lives in the same building as Medusa. It’s like we’re sneaking around on our parents.”
“Would it be so bad if you got caught?” I asked.
“With the warpath Medusa has been on lately?”
“Good point.”
“Besides, have you told anybody you’re dating a sponsor?”
My nose scrunched up.
“So you understand.”
“Not much longer though, right? We can both come out of the closet after the skills test and it’s only three weeks away.”
“That’s right.” She sighed. “I can’t wait.” She looked at her phone. “I’ve got to run. I’ve got a mandatory staff meeting soon. Let me know how it goes tonight.”
“I will.”
“Good luck,” she said with a grin.
“Thanks. I need it.”
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I pulled into West’s driveway, but what I found surprised the hell out of me. It was an old log cabin. In Brentwood, of all places. It wasn’t very big, two stories with dormer windows poking out of the roof. And it had a front porch as wide as the house lined with a handrail made of gnarly mountain laurel. A stone chimney stretched high above the rooftop, puffing out gray smoke that seemed to mingle with the clouds.
The driveway wound around the side of the house and down a hill. Wait, the house was three stories counting the basement and two-car garage underneath. I parked in front of one of the stall doors and slid out of my SUV.
In the quiet of the woods, an animal scampered through the leaves and suddenly all I could think about was my dad. He’d love this place.
Before starting up the rock steps to the front path, I smoothed the skirt of the short ivory dress I’d settled on for the evening. It was light and airy with loose long sleeves that were slit open from the shoulder to the elbow showing just a glimpse of skin underneath. My hair was down and curled in loose waves, and while I did not get a bikini wax, I did take the time to shave my legs all the way up.
The front path was long up to the porch, giving my nerves ample time to ramp into overdrive by the time I rang the doorbell. And then the door was open, and West was standing there, holding two glasses of red wine. He was barefoot, wearing loose blue jeans and a plain white undershirt.
“Wow,” he said, his eyes running down the length of my dress. “You look…wow. Come in.” He stepped aside, handing me a wine glass as I entered the house. “Congratulations on a very successful week.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and sipped the wine as he closed the door behind me.
The
interior had been recently remodeled, no surprise there. It was still rugged and manly with oversized furniture facing a burning fire on the rock hearth. Tall windows looked out over the woods and a large fenced-in backyard.
I inhaled oregano, garlic, sausage maybe. “Something smells amazing.”
“I made dinner. Or I tried to, anyway.” He pointed at his T-shirt. “I’m afraid I lost my favorite button up in the process.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
“I didn’t realize marinara sauce could blow up.” He made an explosion motion with his free hand. “Sauce everywhere.”
“Remind me, and I’ll clean up your shirt before I leave.”
He hooked his arm around my waist, a mischievous smile on his chiseled face. “Who says I’m going to let you go?”
He bent to kiss me, and just as our lips connected, a violent rumble like thunder with claws clattered across the hardwood floor. Before either of us could react, two heavy paws slammed against my lower back. As I fell forward into West, wine splashed everywhere.
“Cash, down!” West boomed, reaching behind me.
West released me to wrangle the dog out the front door. When he’d tumbled the deadbolt, he turned back toward me. The front of his jeans and his shirt were covered in bright pink splotches. “I’m so sorry,” he said, coming back to my side. “I put him in his bedroom, but he’s figured out how to open the door.”
“A dog that can open doors?” I asked, rubbing my sore hip.
“Yeah. I’m going to have to switch to doorknobs rather than the handles you push down. Are you OK?” He swore when he looked down at my dress. “Oh, Lucy. That damn dog.”
Wine drizzled down my chest. “I’ll live, but I do need to wash it before the stain sets.”
He took my empty glass and put it down on the counter in the kitchen. “Come on.” He took my hand. “I’ll find you something to wear.”
Past the kitchen was the master bedroom. It was big, almost the size of the living room. Another fireplace burned in the corner with a large television mounted above it. Two double doors led out to a small deck.
Walking toward the bathroom, West pulled off his shirt, and I no longer cared about the craftsmanship of the cabin. His broad shoulders formed a solid capstone to the perfect V-shape of his torso. They bulged and relaxed as he pulled the shirt free from his arms and tossed it into a hamper sitting against the wall. I spun around before he caught me staring again, my pulse throbbing in my ears. I heard the fly on his jeans unzip, and I leaned against the footboard of the bed.
A moment later, his footfalls reentered the bedroom. When I turned, he was dressed in a new pair of jeans and a fitted red T-shirt with a busy black print on the front. He pointed at it with both fingers. “Now if I spill anything, no one can tell.”
“Good plan,” I said, still unable to peel myself away from the support of the wooden frame.
“You all right?”
“Yes.” Nope.
He walked to the dresser and pulled open the second drawer. “I’m afraid the only stuff I have that will remotely fit you is pajama pants and Tshirts.” He pulled out one of each and closed the drawer with his elbow. “I hope they’re OK.”
I accepted them with a forced smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ll let you change.” He took a few steps toward the door.
“West?”
He stopped.
I gathered all my hair over one shoulder and turned my back to him. “Can you help with the buttons?”
Full disclosure: this was a line. This was a deplorable line of damsel-in-distress bullshit. I’d put the dress on by myself, and I could certainly get out of it by myself. It wasn’t that complicated. But why the hell would I? I considered myself a respectable, young—dare I say, lady—but only so far. I’d had all the virtue and honorability I could stand.
He stepped to my back, and his fingers freed the pearl nub held by a delicately crocheted loop at the base of my neck. Then he freed the second. And, slowly, the last. His hands lingered there for a moment, just between my shoulder blades, before tracing the rim of the fabric up to my shoulders. Was he trembling? I sure as hell was.
A chill rippled through me as he pushed the neckline down to my arms.
Then he paused.
“I had a plan.” His voice cracked with tension. “I had a whole romantic plan for tonight. Wine. Dinner by candlelight. I even bought strawberries.”
I turned around to face him, holding the front of the dress up over my chest. “Do you want to wait?”
He pulled my hand away, letting the spoiled fabric drop to my ankles. His eyes fell with it. “God, Lucy. What do you think?”
Fifteen
I should have gone for the Brazilian wax job.
West’s eyes, his hands—his mouth—had been everywhere. And it was good. Damn good. Slow and intentional, desperate but restrained. Had I any inclination to leave the bed at all, I would’ve called Olivia at work to tell her about it. But neither of us moved, not until long after the sun had dipped behind the oak trees that surrounded the house.
Dinner was ruined. The pasta had clumped together into one big ball of sticky carbs. The sauce had gone dry and had burned to the bottom of the pan. And the breadsticks were still frozen in the freezer. West ordered pizza, then rewarded Cash with the leftovers for helping him get laid.
He put on a movie in the living room, but we made love on the couch instead. A couple of times, West’s attention snagged on the bruises dotting my hip bones, but I distracted him with other body parts to keep him from asking questions.
It went on like this all night. Intermittent bouts of sleepy sex so effortless and surreal I had trouble distinguishing if I was awake or lost in a sensational dream.
He was inside me when the sun came up.
Then we dozed until the alarm on my phone sounded at eight. His arm tightened around me. “No,” he whispered, his breath warm and hot against the back of my shoulder.
My brain was saying the same thing. Not to mention my legs. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk, let alone skate. I wanted to stay in bed, but my alarm was chirping otherwise through my cell-phone speakers. Still, I snuggled back against him and laced my fingers with his. “Last night was amazing.”
“Amazing doesn’t do last night justice.”
I wiggled against him. “Wanna do it again before I leave?”
He laughed softly in my ear. “Want to? Yes. Able to? Not if you held a gun to my head.” His hand squeezed mine. “Why do you have to go?”
“I have a workout group that meets on Saturdays. You know that.”
“Are you kidding? I won’t have to go to the gym for a week after last night.”
My eyelids were feeling heavy again, so I pushed myself up, letting the sheet gather around my waist. “I made a commitment to be there. I have to go.”
His fingertips trailed up and down my spine. “What time’s the party tonight?”
“I’m supposed to be there by seven.” I looked back at him. “Did I tell you Trip Wiley might be there?”
He was smiling with his eyes still closed as he held up two fingers. “At least twice.”
I couldn’t help but touch his bicep as he curled his arm back around his pillow. “Can I use your shower?”
“If I say no, will you stay in bed with me?”
I didn’t answer.
He opened one eye to look at me. “Of course.”
I bent and kissed the side of his face. He groaned when I moved to get up.
As I feared, I had gummy legs walking to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, and as I waited for the water to warm, I surveyed the damage in the mirror. My lips were red and raw. My hair was standing on end. And there was a suspicious mark on the back of my bad shoulder that could have been part of the fading bruise or could have been a hickey.
“Hey, babe. Do you know what I did with my purse?” I called back to the bedroom as I stepped into the massive glass shower.
“Not
sure, but I’ll look for it.”
I watched through the open bathroom door to try and catch a glimpse of him naked. Then there it was. Six foot something of solid man. He returned a moment later with my bag narrowly hiding his better parts. “Do you need it in there?”
“There are two travel bottles of shampoo and conditioner in there. Can you hand them to me?”
He put the bag on the counter and rifled through it. “I think someone was planning to seduce me and stay the night,” he teased.
“I’m not sorry.”
“Better not be.” Suddenly, he laughed. “What the hell were you planning to happen last night?”
I wiped my eyes. “What?”
“You’ve got bandages, moleskin, latex gloves.” He held up a strip of black fabric. “Are these fishnet stockings?”
Whoops.
He was grinning when he pulled the shower door open and handed me my bottles. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Oh, West. You have no idea.
Rather than lying, I poured the shampoo on my head and lathered it into my hair.
His laughter slowly fizzled until he was studying me like a predator about to devour its prey. “You know what you asked me earlier?” He stepped into the shower and pulled the door closed behind him.
“Yes.”
He pulled my slick, wet body against his and proved he wasn’t as spent as he thought he was.
I was late to practice. Very late.
And when I got there, I had to change in the bathroom from West’s pajamas to my workout clothes. When I was finally geared up and warmed up, the team was working on whips. I recognized the move from watching the veterans practice. Out on the track, Olivia skated up behind Grace, grabbed her arm, and Grace slung her forward. Olivia sailed around the track.
“Where’ve you been?”
Medusa skated up behind me, the heat of her glare almost palpable.
“Overslept.”
She studied my face like she was debating whether to tell me to get to work or to get out. “What the hell are you waiting for? Get out there.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I sprinted on my skates to catch up with my friends—and to get away from Medusa. “Come on, Lucy!” Grace yelled, holding her hand out.