by Layla Hagen
He takes off before I can ask for more details. After shutting the door, I grab a roll of napkins from the kitchen and head to my living room. Sitting on the floor, I open the box. My favorite pizza to boot. A smile plays on my lips. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I suspect who the sender was. But how? Why?
As if on cue, an incoming message pops on my phone with a photo of a pizza that is identical to mine.
Alex: You’re right. It’s the best damn pizza.
Summer: How did you make this happen?
Alex: There are advantages to being a star.
Biting into a slice of pizza, I succumb to the pleasure of the flavorful mix. Knowing we’re sharing dinner, even from a distance, fills me with warmth.
Summer: Thanks.
Alex: I’m a useful friend to keep around. It’s not all about helping me pretend I’m someone else, I promise.
Summer: Can I give you a list of my favorite restaurants, friend?
Feeling feisty, I type another message.
Summer: Can you have food delivered from other cities too?
Alex: You’ll be surprised at what I can do.
Sighing, I shove the last bite of the slice in my mouth. I know I’m being ridiculous, but a man hasn’t made me feel this special in a long time, maybe ever. I’m starting to like this friend-zone thing.
Summer: I’ll send you the details about the camp as soon as I finish my pizza.
Alex: Take your time.
After I finish eating, I open my laptop, cramming all the information about the camp into one e-mail, trying very hard not to think about Alex’s kiss-worthy lips and bite-worthy biceps. And definitely not thinking about that squeeze-worthy ass.
Chapter Seven
Summer
There are several perks of being the youngest in my family. Growing up, everyone had their place in the family hierarchy. Sebastian, Logan, and Pippa were the responsible ones, always looking after all of us. Alice was next in line, and I swear she was born kicking ass. My family didn’t come from money, and until the oldest trio set up Bennett Enterprises, we were scraping by. I don’t remember those times much, because I was a kid, but my parents made sure we youngsters didn’t become spoiled brats. Guess who was the official whip cracker, bossing us into doing tasks around the house? Alice.
Christopher and Max, the first pair of twins were the official family pranksters, playing the identical twin card every chance they got. Daniel and Blake, the second pair of twins, tried to emulate Christopher and Max, but since they couldn’t dethrone the pranksters, they became troublemakers. And then there was little old me, poking my nose in everyone’s business and generally being spoiled by everyone.
I can now return the favor by spoiling my nieces and nephews. I have an entire brood to throw birthday parties for. In another life, I’d be an event planner. I love organizing events: birthday parties, bachelorette parties, weddings. It’s my thing. I’m good at it—sometimes I go overboard, but hey, no one’s perfect.
And one could say I did go overboard for Audrey’s birthday party, if the number of balloons hanging from the ceiling of my brother Sebastian’s living room is an indication. The theme is Frozen, so we have mini Olafs everywhere.
“You’ve really gone overboard,” Sebastian says, sliding an arm around my shoulders.
I elbow his ribs lightly. “I think you mean to say, ‘You’re the best sister in the world, and you’ve outdone yourself. What would I do without you?’ But you have to say it like you believe it.”
He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “I’m so lucky you can read between the lines. Thanks for organizing all this.”
“How are you?” I inquire. A few months ago, he and his wife welcomed twins, a boy and a girl. They have their hands full with them in addition to Audrey and their son Will, so they gave me free rein with the organization.
“Okay.”
I sigh. Of course he’d say that. Getting my brother to admit the truth usually requires sneaky interrogation skills and emotional blackmail. But I have an inkling I’ll wear him down faster today, what with the mayhem surrounding us.
I tilt my head. “How are you really? Okay doesn’t count. I need a full sentence. If you’re feeling generous, you can even dish out sentences, plural. I promise to reduce the nagging accordingly.”
“I’m tired. Both Ava and I are tired, but that doesn’t mean we’re not okay. We’re learning that we should have valued sleep more when we had just Will and Audrey. I’m still trying to sell Ava on having a permanent nanny.”
Right now, they have someone helping them through the day, but I can see what he means. Raising four kids while they both work? As I watch the general commotion in the room, then focus on my sister Pippa walking toward us, my wheels are spinning.
I hold up a finger. “I have an idea. I can organize a spa day at home with the girls, and we can talk her into it. We can be very persuasive.”
“And very, very full of yourself. Why do you think you can convince my wife when I can’t?”
Pippa joins us, indulging in a turkey sandwich. Between bites, she says, “Because talking to girlfriends is different. Sometimes admitting to your man that you can’t do it all on your own makes you feel like you’re not enough.”
I nod sagely. “What she said.”
“But we’re together in this,” Sebastian argues.
“Trust me.” As an afterthought, Pippa adds. “Plus, we have skills you lack, brother.”
“Yep, listen to Pippa. She’s wise.”
Sebastian pulls me closer to him and hooks his other arm around Pippa’s waist. “Well, if you manage to convince her, I’ll take you two out to dinner.”
Oh, my brother is a jokester. “Now, see, I feel like we should get more out of this than a dinner.”
“Well, whatever the two of you come up with, I’ll be glad to indulge. Just make sure my wife relaxes that day and has a good time.”
“We will,” Pippa promises. As my brother heads to the bunch of kids grouped in the center of the room, I wonder for the millionth time if he’s actually human. He runs a billion-dollar corporation, finds time to woo his wife, and raise four little souls. I’m still going with a radioactive spider bite. Possibly vampire. Though I need a good reason for why he can walk in the sun.
“Can we schedule the girls’ day after I return from Lake Tahoe?” I ask Pippa.
“Sure. How did Olivia react to you taking off for two weeks?”
“Not happy, but nothing she can do about it. I have a lot of accrued vacation time.” I shrug, heading to the buffet with my sister on my heels.
“Plus, that place is up and running mostly because of you.”
“That too.” I don’t like to toot my own horn, but I kick ass at the gallery.
“Just saying, but you should think about opening your own again. You have far more experience than the first time around. And being your own boss has its perks,” she says as I load my plate with a second serving of cake.
After graduation, I felt on top of the world. I wanted to open my own gallery. My three oldest siblings, Sebastian, Logan, and Pippa, founded a jewelry company years ago, and it was wildly successful. They gave each member of the family shares in Bennett Enterprises, regardless if we were working for them or not, so I had money to fund the dream. The gallery didn’t bring enough revenue to even pay the fixed costs. Sebastian and Logan insisted I didn’t have to close it. After all, I could use the money from Bennett Enterprises to cover the costs. But I manned up and closed it. I didn’t want to be that person who lived off her siblings’ work.
My sister Alice and my brothers Blake and Daniel are their own bosses. Neither of them work at Bennett Enterprises. Alice and Blake co-own restaurants and bars, and Daniel runs an adventure center.
Of course, they built their businesses on a cutthroat business plan. I approached the gallery with a dreamy enthusiasm, overlooking some serious flaws in the plan. I know what Pippa is saying, but this is not the moment to star
t making plans.
“This is a birthday party. No work talk. Come on, let’s find Alice and plot Ava’s downfall.”
We find our sister Alice on the L-shaped couch we’ve dragged into a corner of the room to open up the space for the party. Pippa and I barely plop our asses on the soft cushions when Daniel walks up to us.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, how did it go with Alex?” he inquires.
“Okay. The kids loved him. He was very sweet with them, patient.”
“He’s going to go to St. Anne’s again?”
I shrug. “Maybe. He’s joining the Lake Tahoe camp.”
On my right, Alice stills. On my left, Pippa leans back.
“Wow. That’s one A-lister with a lot of free time,” Daniel says.
I shrug again. “He’s not filming anything now, and he’s got some time until he starts the promo tours.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” Daniel offers, shoving his hands in his pockets and returning to the party. Meanwhile, my sisters’ gazes are skewering me.
Alice speaks first. “You know, Pippa, I have the feeling our baby sister has been holding out on us.”
“I agree. Something doesn’t add up. She’s been mentioning Alex in every sentence today.”
“That’s not true,” I say indignantly. “Only every other sentence.”
Alice shakes her head. “But she’s failed to mention that she’ll spend the next two weeks with him.”
“That’s not true either. He’s spending time at the camp. I’m spending time at the camp. But we’re not spending it together.”
Pippa grins. “She’s rambling.”
“Oh God. Stop talking about me in the third person.”
Alice steals a bit of my cake, shoving it in her mouth. “Of course, as soon as you tell us everything. That kiss made a lasting impression, huh?”
I called them right away after getting home on Friday and spilled everything.
“You didn’t meet him. He’s even more charming than on screen. You’d have the hots for him too.”
Alice feigns shock. “No, I’m married.”
“So am I,” Pippa reminds me.
“I still can’t believe you made out with one of the hottest men in the world,” Alice says.
Pippa gives me a probing look. “You’ll be careful, right? You’ll be spending two weeks with him, and... I just don’t want you to get hurt. We all know you’re an incurable romantic.”
I point a finger at her. “Whose fault is that? You got me on the whole happily-ever-after train.” Yep, I’m one of those creatures feared by men worldwide, the kind who has dreamed about her wedding since she was a little girl. I knew the type of dress I wanted ever since I skimmed my first bridal magazine. “Besides, you’re projecting way too much. It was just a kiss because the surrounding was super romantic.”
It was a delicious kiss. It held so much intent and sinful promises that my toes still curl thinking about it. But the thought that someone of Alex’s caliber has given it half as much thought as I did is ridiculous. He’s lip-locked with some of the most gorgeous beauties who’ve graced the red carpet, Amy notwithstanding.
Alice wiggles her eyebrows. “A kiss with the Alex Westbrook.”
It dawns on me that Pippa’s quiet. Pippa—like me—is never quiet unless she’s cooking up something. I’m almost afraid of what’s going to come out of her mouth next.
“How was it?” Pippa asks in a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Worth repeating?”
Yep, I was 100 percent right to be afraid, because now she brought forth the one thought I’ve been fighting to bury in the back of my mind.
“You two are a bad influence. You’re my older sisters. You’re supposed to talk sense into me.”
Alice cocks a brow, giving my cake longing looks. Unfortunately, there is nowhere for me to shift it so that it’s out of her reach. I’m flanked on both sides. Alice is the known food thief in our family, and I have no intention of sharing my cake.
“Sometimes a little fun is just what the doctor ordered,” Alice muses.
“Right, that’s it. I’m officially downgrading you from my trusted advisers to untrustworthy, corrupt influencers,” I announce.
Pippa flashes me a grin. “What would you do without us, though?”
Actually, I know exactly what I’d do, because I was on my own in Rome. I loved the city, the food, and working at the museum, but I missed my family so much; it was like a physical ache I carried around with me. Then, after I returned, Alice moved to London for a while, but that was a bit easier to bear because at least I was close to the rest of my family. But I’m so happy that she and her husband moved back to San Francisco. I love it when the three of us are together, plotting and laughing, and plotting some more. I wish they hadn’t fed the little devil on my shoulder, the one that spawns unruly, wicked thoughts of more kissing, but now that they have, well... bring it on.
Chapter Eight
Alex
Next Monday, I hop in my new car at 9:00 a.m., armed with coffee for the three-hour drive to Lake Tahoe. When I make it past the city limits, my manager, Preston, calls me. I put him on loudspeaker.
“Hey, Preston.”
“Already at Lake Tahoe?”
“On my way.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want to alert TMZ? Other outlets will pick up the story. It’ll be great for your image. This is gold for the public, especially since the media is now running away with the story that your cheating caused the breakup.”
“No, I don’t want press.” Spending time with those kids at St. Anne felt like the best thing I’d done in a long time. It’s easy to forget movies aren’t all about box office and awards, that at the front and center, it’s really about entertaining people. Away from the camera, I can lower my guard and interact with them rather than act for them, and that’s what they need. To see the human side of the superhero on screen. I don’t want to bring the press into this, turn it into a PR circus where it’ll be all about the best angle, the widest and fakest smile.
“Fine, have it your way. I don’t need to remind you to keep a low profile where women are concerned.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Well, thought I’d do it anyway. Just talked to the studio this morning, and they reminded me to remind you that, per your contract, you can’t be seen dating other women until the premiere. I’m going to take this a step further and advise you not to be seen with women in public at all. The tabloids will spin it into something it’s not. I know this isn’t an ideal situation. But there are only a few months until the premiere. Then you’ll be a free agent. Until then, just make sure you don’t fall into bed with a resort employee or something. You know better than to get involved with anyone outside the industry. I’ve got to go, some advertising contracts just came in. Keep in touch. Let me know if you change your mind about the reporters.”
“I won’t.”
His comment about not dating anyone outside the acting scene nags at me long after the line goes static. In my early days in Hollywood, I naively thought I could strive for the A-list and keep my old life. I had a rude wake-up call when the relationship with my high school girlfriend fell apart. I tried dating someone outside the industry one more time, two years later, but that didn’t work out either. I started to understand why actors usually date actors. People in the industry know how things work, the sacrifices required. The long time spent apart on different sets, the lack of privacy, having most of your time planned out months in advance. It isn’t fair to ask any woman to put up with that if she doesn’t have to anyway for her own career.
When I arrive at the resort, there is no bus in the parking lot, so I assume the kids haven’t arrived yet. Summer said the entire St. Anne’s group will travel in a school bus. The four-star resort has a quaint, fisherman’s village air to it. The main building houses the reception, the restaurant, and the conference rooms where some of the kids’ classes will take place. The rooms are grouped in
small bungalows across the property, spilling onto the waterfront.
“If there is anything more I can do, Mr. Westbrook, please let me know.” The receptionist smiles, her eyes traveling up and down my body. “You can call the reception anytime. I can give you my personal number too.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say coolly, grabbing the key she slides me across the counter. She looks a little insulted at the brush-off, but I’ve learned it’s best to cut off these things at the pass.
Following the signs on the property, I roll my suitcase on the path snaking between the trees, right until the perfectly manicured green lawn spills onto the waterfront. My bungalow is only a stone’s throw away from the water, and a solid walk from the other bungalows.
As I approach, I hear two female voices.
“I am not allowed to let anyone inside,” the unknown voice says. “I received specific instructions.”
“I know,” Summer says with exasperation. “I gave those instructions. I didn’t mean myself.”
Rounding the corner, the two come into view. A redhead wearing the same uniform as the receptionist stands in front of the door, arms crossed. I can only see Summer’s back, but damn what a sight. She’s wearing a white, short dress. My mouth waters as I take in the shape of her ass and the swell of her hips. She’s not tall, but in this dress, her legs look endless.
“I’m telling you, I know him. And I’m not leaving until you let me in.” Summer plants her hands on her hips, channeling all that fierceness inside her. This woman is a well of passion. I had a taste of that the night I kissed her, but I know I just tapped the surface. An image of her wrapping her legs around my waist flashes in my mind, but I push it away, forcing my feet up the stairs leading to the porch of the bungalow. The redhead’s eyes widen. Summer turns her head and sighs in obvious relief.
“You’re here, thank God. Maybe she’ll believe you if you say that I’m not a crazy groupie.”
I offer more than words. I rest my arm on Summer’s shoulders, pulling her into my side. Damn, she feels like she belongs here. She melts into me, clearly feeling just as at ease. It’s as if our bodies are already familiar with each other.