Epic Lies (Epic Fail Book 2)

by Trudy Stiles

  As I approach my private hideaway, I notice that it’s been taken over by someone else, her feet hanging out the end, and the rest of her covered by the privacy curtains that surround the lounge. What the hell?

  I’m completely out of breath, and I know my bottle of water and several towels are on that lounge, next to the stranger that totally snagged my perch for the day. I don’t know what gets into me, but I rip open the curtains, angry that my privacy was breached.

  “Excuse me, but…”

  I choke on my words. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is asleep on my lounge. Her hair splayed out behind her, her arms spread wide. She’s laying awkwardly as if she literally passed out falling backward. She begins to stir, and as she opens her eyes, recognition sets in.

  “Giselle?”

  Giselle

  Present

  “GISELLE?”

  I squint to see who just let the massive amount of sunshine through the shades that I drew about a half hour ago. After traveling practically all day, I needed a nap and to be away from all of the commotion at the bar. I found this glorious private lounge, pulled the curtains around me, and was asleep within minutes. I raise my hands to shield my eyes, trying to block out the sun. “Can I help you?” I say, a tall figure standing in front of me starts to come into focus. Holy crap.

  “Dax?” It can’t be him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks and folds his arms over his chest. His incredibly toned, tattooed, bare, sexy chest. “And this is my lounge.”

  I sit up on my elbows, my hair falling around my face. I can feel the remnants of drool on the side of my cheek, and I hope he can’t see it. I’m a freaking mess.

  “Your name wasn’t on it,” I say and huff. “And I could ask you the same question. Are you following me?”

  “What?” he asks.

  “Did you follow me down here?” I ask, and I realize by the look on his face that he has no idea why I’m accusing him of stalking me. If anything, he probably thinks I stalked him here because he is a rock star, after all.

  “You’re kidding, right?” he says and reaches past me to grab a towel from next to my head. His hand brushes my hair, and for a second, I think he’s going to climb on top of me. Instead, he stands back up and wipes his sweaty brow and face. He’s bright red like he was just working out. Sweat covering his chest and most of his body, and he looks sunburned.

  “You’re really burned,” I state the obvious, and he winces as he wipes the back of his neck.

  “Yeah,” he says and drops the sweaty towel next to my feet.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Dax, why are you here?”

  “I needed some time away, so I came here. I don’t feel like I need to provide an explanation to you, do I?” His attitude is throwing me off. Is he annoyed that I’m here?

  I’m still trying to figure out this amazing coincidence.

  “What about you?” he asks, accusatory.

  “I didn’t follow you down here, if that’s what you think.” I grab my cover-up and pull it over my head. “If you must know, I’m here with my company. A group of us received this trip as part of our bonus at the end of last year. While we’re here, we have some team-building activities. But most of this trip is R&R for our marketing team.”

  So there.

  “Oh,” he says, and his stern look begins to soften. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  “Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” I say and slide off the lounge. “Excuse me, but I have to get back to the restaurant. We have a team dinner in a little while.” I push past him and walk away. “It’s good to see you again,” I say over my shoulder, and I can see him standing in place, his jaw dropped in disbelief.

  “You too,” I hear his voice trail off, and I smile.

  I can’t believe Dax Anderson is here, in Mexico.

  AFTER A QUICK SHOWER to wash off the long day of travel and drool I accumulated from the plane ride and the impromptu nap on the lounge, I feel refreshed. I slip into a tank dress and a pair of flip-flops, pulling my wet hair into a quick bun. Thank goodness it’s ultra-casual here, and we’re not expected to wear any business attire. My boss was very specific that we should consider this a vacation, first and foremost. Any work activities we do over the next few days will be in a casual setting and more focused on team building than anything else. I can handle that as I would prefer not to think about work while I’m in paradise.

  “Giselle, over here!” one of my co-workers, Dawn, calls. I wave and walk into the open-air patio bar. Darren and Cody are sitting with her, and the table is already filled with drinks. “We didn’t know what you wanted, so we ordered a bunch from the drink specials.” She begins pointing to and naming every one of the fruity cocktails on the table. Darren and Cody both have beers. I point to the one with the pineapple draped over the side of a hurricane glass. “That’s a rum runner,” Dawn exclaims. “You’re going to love it.”

  I take a sip, and it’s refreshing. And strong.

  “Geez,” I cough.

  “They put a floater in it,” Cody says and laughs.

  “You look nice and rested,” Dawn says.

  “I took a quick nap, and I feel so much better.” I really don’t like to fly, so I took some Benadryl and Melatonin to help me sleep on the plane. Once we landed, I was in a complete fog. A quick nap certainly did the trick until Dax woke me up, completely surprising me.

  “This place is gorgeous,” Dawn says as she lifts her own rum runner to her mouth.

  “I can’t believe they splurged for us to come here,” Cody states.

  “We won that pharmaceutical account at the end of last year,” I remind him. “It’s going to bring in marketing and advertising revenue of at least fifty million a year for the next five years. We worked our asses off on that pitch, so I say we deserve this.” I raise my glass, and my colleagues do the same. We clink all around.

  “Where’s everyone else?” Darren asks.

  “A group of them went to the restaurant on the other side of the resort. They’re with Marilyn,” Dawn says, and I nod in understanding. Marilyn is our boss and I can picture the group that followed her to that restaurant, the majority of them being complete ass-kissers. I like our sea-side view and smaller group here.

  Dinner is amazing, and I switch to red wine after a few sips of that rum runner, otherwise, it will be a long night fighting heartburn. Rum and I aren’t the best of friends, and I have a healthy respect for its power over me. Darren left about ten minutes ago to go back to his room to FaceTime with his kids. He promised to tuck them in remotely for the duration of this trip. He’s such a great dad.

  Cody stands up and stretches. “I’m exhausted. Do you girls mind if I go to bed?” Dawn and I shake our heads.

  “I’ll follow you,” Dawn says, yawning. The long day of travel has certainly taken its toll on my friends, but I’m still wide-awake. I guess that nap gave me more energy than I expected. Dawn gives me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “See you on the beach tomorrow morning?”

  I nod. “Sure, I’m going to need to get a run in at some point. Why don’t we plan to meet after breakfast over there?” I point to the private lounge beds on the far side of the beach.

  “That’s perfect!” she exclaims and follows Cody down the path leading to the rooms at the back of the resort. Thankfully, I don’t have too far to walk. My room is just across the way, and I have a wonderful view of the water.

  The waiter clears our plates, and I ask him, “Can I take my glass of wine with me?”

  “Of course, Miss.”

  I stand up and slide my flip-flops off of my feet, grabbing them in one hand, my wine glass in the other. I plan to enjoy the glorious sunset that’s about to happen.

  I walk along the beach, the sand cooling as the sun goes down. It feels amazing between my toes. The sand here is so much softer than the beaches back home. The wind blows the wisps of hair that have fallen out of my bun and into my face. I take a sip of wi
ne and focus on the horizon. That’s when I realize the sun is behind me, and I won’t see a sunset over the water. I’ll have to get up early tomorrow to see it rise. I bet that’s spectacular.

  I walk a little further around a slight bend on the beach, past the lounge that I was asleep on earlier today. That’s when I see him, stretched out on the sand, leaning back on his hands. He’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of swim trunks, and he has no idea I’m behind him. I should just walk away, the coincidence of both of us being here together is too overwhelming for me to address again. I don’t want to accuse him of stalking me or vice-versa.

  But I can’t seem to back away. He’s sitting so quietly and contently, and I wonder what he’s thinking about. I slowly walk up so I’m next to him, and I drop my flip-flops onto the ground, startling him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say and laugh nervously. He looks up at me, and his face softens. I like soft. I don’t like the scowl.

  “Hey,” he says. “I was just thinking about you.” Well, that answers my question.

  “Really?” I plop down clumsily on the beach next to him, kicking up a ton of sand in the process. But I saved my wine from spilling. Score.

  “I owe you an explanation,” he says.

  “Are you going to admit that you followed me here?” I jest, brushing up against his shoulder. What am I doing?

  “Is that what you think?” he asks, and I know he’s not taking me seriously. His smile gives it away.

  “Not really. But it is a crazy coincidence, right?”

  “It’s an amazing coincidence,” he answers and brushes against my shoulder. He feels so warm.

  “How’s your sunburn?” I ask, knowing that I just felt the heat from it through his t-shirt.

  “It hurts like hell,” he says. “But I found some Aloe Vera at the shop in the hotel, so it should help alleviate the discomfort by morning.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” I say, taking a sip from my wine. Something crunches against my teeth, and I realize I’ve splashed some sand into my drink. I swallow it anyway, but look for a place to put down my glass.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, sand in my wine,” I raise the glass and laugh. He takes it from my hand, stands up, and walks a few feet away, dumping the contents into the water. He’s back next to me before I know it and twists the stem of the wine glass into the sand next to him.

  “Thank you.” We both look out over the water and watch the horizon get darker as the sun sets behind us. “It’s beautiful,” I say. “So calm and peaceful.”

  He remains quiet, but I can see him nod in my peripheral vision.

  “Giselle…”

  I turn to see him staring at me. Staring into me.

  My cheeks flush, and I’m not sure if it’s from the wine or his proximity to me. His presence does something to me that I haven’t felt in a very long time. My pulse quickens, and I remember how I felt the night he came to my house, when I thought he was going to kiss me. How much I wanted him to. Now I want it more than ever.

  I lick my lips and taste remnants of wine and strawberry Chapstick. “Dax?”

  His gaze falls to my lips, and I lick them again, nervously.

  “Fuck,” he mutters and exhales harshly.

  “What?” I ask. My God, what is he waiting for?

  “You–you’re beautiful. And I don’t know why, but I can’t get you out of my head. I haven’t been able to since that day. And I want to say so much, do so much. And I’m restraining myself. But you’re here. Why the fuck are you here?” His rambling is confusing me. He just said so much but nothing at all.

  “Why are you mad at me?” The vibe that’s coming off of him is–intense. He’s frustrated and seems angry. “I swear to God I didn’t follow you here.” Tears threaten to spill out of my eyes. Get a grip, Giselle.

  “What?” He looks at me and his eyes soften. “No. No, I’m not mad at you at all. And I believe you, I don’t think you followed me. You couldn’t have possibly known I was coming here. I’m not even checked into the hotel under my real name,” he mutters.

  “Oh.” I’m still confused. His demeanor is constantly contradicting his mood swings. I can’t tell if he wants to kiss me or strangle me. “Then why are you acting this way?”

  “I’m not good at this,” he answers.

  “Good at what? Talking to someone?” I press.

  “Restraining myself,” he says, and I tense up, my pulse racing.

  “Jesus, Dax. Then don’t.” What did I just–

  I don’t have time to complete the thought. His hands scoop the sides of my face, gently pulling my mouth toward his. His warm breath is the first thing I feel before he crashes his lips into mine. He inhales deeply and exhales into my mouth, his tongue diving in and entwining with mine. His grip on either side of my face becomes tighter as he slides his fingers into the sides of my hair. My bun unravels, causing my hair to fall around my shoulders, covering our faces. I turn to face him, rolling onto my knees. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him toward me. His breath hitches, and I feel the Aloe Vera on the back of his neck. “Sorry,” I say against his mouth, causing our teeth to scrape. He doesn’t say anything, but continues his assault on my mouth, slowing down his kisses, savoring my lips. His breathing evens out, and his grasp on my head loosens. He kisses the corners of my mouth and back in the center again, drawing my lips into his. Pulling my tongue into his mouth again. We’re breathing each other in, devouring each other. The scent of Aloe Vera and salt swirls in my senses, and I press my chest against his as I settle on his lap. I brush lightly against there, and he quickly pulls away, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck.

  “We can’t do this,” he says, releasing me.

  “But–”

  He slides out from underneath me as if he wants to get as far away from me as possible.

  “What did I do?” I ask. My lips ache yet want more.

  “This just isn’t a good idea.”

  “Says who?”

  “Giselle–”

  “You’re confusing me. One minute, you’re telling me you can’t stop thinking about me. Then, you’re kissing me like you mean it. Now you’re all, ‘No?’”

  “Trust me, this won’t work. We won’t work. You’re better off.”

  “Oh, so Mr. Brooding Rock Star is suddenly making an appearance,” I say sarcastically.

  He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. “What?”

  “You can’t just tell me all of those things, kiss me like that and not feel anything. Don’t you feel it? There’s something here, between us. I know I felt it the second you came into my car.” I’m challenging him, and it feels good. And I want him to kiss me again, despite all of his contradictions.

  He stands up and looks down at me. “I don’t want this. It was a mistake,” he snaps and backs away.

  “I don’t believe you,” I say as I stand up.

  “You don’t have a choice.” His arms are folded against his chest, and the scowl is back.

  “I still don’t believe you. But I’m certainly not going to stay here and beg, looking like a fool.” I bend down and grab my flip-flops.

  Our shoulders brush together as I walk past him. My heart drops when I realize he’s not following me. Why would I even expect him to?

  By the time I reach my room, my head is pounding, and my chest is tight. I haven’t been in a relationship in years, and something tells me that Dax Anderson isn’t the type of guy who’ll jump heart first into anything. And neither should I.

  From this moment forward, I will not be honest with my feelings, and I most certainly will not be throwing myself at him or anyone again.

  I’ve made that mistake too many times, and look where it’s gotten me.

  Absolutely nowhere.

  Dax

  Past

  Age 21

  “WE’RE FINISHED? You’re over me?” a female voice yells outside the door, and I roll my eyes. I’m reclined on the couch in the back room of the venue
we just performed in. Tristan is sitting at the make-shift bar in the corner. We look at each other and shrug.

  “Sounds like Garrett just broke the news to Natalia,” Tristan says. “And she’s not taking it well.”

  I shake my head. I’ll never understand what draws these women to him. He’s constantly on to the next before he’s even done with the current one. He and Natalia didn’t stand a chance. They’ve been together for about three months, since our last music video was shot. She was the star of the video, and he fell in lust with her from the moment she hit the sound stage. She is a model, after all.

  Alex comes into the room, and he shuts the door quickly. “She just fucking punched him!” he laughs and winces at the same time. “Cold cocked him in the jaw.”

  Tristan laughs hysterically, and I chuckle along. “He deserved it,” Tristan says.

  The door flies open, and Garrett comes in, locking it behind him. He’s rubbing his jaw and shaking his head. He opens the refrigerator and grabs an ice pack, placing it on his jaw. “Keep your fucking mouths shut,” he mumbles, and we all laugh.

  “Why would you string her along like that?” Tristan asks.

  “I didn’t string her along at all. I told her from the beginning it was only for fun. No commitments. Nothing. She was fine with our arrangement.”

  “That welt on your jaw says otherwise,” Alex chimes in.

  “Everyone just shut the fuck up.” Garrett’s personality shines through as usual.

  “Next time, don’t get involved with the help,” Tristan blurts out and laughs hysterically. Garrett throws the ice pack at his head and misses.

  “Believe me, I have no intention of ever doing it again.” He grabs the bottle of whiskey from the small bar in the corner and swigs from it.