My fingers brush the curving lines of the tattoo. His skin is soft, his muscles hard, his hipbone harder. I pull my hand back to my waist. It's definitely wrong, touching a man who isn't conscious.
I find an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, an extra t-shirt and boxers in his dresser, and I climb into bed with him.
He stirs, murmuring something incomprehensible and pulling my body into his.
This isn't forever.
But, for now, it's really fucking nice.
***
I wake up cold and stiff. I don't need to open my eyes to know I'm alone. I can feel it all around me.
After I brush my teeth, I make my way downstairs. Worry threatens to overwhelm me—why hasn't Dad returned any of my calls? Will Madison tell me if something is wrong?—but it evaporates the moment I see Pete.
He's standing in the kitchen, one hand pressed against the counter, the other holding his cell to his ear. His posture is tense, strained. He taps his nails against the tile with an uncharacteristic franticness.
"Yeah, I know," he says into the phone.
His jaw clenches as he listens to the reply.
I take a few more steps towards the kitchen.
He looks at me. His voice softens some. "Hey. You want coffee?"
"Sure."
"Yeah, that's her. Give me a second." He sets his phone on the counter and turns to me. "How do you take it?"
"I can fix it. You should finish your phone call."
He nods to the full carafe in the coffee maker then picks up his phone. "Yeah." His shoulders tense. "Of course. You're right." He barely manages to keep his voice even. "It's a great idea. Don't know why I didn't think about it. But... I don't want this in the way of her life. I like her."
He's talking about me, telling someone—must be Aiden, the awful manager—that he likes me. The way he says it, like it's an unarguable fact, makes my stomach flutter.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and fix it with plenty of milk and sugar. Pete steps aside to finish his phone call. When he's done, he drops his cell on the table. His hands curl into fists.
"Was that about me?" I ask.
He nods and turns towards me. "Aiden."
"He really gets under your skin, huh?"
Pete rolls his shoulders. Some of the frustration falls off his face as he takes a long sip of his coffee. "Yeah."
I move closer. There are still three feet between us. But I'm close enough I can make out every detail of his bare chest. "What does he want?" I drag my eyes up his torso until they connect with his.
"Wants us to land on a few gossip sites, so everyone knows I have a nice, blond girlfriend." His brow furrows. He shakes it off then takes another sip of coffee.
"Does the blond part matter?"
"To him, probably."
"Is it your type, blonde?" I ask.
"Can't say I've ever given it thought." His eyes pass over me. His voice shifts, teasing. "I like you blond. Looks natural. Even with the inch of roots."
His lips curl into the tiniest of smiles. Already, the room feels warmer and lighter.
"Are they really that noticeable?" I tease back.
"Need a view of the top of your head to answer that."
Oh. My cheeks flush.
His smile stretches over his cheeks. He takes another step towards me. "You fluster easy."
"You underestimate yourself." I take another step towards him.
He cocks a brow.
"The way you say things like that is really sexy. I can't imagine anyone else pulling it off. Hell, if any other guy said that to me, I'd run the other direction."
"Other guys are suggesting you suck them off? Do I need to kick somebody's ass?" He slides his hand around my waist and pulls my body into his. "Fuck, you're making Aiden's idea seem reasonable."
"Would that really make you jealous?" I set my cup of coffee on the counter then do the same with his. It means I can move a little closer to him.
He nods. "Of course."
"But we're not really... I mean. We're not exactly together."
He stares back at me. "You're only with me. I'm only with you." His brow furrows. "That a problem all of a sudden?"
"No. Of course not."
"Good." His frown fades. He looks down at me, running his fingers through my messy hair. "You game for the gossip mission?"
"Depends what I have to do."
He plays with my hair as he thinks. He looks cute thinking, his brow knotted with concentration, his gaze drifting off some place.
"Fuck. Tom's good at this shit." His voice drops. "Wish I could ask him."
"Maybe you can."
Pete pulls his hands to his sides and takes a step backwards. He shakes his head. "I know a few places. You doing anything today?"
"Nope. Quit my job yesterday."
"Yeah?" His lips curl into a smile.
"Yeah." Which means I'm totally reliant on him. That's still scary.
"I'll transfer some spending cash into your account," he says.
Damn, he's a mind reader. I object out of habit. "You don't have to do that."
"Yeah. I do. Let's skip the part where you try to talk me out of it, cause it's not happening. I know you're gonna be a lawyer, so you need to practice arguing, but I'd rather save my energy for later." His eyes meet mine, his expression intensifying. "Deal?"
"I..."
"Jess, you're not taking advantage. I need you." He takes a step closer. "Agree."
I nod. "Okay, we have a deal."
His gaze turns to the backyard. Already, it's awash in bright light. The pool shimmers with reflections of the big yellow sun.
He keeps his gaze on the backyard. "That thing, yesterday, your friends emailing you. That's nothing. We go through with this, your life is gonna change in ways you can't imagine now. You sure you're in?"
Maybe. I think so. "Yes." My voice is far from confident.
"Need to know you aren't gonna back out." His voice wavers. "Need you to be sure."
"Can I sleep on it?"
"Yeah. But I need an answer soon." He shakes his head, shaking off his frustration. Finally, his eyes meet mine. "You have anything to wear?"
"At my place."
"Okay. Let's stop by your place on the way to brunch."
"You eat brunch?"
He laughs. "It's more about being seen at the right places." He bites his lip. "You sure you're okay with this?"
I nod. I'm as sure as I can be.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The waitress giggles as she introduces herself. I barely manage to fight a glare. Who the hell does she think she is looking at Pete like she knows him?
I scoot my chair closer to his and slide my arm around his waist. This does nothing to wipe the flirty look off her face. No, apparently, it doesn't matter that he's my boyfriend.
Fake boyfriend, but she doesn't know that.
I order my vegetable omelet and latte through clenched teeth. She keeps her eyes on Pete the entire time, punctuating her questions with giggles.
When she goes on to her next table, he chuckles.
His lips curl into a smile. "You're jealous."
"No." Maybe. Absolutely. "A little."
"Didn't take much."
His smile goes ear to ear. He's enjoying teasing me. I don't take the bait. But I do scoot a little closer. In case any other woman has designs on taking him home.
I look at him. "How does this work, being seen?"
"Basically this. We'll spend the day hitting a few popular spots. Should get someone snapping pics—a fan or a paparazzi. Something will make its way to a gossip blog. Just have to give it time."
"People really take pictures of you eating brunch?"
He leans in closer. "Yeah. Most people are too shy to say hi. But they like having that story once I saw this b-list celebrity at breakfast. Picture helps sell it."
"Seeing a guy at breakfast is a pretty shitty story."
His lips curl into a smile. "What about, saw him ca
using a scene, making out with his girlfriend at breakfast?"
"Better."
He cocks a brow. "Saw him fingering his girlfriend under the table at breakfast?"
I swallow hard so I won't scream yes, right now. "You're going to get me into trouble."
He nods and motions come here.
I lean closer. Until I can smell his breath. A hint of coffee. And spearmint.
He presses his lips against mine.
Mmm. He tastes good. My lips part to make way for his tongue. Is this real or pretend? I don't know. I only know how much I like his lips on mine.
My hands slide into his hair. My hips shift, begging me to climb into his lap. Damn, I want to say yes.
We're in plain view of anyone who walks by.
His eyes bore into mine when he pulls back. His voice is clear and confident. "You want me to do it."
"Isn't that bad for your nice, blond girlfriend image?"
"Probably. Still do it if you ask."
"That's not a good idea." I take a long sip of my water then look back to him. "I still can't believe you go to brunch."
"Cause brunch is for girls? Expect better from you. That kinda thinking is retrograde." He shakes his head with mock outrage.
"What do you do most mornings?"
"Cereal." He takes a long sip of his coffee. "Can't cook to save my life."
"Really?" I'm so focused on his deep brown eyes that I stir extra sugar into my coffee.
He chuckles. "Set grilled cheese on fire once."
"You did not."
He nods.
"But you're good at everything."
"Not cooking."
I study his expression. He's actually sheepish. It's incredibly endearing.
"I can teach you," I offer. "At home, I always cooked for my sister and my dad."
His voice softens. "Your mom?"
"She left when I was about twelve." I cut myself off but the memory catches up to me—the way Mom looked at us like we were keeping her from what she really wanted, how casually she walked away and never looked back.
"Hey." His voice is deep and steady. "You're hurting."
I nod.
"Tell me about it."
Can I really do that? I've never talked about this with anyone. Not even Madison. We pretend like it never happened.
My entire extended family always toes the everything is fine party line.
I take a deep breath. I want to talk to Pete. I trust him.
I go on. "I didn't realize it then, but she never wanted to have kids. Never wanted to get married. My dad convinced her it was a good idea, that he'd stay home with us so she could put her career first. Never happened." My voice strains. "It was sudden. One night she came into my room and kissed me goodbye. In the morning she was gone. I had no clue where she went. I had no clue how to get in touch with her."
"I'm sorry you went through that."
"Thank you." My gaze goes to my thighs. "I thought it was my fault. That if I'd been less demanding or if I'd gotten better grades... if it hadn't been so hard for her to take care of us, then she would have stayed."
He squeezes my hand. "Your dad never picked up the slack?"
My stomach clenches. I'm not ready to talk about him yet. "No, he can barely take care of himself."
"Your sister the one who slept with your boyfriend?"
"She's my only sister."
"She did that after years of you taking care of her?"
"Sort of. She's only two years younger. She's been able to take care of herself for a while."
His fingertips find my chin. He tilts me so we're eye to eye. His expression is demanding. "Promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise you'll stop running from how much that hurts you." His eyes fill with affection. "You don't have to be her friend. Don't have to make up with her. Don't even have to talk to her again. But you have to stop pretending it doesn't hurt."
"Will you stop pretending it doesn't hurt that your ex cheated on you?"
"I'm not pretending. Just don't like talking about it." He scoots back. His eyes meet mine. "How long were you with your ex?"
"Almost three years."
"All due respect, but what the fuck were you doing with him for that long? Asshole doesn't even like Hunger Games."
I stare back at him. "I'll tell you if you tell me what you were doing with your ex for six years."
"I loved her."
"I loved Nathan. Or I thought I did. I'm not the one who said I didn't feel my ex in my soul."
"You ever feel something in your soul?"
The question disarms me. There are all sorts of things that hurt somewhere deep. Mom leaving, finding Dad drunk in a pile of his own vomit, that elation of getting into law school then the look on Nathan's face when he told me I had to choose between him and school.
"I don't know. Maybe." My breath breaks up the tension forming in my chest.
"You want to be assertive."
"Yeah."
"So tell me to fuck off or tell me why you were with your ex for three years."
I laugh. "You have a really strange way of wording things."
"Is that a fuck off?"
I shake my head. It's difficult to talk about Nathan. I can see, in hindsight, how awful our relationship was. But I missed every single sign.
His voice softens. "Not trying to judge you. Just want to know where you hurt."
A million feelings swirl inside me. He wants to know where I hurt? He might as well say I love you and I want to take your pain away. I feel light. I feel like I can fly. The thought of Pete loving me...
It's intoxicating.
But it's not true. I can't get ahead of myself. I roll my shoulders back to break up the tension taking hold of my shoulders. "Nathan was charming. And nobody ever really paid attention to me. He was popular, funny, smart. I didn't have a clue what relationships were supposed to be like, what love looked like. I thought it was normal, the way he'd convince me his way was best, the way he put his needs first. I figured all guys were like that. Or else why would Mom leave?"
"Shit. I'm being an asshole. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, but you're right. I was with him for a long time because I thought that he loved me and that I loved him. I thought that he cared about me. But he didn't. How could I have been so blind to that? I was nineteen when we started dating. I was old enough to know better." My stomach clenches. It feels so pathetic looking back on it.
Will Pete think less of me for being spineless? I wouldn't tell anyone else. But I want him to know me, to know where I hurt.
And I want to know him. I want to know every single place he hurts. If he'll ever reveal them to me.
I take a deep breath. "When I got into law school, I thought he'd be happy for me. But he wasn't. I got into NYU. I would have stayed in New York for him. But he didn't want me to be a lawyer. He wanted me to be his wife, to stay home and take care of his kids, and always put him first."
"That's fucked up."
"You don't want that?"
His brow furrows. "Is that what you think of me?"
"No, I... I just thought. I don't know." I trip over my tongue. "I guess I don't know what adult relationships are supposed to look like. Not that it matters. We're... we're not together that way."
"Whatever you want to call this, we're equals. I always want to know what you want." His eyes turn down. "I'd never get in your way like that."
"Oh."
"Fuck, I'm glad I get to help you become a lawyer." He meets my gaze, his eyes brimming with affection. "You deserve the fucking world, Jess. Wish I could offer you more than this."
My heart sinks. He's being so sweet telling me he'll never really love me.
Everything is heavy. The air is colder, the sun is dimmer. He's never going to love me. He's never going to be my boyfriend.
How is that possible? The way he's staring at me, I'm sure he cares about me.
I try to push it out of my head but it won't go.
How can he tell me I deserve the world in one breath then tell me he'll never love me in the next?
His arm slides around my shoulders. "You're like Katniss, trying to shoulder a whole fucking revolution."
"Are you talking Hunger Games with me?"
He nods.
"You can't do that, Pete. You're gonna make me fall in love with you."
"That's all it takes?"
"When it's you."
"Jess, I... I'm not gonna want a relationship."
"I know."
"And you're okay with that?"
I nod a yes, but I'm not sure I mean it.
***
After brunch, we spend an hour walking around the outdoor shopping center. For the most part, people leave us alone. Either Pete is infinitely less recognizable in sunglasses or people really are used to seeing celebrities everywhere.
I forget all about what it is we're supposed to be doing and enjoy soaking in the afternoon with him. We browse the aisles of an independent bookstore. He picks books from the Young Adult shelf, skips to random passages, then asks me to deem the books as read-worthy or not. I do the same with the science fiction shelf. Despite my insistence that both of us read exclusively on our e-readers, he buys every book that makes it into our stack.
We sit at an outdoor cafe, sipping iced drinks and leafing through our new reading material.
I don't notice the day passing until my stomach grumbles. The sun is streaked with orange. It's already evening. Damn, it's easy being with him. I haven't thought about anything since brunch.
"You hungry?" he asks.
I nod.
"There's a great restaurant at this hotel in the hills. Don't usually go 'cause it's such a scene."
***
Pete leads me through the lush lobby. The restaurant is off to the left. Its gold signs make it look expensive.
He nods to a guarded pool to the right. "Should we crash?"
"We can't."
He slides his arm around my waist, pulling my body into his. "Want to bet?"
"No. I'm sure you can figure something out."
He leans in to whisper in my ear. "Too bad. Was gonna make my prize eating you out."
My cheeks flush. He really said those words. It shouldn't surprise me at this point, but I'm still tingly with anticipation.
He chuckles. "That a problem?"
Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) Page 9