Lost on the Road to Love

by Kay Harris

  “Well, we’re not quite empty nesters, yet,” Tom said. “Brian works for Chelsea’s brother, which means he doesn’t make shit. So he’s still at our place for now.”

  I laughed, but Henry looked confused. “Morrison and Sons seems like the kind of place that pays well,” he said, a crease forming above his brow.

  “It is,” I told him. “But Tom’s son works for my oldest brother, Jack, at his nonprofit.”

  “Right. I’ve read about this. Jack has a nonprofit that fights against real estate companies that evict people in order to gentrify their neighborhoods.”

  I nodded, smiling proudly. “That’s right.”

  “That had to make for some interesting family conversation back when your family was making its living doing exactly that.”

  “You have no idea,” I told him, shaking my head.

  “But you all made it out of the family drama all right, I take it.”

  “We did. My brothers even managed not to kill each other. And I got a cool sister-in-law out of the deal.”

  Henry grinned. “You’ll have to tell me that story someday.”

  “It requires a beer,” Tom said.

  “Over a beer, then,” Henry agreed. His gaze held mine, and a smile lit up his perfect, handsome face.

  Suddenly, the bubble popped, and I was unexpectedly nervous again. “Sure thing.” I turned around in my seat to face forward.

  Tom engaged Henry in a conversation about his dad’s new album for the rest of the ride back to the hotel while I sat wringing my hands in my lap. How was I going to work with this man every day when one smile from him had me in knots?

  Chapter 3

  Seven months, two weeks, six days ago—New Orleans, Louisiana

  Shooting B-roll was usually my least favorite part of the job. I’d worked with three different directors at Trek. All of them were overbearing and obnoxious, certain I required a massive amount of supervision and micromanagement. They were always demanding I shoot exactly what they wanted, not leaving any of it up to me. And what they wanted me to shoot was always stupid.

  As a result, I never got to look around at my surroundings much. And I didn’t get to truly practice my skills as a filmmaker. But Rodney was so checked out on this job, he couldn’t care less. He let me shoot whatever I wanted as long as Henry was in the shot. It made my day.

  Henry was happy, too, because Rodney didn’t give a shit where we went in the city. He’d told Henry to choose. Henry had been to New Orleans before, and he took over driving the van. He showed us his favorite historic buildings, took us to eat at a killer Cajun restaurant, and followed the whole thing up with a walk in a park at sunset.

  My crush got so much worse over the course of that day. Henry Rushton was cultured. He enjoyed art and architecture, was adventurous when it came to food, and appreciated the outdoors. He was everything I was attracted to.

  When I’d actually kept a guy around for a while, all of those characteristics were requirements. I was pretty demanding of my boyfriends. The first two I’d had in college were more interested in playing video games than taking me out. And I figured out quickly I didn’t need to put up with that shit. So I chose more carefully. I found out there were plenty of men who wanted to do the same things as me—watch old movies, go to museums and plays, walk in the woods. And I’d dated quite a few of them.

  Tom liked to tease me about all the men I’d been through since I first discovered how much fun they could be six years ago. My mother and sister-in-law thought it was a healthy way of exploring what I wanted in a man. My brothers were always on edge, thinking I should date much less frequently than I did. And my dad would have preferred I was a nun.

  But I was perfectly happy with how I conducted my love life. I wasn’t indiscriminate. Far from it. I chose men carefully. They were clean, respectful, and I always had safe and satisfying sex. I just didn’t keep them around very long. I tended to get bored easily. But I was okay with that, too.

  The men I dated were not, however, hot. Not a one could make me drool on sight. But I’d never cared about that. It simply wasn’t important. Eye candy didn’t matter when compared to all the other elements of affection.

  Henry Rushton, however, had the features of a man I’d love to date, and he was so smoking hot, I became physically warm just looking at him. So, from behind the safety of my camera, I crushed out on him. It was a strange interaction really. He spoke to me and Tom, occasionally Rodney, and rarely Gerry, as we went about our day. But I was always on the other side of the camera. It was like a curtain that kept me safely tucked away, a filter that defined our relationship. I was comfortable there, watching like a voyeur as Henry revealed himself in front of my eyes.

  At the end of the day, we put the equipment away and climbed into the van. Just like it had been before, Gerry and Rodney took off after the shoot while Henry, Tom, and I headed back to the hotel. This time, Henry drove and Tom lounged in the back, while I perched nervously in the passenger seat.

  “So, I heard a rumor once upon a time you were supposed to be the CEO of Morrison and Sons, not your brother Hayden,” Henry said casually.

  “Once upon a time, that was something my dad had in mind, yeah,” I answered honestly.

  “So…what happened?”

  “I insisted he change the name from Morrison and Sons to Morrison and People.” I shrugged. “Turns out it was a deal breaker.”

  A chuckle rose from Tom in the back seat.

  Henry smiled. “Okay, you don’t want to answer that. I get it. Different question. How did you get into this?”

  “I want to make movies. I went to film school and got this gig afterward. It’s a good start.”

  “Ha!” Tom said. “She could have had an even better start, but she wouldn’t take the other jobs offered to her.”

  I turned in my seat and shot Tom a dirty look. My disinterest in taking a job offered to me only because of my last name was not something I wanted to discuss.

  “Been there,” Henry said knowingly. “Do you like working for Trek?”

  “I like the work. I think I’m good at it. But this will probably be my last gig with Trek. Especially since this jackass is going to retire,” I said, pointing my thumb toward Tom.

  “Eight months.” Henry sighed. “It feels like a long time.”

  I laughed. “Over it already?”

  “I don’t know. I am looking forward to going to some of the locations.”

  “Yeah, like where?” Tom asked.

  “Well, I’ve been to all the spots we’re heading to in the US. But I haven’t been to very many places overseas.”

  “Wait.” I turned in my seat to face him. “You’ve been to all the shoot locations in the US?”

  “I’m well traveled,” he said with a grin. “At least in the country. We went on a lot of family trips. And I went on a couple of tours with my dad.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” I conceded. His dad was a damn rock star. It was easy to forget when I was busy ogling him all the time.

  “But my dad is afraid of heights.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Very, very afraid of heights. So he hates to fly. I’ve only been overseas a couple of times. I went once on break in college with some friends, and once last year with my cousin. But I have a lot more ground I’d like to cover. This show will at least be a chance to do that.”

  “The travel is my favorite part of the job, too.” Well, that and filming Henry all day.

  “What’s next, anyway?” Henry asked.

  “Cancun, followed by Vegas.”

  “Great. They’ll probably have me stuck in bars and nightclubs every night,” he said in exasperation.

  I laughed. “You suck at the playboy thing, you know. My brother Hayden excelled at it. You should take lessons.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll stick with being ‘boring Henry.’ ”

  “Boring?”

  “That’s what Tyressa calls me. In fact, I’m surprised she did
n’t talk Ken and Steve out of casting me in this show. She’s been convinced I’m the most boring person on the planet since she was fourteen and I was sixteen and she tried to persuade me to smoke a joint in the bathroom during a party at my aunt’s house.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “No. And I stole the joint from her and flushed it down the toilet.”

  “Damn. You’re a Boy Scout,” Tom said.

  “No. I was too busy with sports to do Boy Scouts.”

  I laughed. “What kind of rocker’s kid are you?”

  Henry glanced at me for a brief moment before turning back to the road. A rakish grin played on his face. “Not a very good one, I guess. My cousin Danny is much better at it, though. He’s the one who should be on this show. He’d love going to bars and clubs, and he’d love the attention of the cameras.” Henry bit the right side of his bottom lip for a second. “Maybe I’ll have him meet up with us somewhere. That would make for a good show.”

  “I’m sure Steve would be all over that,” Tom said. “He’s already mentioned trying to get as many of your family members on the show as possible.

  Henry rolled his eyes. “Well, Danny won’t be an issue. He’ll do it if he has the time.”

  “What does he do?” I asked.

  “He just started a music studio with my uncle. But it’s his thing. Uncle Hank is fronting the money but staying out of the business. Danny is smart about music, and he’s great with people, but he doesn’t know shit about managing a business so he’s up to his eyeballs at the moment.”

  Henry pulled into our hotel parking lot, and I was sorry the conversation was coming to an end. The van ride home was becoming my favorite part of the day.

  “Your family is fascinating,” Tom said.

  Henry laughed. “Not really. They are probably more boring than you’d expect. I’ll tell you about them sometime.” He pulled the van into a spot at the far end of the lot and turned it off.

  “How about now?” I asked, unwilling to let him go just yet. “Over a beer?” I suggested, pushing my glasses up.

  Henry turned in his seat to look at me more fully. “Deal. If you’ll tell me why Chelsea Morrison gave up an empire to be my camerawoman.”

  “You two have fun,” Tom said, sliding open the van door. “I gotta call my hubby and my kid. And don’t forget, we have an early flight in the morning.”

  ****

  Henry and I had just settled in at the hotel bar, each with a glass of red wine in our hands, when they came in. Tyressa breezed into the room like a movie star walking the red carpet. She was followed by two of her friends. They’d flown in earlier in the day to visit with her. They were even louder now and wearing even less clothing.

  I could see Henry shrinking in his chair as if he could somehow hide all six feet and four inches of himself. It didn’t work, of course. Tyressa and her entourage walked up to us. Before we could do anything about it, they pulled extra chairs from nearby tables and squeezed in around us.

  I moved instinctively to push my chair up against Henry’s so none of the girls could pry their way between us. Henry smiled at me gratefully. Neither Henry nor I spoke for a good ten minutes as the three women descended upon us and chattered inanely.

  “Henry! I told the girls you’d be here!” Tyressa squealed. She leaned around me toward Henry, practically shoving her shoulder into my neck and burying me in a cloud of perfume.

  Henry’s lack of a response did nothing to discourage their focus on him. And all three women fawned over him as if he were a puppy dog in the store window. I was trying to figure out an extraction plan when I saw a man and woman walk into the bar across the room. The man had a large camera around his neck. The woman held a tablet in her hands as her head swiveled from side to side, scanning the room.

  I knew paparazzi when I saw them, so I shouted over the din of excited airheads. “Hey! I think the press is here.”

  Mouths snapped shut and heads pivoted as all three women turned to follow the direction of my pointing finger. It was exactly the distraction we needed. Before the girls even had a chance to start waving frantically at the reporter, Henry grabbed my hand and pulled. I tumbled out of the chair and followed him.

  Chapter 4

  Henry moved quickly, tugging me along behind him. In a half crouch, we jogged away from the front of the bar. After weaving through the haphazardly arranged tables, we burst through a set of metal swinging doors and into the kitchen.

  The staff all paused in midmotion to stare at us. Henry stood to his full height and gave the whole lot of them a sexy, crooked grin. Despite the fact that four out of five of them were men, it worked.

  The massive man behind the grill chuckled and pointed to another door to our left. Henry nodded, and I waved as he pulled me toward the door. When we went through it, we were in the far corner of the bar. We could be seen clearly by the bartender but were mostly hidden from everyone else.

  The bartender was a short, built, absolutely gorgeous man with a trim beard and hair halfway to his shoulders. He walked over to us right away. His gaze paused on Henry for a moment before turning to me. He winked at me, then looked back at Henry.

  “You’re Henry Rush, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Instead of being irritated by this, like I though he would, Henry grinned. “Yeah. My dad’s Sean.” It was the first time I’d heard him acknowledge it proudly rather than shrink from the fame by association.

  “Love his music, man,” the bartender said.

  “Me, too,” Henry replied.

  “What can I get for you and gorgeous here?” he asked, gesturing in my direction with his head.

  Henry looked at me, amused grin still firmly in place. “What do you want, gorgeous?”

  I bit my lip and pretended to deliberate. I hadn’t felt so desirable in…maybe ever. With two hot men watching me, I pushed my glasses up and grabbed a wine list. I perused it slowly. Neither man moved. When someone on the other end of the bar called out to the bartender in front of me, he waved his hand and told them to cool their jets.

  Finally, I selected a bottle of wine. Henry held up two fingers. The bartender nodded and produced both bottles along with two glasses. I grabbed the glasses while Henry took the bottles, and we went back into the kitchen. This time the big man behind the grill pointed to another door at the back of the kitchen. It led out into the hallway of the hotel, and we made our way from there to the elevator and up to Henry’s suite.

  I was laughing hard as Henry shut the door behind us. “I guess what they say is true. You really do hate the spotlight. I’ve never seen someone run away from the press so fast in my life.”

  He grinned and nodded. “I always have.” Henry set the glasses on the small round table and settled into a chair on one side of it. “But who says I was running from the press? I was mostly running from Tyressa and her minions.” He looked at one of the bottles, hefting it in his hands. “Good choice by the way.”

  I plopped into the chair on the opposite side of the table. “Are you a connoisseur or something?”

  Henry looked up at me. He looked like the ultimate bad boy. He could easily have graced the cover of a novel about the leader of a motorcycle gang that steals the heart of a young, innocent girl. His long, midnight black hair was loose right then, having been let out of its tidy ponytail down in the bar. His sharp nose and dark eyes were penetrating as he sat back and said, “I’ve always liked wine best. I come from a long line of beer people, and don’t get me wrong, I like beer—good beer, that is—but a fine red wine, that’s always been my favorite.”

  “You are a contradiction, Henry Rushton.”

  He shrugged. “Only if you believe in stereotypes.” He tugged the wrapper off the wine easily. “Oh shit! We need a corkscrew.”

  I stood and walked over to the kitchenette. “A fancy-ass suite like this, there has to be one in here somewhere.” I pulled open the drawer beneath the microwave and held up the object in question. “Ah ha! See.”
<
br />   “Stayed in a lot of fancy-ass hotels, Chels?”

  I’d been walking back toward the table when he’d said it. The nickname was what had me stopping me in my tracks. I stared at Henry, my brain on pause.

  He held out his hand for the corkscrew. Then he, too, paused and cocked his head at me. “What? Am I not supposed to call you Chels?”

  “I’m not sure,” I told him, finally moving again. I handed him the corkscrew and sat back down in my chair. “You probably heard Tom call me that.”

  Henry nodded as he worked the top of the wine bottle.

  “Other than Tom, the only people in the world who call me that are my brothers and my dad. In fact, my brother Jack kind of started calling me that when we were kids, and I hated it.”

  “And now?” he asked, pulling the glasses toward him to pour the wine.

  “Now, I don’t hate it. And it’s reserved for certain people.”

  “Ah. An affectionate nickname. I get it. Enough said, Chelsea.” He slid a full glass of wine over to me and held his own up. I clinked his glass and took a sip.

  “Not bad. Even though you didn’t let it breathe.”

  “I’m not that fancy. I wanted it in my belly.” Henry settled back in his chair. “We have kind of a nickname thing in my family, too.”

  “Yeah?” I leaned toward him, my arms resting on the table. “You were going to tell me about your family.”

  Henry smiled. “It’s a little convoluted.”

  “Mine’s boring and straightforward. Mom, dad, two brothers, one sister-in-law, and one bachelor uncle. We have a family business. Blah, blah, blah. Let me live vicariously. Lay it on me.”

  “So my dad was just this ordinary kid from Michigan. And he got into music young, you know? He was just starting out when he met Hank, and they became best friends. Hank was kind of a mentor to my dad. Anyway, they started helping each other with albums and touring together. Hank was already pretty famous, and my dad would open for him. Then later, when my dad got famous, Hank would open for him. They’ve been doing it that way for forty years.”