Lost on the Road to Love

by Kay Harris

  “I think you’ve been made,” I told him.

  “Damn,” he whispered. “We haven’t even aired the first episode. See,” he said, turning back to me, “this was one of the reasons I didn’t want to do this stupid show. It will only get worse. Shit!”

  For the first time, I watched Henry unravel in front of me. But before I could dwell on how it made him seem more human, and somehow even more desirable, I jumped into action to help him.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I suggested, scooting out of my side of the booth.

  “Good idea.” Henry threw a few bills on the table, got up quickly and, to my great surprise, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door.

  We were moving fast as we approached the reporter and photographer. It wasn’t until we were squeezing past them in the doorway that the reporter spoke. “Hey, aren’t you—”

  Henry ignored him and moved his large body so the photographer didn’t stand a chance of getting a good shot. Then, still holding onto my hand, he ushered me through the door and out onto the sidewalk. We moved swiftly away from the café, not looking back until we were almost a block away.

  “Well done,” I said, slowly easing my hand out of Henry’s grasp.

  Henry held on, giving my fingers a gentle squeeze. “I learned young how to evade the press.”

  “I bet.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  I looked at the buildings of Manhattan in the gray hours of early evening. The temperature was starting to drop, but it was still over seventy degrees, and for once, I was quite comfortable in my tank top and light cardigan. I had no qualms about making a long journey. “There,” I said, pointing at the Empire State Building.

  “All right.” Henry’s tone was casual. He swung our hands between us as he moved to cross the street.

  “It’s not too far?”

  “Naw. We could always take a cab back.”

  We were a couple of blocks away from the restaurant, and I was just starting to really obsess over the fact that Henry still held my hand when he started talking. “So, did I prove my point about being a nerd, or do I need to add another piece of evidence?”

  “I don’t know. I think I’m gonna need to hear about the girlfriends.”

  “The girlfriends?”

  “Yeah. If they’re glamorous models or something like that…”

  “You think I date models?”

  “Quite frankly, Henry. Yes.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Chels.”

  “I’m not,” I said defiantly. “I happen to know that your dad dated several models.”

  “That was all before he met my mom. And I am not my dad. I am way nerdier.”

  “All right, so tell me about your girlfriends.”

  Henry looked over at me for a moment. Then he smiled. “Fine, nosey. I’ll tell you. I started dating in junior high.”

  “Junior high? Damn.”

  “Yep. I was young. And I certainly didn’t have the self-confidence to ask a girl out. But they were always asking me out. And I simply didn’t say no. I had four or five girlfriends at a time. And I got to second base on a regular basis.”

  “See! Now this is what I expected.”

  “Wait for the rest of the story, Chels.”

  “Okay, go on,” I said, squeezing his hand.

  “By my freshman year in high school, I was turning into a major Casanova. And that’s when I got caught. My mom caught me in the bushes behind our house with Tina Grover. She had my dad give me a long lecture. A week later, my Uncle Hank caught me with Heather Green. So he gave me a long lecture.” He shook his head and let out a low chuckle. “The irony of that…anyway, none of it made a dent. I was fourteen, after all. What did make a difference was an incident that took place a few months later. I overheard two of the girls I was seeing talking to each other. I’d caused a lot of trouble between the girls in my class by dating more than one at a time. And I expected them to be fighting over me.”

  “Good grief,” I groaned.

  “I know. I know. I was fourteen. Give me a chance to redeem myself here.”

  “Okay. Go ahead. So they were fighting over you?”

  “No. They weren’t. That’s what was so strange. They knew about each other. And it turned out they had planned together to ‘bag me.’ I was totally confused. So I asked my cousins Anna and Ella about it. They were the only two girls in my life pretty close to me in age who were not love interests.”

  “And what did they say?”

  “They laughed at me and called me an idiot. They said the reason the girls all wanted to go out with me was because of my famous dad.”

  “And this hadn’t occurred to you before?” I asked, a little flabbergasted.

  “I was really stupid back then, okay.”

  “You were probably just ruled by your hormones,” I reasoned.

  “Something like that. At any rate, I knew instantly they were right. And I decided to swear off girls. My ego was wrecked. So I took women out of my life altogether. I didn’t even have friends who were girls.”

  “And how long did that last?”

  “Until I was a junior in college.”

  “Wow.” I stopped on the sidewalk. “Are you saying you didn’t have any girlfriends until your third year of college?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So…you were a virgin until you were, what…twenty-one?”

  He bit his lip. “Not exactly.”

  “But you just said—”

  “There were a few women, but they weren’t my girlfriends.”

  “Ah,” I said, moving to head back down the sidewalk. “One-night stands.”

  “Flings, really. I met the first one—you know, the one I lost my virginity to—during a tour with my dad.”

  “A groupie? You lost your virginity to a groupie! So much for swearing off girls,” I teased.

  “Well, I was a healthy male going through puberty,” he said defensively. Then he stopped and turned to face me, pointing a finger toward me. “When you meet my parents, do not breathe of a word of it. They still don’t know.”

  I laughed, but inside I was thrilled with the idea that Henry had said “when you meet my parents.” I tugged on his hand so that we started walking again. “Okay, so the first girlfriend. Who was she?”

  “Her name was Yasmine. And she hated me at first. She was totally repulsed by me. She thought I was a complete ass.”

  “Probably because you were.”

  “Yes. I acted completely standoffish to every woman I wasn’t related to. I figured they were all only after me for one reason.”

  “Super jaded.”

  “Exactly. So she hated me. And that’s what made me want her.”

  “That makes sense.” Sarcasm dripped from my words.

  “It did to me. She was the one woman I knew didn’t have ulterior motives to date me. So I set to work to convince her to be with me. It took a while, but eventually it worked. After that, I only dated women who didn’t like me.”

  “Wait, back up,” I said. “What happened with Yasmine? How long did it last?”

  “Not long. We really didn’t have much in common.”

  “And let me guess. It was the same with the other women.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “See, dumbass. That’s what you get for dating women who you aren’t actually interested in,” I said, knocking my elbow against his.

  “I know. I’m a complete moron when it comes to dating. I admit it.”

  “There couldn’t have been much passion either with any of these women.”

  “There wasn’t.” He shrugged. “I suppose that’s why, when I didn’t have a girlfriend, I was prone to having the occasional fling.”

  “You bad boy.”

  “I suppose you’re going to say that takes me out of the running for nerd-dom.”

  “Nope,” I said simply. “Hey, we’re closer.” I pointed to the Empire State Building with my free hand.

  Once again,
we came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk. “No?”

  “Not relevant.”

  “Interesting…So, I am going to assume you are a bit of a bad girl yourself, Chelsea.”

  “You can assume what you want,” I said coyly.

  “Oh, come on. I’ve spilled my guts tonight.”

  “Okay.” I tugged on his hand, and we kept walking. “I’ve had my fair share of fun. No real boyfriends, though.”

  “No?”

  “Not really. I mean, I guess there were a couple of guys I might have considered boyfriends. But neither of them lasted very long.”

  “And why’s that?”

  I shrugged. “I got bored with them easily, I guess.”

  Henry chuckled. “You and I have a lot in common, Chels. I’m glad I found you.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I needed a friend.” He turned to me. “And I couldn’t ask for a better friend on this crazy trip than you.”

  Chapter 7

  Six months and four days ago—New York, New York

  “Did you get any last-minute advice from your aunt?” I asked as Tom fitted the microphone on Henry.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” Henry told me. “She said to imagine Tyressa is someone else.”

  “Like Big Bird or something?” Tom asked.

  Henry chuckled. “No. Someone who I think is interesting, engaging, and attractive.”

  “So, who are you going to imagine she is?” I asked.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Henry wiggled his eyebrows at me and pulled away from Tom to walk over to the table where Tyressa sat, getting a last-minute touch-up on her makeup.

  Tom came up behind me and whispered in my ear. “Is it me or was he flirting with you?”

  I pushed my glasses up on my nose and focused on the equipment in front of me. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Tom snorted but didn’t say anything else.

  I watched as Henry sat down across from Tyressa and tucked one of her hands in both of his. Just this simple act put me on edge. For the last four days, Henry, Tom, and I had been tromping around the City That Never Sleeps. We went from one site to another, filming, exploring, laughing, and in general enjoying ourselves. And, frequently, as we walked through the city, Henry held my hand. Somehow, watching him hold Tyressa’s hand made it all seem cheap.

  “Tyressa,” Henry cooed. “You look amazing tonight.”

  I scrambled to move into shooting position and start the camera. I could tell Henry was already in full acting mode.

  “Thanks, Henry. You seem to be in a good mood,” Tyressa said, smiling brilliantly at him.

  “I had a great time exploring New York. How has your week been?”

  And just like that, Tyressa and Henry exchanged stories about their New York adventures while I filmed it. And all the while, Henry looked at her like she was interesting, engaging, and attractive.

  ****

  I shut the door behind me and walked straight to the stairwell. It was two floors up to Henry’s room, and I bounced up them easily. It was late, around ten or so, and I hadn’t seen Henry since after we broke from filming.

  I found myself anxious to see him again. My stomach felt tight as I knocked on his door and brooded over the fact I really needed to tamp down my infatuation.

  “Chels. What’s up?” Henry said, a broad smile on his face as he opened the door.

  “Um…hi.” It was amazing I was able to get that much out. Henry stood in front of me wearing only a pair of jeans, his bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem. My eyes scanned his tattoos and sculpted pecs, then on down to his washboard abs.

  “Come in,” he said, moving aside and gesturing to me with his muscular arm.

  I ripped my eyes away from his deeply tanned skin and managed to put one foot in front of the other so I could move into the room. I walked over to the loveseat and plopped down roughly on it.

  “So, I did it,” I announced, looking away from Henry and his tight jeans.

  “You did what?” he asked, cocking his head.

  I looked him in the eyes. “I met with Snarky Steve just now, and I demanded a raise. And I got it. Now I make more money than that little twerp, Jake.”

  “Chels!” He walked over to the tiny couch and squeezed in beside me. “You did it!” He threw his arms wide and pulled me into a hug.

  I soaked it all up, feeling his hard chest against my small breasts, his scratchy cheek against my soft one. I took a deep breath and inhaled his distinct scent.

  He pulled me back, his hands still on my shoulders, his back slumped down so he could look me in the eyes. “I am so proud of you, Chels!”

  I blushed uncontrollably. “Yeah?”

  “You didn’t even tell me you were going to do it.”

  I shrugged. “Well, the thing is…I wanted to do it on my own. I wanted to stand up for myself—and my gender—all on my own.”

  He kissed my cheek. “You are one powerful woman, Chelsea Morrison.”

  Heat rose from my neck to my hairline, and I was certain my cheeks had turned to beets.

  “Let’s celebrate.” He stood, making me mourn his loss at my side. “This calls for champagne.”

  My eyes followed Henry as he moved lithely over to the phone and picked up the receiver. “Yeah, champagne sounds good.”

  ****

  I rolled over and pulled my hand—which weighed at least thirty pounds—up to my forehead and let out a moan. Too much champagne had me waking up feeling like my head was on fire, my mouth full of cotton, and each one of my limbs tied to a massive boulder.

  I managed to drag my eyelids up so I could see my hotel room. Only it wasn’t my hotel room. My gaze wandered from the painting of a girl with an umbrella on the wall opposite me to the figure lying on the tiny couch beneath it.

  Henry was literally twice the size of that couch. Only his upper body was firmly planted on the rough beige upholstery while his long legs were angled between the couch and the thin brown carpeting beside it. Meanwhile, my scrawny-ass self was lying in a massive king-size bed all alone.

  I wrenched myself into a sitting position and took a closer look at Henry. His eyes popped open, almost as if he could sense me looking at him. He sat up and ran a hand over his face. He looked sleepy and hungover and absolutely adorable.

  “Hi, Wonder Woman,” he said, his voice rough. “How are you this morning?”

  “I feel like I got run over by a Mack truck. You?”

  “Hmm. About the same. Wanna get breakfast?”

  “Yeah. I should probably shower first, though,” I said, pulling myself off the bed.

  I passed Henry on my way to the door. He reached out and took hold of my hand. “Hey, Chels,” he said softly, looking up at me.

  “Hmm?”

  “I might feel like shit right now. But I had a really good time last night. And I am really, really proud of you.”

  I mumbled a thanks and got the hell out of there before I did something really stupid, like propose marriage.

  ****

  Five months ago—Tortola, British Virgin Islands

  “You haven’t called in two weeks, Chels. We’ve been worried.”

  “Says my big brother who disappears for years a time,” I groaned.

  “God, I will never live that down, will I?” Jack complained.

  “Don’t let him,” I heard Candace say.

  “Am I on speakerphone?”

  “Yeah, it’s Candie’s new car. It has the ability to sync you right into the speakers. Isn’t that wild?” My brother was clearly floored by this technology.

  “Jack, cars have been able to do that for a long time,” I told him.

  “Not cars I can afford.”

  Jack had sunk his entire trust fund into his nonprofit and lived hand to mouth. His wife, on the other hand, worked for my dad and made pretty good money. The irony was not lost on any of us.

  “Good thing you married rich,” I quipped.

  �
��Tell me about it. So, where are you?”

  “Hmmm, the Virgin Islands.” My voice sounded dreamy, just like it should.

  “No kidding?” Candace asked. “How’s that?”

  “Lovely. The weather is basically everything you ever wished it to be.”

  “Until a hurricane comes,” Jack said.

  “Whatever, we’ll be gone by then.”

  “So, are you lying around on the beach and drinking mai tais all day?” Candace asked.

  “No. I’m working. But I’m having fun.”

  “Whoa,” Jack said. “You’ve always liked all the places your job took you to. But I’ve never heard you say you were having fun working.”

  “Things are different with this gig. Henry, Tom, and I basically have complete creative control over our half of the show. And I barely even see everyone else. It’s like the three of us are in our own little bubble.”

  “So, the hottie turned out to be pretty cool, huh?” As soon as Candace said it I instantly regretted telling her about my crush.

  “Hottie?” Jack asked.

  “Henry, the rock star’s son,” Candace told him.

  “Last time I tell you a secret, Candace,” I griped.

  “Sorry, Chelsea.” She at least had the grace to sound guilty.

  “Are you and this guy…?” Jack stalled out.

  “No, Jack. We’re just friends. Good friends. Like me and Tom are.”

  There was a choking sound I was pretty sure came from Candace. “I’m sure it’s just like you and Tom,” she said sarcastically.

  I decided to change the subject as fast as possible. “Whatever. Tell me what’s happening at home. How’s everyone doing?”

  “Jack adopted a dog,” Cadence said flatly.

  “We adopted a dog, and he’s adorable,” Jack said.

  “He’s the most pathetic mutt you’ve ever seen, Chels,” Candace told me.

  I laughed. I could imagine. Jack was a huge sucker for pathetic. I was about to say exactly that when a knock shook my door. “Hey, guys, I have to go. Someone is here.”

  “Who?” my big brother asked.

  “I don’t know. Probably Tom or Steve wanting me to help with some editing.”

  “Okay, Chelsea. Have fun,” Candace said.

  “And call again sooner,” Jack called.