Dylan (Wild Men)

by Melissa Belle

  I look up at him, something I’ve never had to do before with a guy. He’s got to be at least six feet four. Just makes the idea of spending tomorrow with him all the more interesting.

  I make my decision. “Fine. We can fake date. But I pick the sights. And I don’t want you paying me a thing until after we go out tomorrow. I want the choice to back out if I decide things between us are unpalatable.”

  The corner of his mouth turns up. “Deal. Shall we meet out here then? By the beautiful mountain view at eleven a.m.?”

  “Sure.” So he likes the mountains. That’s not a point against him, unfortunately.

  “Cool.” He glances at my phone in my hand, and before I know what’s happening, it’s in his hand, and he’s punching in some numbers. “That’s my cell. In case you ever need it. I just texted myself so I have your number, too. See you, Jasalie Gordon.” He leaves me standing outside, staring at the mountains.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Twenty minutes later, Bill finally grants Lilla and me permission to leave.

  “What, no one to hook up with tonight?” I tease her.

  “Shut up, Jase.” She knocks me with her shoulder as we head toward the elevators.

  “I’m just surprised. With all those cute guys in there, I thought I’d be the last person you’d want to leave the bar with.”

  “I’m still working my magic,” she says to me with a grin. “Still scoping out the scene. I don’t want to make a misstep.”

  “Oh, I see.” I smile as we step into the elevator, and I press fifteen.

  “Now the running back, Wilkens, is hot, don’t you think? And he’s single. Colton Wild’s taken, which is really too bad. But the kicker’s also pretty cute. Although I think he might be engaged.”

  “Well, get out your gossip rags and make sure before tomorrow.”

  “I should do that!” Lilla says, not hearing the sarcasm in my voice. “I’ll bring them into the bath with me.”

  “You take baths?” I ask incredulously.

  “Don’t you?”

  “Never. I don’t sit in water, especially stagnant water that gets dirty around me the longer I sit there. I thought baths were just for babies.”

  “Baths can be for adults, too. Especially if you want to have a romantic evening in a hotel with the hottest athlete in the world. God, Dylan’s mouth is so fucking kissable. And his body—did you see his chest nearly popping out of his shirt? Not to mention how he filled out his pants.”

  “He’s certainly easy on the eyes.” I slide the keycard into my door and let us both inside.

  Lilla heads for the mini-bar, gets out two little vodka bottles, and tosses me one before throwing herself onto the bed. Every time we travel, Lilla insists that we enjoy the corporate “privileges” of having everything expensed to Apex Marketing & Promotions. But I’ve had enough alcohol tonight. I return the vodka bottle to the fridge and grab a water instead. I take a seat next to Lilla on the bed and turn on the TV. As I flip through the stations, the first channel is showing a commercial with Dylan advertising a deodorant.

  “Ha, maybe that one works better than the crap-ass one the hotel gave us,” I joke as I turn the station.

  “That deodorant worked great for me.” Lilla gives me a knowing look. “Did Dylan make you sweat profusely, Jasalie? Imagine what he could make you do in bed.”

  I stick my tongue out at her and keep flipping. Commercial after commercial until I find a sports channel showing a highlight film of the top quarterbacks. Of course, Dylan’s front and center on the screen. I immediately flick off the television and lean my head back against the pillows.

  “This is too much.” I sigh. “I wish he didn’t know I was born here.”

  “It slipped out when he asked where we were from. I didn’t mean to tell him, honestly.”

  “I don’t blame you. He’s a jerk for using it to his advantage. Did you see how happy Bill was when he overheard me telling you about our plans tomorrow?”

  “Try to relax.” Lilla takes a swig of vodka. “Tomorrow will be all in public and super casual. You’ll be fine. Plus, Bill actually considers this work, so he won’t be on your case.”

  “Spending time with Dylan Wild one-on-one is just so…” I want to say, “so intimate,” but I refrain.

  “Spending time with a celebrity will be cool,” Lilla says. “They’re almost like real people. Sort of.”

  I rip the label off my water bottle, feeling sad for Dylan for some reason. “The world treats Dylan Wild like a magazine cover…like he’s an MVP trophy. I’m not going to do that. No matter how rich or famous he is, he’s still a real person.”

  “Think of it this way, Jase.” Lilla scoots up until she’s sitting next to me. “If you two have kids, they’ll be so beautiful.”

  I roll my eyes. “Dylan may be beautiful like that, but I’m certainly not.”

  “Yeah, right. You must not see what the rest of us do when we look at you then. You’re gorgeous! And this whole thing with Dylan serves you right. You work so hard to never let anybody in, and wouldn’t you know it; you meet the most perfect guy in existence. We should all be so lucky.”

  “We’ll see just how perfect he is. I’m not holding my breath. Nobody’s that flawless.”

  After Lilla leaves, I remember my promise to my therapist.

  “Fine, Mindy.” I grab my notebook. “I’ll try this.”

  Dear Mom,

  I’m sitting in Tucson at a nice hotel, and I’m writing to you. To the woman I lost all those years ago, and you’d think I’d be over it by now.

  Do you think that? Do you think I forgot about you, forgot about your face, your clothes, your hair? I don’t remember much of the details, but I still remember how you smelled. The perfume you wore. When I was a teenager, I went to the department store. I stood at the cosmetics counter for nearly an hour, testing every single fragrance behind the locked glass shelves. I drove the saleswoman crazy, but I sprayed one bottle after another on my wrists and arms until I found your scent.

  Ruby XO. That was the perfume you always wore wasn’t it? I knew when I smelled it, as soon as I sprayed it on my right bicep. It was the only part of me that didn’t already smell like something else. Somebody else’s mother’s smell. But not mine.

  I bought a bottle right then, and I’ve been using it ever since. Every morning. I haven’t missed once.

  Jasalie

  I put my journal down and turn off my light.

  But I can’t sleep. I toss and turn for over half an hour, unable to even relax. Finally, I sit up and reach for my phone. I reread the saved address on my map, the one I typed in from the lawyer’s note card and that I’ve long since memorized. Then, before I can change my mind, I pull up Dylan’s number.

  My text is short and to the point.

  I’m in.

  It’s late, and I don’t expect him to text me back. I’m about to lie back down when my phone dings with a message. Not sure how he’s going to respond, I touch the screen with a shaking finger.

  No trial date needed then? What changed your mind?

  I glance over at my journal.

  I think you were right. We can help each other.

  His answer comes almost immediately. Let’s spend the day together before you commit. See you tomorrow.

  Tomorrow. I blow out a breath, finally releasing my tension. And I go to sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I arrive outside the hotel lobby at eleven the next morning as planned.

  I get there first. It’s just me and the mountains.

  And I’m officially nervous. Last night the whole thing between Dylan and me had seemed like a big game somehow. Dylan was super-hot, smelled amazing, and was annoyingly persistent. He tempted me, and once I was alone in my room, I bit. But today, all of it feels way too real.

  “Hey, Jasalie Gordon.” Dylan appears by my side without warning and I jump.

  I must stop looking at these damn mountains.

  “Hey, yourself.” I
turn and smile at him.

  He looks even more gorgeous than last night if that’s humanly possible. His olive shirt brings out the gold flecks of his eyes, and his hair isn’t styled as formally as it was yesterday. The slight waviness is a touch messy. He runs his hand through his hair as he stands in front of me, which just messes it up more. God, he looks like sex on a stick.

  I, on the other hand, look pretty much exactly as I did last night. My hair’s different—I’m wearing it down instead of up in the bun I had yesterday—but I’m wearing another pair of black pants and a blouse. I spent all morning running back and forth to the hotel office center to photocopy pamphlet after pamphlet for Bill, and I didn’t have time to focus on what to wear for lunch. So I panicked and threw on what I now realize is far too businessy for this “date.”

  “You look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you. Although I do have other outfits, ones that are more…casual.”

  He breaks into a smile, and I laugh in spite of myself.

  “If you want casual, maybe I can loan you one of my football jerseys to wear later.”

  The heat rushes to my face.

  “So, you ready to go?” I’m already walking down the steps.

  “Sure.”

  He catches up to me and matches me stride for stride. As we head across the parking lot, Dylan pulls up short.

  “Jasalie.”

  He’s staring out past me toward the street, and his face is etched with tension. I look where he’s looking, but other than the glint of what appears to be sunlight hitting glass, I don’t see anything.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask him, involuntarily reaching out a hand to touch his arm. A jolt of electricity shoots through my body, and I quickly jerk my hand away.

  But Dylan’s eyes grow heated like he felt it, too. He clears his throat. “The paparazzi are around already,” he warns me, and his jaw ticks. “I know of a place where they won’t bother us. Do you like Italian?”

  I nod. “I can drive, though. That way I can show you around.” I’m kicking myself as soon as the offer’s out of my mouth. I thought I’d prefer to drive so I could feel some semblance of control over this situation, but I’ll be lucky if we don’t end up in Phoenix for how well I remember Tucson.

  We walk in silence to my car. “The thing is I thought the point of all this”—I gesture between him and myself—“was to be seen together.” I unlock the car and climb into the driver’s side. “Doesn’t hiding from the press kind of ruin your plan?”

  Dylan settles into the shotgun seat and stretches his long legs out. “Like I said, let’s have this date be just us. I don’t want to overwhelm you right off the bat. Introducing you to my world is difficult enough; throwing you to the media wolves is another. I haven’t been on a date with someone who’s from outside of this scene in a while. Not since I started being photographed more regularly. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with me and trust me first.”

  That’s sweet. He really is genuinely nice and considerate. “Thanks for thinking of me,” I say as I turn on the car. “But I’m pretty good at taking care of myself. A few men with cameras aren’t going to scare me off.”

  Dylan lets out a light chuckle that sounds exhausted. “They’re more like vultures than cameramen.”

  Using his phone for directions, Dylan tells me how to reach the restaurant.

  I’m surprised when we pull up to a rustic building with the simple sign “Lucca’s” above the wooden door. With the type of life he leads, I assumed Dylan would only eat out at fancy places.

  Dylan insists on holding the door for me as we walk inside.

  An older man immediately comes over to us and shakes Dylan’s hand. “How are you, Mr. Wild? Good to see you again.”

  “I’m great. Thanks, Paolo.” Dylan puts his arm around me. “This is Jasalie.”

  “Jasalie.” Paolo takes my hand and kisses it. “You two get the table of honor, a private one in the back.”

  He leads us over to a small table for two. The seating is far more intimate than I’d prefer, but making a fuss would just call attention to the fact that I’m trying to avoid breathing in Dylan Wild’s air space.

  We take seats across from one another. I glance around the restaurant, already feeling more comfortable than I ever thought I would today. It’s a hole-in-the wall, tiny space with little ambience. But it’s real.

  “This is a nice place,” I say as a waiter fills our waters and Dylan and I each order a glass of red wine.

  Dylan tells me he’s been here a few times over the last couple years. “I’ve taken a few vacations in the desert to get away,” he explains. “Paolo always respects my privacy.” He raises his water glass. “Cheers.”

  I shake my head. “It’s bad luck to toast with water.”

  “Really?” He puts his glass back down on the table. “Didn’t know that.”

  “We’ll wait for the wine.”

  “That’s fine. We’ve got all afternoon,” he says.

  I fidget in my seat. Somehow I thought this was going to be a quick lunch. Dylan and I would realize we had nothing in common except for our business arrangement, I’d drive him to a few sights around town, and that would be it.

  “Let’s see if we have enough to talk about to get us that far,” I say.

  “I think we will.” He winks at me.

  My insides turn over, and all the guy’s done is make niceties. And I’m sweating again even though I went out this morning and bought myself a new deodorant, the kind I use at home, the kind that always keeps me dry even when I’m making presentations at work. If I keep seeing Dylan, I may have to get that special prescription deodorant that prevents sweating altogether.

  “Anyway,” I say in a soft tone, “I guess I thought you were used to something fancier than this.”

  “I don’t always do fancy.” He leans closer to me, so close I can see sparks of gold dancing inside his dark brown eyes. “I thought this would be a good place for our first date.”

  “Good guess.” My voice comes out breathy, and I fight to regain my composure. “So, Dylan,” I say in a clinical voice. “Tell me about yourself. What are your parents like? And your friends? Are you dating anyone back in L.A.?”

  He laughs. “Trying to get a flaw out of me right off the bat, huh? Well, don’t worry, I’m not perfect. Just like the rest of us.”

  But as our conversation goes on, and we laugh and talk and don’t run out of things to say to one another, Dylan Wild seems pretty damn near perfect to me. And he’s down-to-earth. The truth is I wanted to believe that he was more than a famous football player—more than the entitled Neanderthal stereotype with a shinier finish. But I definitely had my doubts. His genuineness puts me in my place without him even realizing it. We talk about our jobs and the pros and cons of being residents of Los Angeles. I make sure to keep the topics as light and non-personal as possible.

  We’re interrupted five times for Dylan to sign autographs and take pictures. Three kids and two adults.

  “Do you ever get tired of that?” I ask him after the fifth one leaves.

  “Sometimes it’s hard. Like when I’m trying to get to know someone. But, you know it’s flattering. It really is.”

  I nod and take another sip of my wine. If I weren’t driving, I could try to drown my feelings of lust in alcohol, but instead I’m stuck nursing my first glass.

  “So, to finally answer your earlier questions,” Dylan says to me as the waiter hands him the bill. “I’m not dating anyone.”

  Our eyes catch. I want to keep my mouth shut. But as usual, it opens and fires.

  “I saw you on Hollywood Now! with that Natalie woman. The show said you’re dating.”

  He frowns. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a tabloid believer, Jasalie Gordon.”

  I don’t like the way he says it. Like he’s disappointed in me.

  “I believe what I see,” I say stubbornly. “And I saw you with your arms around some woman.”

  I
’m not sure why a wave of displeasure sweeps through me at the memory, and I try my best to ignore the feeling.

  “It was one date,” he says, the growing flush on his cheeks the only sign of his emotion. “Our publicists set us up. We went back to her place afterward, and I fell asleep. She was angry—I guess—that I wasn’t interested enough in her to stay awake. So she took photographs of…intimate parts of me.”

  I gasp. “Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. She sent them to my agent, thank God, instead of to social media, which is where she was headed. She decided to blackmail me with them. If I didn’t do what she asked, she vowed to sell them to a tabloid or to post them herself.”

  “But that’s illegal!”

  “It may be illegal, but stopping someone from doing something like that is damn near impossible.”

  I stare at him. “So what did she want? Besides to try to ruin you?”

  “She didn’t want to ruin me, not really. Natalie wanted a part, and she needed some free publicity. She wanted me to go out with her so she could be seen. So we went on two public, planned dates where the paparazzi were called and told where we’d be. They got their pictures, she got her role, and I got out of there as fast as I could.”

  I stare at him. “So it’s no different than this thing between us. This is just another deal for you. I understand you were coerced into that one, but still—it’s all business.”

  He sucks in his breath. “I can see why you’d say that. The difference here is I like you, Jasalie. I want to go on a real date with you if you’ll let me. If you won’t, I’ll take what I can get. And I really do appreciate you considering helping me out with the charity.”

  We look at each other in silence. The heat between us is still intense, and our little disagreement just made the air around us even thicker.

  I nod at him. “Okay. Well, what about your family? Any siblings?”

  “I’ve got an older brother by three years, and he never lets me forget it. My parents are high school sweethearts, and they raised us in the same Old West Montana town they were raised in. My four cousins are my best friends and have been since I was a kid. Plus Jenson, who’s Colton’s best friend, and he’s become family to us, too.”