Smash (Trojan Book 3)

by S. M. West

She nibbles on her lip, a painful smile ghosting over her mouth. “The next two weeks are insane. Maybe after that. Can we talk some more about this? I want to help, and I can get some great names for your shoot, but it’s going to be difficult for me.”

  “Because of the award and your career taking off?” The question is harmless, but his tone carries a jab, maybe even a hint of jealousy.

  “Can I pencil you in?” She mashes her lips together, wearing a distressed expression.

  “Parfait, my beautiful.” He beams, puffing out his chest and casting me a smug, satisfied look as if he’s won.

  I want to rip his tongue out whenever he calls her that. This isn’t over, and if Daisy needs me to tell him to get lost, I’ll gladly do it.

  Henry bumps into Jerome’s leg on another sweep around us, and the old man scowls, closing the distance to Daisy. But the little boy doesn’t get the hint and barrels between their legs once more, nearly knocking down Jerome.

  “Dammit.” His face twists, eyes narrowing on Henry.

  “Jerome,” Daisy admonishes, and at the same time, I glare and command, “Knock it off.”

  “I better go.” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek and jogs back to his car.

  We stand side by side watching him leave as the vrooms and roars from Henry fill the silence.

  “Why didn’t you just say no?” I run a hand through my hair, shaking my head.

  “I tried…he just doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

  “He’s a selfish jerk.” I lower my voice, careful not to let Henry overhear the less than nice word.

  “He’s not all that bad. He can be an okay guy. It’s just sometimes he infuriates me.”

  “I don’t get it. The man is in his early sixties and had a lucrative photography career, one most would die for from what you’ve told me. But now, because he’s hit a rough patch, it’s your job to help him out of it?”

  My pointed question causes her to flinch, and she tries to cover it with a shrug, looking away from me. I follow her line of sight to Henry, on the grass, taking off both his shoes like a man on a mission.

  “Daze, would you even be friends if not for his fall from grace, or whatever it is that happened?”

  When Jerome first made his appearance in Daisy’s life, I’d tried to be open-minded even if he gave me jackass vibes. But the more I learned and the more I saw of him, the less I liked him. Fortunately, I don’t have to see him a lot, but from what Daisy tells me, he’s trying to ride her coattails.

  “Well, I mean, we worked together in Paris. Not all the time, but once in a while.”

  “And now he clings to you as if you’re his saviour. I don’t like him.”

  “Not this again.” She rests her hands on her hips, staring at me sternly.

  We’ve had this conversation many times. I don’t understand why she just doesn’t keep her dealings with him civil but from a distance.

  “C’mon, Daze. The guy insists on making his comeback your problem. That isn’t a friend.”

  5

  Daisy

  A silly flip-flop

  Why does talking to Jerome make me feel shitty about receiving one of the most prestigious photography awards in the city?

  In the car on the way to Pansy’s, I mull over the conversation with Jerome and the award I still can’t believe will be mine. It’s life changing, and less than a month ago, like so many other photographers, I was a small fish in a big pond.

  The fashion industry is dominated by a small group of photographers. They get all the shoots, all the campaigns, all the covers and ironically, this group is mainly male photogs. Yes, mostly men land the most coveted gigs. All. The. Time.

  This award changes that for me. Since the announcement, I have the likes of Vogue, Elle, and a few Fashion Houses calling, wanting to book me. I’d been getting noticed before the award, finding it easier to snag those plum jobs, and the calls were increasing. But my breakout piece changed all of that and virtually overnight.

  It was a feature on indie, underground LA designers, and it didn’t hurt that I had the likes of some high-caliber names modeling. My photos were featured in several trendy online magazines, and things snowballed from there.

  It’s all surreal; I hadn’t planned on straying from modeling but Henry changed everything. Between breastfeeding and diapers came this fierce—and surprising—pull to be on the other side of the photo lens.

  Gray standing at the rear passenger door of his car, unbuckling Henry, brings me out of my musings. I park the car, and with my baby on his hip, he waits on the curb for me.

  “Ready?” He quirks a blond brow. I nod and we start to walk.

  The sun blazes above us, and arrows of honeycomb yellow splash onto the black, weathered pavement.

  “Hey, Gray?” Nibbling on my bottom lip, I pause midstep, and he does the same, peering at me. “Would you go with me to the awards dinner next week?”

  “I’d love to.” The hint of a smile flirts with the edges of his mouth.

  “Great.” I inhale the salty sea air and release any residual nerves.

  Did I just ask him on a date? No, it isn’t a date. This is Gray. My best friend.

  “I’ll send you the details.” I fidget with the hem of my baggy shirt, overthinking this.

  “Cool. You nervous?” He snatches my hand, threading our fingers and pulling me alongside him.

  For the briefest moment, sparks zoom through my veins, straight for my chest, causing my heart to do a silly flip-flop. Get a hold of yourself, Daisy.

  “A little.” With a shaky voice and legs, I force my focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not on how his strong, callused hand curls around mine. “I mean, it’s so surreal. I can’t believe I got the award, that this is happening to me.”

  “Why?” He stops at the crosswalk, directly across from Silas and Pansy’s home. “You’re amazing.”

  Resting his forehead against mine, his fingers cup the back of my neck in a gentle, reassuring way, and he’s everywhere. His breath warms my lips and the fresh citrus scent of him showers my senses.

  Henry pats his chubby, sweaty palm on my cheek. “Mommy amazing.”

  I snort, he giggles, and Gray’s lighthearted laughter wraps around me. “Thank you. It’s just I never dreamed of getting to this level in my career.”

  “This level?”

  “Yeah, where W and Vogue are calling me.” I’m the first to break the connection as his gaze is too intense and mind-altering.

  His lips never looked so kissable.

  “You’re crazy. Your work is fantastic.”

  “And you’re biased but thank you. I am proud of my work.”

  “Good, because you should be. We’re all proud of you, aren’t we?” He tickles Henry’s belly and my son squeals, tearing his eyes from the rolling, foamy cobalt waves.

  “Proud of Mommy.” Henry returns to admiring the ocean, likely overeager to sink his fingers and toes in the damp sand.

  Gray hooks an arm around my shoulder, the diaper bag hitting my butt, and Henry giggles again at how close the three of us are. He’s on one side of Gray and I’m on the other.

  My arm slides naturally around Gray’s trim, defined waist, and he leads us across the street. Contentment floats through me in the same way warm water quiets and soothes one lounging in a deep bathtub.

  For the first time in the past twenty-four hours, things feel normal again and not fleeting. No, more than normal. Better than normal.

  “Hey, guys.” In the doorway, Pansy waves, beaming at the sight of Henry and his stuffed octopus clutched to his chest.

  As a marine biologist, Pansy’s first gift to my son was Jellycat, his stuffed octopus that he is insufferable without. Henry takes the thing everywhere and can’t sleep without it. My sister doesn’t gloat, but she’s beyond tickled pink that my son’s most beloved toy was given by her.

  We’re no sooner in front of her than she snatches Henry from Gray, peppering his cherub cheeks
with kisses.

  “Hiya, Henry.” Kiss. Kiss. “Did you have breakfast?” Kiss. Kiss. “Do you want something to eat, big guy?”

  Both of us forgotten, she prances into the house, absorbed in the babe in her arms. My sister is still in school, and in her mind, any baby-making plans are on hold, but Silas wants nothing more than to knock her up—his words. She’ll make a great mom.

  “No, we ate, thanks.” Gray’s playfully sarcastic since we’re both used to being invisible when my sister is in the vicinity of a child, especially Henry or Crystal, Eli’s daughter.

  Pansy pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a flush to her alabaster cheeks. “Good. I’ll get this little one a snack.” She mock-munches on a balled fist, setting off peals of laughter from Henry.

  “Where’s Silas?” Gray shakes his head.

  “Out back with Jared and Eva.” Pansy disappears into the kitchen.

  Through the doorway to the kitchen, Lucia, their housekeeper and like a second mother to Silas, coos a string of melodic Spanish all for Henry. And while the translation is lost on me, I can’t help but sport a gooey grin.

  I wave at the three of them as we pass by. “K, we’ll see you out there.”

  Today is a rare day when we’re all free and we’re able to hang out for a few hours. It doesn’t happen often since all of us have busy lives.

  Since coming to LA, pregnant and lost, who knows where I’d be right now without my sister and her friends. Silas and his bandmates, especially Gray, have become family to Henry and me.

  And it’s moments like this, when the guys are pairing off and settling down, I’m so grateful to be a part of this close-knit group and only hope nothing changes.

  The deck’s hot on my bare feet, and I drop my sandals, slipping them back on. Jared’s arms are wrapped around Eva, his fiancée, like he never wants to let her go. Laughing at something he says, she stares up at him as if no one else exists but him.

  Silas turns in our direction. “Good to see you.”

  Gray and Silas do that thing guys do—where they shake with one hand and with their other, they clap each other’s back.

  “Hey, Daisy.” Eva detaches herself from her man, coming over to hug and kiss me, three times, on alternating cheeks like they do in Europe. “So good to see you.”

  Until six months ago, Eva had lived in Spain for most of her adult life, but LA was where she was born.

  “You too.” Behind her, I stretch to hug Jared. “How are you? Are you settled in?”

  “Daisy, looking good.” Jared squeezes my side and smiles. “We’re almost moved in.”

  “Almost?” Eva arches a dark brow and wraps an arm around his waist, resting her head on his chest. “We’re not even close. Boxes are everywhere, but we love it.”

  He laughs. “She exaggerates, but yeah, we love it.”

  They just moved into a small beach home, and Jared sold his Beverly Hills monstrosity. Silas, waiting his turn, moves in for a hug, tanned arms wide.

  “Hey, Daze.” He looks around, puzzled. “Where’s Henry?”

  “Where do you think? I’ll give you one guess.” I cock a hip and purse my lips.

  Tipping his head back, he releases a deep, throaty laugh. “Of course. Let me go in and get them. Pansy will hide out with him all day if she has her way.”

  “Not a chance.” Gray lifts a hand behind his head and whips his shirt off in one smooth move. “Henry’s here for the beach. If she doesn’t bring him out soon, snacks or no snacks, he’ll stage a mutiny.”

  His magnificently inked torso and arms pop in the blinding sunlight, drawing my eyes to the intricate designs, and I lick my lips, suddenly parched. Not willing to tempt myself further and unsure as to what has gotten into me—looking at my best friend like a piece of meat is not something I’ve ever done before—I edge over to the lounger in the shade.

  “I’ll be right back.” Silas goes inside to rescue my son from his adoring aunt.

  My relationship with my soon-to-be brother-in-law is solid, but it wasn’t always this way. He didn’t particularly like me when I first arrived in LA, and truthfully, at the time, I didn’t give him a lot of reason to.

  I was wrapped up in myself and didn’t go easy on Pansy. Not because she deserved it but more, you know, that old adage of taking things out on the ones we love. And despite our bickering, Silas’s protectiveness of my baby sister instantly endeared me to him.

  “Daze, can you put some on my back?” Gray runs a hand through his tousled hair and holds up a tube of sunscreen.

  Nodding, I straighten my oversized shirt, looking anywhere but at the firm, stacked muscles of his stomach and the light trail of hair dipping below his swim trunks.

  He hands me the tube, and I’m faced with the smooth expanse of his back. A dollop of cool lotion splats onto my palm, and I rub my hands together, trying to warm it up. Still, he hisses when my palms first rest on his heated skin.

  “Sorry,” I half chuckle, half grimace, gliding my now tingling hands over his tight, angular shoulder blades.

  My fingers brush against the sides of his torso, working their way down his back, and I relish how he quivers at my touch. Desire curls low in my core, and I press my knees together to lessen the ache. What is happening to me?

  One date and my eyes are suddenly open to the opposite sex, or more specifically, my very hot and very single best friend. It isn’t like I was unaware of his hotness. Hell no.

  The guy is handsome and a sweetheart. And I love him…I love him like a friend. That’s it. Isn’t it?

  I steady my gaze toward the glass doorway, conjuring something boring and not as mind-bending as loving my best friend in more than friendly ways. Like the two weeks’ worth of laundry, spit-up, stains, and other unmentionables waiting for me or the hours of photo editing I have to do at some point soon.

  Pansy and Silas come outside with Henry leading the way, and I pat Gray’s shoulder, signaling I’m done.

  “Thanks.” He drops to his haunches and picks up Henry before turning to me. “We’re going down to the water. I’ll put sunscreen on him. Where’s his hat?”

  “He’s already got some on.” Pansy sidles up to me as I unzip the diaper bag to fish out his sun hat.

  I watch Gray and Henry descend the deck stairs to the beach, and once out of sight, my sister steps in closer, untying her cover.

  “So how’d your date go?” She twirls her long red locks into a loose knot on top of her head and dabs sunscreen onto the tips of both shoulders.

  “Ugh, don’t ask.” I shimmy out of my shorts and get rid of my shirt.

  “That bad, huh?” Working lotion into her thigh, she rests her foot on the edge of a lounger.

  “Not really bad…but it wasn’t great either.” I dip onto a cushion, rummaging through the bag for my hair tie. “I mean, it felt like I was having dinner with a client.”

  “Ah, that sucks.” She picks at a loose strand of hair clinging to her neck. “I was excited for you.”

  “I guess.” I shrug, no emotion at the thoughts of the dinner.

  “I mean, it’s been a while since you put yourself out there…too long, if you ask me.”

  “No one asked you,” I mutter under my breath.

  She rolls her eyes and squirts lotion on my back. “Whatever. I’d always hoped you and Gray—”

  “Stop right there.” My heart rate spikes and I scan the deck, breathing easier with Jared, Eva, and Silas fully engrossed in a conversation several feet away. They aren’t listening or even interested in our conversation. “We’re not talking about this again.”

  “Hey, easy.” A slow, laidback grin slides across her face. “You can’t blame me for hoping. You know instead of waiting for Gray to make the move—”

  “Who said I was waiting for him?”

  6

  Daisy

  Can’t keep her hands to herself

  Am I waiting for Gray to show interest? Is that what’s been going on? And only now, after a less than
stellar date experience, I’m rearranging things in my head? Feasting on my best friend at every chance I get?

  Once more, I look to our friends, busy chatting at the balcony as they take in the ocean view and most probably, Gray and Henry messing around in the sand below.

  “Fine. Fine.” She drops the subject a little too easily or so I think, but I’m proven wrong a blink later. “Is everything okay with the two of you?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I don’t know. There was some kind of weird tension between the two of you when you got here.”

  She noticed? Great, did Gray pick up on my weirdness too? What is my problem?

  “No, we’re good.” I tuck the beach bag under my chair, not willing to go into my misstep with not telling him about the date.

  “Is it the date?” She stares, unrelenting. Why does she always pick up on what’s not been said?

  “What?” I act confused or disinterested…or at least, that’s what I’m going for.

  “Did you tell him about your date?”

  I nod, removing my sunglasses to clean them. There’s not a speck on the lenses, but my sister has this uncanny ability to read my mind, especially when it’s none of her business.

  Argh, she can be so annoying.

  “And?”

  “And what? You know, I came here to hang out with you guys. Swim and relax before I go to work. This,”—I flick my hand back and forth between us—“feels a lot like grilling.”

  “Okay. You don’t have to be so touchy. I’ll leave you alone.” She plants a quick kiss on my cheek. “I’m taking Boy for a walk. Want to come?”

  Boy is Pansy’s dog, and my son adores her. Yes, Boy is a her. Don’t ask.

  “I’m good. I just want to chill, but where is Boy anyway?”

  “Sleeping in our room. Once I bring her down to the beach, Henry will go wild.” Her eyes glitter, unable to contain her excitement and I nod, laughing.

  “Great.” I lie back on the chair, securing the straps of my bikini, and close my eyes, soaking in the crashing of the waves, the briny salt in the air, and the radiant heat.