by Kat Mizera
They ordered another round of drinks, and conversation flowed until late in the night. Just before closing, as the bartender announced last call, Vlad and Rachel got up to leave.
“I can give you a ride if you want to stay and finish your drink,” Brock offered.
“I’m staying on the Strip. Is that okay? I know it’s kind of out of your way.”
“Why are you staying on the strip?” he asked in confusion.
“I don’t want to listen to the king and queen of sex all weekend, for one thing, and I love the Strip. It’s alive and busy and I don’t get to enjoy it often.”
“I’d think living in Hollywood you’d have more than enough busy.” His eyes met hers, the unspoken question behind them hard to miss.
“Believe it or not, I work so many hours I don’t get out much. By the time I’m done I’m ready for bed because I have to do it all again the next day. Most weeks are seven days, so when I take the time to go away I try to enjoy as much as I can.”
“I didn’t realize you guys worked seven days.”
“Production schedules vary, and since I’ve got a smaller part, I’m not usually there seven, but it happens.”
“Wow. I guess I thought actors and actresses had cushy jobs working a few hours a day.” He scratched his beard. “My bad.”
She smiled. “It’s a common misconception.”
“So, tell me about you,” he said after a moment.
“What do you want to know?” She looked up, her face suddenly guarded.
“I don’t know. I know a little about your childhood, but nothing about you right now other than what you do for a living. Are you single? Ever been married? I don’t know, the usual ‘getting to know each other’ stuff.”
She hesitated. “Never been married, currently single, own a condo in Brentwood, and drive a Mercedes SUV. I don’t eat salad, my favorite color is…wait for it…pink, and I spend my free time watching cooking shows even though I’m too chicken to try cooking anything beyond breakfast food or the occasional batch of brownies.”
Brock raised his eyebrows. “I’d give you an unbiased opinion on brownies.”
She smiled. “Bella says the same thing.”
“Who’s Bella?”
“She’s my eight-year-old foster daughter. I’m trying to adopt her but it’s been…difficult.”
“Why?” He tried to mask his surprise that someone as young as she was wanted to be a foster parent, but it added a level of depth to her he hadn’t expected.
“Her older sister technically has custodial rights, but even though she screwed up and I’ve got Bella now, she won’t relinquish them, which means I can’t officially adopt her.”
“Pardon my ignorance, but what’s the difference?”
“Day to day, not a lot, but the biggest thing is Angel—that’s her sister—could get her act together and fight to take her back at any time. Bella’s only eight, so it’s disruptive when Angel plays games with her. She wants to live with me, wants to go to the same school every year, live a normal life. They were at a shelter when I met them, and Bella had lost everything: her parents, her home, her friends, even most of her clothes and toys. I want to give that back to her, but Angel’s trying to exploit me because she seems to think I have an endless supply of money.”
“Don’t you?”
Ashleigh cocked her head. “Do you? How much is your contract? It’s public knowledge, right? Maybe a few years for five million? That in the ballpark?”
Brock felt a little foolish as he nodded. “I’m in the last year of a three-year contract for $6.5 million. There have been some negotiations going on to get it renewed but we passed the deadline so now it won’t get done until summer.”
“Is your money unlimited?” Her gaze was direct.
“No.” He dipped his head. “You’re right, that was a stupid thing to say. I guess I meant, you must have plenty of money, so can’t you just buy her off?”
Ashleigh shook her head. “It’s kind of weird we’re comparing salaries on what’s not even officially a date, but I don’t have anything to hide… I’m part of the supporting cast. While Rachel makes close to six figures per episode, I make less than half of that. Don’t get me wrong, making five figures a week, twenty-six weeks a year isn’t chump change, but I don’t make anywhere near what you think. Or what you do.”
He gave her a wry smile. “I had no idea. I guess I’ve had all kinds of wrong impressions tonight.”
“You know what they say about assuming.” There was a playful smirk on her lips.
“I’ll do better,” he grinned.
“Your turn.” She finished the last of her beer and put it down.
“Single, drive a Ford F-150, rent an apartment because it saves me money. Eat a lot of salad, though I prefer steak, don’t have a favorite color except maybe black, and I’m a big fan of Marvel comic books.”
“We have zero in common.” She laughed.
“Opposites tend to attract.” His gaze met hers, and he could have sworn hers had a mischievous twinkle that hadn’t been there before. “At least that’s what I’ve heard,” he added just as the lights came on, indicating the bar was getting ready to close.
“We should go,” she said, tossing her purse over her shoulder. “I’m sure this is past your bedtime on a work night. It’s definitely past mine.”
He nodded, signing the bill and taking out his keys as they moved toward the door. “Practice is optional tomorrow. Well, I guess it’s today now, but I’ll probably go anyway. I don’t like to miss it, no matter how tired I am. I can go home and take a nap afterward.”
“I’m sorry you have to go so far out of your way to take me to my hotel,” she said softly. “I can call for an Uber or a cab.”
“I don’t mind. Really.” He opened the passenger side door for her, closing it after she got in.
He got into the driver’s side and started the SUV. “I’d suggest a night cap at my place, but that would be kind of out of the way if I have to take you back to the Strip.”
She smiled. “Maybe on a night when we’re both off.”
He glanced at her. “Does that mean you’d go out with me?”
She shrugged. “If I was asked, I might.”
“Will you go out on a date with me?”
“I go back to L.A. Sunday night.”
“Then I guess tomorrow night it is. Can we go to an early dinner? We have a one p.m. game on Sunday so I can’t stay out late.”
“Sure. I’ll probably fall asleep by ten anyway.” She giggled.
He laughed. “Early bird special it is, Grandma.”
She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “I had a good time tonight, Brock. Thank you.”
“You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I don’t date,” she admitted softly. “Most men ask me out because of who I can introduce them to, who they can show me off to, or if they’re interested in perfunctory sex for bragging rights. Frankly, I’m not interested in any of it anymore.”
“Perfunctory sex?”
“It means—”
“I know what it means,” he interrupted. “I just don’t think I’ve ever used that adjective in relation to sex.”
“They don’t care if I enjoy it, simply that they get what they want from me.”
“Not for nothin’, because I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, but there wouldn’t be anything perfunctory about sex with me… I’m all about making sure a woman is satisfied.”
“Well, that would be a first,” she chuckled.
“Really?” Brock was confused. “Guys in Hollywood are that selfish?”
She shrugged. “Not just guys in Hollywood. I can give my high school boyfriend a pass because he was sixteen and neither of us knew what we were doing, but I dated Evander Simons for over a year. You know who he is? The director?”
Brock nodded.
“He was forty-eight; what was his excuse?”
“Stupidity?�
�� Brock muttered, shaking his head.
“There was also a twenty-five-year-old actor, a restaurant owner, a football player…”
“You went out with a football player? What team?”
She grinned. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Well, don’t let a football player make the rest of us look bad!”
She shrugged, sitting up as they pulled up in front of her hotel. “I’m not that excited about sex anyway, so it’s not a big deal.”
“I think that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, getting out to open the door for her.
“Thanks again for tonight.” She paused. “And you don’t have to take me out tomorrow. It’s okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked curiously.
“It would be a bit of a challenge to get me into bed so—”
He burst out laughing. “Challenge accepted!”
She laughed too. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Pick you up right here at five?”
“I’ll be here. And nowhere fancy—I didn’t bring anything other than jeans.”
“No problem.” He watched her walk into the hotel before getting back in his truck. Challenge accepted? No sex? What in the world was wrong with him?
4
As promised, Ashleigh was wearing jeans when he picked her up the next day, with knee-length, high-heeled brown boots, a white top, and a suede jacket that matched her boots. Her hair was straight tonight, her bangs brushed to the side and the rest hanging over her shoulders. Her makeup was subdued, though there was no way to miss her huge violet eyes, and whatever she’d put on her lips made them shimmer invitingly.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly, helping her into his truck.
“Thank you.” She sat back and fastened her seat belt. “How was practice?”
“Good.” He nodded. “Took a nap when I got home and now I’m ready for anything.”
“Where are we going?”
“Dinner?”
“Sure.”
“I didn’t make a reservation. There are a couple of places I like that know me and always seat me right away. Is that okay?”
“Perfect.”
“Do you prefer Italian, Mexican, or steak?”
“Steak,” she responded automatically.
“Girl after my own heart.” He pulled onto the street and headed away from the Strip. “What did you do all day?”
“Rachel and I had a late breakfast while you guys were at practice and then I worked out at the hotel gym.”
“Sounds like one of my days off. I usually meet one of the guys for breakfast, then we work out and take it easy. I don’t do a lot on days off. I’m pretty boring during hockey season.”
“Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend?” she asked casually.
“I guess.” His eyes were fixed on the road. “I just don’t think relationships are for me.”
“Bad experience?” she asked knowingly.
“Something like that.”
“Welcome to the club. Men usually treat me like a pretty toy, a doll or something, and then toss me aside when something newer and prettier comes along.”
“It’s not possible they find someone prettier,” he said softly. “That’s ludicrous.”
“Thank you, but there’s always someone prettier in Hollywood.”
He shook his head. “I find that hard to believe. Everyone has different tastes, of course, but girls like you are universally beautiful.”
She flushed. “Thank you. I don’t hear that a lot.”
He reached for her hand, squeezing lightly. “Well, you should.”
“For a guy who doesn’t do relationships, that’s pretty sweet.”
“I don’t do serious, but I know how to treat a lady. And anyway, even if it’s just sex, I’m a firm believer in letting a woman know how beautiful she is.”
“What if you don’t think so?” she asked, frowning.
He frowned, too. “Why would I sleep with a woman I didn’t find beautiful? There’s lots of different kinds of beautiful, but whether I’m attracted to her ass or her face or her brain… I think it’s important to compliment her regularly. I don’t know, I guess my mom taught me that.”
“I think that’s spectacularly romantic,” Ashleigh whispered, staring out the window and wondering why she never got asked out by guys like him. “I never get asked out by guys who do that,” she said aloud.
“Well… I’m pretty sure you did at least once.” He gave her a goofy smile and she laughed.
They had a wonderful dinner and sat at the table long after they finished, sipping cognac and talking about everything under the sun. Even though serious dating wasn’t his thing, Ashleigh was a lot of fun and he was going to ask her out again. She lived three hours away, though, so it wouldn’t be soon, but that wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, it might work out perfectly.
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” he asked. “Can you stay for the game?”
She hesitated. “I want to, but I have to see how Bella’s doing. She cried this morning, saying she missed me, and I don’t want her to be upset. She’s suffered enough.”
He nodded. “Well, I’d love to see you again, but I understand if you have to get home. Maybe I can come see you in L.A. sometime.”
She met his gaze. “Brock, I’ve had a great time tonight, but you know my situation with her. I can’t do the casual dating thing. Not only would it be confusing for her, I need stability in my life.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve had fun tonight, but I don’t think we should see each other again. You seem like a nice guy, but if I’m going to date anyone, it has to be someone who might stick around. And you’ve made it clear you’re not into that.”
He frowned. “I said I wanted to see you again—doesn’t that count?”
“I’d like it, too, but even the appearance of a casual hook-up could hurt my chances of adopting Bella, so it’s not a good idea to start something with no future.”
“So… my choices are nothing or marriage?” He was kidding, but there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice he couldn’t hide.
“Well, I don’t think I’m going to marry anyone,” she said, “although my lawyer says that would help…”
“He said that?” Brock was startled.
“I just turned twenty-five,” she said. “So that’s one strike against me. I’m single, which is another, and I’ve had a couple of high-profile relationships that didn’t end well. All of those together could be problematic if this wound up in court.”
“You can’t get married if you don’t date,” he reasoned.
“No, of course not, but dating someone who doesn’t do relationships is a waste of time. Besides, I want to be in a relationship. Dating is exhausting.”
“It definitely is.” He nodded vehemently until the look on her face gave him pause. “Not all dates,” he amended quickly. “But lots of them can be like that. You know what I mean.”
“I do.” She finished the last of her cognac and glanced at the time on her phone. “Well, it’s almost nine. We should get going.”
“One more cognac?” he asked softly, meeting her eyes and wondering what he would have to do to get her to go out with him again. The devil on his shoulder was taunting him, telling him to stop being a wuss and take what he wanted, while the angel on his other side reminded him he wasn’t interested in anything long-term. Why did everything have to be so complicated? How was it possible he’d finally found a girl he wanted to go out with for something other than sex and she wasn’t willing to give him a chance? Marrying her seemed kind of extreme, but he understood her reasoning; Bella obviously meant a lot to her.
“Sure, why not?” Ashleigh leaned back in her chair and he wasn’t sure if he was excited he would have a little more time with her or annoyed she was unwittingly calling his bluff.
Watching as he flagged down the waiter and ordered another round, she questioned her
decision to stay. Spending more time with him would surely end in disaster, so the prudent thing would be to go home. She just didn’t want to. She wanted to stay and soak up his deep, raspy chuckle. She wanted to look into his bright blue eyes and lose herself in his smile. More than anything, she wanted to feel beautiful in his presence. No one had ever made her feel beautiful the way he did, despite her celebrity status or the number of fans she had. One on one, men typically made her feel like an afterthought, and sex bored her. She’d never had a pleasant experience that included intercourse, so for the last year she’d avoided dating and sex altogether. Now that she was trying to get custody of Bella, the last thing she needed was some hunky, anti-relationship hockey player to throw her life out of whack. Chaos seemed to be a given where men were concerned, but something about him was magnetic and it was impossible to ignore the pull.
She toyed with her cognac when the waiter put it down in front of her and watched Brock approach from the hallway leading back from the restrooms. He was all male—big, burly, and…manly. There was no other way to put it. She wasn’t easily drawn to the physical qualities of a man, but this one made her palms itch and the spot between her legs get a little damp. That never happened, even when she was in love, and the timing on this was horrible.
You’re allowed to be human, she reminded herself. Thinking a guy was hot was human. Wasn’t it? The only thing she was sure of right now was how handsome he was and how he was the first guy since high school who brought that excitement you only felt when something new was special. It was purely physical, but it had been so long since she’d experienced anything like that, she didn’t want it to end yet. Because after tonight, it definitely had to end. For sure.
He’d just sat down again when her phone rang. She held up a finger to indicate she wanted him to wait and answered. “Hi, honey…”
“Jolinda says I have to go to bed,” Bella whined.
“Well, it’s…” Ashley reached across the table to Brock’s phone and pressed the home button so the time would come on the screen. “It’s 8:55 and you go to bed at 9:00.”
“But I have five more minutes!”
“Yes, and you’re wasting them complaining to me instead of letting her read to you.”