In other words, the ladies of VB loved them some Troy Valentine, and it wasn’t just because of his last name.
When they were seated, Alison gave Troy a little mischievous smile. “She’s hot for you,” she teased.
He looked back over his shoulder, confusion clouding his features. “Who, Ellery? No. That’s ridiculous, we’ve known each other forever.”
Wow. Looking at his face, Alison could see that he really didn’t recognize the girl’s feelings, and they’d been pretty blatantly on her sleeve.
She filed that observation away for future reference and decided that she liked the fact that he was clueless to his own effect on women. Most of the guys she came in contact with pretty much assumed they were the center of the universe. Such was a performer’s life. That was her social circle—people who believed they had something to give the world by performing in it.
Most of the time they were right—they were, in fact, incredibly handsome and brilliant—but that didn’t change the fact that it was refreshing to have dinner with a man who was every bit as handsome and brilliant as they were, if not more so, and didn’t seem to be aware of it at all.
Alison opened the menu, her eyes flicking up one side and down the other as she perused the selections. After only a few seconds, she noticed that she was the only one who seemed interested in the food. Troy hadn’t even opened his menu.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
A slow, smoldering grouped behind his eyes. “Yes,” he answered, his voice low and intense, and it was clear that he wasn’t talking about being hungry for anything that the chef prepared back in the kitchen.
Her stomach fluttered and jiggled inside like it was full of Jell-O. A heat wave passed hard down the length of her, starting at her head and traveling with lightning speed all the way to her toes. She made a mental note to remember the sensations. They’d come in handy the next time she had to inhabit the role of someone in the first flushes of infatuation.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Even in a situation as heady and head-spinning as having dinner with Troy, she couldn’t entirely set her craft aside. Her mind was always going a million miles an hour. That was what she had come to Valentine Bay to get away from.
Escaping herself was proving to be more difficult than she’d hoped it would be. It was going to take more than just a geographic relocation, although that was definitely helping. It was going to take a major mind and spirit shift.
In an effort to clear at least a little bit of the tension from the air before every inch of skin was enveloped in a full-body blush, she switched up the topic of conversation. “So, tell me, Mr. Valentine. Are you named after the town, or is it the other way around?”
“My insert-a-bunch-of-greats grandfather founded Valentine Bay. So, I guess you’d say it’s the second one.”
“So, I guess you’re a pretty big deal here. The de facto mayor? That type of thing?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “More like the town mascot.”
She cocked her head to the side and gave a flirty little smile. “Oh, I don’t know. From what I’ve seen you’re very well respected.” She cut her eyes significantly toward Ellery. “And definitely very well-liked.”
He shook his head, and she noted with deep satisfaction that it was his turn to blush.
God, how could he be even more handsome? She wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but that little bit of color splashed across his cheeks emphasized the scruffy expanse of his five o’clock shadow in a way that made her lady parts come alive and made his face look even stronger and more square jawed than it had before, if that was possible.
“They just think I’m a good guy. The way I came back here after my parents’ accident to take care of my little sister and everything.”
She tilted her head. “What happened?”
He looked up and met her eyes. “Oh. Right. You’re not from here. That’s kind of refreshing, actually. I’m so used to everybody knowing my whole life story.”
She moved her hand over his and squeezed. “I’m really sorry about your parents.”
He grasped her fingers and gave her a small, sad smile. “So am I. They were great people. You would’ve liked them.”
“I’m sure I would’ve.”
His smile broadened. “And they would’ve loved you.”
“That’s really nice of you to say. How old is your sister?”
As soon as she brought up his sister, his whole face lit up. It was clear to her—as it would’ve been clear to anyone watching from a five mile radius—that he adored the girl. “She’s thirteen… going on forty, of course. Her name is Mila. And she is the best. The absolute best. I’d do anything for her.”
Oh, God. Was there anything hotter than a man who adored his kids? And Mila was for all intents and purposes his kid. She felt that fluttering low in her belly again. It didn’t even surprise her anymore at this point. It was getting to be a regular occurrence around Troy. She was just gonna Sheryl Sandberg that shit and lean into it.
“I’d love to meet her.”
“I’m sure she’d love to meet you. In fact, I know she would. She’s kind of obsessed with your house. She always has been. She was just hinting around the other day that she’d do anything to see inside of it.”
Alison pressed her hands together. “Well, then it’s a date. We have to make that happen.”
“You have no idea how you just made a teenager’s life. She’s going to flip out when I tell her.”
Alison laughed. “Well, I don’t know a whole lot about thirteen-year-olds, but if this one is obsessed with architecture as opposed to smoky eyes, I can already see that she is something special.”
Troy leaned closer. “It’s perfect, then. It only makes sense that two people who are both so incredibly special should meet.”
Yep, there it was. The family of butterflies that had taken up permanent residence in her belly were back, and their wings were fluttering to beat the band.
Chapter 9
Troy couldn’t tear his eyes away as Alison popped a seared scallop into her mouth and closed her eyes to savor it. She let out a low moan as she did, so quiet he had to strain to hear it, and his cock strained a little against his slacks.
Damn, she was sexy as hell. And what made her even sexier was that it wasn’t calculated. She wasn’t employing eyelash fluttering and coy touching and punctuating every other sentence with a hair toss like most of the women he knew did. When they used those tactics, it made him feel like the flirting was less about him and more about wanting attention.
With Alison, it was different. She was completely natural. Every move she made, every word she spoke, every facial expression and touch—they were all completely authentic and organic and, holy fuck, it couldn’t have been hotter if she’d been trying.
“Excuse me.”
He turned at the sound of the small, tentative voice over his shoulder. He assumed whoever had come up to their table was talking to him. After all, Alison had been here, what? All of two days? Who could she possibly have met during that time?
However, when he saw the young woman who’d spoken, her eyes were fixed squarely on Alison. She looked past him as if he didn’t even exist. In fact, to her, it seemed that he didn’t.
He looked back at Alison, brows drawn together. “Friend of yours?”
“No, probably a fan,” she whispered, and then turned her face to the young woman and said amiably, “Hi. I’m Alison.”
The girl giggled a little bit, shy and embarrassed, but stepped up closer to the table. “I know who you are. I loved you on Broadway Baby. Do you think we could, um, take a selfie together?”
Alison scooted to the edge of her chair and held her arm out to the girl. “Absolutely! Get in here!”
The girl knelt down next to Alison. She was absolutely vibrating with nervous energy. Troy could feel it from all the way across the table. Her hands shook as she held the phone up. “Oh my God, thank you so much. I’m
Jenny by the way. This is, like, the best day ever.”
She and Alison smiled up at the phone. The camera clicked, they looked at the screen and both agreed that it was “totally adorbs,” and then she was on her way, waving and giggling as she walked back across the restaurant.
The whole encounter had taken less than thirty seconds, but it was going to take Troy a little bit longer to process what he’d just seen.
“It’s just now occurring to me that I never asked what you do for a living,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. He figured a joke would be the best way to handle it. Less awkward, less pressure.
It worked. She slapped her palm lightly on the table and laughed. Wow, he’d never get enough of making her laugh. It was such a high.
“Well, my secret’s out. Although, as you can see, it wasn’t much of a secret. For people who are into a certain kind of television show, at any rate.”
“Oh, are you an actress?”
She nodded. “Theater. So, until recently, I never really got recognized outside of New York and other small theater-loving enclaves—and, yes, I am talking about liberal arts colleges.”
She looked at him as if she were waiting for something, and he sat in silence, giving her space to continue with her story. After a moment, she shook her head. “Okay. Theater joke. It didn’t fly. Got it. Anyway, about a year ago, I agreed to be a judge on a competition show called Broadway Baby. It was your standard kind of format. You know, like The Voice, or American Idol, or America’s Got Talent. That kind of thing.
“Except it wasn’t just a singing competition. The idea was to discover Broadway’s next big star. So it was multifaceted. Singing, acting, and dancing… and the competitors were expected to come into it with some training.”
He nodded. “You know, the more you describe it, the more it sounds a little familiar. My kid sister Mila is into all that drama stuff. I feel like she talked to me about this show while it was on. Maybe.”
Alison smiled dryly. “And I can tell you hung on every word.”
He chuckled. “Well, she thought I did. That’s the main thing. Anyway, go on.”
“At the time, I viewed it as a way to give back to the theater community and to expose all of the things I love about theater to the wider world. I mean, people think that all it takes is talent, that we just step out on stage on opening night and dazzle the audience, but nothing could be further from the truth. It’s blood, sweat, and tears.
“It’s hours of rehearsal every day. It’s sores on your feet so raw you can barely walk, but you still dance three hours a night, and twice on Sunday. It’s ripping out your heart and leaving it on the stage, then standing there calmly as the director critiques you, and then starting from the beginning and doing it again. It’s all of that.”
“God, that sounds brutal. Why would you even do it?”
She smiled, and he was reminded of the moment when he’d looked at her and seen an angel. That angelic light was all over her again, but this time it wasn’t coming from the lightbulb above her front door. It was coming from within her.
“Simple. Because after all those hours, and all those months, and all those years of torturing yourself to get ready—there is that moment. That magic moment when you do step out on stage on opening night, and you do dazzle the audience. And that moment is worth it all.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Before I came back to Valentine Bay, I played baseball for the Long Beach Waves. There’s a hell of a lot of training that goes on behind the scenes before we ever set out to play a game. And now that I think about it, a lot of that is pretty brutal. But, man, when you hear the crack of that bat that lets you know you just hit a homer and you take off running while the crowd roars in the background? Damn, that moment is the highest you can experience without chemical intervention.”
She extended her arms in front of her, open wide, as if she wanted to embrace him, or maybe the whole world. “Yes! Absolutely! You get it.”
“So, what happened with the show?”
She grimaced. “Right. I forgot I was in the middle of that story. Well, I guess you could say it didn’t go to plan.”
“How?”
“I was too nice.” She shook her head regretfully. “Or, I guess I should say soft. At least, that was the word the majority of my colleagues used when they threw it in my face.”
“What’s wrong with being nice?”
“It’s not a nice business. It’s not something you can pursue if you expect people to coddle you, or if that’s something that you need. It’s cutthroat. It’s a sink or swim type of situation where the cream is expected to rise, and everyone else is expected to drown. The people who’ve risen to the top like it that way. I get it. It’s tradition. That’s how it’s always been done. I’d go so far as to say I even agree with it.
“But when it came down to it, when I was sitting in that judge’s chair looking into the eyes of these kids who were so desperate to continue chasing their dreams, I didn’t have it in me to crush them.” She shrugged. “So I didn’t. I was, in a word, a big old softy.”
“Well, that’s actually three words. But I think it’s admirable.”
One side of her mouth went into a bitter rueful half-smile. “Thanks. You’re the only one.”
“Is that what brought you to Valentine Bay?”
She nodded. “I needed a break from the theater scene in New York. They certainly needed a break from me. So I’ve come out here to clear my head and figure out what’s next.”
He smiled broadly and reached across the table to take her hand. “Well then, thank God for Broadway Baby.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “How so?”
“Because it brought you here.”
Chapter 10
“Holy. Mother. Of. Freaking. God!”
Mila’s voice rose in both pitch and volume during the course of that sentence, until by the time she reached the last long ‘o’ sound in “God,” it was nothing more than a dog whistle shriek.
Adrenaline flooded his body as the protective instincts that had become finely honed during the last five years of big brothering slash parenting fired to life. It was probably nothing. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it was going to be nothing; Mila was a dramatic girl. But… There was always the possibility… What about that hundredth time?
“What’s wrong?” His voice came out in a clipped and brittle rush.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”
“That’s what I asked.”
“Ohmigod, I’ll tell you what’s wrong. You went out with Alison Bartholomew and you didn’t even tell me!”
Troy smiled. “I told you I was going on a date.”
“Not with Alison freaking Bartholomew!”
He decided to mess with her a little bit. “I don’t get it, Mills. Do you know her or something?”
“Do I know her? Do I know her?”
“That’s what I asked.”
“Of course I freaking know her. Everyone freaking knows her.”
“Wow. Everybody, huh?”
“Yes. Duh. How do you think I found out that’s who you were out with? Olive’s cousin saw you and texted Olive, and then she forwarded the picture to Alex, and he texted me and like fifty other people! You’re famous, old man!”
Troy had to laugh at that. He’d been a pro ballplayer, and all he’d ever gotten from Mila when he talked about his glory days was a roll of the eyes.
However, now that he was a featured player in the text chain that “Olive’s cousin” had started, one that reached fifty whole kids in the small Oregon town where she lived, he was finally famous in Mila’s eyes.
“So, I guess you might be interested to know that Alison said we could stop by sometime and get a tour of the house, then?”
Her hand flew to her mouth, but it did little to muffle the shrill squeal that burst from her vocal chords. He was glad they didn’t have any delicate crystal vases in the vicinity.
“Are you freaking kidding me right
now? Don’t mess with me. Seriously, you have to know how unbelievably cruel it would be to mess with me. You’re not messing with me are you? Please say you’re not messing with me.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at her earnest demeanor shining through the blatant begging. She was at a crossroads, torn between the desire to be cool and not let her feelings show at all and the overwhelming compulsion to showcase her highly intense emotions all over the place. Not an unusual spot for a teenage girl, sure, but fascinating to watch.
With these two competing impulses playing a kind of psychological tug of war, the solution never seemed to be a measured balance between the two extremes. Rather, it always ended up being long stretches of seeming indifference punctuated by giant emotional explosions when the pressure of keeping things bogged down became too much.
Life with a teenager, Troy mused. It was many things, but not boring. Never boring.
“I’m not messing with you. I would never do that—”
She cut him off with a disbelieving side-eyed glance and matching snort.
“I’d never do that when it’s actually important to you, which this clearly is,” he amended.
“It is important,” she said. “Alison is the best. I can’t believe you’ve really met her. I can’t believe you went on a freaking date with her! Most of all, I can’t believe you actually met her before me. You know how much I love her.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed, although the truth was that much like the mysterious “Olive” whose cousin had seen them in the restaurant, the names of Mila’s many friends blended together in his mind into one giant BriannaKelseyMadisonAshlynn soup in his brain, and the names of the pop culture figures she chattered about tended to do the same thing.
But he knew that the important thing was that she felt validated, and she knew he valued the things that were important to her. Which was actually true—he did value them, it was just that he couldn’t keep all the names straight.
Playing By Heart Page 4