by Ivy Jordan
“See?” Tamara said, her eyebrows lifting with the ‘I told ya so’ look.
I smiled and agreed. She was right. I was being silly.
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow when he’s had some sleep,” I said.
Tamara went into the kitchen to grab us each a beer when Josh’s phone buzzed across the counter where he’d left it. I could hear the shower running upstairs and knew if it was important, they’d continue to call.
“Is this Josh’s phone?” Tamara asked, picking it up and staring at the screen.
“Yes,” I said.
Her face was pale, and her expression filled with a mixture of confusion and anger.
“Why?” I asked. “Is everything okay?” I pushed.
“It’s a woman’s picture that popped up; a pretty provocative one at that,” she said.
The phone buzzed again. “It’s a text now, from her,” Tamara said.
My heart ached at the thought of Josh having another woman already lined up for when I left. Maybe he had one already, and I was cramping his style by being here. This beach house was a seduction zone if ever there were one, and the condoms placed strategically near the hot tub, the bed, and even in the little glass container on the kitchen counter told me he had been a playboy, and probably still was.
How could I’ve been so stupid?
“You want me to open the text?” she asked.
“No,” I said quickly.
“You need to know. You deserve to know,” she pushed.
I wanted to know. I wanted her to look, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her to invade his privacy that way.
Tamara smirked, giving me a look of concern as she pushed the button his phone, opening the text.
I watched her eyes as she read it, hating that we were invading his personal space. “What does it say?” I asked.
“It’s not good,” she warned.
I sat up on the couch, staring at her with fear. She walked over towards me with the phone in her hand. “Here,” she said sadly.
I took the phone and stared at the screen. The woman’s picture that was saved was provocative, but not nearly as provocative as the one sent in the text.
My eyes lingered on the blonde woman wrapped in only a white silk sheet. Her long hair flowed on the mattress as she puckered her pouty red lips into a kiss. “Wanna hook up tonight? I need you again…” it read.
My hand tightened around the phone, so tight I thought I’d break it. I pushed it back to Tamara. “We shouldn’t have read that,” I said, fighting back the tears that were flooding my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone soft and kind.
“Me too,” I gasped, falling back onto the couch and covering my face with my hands.
“What are you gonna do?” she asked.
“I have to confront him,” I said sternly.
She nodded, and moved to the couch next to me, squeezing me tightly in her arms.
Tamara set Josh’s phone on the coffee table and opened the beers she’d gotten from the kitchen, handing me one. I took it, swigged half of it in one gulp, and then took a deep breath to calm my nerves.
“I thought he was different,” I gasped.
“Me too. Me too,” Tamara sighed.
We sat there, drinking our beers and not saying much about the phone call and text. “They said we could move back into the house tomorrow if we wanted,” she suggested.
“That’s probably a good idea,” I agreed, feeling that familiar pain in my gut.
I loved Josh. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. This hurt.
“We’d have to share rooms,” she said. “Or, we could go to the hotel. We do have the money,” Tamara smiled.
“No. That should be given to the fire station. It’s not fair to punish everyone because of Josh,” I said.
Josh walked down the stairs. I instantly tensed up when my eyes landed on him at the bottom of the stairs. He smiled, but offered a look of confusion in my direction. It was probably obvious that I was upset, but I didn’t really care. He should know how badly he hurt me.
“Where’s my phone?” he asked, his tone bewildered as he looked around the room. “I know I set it right here,” he said, pointing to the counter where Tamara had picked it up.
His eyes moved towards us, and then to the coffee table in front of us where his little black phone was placed. He moved towards it, picking it up and staring at me with a look of puzzlement and anger. “Did you take my phone?” he asked.
“Who’s the girl?” I asked.
He looked exhausted, and now angry on top of it. “What girl?” he snapped.
“The one on your phone, calling you, sending you texts to hook up, and sexy pictures,” I accused.
His eyes turned black, and his cheeks red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sighed. “I can’t believe you looked through my phone,” he growled.
“I can’t believe I trusted you,” I snapped, my voice louder than it should’ve been.
“Obviously you didn’t trust me if you were going through my phone,” he yelled back.
I knew he had a point, but mine was bigger. He was a liar, and a cheat. I didn’t give a shit what he thought of me anymore.
“We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning,” I said.
He stood there, frozen, shaken, and finally smiled. “Good,” he sighed and stomped up the stairs.
This was it. My perfect man, my perfect relationship, gone.
Chapter Nine
Josh wasn’t home when I finally woke up on the couch next to Tamara. We’d stayed up for hours drinking beer and talking. I gathered my clothes and woke Lisa and Amy, telling them the bad news. Tamara felt horrible for opening the phone. “I shouldn’t have read the text,” she said.
I knew she felt like it was all her fault, but it wasn’t. It was his. I was grateful that she’d read it. At least now I knew he wasn’t perfect. He was a liar.
The construction crew banged away at the house as we moved back in. It still smelled of fire and had a strange, eerie feel to it with black soot still lingering in the crevices of the walls that hadn’t been torn out yet.
“We’re home,” Tamara said.
That word didn’t have the same excitement to it when she said it as it had when Josh had used it.
“What do we do about the shoot next week?” Tamara asked.
Ugh.
“I can do it,” I assured her.
“I don’t want to make you do that,” she said softly.
I’d forgotten about the shoot Josh and I had together. It was the final set of marketing campaigns for the brand, and I dreaded having to be in his arms.
“It’ll be fine,” I said sternly.
“This place is awful,” Lisa moaned.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hotel?” Tamara asked.
“No. You give that money to the charity you planned,” I insisted.
I knew Amy and Lisa weren’t pleased that the money wasn’t being used to secure a fancy hotel. I wasn’t real pleased myself, but I knew giving meant a lot to Tamara, and even though Josh turned out not to be such a great boyfriend, he was a good man who’d taken us four girls in during our time of need.
We all stayed in one room, sharing a queen-sized bed each for two girls. It wasn’t the plush life we’d grown accustomed to while staying at Josh’s, but it was home. Real home.
After three days, Josh still hadn’t tried to contact me. I checked my phone often, to which Tamara would usually catch me and call me out. “Please, stop thinking about him,” she’d say softly.
I always agreed I would, but I never did. I thought about him all the time. I still couldn’t fathom that it had all been fake. I knew there was real emotion in his eyes, and those words he always looked like he was ready to say, but didn’t, I knew what they were.
Tamara took off for the studio, Lisa and Amy had already left for the day, and I had my movie. Why wasn’t I as excited about my lead role as
before?
“Are you going to be okay tomorrow?” Tamara asked.
I nodded.
It was my scheduled shoot, the last one I’d ever have to do with Josh. Part of me dreaded the idea of seeing him, but that other part—oh, how it longed to be in his arms once again.
“I’m gonna stop by the station and drop off the check. I’ll make sure Josh will even show,” she said, her stress showing.
I remembered her warning me not to get too close. I felt bad that I hadn’t taken her advice. It hadn’t just ruined things for me, but possibly for her career, as well.
The director was surprisingly nice about letting me have the day to do the shoot. Things had slowed down, and I wasn’t sure if it was money, or some other reason that could possibly halt the production.
“Is the movie still set for March of next year?” I asked, receiving only a grumble from the producer.
“We’re planning to make a lot of headway next month, so expect to be working long hours,” he said.
I didn’t mind. What did I have to go home to?
I slipped into bed beside Tamara, who was already sleeping. It was late. Really late, and I hated to wake her. We had the shoot in the morning, and I was dying to know if she’d talked to Josh. I fell asleep not knowing if he would even be there.
My alarm blasted in my ear, causing me to jump up from my pillow in a panic. Today is the day. Fuck! I’m not ready. I can’t do this.
Tamara was already up, and even though I quickly dressed and ran downstairs, she was already gone. My heart raced as I assumed she’d snuck off, not wanting to face me for some reason. Was it because Josh wasn’t coming? Was it because he was?
I ran upstairs, showered, dressed, and fixed my hair and makeup, even though I knew Marcus would redo everything, saying it was horrific.
At the studio, Tamara worked on her camera and Marcus puckered his lips in disgust as he saw me walk in. “We have work to do,” he sighed, pulling my arm gently towards the dressing room.
“Is he here?” I whispered to Tamara as I walked by.
She smiled and nodded in the direction of his dressing room. “He’s here.”
I didn’t fight Marcus as he redid my makeup; I was too preoccupied with anxiety.
Once done, I stepped out into the studio to find Josh, gorgeous as ever, but more distant than I’d ever seen.
Tamara directed us on what to do, mainly because it no longer felt natural to either of us to start. Once in his arms, my body melted, my heart softened, and that familiar chemistry returned as it it’d never left.
Our lips met, only for camera’s sake, but feeling more like they were meant to be together. “That’s it,” Tamara said at the last shot. They were dreadful words that I hated to hear.
“Can I talk to you?” Josh asked, his blue eyes filled with that familiar emotion once again.
“Yes,” I agreed without hesitation.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” he said softly.
I dressed quicker than I’d ever done, anxious to hear what Josh had to say. An apology? An excuse? A lie? I was a mess.
Outside, Josh stood on the sidewalk, leaning against the concrete wall. My knees weakened as I approached him, my heart swelling in my chest with each step.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said softly.
“Me too,” I said, not sure what exactly I was apologizing for.
“My ex was extremely jealous. She kept tabs on my phone, snooped through my stuff, and even hired a detective to follow me at one time,” he explained.
“I get it. There’s no excuse for invading someone’s privacy,” I agreed, feeling horrible that I somehow was the one on trial, and not lying, cheating Josh.
“Tamara told me you weren’t the one who looked at the phone. She told me you didn’t want her to,” he said sweetly.
I couldn’t believe she threw herself under the bus like that. “She did it for me,” I said quickly, defending my friend’s actions.
“I know. But, that girl,” he said slowly.
I took a deep breath as I waited to hear who this woman was, what she meant to him, and why she was probably in his bed waiting for him at home. Home. Ugh!
“We hooked up a couple times after my breakup. She lives in Atlanta, but visits L.A. maybe once or twice a year. The last time I even spoke to her was over nine months ago. I don’t want her,” he said.
His hand reached out for mine. I didn’t hesitate to let his fingers curl into mine. His eyes didn’t break free from their lock on mine as he spoke.
“The only girl I want is standing right here in front of me,” he sighed.
I leapt into his arms, pushing my lips against his and feeling his heartbeat heavy through his chest. “I love you, Josh,” I whispered in his ear.
“I love you, too, Emily,” he gasped.
“Let’s go home,” he said softly.
Epilogue
The theater was packed as we took our seats in the front row. Jackie Lemay stared daggers through me as I walked down the narrow aisle with Josh on my arm and surrounded by friends.
It was my third movie in just four years, and the premiere was filled with some of the Hollywood greats. Til Death Do Us Part had taken an extra six months to produce, but it was a huge hit.
My role as Lucinda blasted me to A-list celebrity status almost overnight, leaving Jackie Lemay in the dust as her big film flopped.
Lisa fumbled with her phone while Amy shoved handfuls of popcorn into her mouth. The opening credits started, to which Tamara jabbed me in the side with her elbow with excitement, and Josh squeezed my hand.
It was all so real, so perfect, just as I dreamed it would be.
My father no longer had that disappointment and anger in his voice when I called, and I had the pride of knowing I’d accomplished everything I’d set out to.
The lights dimmed as the movie started to play. I still wasn’t used to seeing myself on the big screen, but it was pretty damn cool nonetheless.
I looked around the crowd, feeling a powerful mixture of pride, admiration, and humility as some of the actors, actresses, directors, and producers laughed at my lines, cried at my on-screen angst, and sat on the edge of their seats, waiting—no, hoping—for more.
A standing ovation was given with loud applause once the movie played to its finale. My cheeks burnt and ached from smiling so hard. I couldn’t imagine life getting any better than this.
The lights turned on, brightly filling the room as everyone’s eyes were on me. I turned to Josh, who mouthed the words ‘I love you,’ before bending on one knee.
My heart gushed with emotion, causing the overage to spill from my eyes and down my cheeks. He was doing it, he was really doing it.
“Emily, love of my life, keeper of my heart. You are already my best friend, my soul mate, my inspiration in life, so would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Josh asked.
“Yes!” I squealed, jumping into his arms.
The crowd cheered, louder than they had for the movie. Josh pressed his lips against mine, kissing me passionately as if we were the only ones in the room.
I knew this had been the best day of my life so far, but I was optimistic enough to know it would only be the start of many, many, more.
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MR. COWBOY
By Ivy Jordan
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan
Chapter One
Charlotte
“Quit twirling your hair, Char,” Tracy squawked at me.
I pulled my index finger from the long, brown curl and smiled at my best friend. Her smile was sympathetic—too sympathetic. I didn’t want her pity.
“I’m sorr
y, what were you saying?” I asked, realizing I’d zoned out in the middle of what felt like another one of her lectures.
“I was telling you about Owen, my cousin,” she continued.
“I don’t think I’m ready to date,” I protested, wrapping another curl around my long finger.
“Charlotte, I know you’d like him. Just one date,” she said, pushy as always.
When she used my full name, not just Char, I knew she meant business. This was another one of her scenarios where “no” was not an optional answer.
“After Bobby, I may never date again,” I laughed.
Tracy rolled her eyes, and shot me another one of those sympathetic smiles. It was the first time I’d mentioned his name in weeks.
“You have to get past that,” Tracy said, her tone matter-of-fact.
I bit my tongue, not wanting to say what I was thinking in that moment. I knew if she found her precious Kevin in bed with another man, she’d need far more than just a few months to recover.
“I really don’t like blind dates,” I said quickly, avoiding an argument over the hurtful words I swallowed instead of spewing.
Tracy’s lips curled into a wicked smile; her bright-blue eyes danced as they closed in on mine. I watched her pull her phone from her purse, and then carefully scroll through images until stopping with a wide grin. “This is Owen,” she announced proudly.
Holy hell!
My eyes locked onto the image of a man without a shirt. His body was magnificent: rippled, toned, and tan. He smiled wide for the camera, his arms extended out from his sides like he was offering a hug. I immediately felt a tingle in my breasts at the thought of leaping into those strong arms. He had blue eyes and blond hair like Tracy, only his hair curled around his ears loosely from under a cowboy hat.
“Has he seen a picture of me?” I asked, suddenly interested in this date she was pushing.
“Yes.”
My heart pounded in my chest at her sudden lack of detail. “And?” I blurted out.
“And, he said you were hot,” she replied.
Hot? I was many things, but “hot” wasn’t one I would claim. My green eyes were a focal point for most people, and they received plenty of admiration. My body wasn’t bad. I was thin, somewhat curvy, but certainly not a Victoria’s Secret model. The girl next door. That’s what Bobby had always said. Ugh, why do I even think about him? I hope he’s choking on his new boyfriend’s dick.