“I’m sorry, but… Oh God! You have no idea how much I needed to do that,” she said, with a sigh of relief. “A little while ago, I wanted to punch something, but I think this was just as effective.”
“Yeah, you’ve gone mental,” he said, shaking his head. “This isn’t going to work.” With a determined stride, he made his way to the door.
“Wait!” Paige called out, racing around the desk to block him from leaving. “Don’t… You can’t leave.”
“But you just said—”
“I know what I said, but it was in the heat of the moment.” When she saw she had his full attention, she went on. “I want you to be a part of this project, Dylan.”
“Why? So you can have a part in it that isn’t fetching coffee? Because from the way this whole thing sounds, it would be the next step down for you.” With another rake through his hair, he let out a frustrated huff. “Look, it was obvious from the get-go you didn’t want me for this, so I’m giving you an out. Who knows? With me gone, maybe your sister will do right by you. Or maybe you’ll get to take on some different campaign. I think it’s for the best if we let this go.”
“No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Excuse me?” he asked with a slight smirk.
“You heard me. No,” she repeated. Paige realized how ridiculous she must have looked. Dylan was almost a foot taller than her, and here she was attempting not only to block his path, but to stand up to him as well.
His only response was to arch a dark brow at her.
“I know it seems crazy that I’m suddenly asking you to stay, but I think we can help each other.”
No response.
“You’ll get to take care of your…community service.”
“It’s not just about that!” he snapped irritably.
“No, no…I know. I know. Sorry,” she said quickly. “But it is a contributing factor that we can’t simply ignore, correct?”
He gave a curt nod.
“Okay. So we’ll deal with it and you’ll also get a chance to show everyone how you don’t need a handler.” She was careful not to use the term babysitter again. “By the time this is done, you’ll be well on your way to showing the world that you’re a changed man.”
Dylan studied her intently for a moment. “And what do you get out of this? I mean, you’re seriously pissed about how this has all turned out and the role you’ve been relegated to. So what’s in it for you?”
Good question.
“The people at Literacy Now are friends of mine.” Or at least Paige had thought they were. “And no matter what, I want this campaign to be a success. And even though my role has been…diminished, it doesn’t mean I’m not going to work hard to see that everything runs smoothly and to help out wherever I can.”
For a long moment, Dylan said nothing. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned down toward her. “I’ll agree under one condition.”
Anything—at that moment, she would have agreed to anything but didn’t want to come off as desperate. “Okay,” she said with a calmness she wasn’t quite feeling.
“I want you to admit—right here, right now—that you’re pissed, and if given a chance, the person you’d punch is your sister.”
Paige took a step back as her eyes went wide. “I don’t see where that has anything to do with…well…anything!”
He shrugged.
“Why? Why would you want me to say that?”
“Because it’s the truth. You know it. I know it. And I need to know that you’re going to be honest with me and not blow smoke up my ass because you think it’s your job to play nice all the time.”
“I can assure you I’ve never blown smoke up anyone’s…well…you know.”
“Say ass.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “Seriously? This is getting ridiculous.”
He shrugged again.
When she realized he wasn’t going to budge on this, her shoulders sagged with defeat. “Fine. I’m pissed. I’m beyond pissed. And if she were here right now, even though I wouldn’t do it, I would fantasize about punching Ariel for taking this campaign away from me.” Straightening, she did her best to strike a defiant pose. “Happy?”
“Almost. You missed one.”
It was the smirk that got her—got her riled up and had her refusing to step away from the challenge.
“Ass,” she said, doing her best not to smirk at him. “I’ve never blown smoke up anyone’s ass. There. Can we move on now?”
His smirk grew into a full-blown smile and Paige had to stop herself from swooning.
The man had a killer smile—dimples and everything.
Dylan held out a hand to hers to seal the deal. “I believe we can.”
* * *
“Seriously? You’re going with the Sicilian defense?” Mick asked.
Dylan didn’t even look up. “Yup.”
“Can’t we have a friendly game? Play for enjoyment?”
This time Dylan did look up from the chessboard. “This is enjoyment. The point of the game is to win and to use the proper strategy to do so. I know you don’t like the Sicilian defense, and therefore, it gives me the advantage.” He grinned. “And I’m enjoying it.”
Mick laughed and studied the board. “Yeah, well…I think we need a new game to play. This is getting too predictable for you.”
“Nonsense,” Dylan countered. “Every game of chess is different. And what would we play instead of this?”
“Scrabble.”
Dylan burst out laughing. “Not a chance, buddy. I can do this, I can play cards, I can even hold my own in Dungeons and Dragons, but don’t make me spell. It’s too much. And boring as hell.”
“Not to someone who enjoys working with words,” Mick said, reaching out and making his move.
“See? You never made that move before. Every time, it’s different. And I’m perfectly happy with it.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to branch out and maybe play something someone else enjoys,” Mick grumbled.
Looking up, Dylan studied his friend. “You don’t enjoy this?”
“I do, I do…but you take this stuff way too seriously. I’m here to hang out and relax. There are times when a game of chess has you out for blood.”
“And that’s wrong why?”
“Um…because it’s a game?”
Dylan rolled his eyes and then sat back and studied the board again. “Chutes and Ladders is a game. Chess is not.”
Rather than continue to argue, Mick got up and walked to the wall of windows in Dylan’s study. “So what’s going on with the house? Did my Realtor call you?”
“He did,” Dylan said distractedly. “We have multiple offers and haven’t had even one showing.”
“How did you manage that?”
“I told him I don’t want gawkers. He can show it after I’m out.”
Mick walked over. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not going to move out until the house is sold sooo…”
Dylan shook his head. “I’m planning on being out at the end of the month.”
“Why? What in the world are you thinking?” Mick asked as he sat down. “What’s the rush?”
He shrugged. “I’m ready to be done with it. This place is way too big, and it doesn’t hold any good memories for me.”
“That’s a bunch of bull. This place was your dream house when you bought it,” Mick snapped. “Stop being so dramatic, Dylan. You don’t need to go to such extremes.”
“I think I do,” Dylan replied mildly. “This house reminds me of how much of my life I wasted. Any place I find now will hold more significance for me.” He paused. “Your move.”
Mick sighed loudly and moved his pawn without really looking. “Have you started looking?”
“Nope.”
&
nbsp; Another sigh. “Then how are you going to be out of here by the end of the month? Which, by the way, is only two weeks away.”
“I know. I’m selling the place furnished and only taking the personal items. For now, they’ll all go in storage. I’m moving into the Beverly. I’ve got a suite for a month.”
“The Beverly? Why would you do that? The place is swarming with paparazzi!”
Dylan shrugged again. “I have nothing to hide, Mick, and honestly, I’m tired of avoiding them. I’ve lived like a choirboy since I got out of rehab so I’m yesterday’s news. Trust me. It’s not going to be an issue.”
Mick didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want anyone hassling you. But that’s not my real concern.”
Looking up, Dylan waited for what Mick had to say. After a long minute, he sighed. “Just get to the point, Mick. What’s your concern?”
“The bar.”
It would be pointless to look surprised. “And?”
“And…are you sure you’re in a good enough place in your head where you can deal with having the temptation so close by?”
“Dude, I’m good. It doesn’t matter where I live. If I wanted to drink, I could get a drink. I’m not chained to the furniture here. I still had bottles stashed around here that you never found.”
Mick’s face registered his surprise. And even though they were normally brutally honest with one another, Dylan still wasn’t ready to admit the one time he’d gone off the wagon after his stint in rehab.
“I appreciate your concern—I do. But I’m good. And if I get to a place where I’m not, then I promise to call you. Deal?”
Mick’s response wasn’t immediate, but when he did reply, it was with a nod and a shrug. “Yeah. Sure. Deal.”
They played the next few moves in silence.
“So what’s going on with this literacy thing? I saw that you’re going to start filming some PSAs this week. You ready for it?”
Dylan thought of the script Paige had written for him and how she had coached him through how she wanted it read. He chuckled at the memory.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Paige Walters.”
“The chick who’s working with you?”
Dylan nodded. “Yeah. She’s a little uptight about this whole thing. Not just with me it seems, but with everyone. She’s got a script for each participant, and as if that isn’t enough, she has very specific ideas on how she wants us to read them—inflection and whatnot. It’s wild.”
“That’s enough to get on your nerves, huh?”
He nodded again, but he didn’t really agree. If he were honest, he’d admit that it was cute as hell. She was this tiny, little thing walking around in big boots and big glasses, and it seemed like she could do a dozen things at once. Everyone listened to her and wanted to please her—including himself—and she moved with all the confidence in the world—until her family showed up. Then it was like someone flipped a switch and she became this meek, quiet, and insecure girl.
It was both fascinating and frustrating to watch.
There had been quite a few times when he’d been tempted to ask Paige what her deal was—why she didn’t think she was good enough for her family—but by the time they were alone again, he found he didn’t want to upset her.
It was irritating to be so aware of other people’s feelings.
“So what’s your script?” Mick asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“I’m talking about how reading helped with life on the road. You know, because with all the traveling and going to other countries, I had to know where I was going. She asked for a couple of stories where it was important for me to be able to read and navigate through the business aspect of the music business and not just play the bass, stuff like that.”
Mick headed to refill their drinks and Dylan walked over to the French doors that led out to his yard. There was the pool, the hot tub, the deck—it was beautiful, but it left him feeling…nothing. He wasn’t going to miss this place, no matter what Mick thought. The memory of drunken parties, of passing out on the lawn, of people vomiting all over the bushes… Yeah, he wasn’t going to miss this place at all. It was time to start fresh and that meant a new house with new memories.
He thought of Riley and made a mental note to call him later. Riley Shaughnessy—the lead singer of their band Shaughnessy—had managed to avoid all of the pitfalls of the rock-and-roll lifestyle. He wasn’t a drinker, he wasn’t a partier, and he never did any drugs. And now he was married with a daughter and another baby on the way and still living in the house he had first purchased when they signed their second major record deal. Yeah, Riley was someone who had it all together, and Dylan really should make an effort to get together with him and maybe get some advice on what he should be doing now.
If he asked Mick, Mick would say he should be careful, cautious, and take things one day at a time. Well, he was sick of that. It was what he’d been doing ever since he got out of rehab. It was time to start figuring out how to live now—clean and sober. Millions of people did it every day, so why was he so afraid of it?
“I always loved this yard,” Mick said as he came out and handed Dylan his water. “This layout is a thing of beauty.”
“Yeah, until there’s a hundred people drinking, smoking, throwing up, and having sex all over it. Then it’s just a wasteland,” Dylan murmured, looking around and still envisioning those days. He shuddered.
“It wasn’t all bad, you know,” Mick reminded him. “Not every party was a drunken orgy.”
“Most of them were.”
Mick shrugged. “Come on. We gonna finish this game or what?”
Dylan thought about it for a minute and then shook his head. “Nah. You weren’t all that into it and my concentration is shot. We’ll pick it up next time.”
“Uh-uh. Fresh game next time. I know I was playing like crap. If you’re going to subject me to another game, I should at least get the chance to play it without all the careless mistakes.”
“Whatever,” Dylan said with a chuckle.
“You know, you could always find someone else to play chess with,” Mick said, feigning offense.
“Nah. I like how you pretend that you’re trying. It’s fun to watch.”
“Yeah. I’m a riot. But seriously, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you found someone else to torture with this game for a while. Maybe one of those literacy people wouldn’t mind a game or two while you’re in between scripts,” Mick said with a laugh.
And for some reason, Paige’s face instantly came to mind. What types of games did she like to play? Strategy games like chess? Word games? Number games? He figured her to be more of that variety rather than something silly like Pictionary. He planned to ask her when he next saw her. He’d been learning a lot about her, mostly by observing her, but he had a feeling if he simply forced her to sit still once in a while, they could have a really good conversation.
The kind like they’d had that first day over coffee.
And suddenly, the thought of not playing chess with Mick again wasn’t unappealing at all.
Chapter 4
Two weeks.
They’d been in full-steam-ahead mode with the Literacy Now campaign, and Paige was on the verge of pulling her hair out.
She’d written all the scripts and then worked personally with each of the authors—yes, Ariel had allowed her to keep a few authors—and celebrities, but unfortunately, Ariel kept changing things without telling her. Not that it was anything big, but Paige was someone who was regimented and enjoyed having her list and crossing things off it—in order. So far, the only thing that had gone smoothly was the one thing she thought was going to mess her up the most.
Dylan.
“Hey, I grabbed a couple of sandwiches on my way here. I figured you hadn’t had time to stop and eat yet.”
Spea
k of the devil.
Turning, Paige gave him a smile of gratitude. “Thanks. I haven’t.”
Dylan looked around the studio space they were working in today to do the publicity photos of all the participants—alone and in a group. Paige had lost a lot of sleep trying to line up everyone’s schedules so they would all be here at the same time for at least an hour.
No small task.
“I double-checked and then triple-checked with everyone to confirm they’d be here and we’re still missing about…”
“Four people,” Dylan finished for her as he unwrapped her sandwich and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” How did he know? How could he possibly walk in here and instantly figure out what was going on and what she needed? Rather than make herself crazy with yet another thing, she took a bite of the sandwich—turkey with bacon, lettuce, and tomato on whole wheat. Her favorite. After she finished chewing, she smiled at him. “You remembered.”
He chuckled. “You’ve ordered it almost every day this week. I figured I couldn’t go wrong ordering one for you.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you.” She began to look around for where she’d put her bottle of water and found Dylan handing her one. A new one. A cold one. Her shoulders sagged as she looked at him again and accepted the drink. “I’m beginning to feel like you’re here to assist me and not the other way around.”
He shrugged. “What time did you get here this morning?”
Paige took another bite of her sandwich and looked away with a small shrug.
“Paige?”
“Seven,” she mumbled.
“Seven? No one was even scheduled to start until ten! Why would you get here so early? That wasn’t on your schedule or your list of responsibilities, and you know it.” His tone was light but firm, but she felt thoroughly admonished.
Clearly she had shared way too much over the past few weeks. It wasn’t as if he were shining a light in her face and interrogating her, but he had a way of getting her to talk while they were working together. And when she talked, he listened. Clearly.
They ate in silence as people milled around them. Paige couldn’t help but feel a little anxious—this whole photo shoot wasn’t going as planned and there were still several people missing. She needed to finish eating, make some calls, and—
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