Falling for the Bad Boy

by Kennedy Fox

  Grabbing the planner off the table, she walks back to her makeshift office in the opposite corner of the hotel suite while I finish my breakfast.

  Exactly twelve minutes later, Olivia is pushing me into the shower and reminding me to shave my legs.

  I look down and realize she’s right.

  “How did you—” I shout from behind the curtain.

  “The Bible!” she yells back, and I smile.

  Less than two hours later, we’re heading to one of the hotel’s meeting rooms where a group of readers are waiting for me. No matter how many events I do, it still feels surreal. I’m completely humbled that people read my words and even want to meet me. It’s an intoxicating feeling, and every time I leave one of these events, I have to pinch myself because this is my life.

  “You have one hour and forty-five minutes, and then we have to get you to the bookstore for the signing. Ready?” Olivia asks as she brushes one of my flyaway hairs off my forehead. She really is my right-hand woman.

  “Absolutely!” I say, confidently and smile.

  She opens the doors for me, and I’m greeted by a dozen women who all smile and start clapping as soon as I walk in. It’s so overwhelming, yet I can’t deny how great it feels. They stand up from the table, so I can give them each a hug while they introduce themselves to me.

  Meet-n-greets are intimate and personal, which is one of the reasons I love them so much. I meet a lot of readers online, but there’s nothing like connecting with them in person.

  Once we’re all seated and settled with our plates of food, questions start flying. “So does Nathan know you wrote a novel about him?” Amelia, a woman around the same age as me, asks. “I mean, he’d have to, right?”

  Everyone leans over the table, itching closer to hear my response.

  The New York Times reached out to my publisher and requested an interview with me and printed it right before the book’s release where I confirmed the rumors about this novel being inspired by true events. Considering this was a steamy romance novel, they were intrigued, along with thousands of readers. So, of course, the million-dollar question everyone wants to know—did “Nathan” know I wrote this book primarily based on our week together?

  Of course, Nathan was actually Ethan, but I haven’t confirmed whether or not he knew because honestly, I didn’t. I had no idea if he followed my social media pages, but I haven’t come out and told him personally. Hell, I haven’t even spoken to him. Concern on how readers will react to that truth is why I haven’t publicly revealed that. Part of me worries my readers would be upset if I told our story without his permission, and the other part of me stresses they wouldn’t connect with the characters if they knew the real-life love story didn’t end the same.

  “I don’t think so,” is all I offer to Amelia.

  “Do you think he’d be mad if he found out?” another woman asks. “Like now that the book is released, he could know, right?” There’s hopefulness in her tone.

  “Sure, he could. Not sure he follows romance books, but never say never,” I say with a forced smile. I knew going on tour and having these meet-n-greets would bring up uncomfortable questions and memories of Ethan, but being in the same town as him and where the story took place is affecting me in more ways than one.

  The brunch ends on a high note when I announce there’ll be more standalone books in the series. My agent ended up getting me a three-book deal for the series once she sold the first one, and after I sent in summaries for books two and three.

  “You did good,” Olivia praises. “I am starting to wonder if this Nathan guy is real though.” She flashes me a wink, and I roll my eyes.

  “Sometimes I wonder the same thing,” I say with a chuckle.

  “The more you talk about him, the more he sounds too good to be true.”

  “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is,” I say, confirming what she already expected. Ethan’s the full package, and anyone that meets him would probably agree. However, that doesn’t void the fact that we were destined to end this way.

  His emotional baggage mixed with my trust issues was a disaster waiting to happen. But I can confidently say that if I had to do it all over again, I undoubtedly would.

  The afternoon and night go by fast. The signing is a huge success and meeting readers who want my autograph and picture has me floating on cloud nine. I’m not a social person by nature, but as soon as I enter that room filled with people whose eyes are all on me, something in my brain switches.

  I’m suddenly the most social person ever, remembering to smile and hug people. I pose for pictures and thank them for coming. Nora calls it Vada 2.0.

  I laugh, thinking back to the conversation. She knows how introverted I am and often teases me for all the food deliveries I get.

  “You have more men coming and going from your apartment than the Playboy mansion,” she mocked.

  “Well, what can I say? Food is my weakness.” I smirked, earning a groan from her.

  “One of these days, I’m teaching you to cook a damn meal for yourself. How are you ever going to be able to cook dinner for your future husband?”

  I gave her a look that told her that wasn’t something I’d have to be concerned about anytime soon.

  “You could go out every once in a while. Meet up with some friends,” she encouraged.

  “I don’t have friends.” I deadpanned. “Except you and Oliver.”

  “Oliver and I don’t count, although I don’t appreciate you putting me in the same category as your damn cat.” She grunted. “I mean, real friends. Girlfriends the same age as you. Go out and have fun. You’re always worried about the next deadline.”

  “Because I’m always on a deadline.” I half-laughed, half-cried because it’s the truth. Deadlines on deadlines. “Plus, I don’t want to be that social anyway.”

  “How’s it you can’t socialize with people your own age, yet you go on tour and socialize with hundreds of strangers?”

  I shrugged with a grin. “One of life’s many mysteries I guess.” I flashed a smug smile.

  “It’s like you have an alternate personality. Vada 2.0.”

  I laughed, rolling my head back because I’d never thought about it like that.

  “You’re absolutely right, Nora. But Vada OG is my comfort zone.”

  Considering my writing schedule and hectic lifestyle, cooking just isn’t a priority right now. Neither is going out and socializing. I know I’ll probably look back one day and wished I’d formed some close friendships, but people who don’t read or write just don’t understand the passion. I’m better off in my own bubble with online friends who share the same interests and night owl schedule.

  “Okay, that’s it for the day,” Olivia says with a deep breath. “You’re officially off-duty.”

  “I can finally take off these heels then.” I sigh with a choked laugh. “My writer’s uniform is so much better.”

  “Wearing the same clothes for a week isn’t a uniform, Vada. It’s right up there next to homelessness.” She eyes me, daring me to challenge her. “Plus, you look good in a dress and heels. You should go out and show yourself off.” Her eyes light up at her suggestion.

  “Sorry, Vada 2.0 is officially down for the night. Plus, I should get some writing done tonight. My agent is already clawing at me for the next part.”

  Sighing, she nods, and we head toward the doors and walk out together. Charleston is beautiful this time of year; a warm breeze blows across us as the sun starts to set. I close my eyes briefly, letting all the memories soak in.

  “You okay?” she asks, adjusting her purse on her shoulder.

  I blink and inhale a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m good.” I smile wide.

  Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Olivia plays on her phone, and just as we round a corner, I hear someone calling my name.

  “Vada!”

  The voice is deep and recognizable.

  Spinning around, my eyes search for him, and it doesn’t take me l
ong to spot him. His hands are shoved into the front pockets of his dark-washed jeans. Dark shaggy hair tamed to one side. Piercings in both ears. Scruffy jawline.

  He’s as gorgeous as I remember. Every bad boy stigma.

  A single girl’s wet dream.

  Ethan.

  20

  ETHAN

  It’s been a year since I’ve seen Vada in the flesh, but she’s just as stunningly beautiful as I remember. Her hair is a tad longer, but thick and just as gorgeous as before. Seeing her in a dress instantly starts doing things to me, but when I see the expression on her face the moment her eyes find mine, I know the feelings I had for her haven’t wavered a bit.

  Coming here was a risk. After sending her forty-five flower bouquets and never getting a response from her, I didn’t know if she’d want to see me or not. However, when I heard she would be in Charleston, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to know once and for all if we still had a chance at making this work.

  I haven’t stopped thinking about her since she left. I’ve been a tortured soul since the moment she walked out of my life, and I haven’t even looked at another woman since she’s been gone. This was my last attempt to lay it all out there on the line.

  “Ethan,” she says, her tone soft, as she walks toward me. I see the surprise in her eyes and hope I’m not breaking the rules by coming here.

  “Hey.” I meet her halfway, unsure how to approach her. I try to read her body language, but she isn’t giving much away.

  “You’re here,” she says simply, almost as if she’d been anticipating seeing me, which makes me hopeful. She releases a breath, and I wonder if it’d be appropriate to hug her.

  “Of course, I am,” is all I say in return.

  “I’m just surprised to see you here. I just got the feeling you were done waiting.” I don’t miss the hint of sadness in her tone.

  I take another step toward her. “Oh fuck no.”

  My blunt words take her off guard, but she chuckles softly anyway.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d ever want to see me again,” I admit. “After everything that happened with Harmony and your writing deadlines, but seeing as you didn’t slap me across the face, I take it you don’t hate me.” I rock back on my feet, nervously.

  She smiles, lowering her eyes to hide the blush that sweeps across her cheeks. “Well, I actually decided to stop hating you yesterday. So, good timing.”

  “Whew, glad I waited.”

  We both smile.

  “So…what are you doing here, Ethan?” She sucks in her lower lip as she studies me.

  “I came to see if you got my flowers,” I tease, knowing damn well she did. I paid good money to make sure they were delivered directly to her.

  “Um, ya know…I’m pretty sure I did.” She puts a finger to her lips as if she’s truly thinking about it.

  I narrow my eyes, but she cracks a smile, giving me the reassurance I need.

  “Of course, I did,” she finally confesses. “They were all really gorgeous,” she says sincerely, and the nerves begin to wash away. “However, it was quite ironic, don’t you think?” Her lips tilt up in a mock grin.

  “Why do you say that?” I narrow my eyes.

  “I recall you specifically telling me you weren’t a ‘sending flowers’ type of guy.” She flashes a wide smile, knowing damn well she’s right. “And yet, you sent me a bouquet every week for almost a year.”

  I run my hand along my jawline, covering up the guilty smirk that flashes across my face. “To be fair, I hadn’t been that guy for years, so I didn’t want you to have the wrong expectations.” I pause, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “But meeting you changed everything.”

  “Well, thank you. I loved them all.”

  “You’re welcome.” I smile in return. “I wanted to make sure you always had fresh flowers to keep you inspired. I would’ve sent Henry, knowing how much you enjoyed his company, but I was worried you’d send him back in a bucket.”

  She bursts out laughing, and it eases everything inside me.

  “I can honestly say I don’t miss your cock chasing me.” She pinches her lips together, preventing her from smiling.

  “Well, that’s really a shame, because he’s sure missed you,” I tell her sincerely.

  “I bet he’s had plenty of other visitors to attack.”

  Lowering my eyes, I shake my head. “I haven’t rented the cottage out since you left.”

  “Oh.” Her voice sounds surprised, although she really shouldn’t be. I haven’t wanted anyone else in there. To me, it’ll always be hers.

  Clearing my throat, I work up the courage to tell her why I’m really here. “I came for you, Vada.” I look into her big green eyes. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to finally see you.”

  She bites on her lower lip before popping it back out. “How’d you know I’d be in town?”

  “Aunt Millie saw it in the paper and told me,” I confirm. “She’s your biggest fan now.” I smile. “Once I found out, I thought about this moment over and over and decided that even if you were pissed to see me, I had to chance it.”

  She pauses a moment before smiling with a nod. “Well, I’m glad you did,” she replies, her words taking me by surprise. “I’ve wondered what it’d be like to see you again.”

  “Yeah, it’s…” I pause, unable to stop looking at her lips and thinking about the way she tastes. Screw formalities. “Fuck, Vada. I’m sorry.” I step toward her.

  “You don’t have to—” she begins, but I’m quick to cut her off.

  “That’s not what I’m apologizing for.” I’m quick to close the gap between us, wrap my hand around her neck, and pull her lips to mine. I kiss the fuck out of her and am relieved when she kisses me back.

  A risk—to assume she’d want to kiss me—but one so worth it.

  Her tongue dances with mine as her hands wrap around my waist and pull at the fabric of my shirt, desperate to deepen the kiss. My palms cup her cheeks and hold her closely. The world spins around us as if we’re the only two people here, and in this moment, it’s only Vada and me.

  “I’ve missed you so fucking much,” I breathe against her lips, leaning back just enough to whisper the words. “Did you miss me?” I bravely ask, needing to hear her say it.

  She swallows then nods. “Yes, but—”

  “But it’s not enough,” I finish for her, predicting her thoughts.

  “We live completely different lives,” she confirms.

  “That’s not a good enough reason to be apart, Vada.”

  “You stopped sending the flowers,” she whispers. “I thought you were done waiting for me and the thought nearly sent me back to desperate levels.” I furrow my brows in question. “Wine,” she clarifies.

  Brushing my finger along her jawline, I tilt her chin to look back up at me. “I stopped sending them because I knew you’d be on tour. I sent them because I wanted to give you the space and time, knowing you needed it, but without smothering you. I wanted you to know that I was still thinking about you and that I’d wait for you as long as you needed me to—as long as I knew there was still a chance for us.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think of that,” she says, chewing on her lip again. I can see how nervous she is to be around me. “Harmony’s words really stung and affected me, and it made me really scared at how fast I was falling for you. Then I started second-guessing everything.”

  “I’m so sorry about her. Everything she told you was based on lies, and I’m sorry she put them in your head, but I can’t undo that part of my life. As much as I wish I could.” I groan, getting fired up just thinking about her and the shit she pulled.

  “I know, and I wanted to believe you once I finally listened to your messages, but it felt like it was too late. I’d already left heartbroken, and I knew I wouldn’t survive another broken heart if I called you back or even returned. It felt inevitable that th
ings would eventually end, so I knew it was for the best to stay away.”

  “How could you make that decision without actually talking to me first?” I ask, more anger in my tone than I’d meant. “You weren’t the only one hurting and confused, Vada.”

  She swallows, her body tensing. “I know, but I felt like I couldn’t trust you even if what she told me was a lie. I couldn’t trust those feelings anymore, and I couldn’t go through the pain all over again.”

  “I never lied to you, Vada. You had no reason not to trust me,” I tell her.

  “I don’t trust easily,” she reminds me. “I didn’t know if the feelings I had for you were real either because they formed so fast. I’d hoped once I was back home and writing, I would get over you.”

  “And did you?” I ask, brushing strands of her hair behind her ear, feeling the goose bumps along her skin.

  Her body stills as she thinks about her answer. “No,” she says just above a whisper. “Not even close.” I bring her mouth back to mine, feverishly kissing her.

  “Thank fuck,” I murmur against her lips. “I’ve been dying to kiss you for twelve long months. I was going to die if I had to hold back.”

  She laughs against my mouth and the sound sends tingles down my body. Her laugh is music to my soul, and it’s the first true smile I’ve had in months.

  “How inappropriate would it be to ask you to have dinner with me tonight?”

  She chews her bottom lip as if she’s really thinking about it. “Depends. Are you going to offer your cock to me again?”

  “Henry?” My brows lift. “I knew you missed him.” I smirk at all the memories of him chasing and scaring the shit out of her.

  She chuckles again then shakes her head. “No, not that cock.”

  I choke on my words before I can even spit them out. “Shit. You’re still as feisty as I remember.”

  Her lips spread into a wide, knowing grin. “C’mon, Casanova. Take me to your lair.”

  After Vada introduces her assistant to me and explains she’ll be riding with me, we take off in my car. The woman looked at me like I was a figment of her imagination.