You look over at Hunter. He’s waiting for you in the bar, watching you but not with any suspicion or jealousy. Then you look at Bryce. He still has the same blond hair, trimmed neat. He looks like the same guy who made your heart soar as a teenager. The same guy who left it shattered right before graduation.
“Umm…” Your eyebrows pinch together and you look at the floor. What should you do?
Chapter 2
“You look so good.” Bryce steps into you and drags his thumb down your cheek.
You don’t mean to flinch, but it doesn’t feel right. Nothing about running into him does. Whatever hold he once had on you long ago evaporated. Now, when you look up into his smug face, you’re just irritated.
“Maybe we can get caught up, in more ways than one. If I remember correctly, you could never keep your clothes on after a few shots.” He chuckles. “What do you say? How about a night out for old times’ sake? On me?”
You frown and shake your head. How cocky can one guy be? You haven’t seen Bryce since he ditched you for Ellie McDougall and that was a week before prom. Not only did he leave your heart torn up in pieces, but he ruined that night for you.
You remember how your mother begged you to just go anyway, to have fun on your own terms. After all, the dress was bought and all the preparations were in place, but you couldn’t face him. Luckily, she didn’t get angry, instead turning your terrible prom night into a mother-daughter movie night. It wasn’t perfect, and it was often interrupted by pitiful crying sessions, but it was the best a mom could do.
“I do look good,” you agree slyly and watch as Bryce’s eyes light up with false hope. “Damned good. Lucky for me, I didn’t get stuck in a dead-end relationship with a narcissistic ass. So, thanks for that.” You give him a clap on the shoulder. “Sorry, Bryce, but I’m on a date. Have a good night.”
Eat your heart out, loser.
You don’t need to say the words out loud. They surge through you with every confident step you take into the bar. Bryce’s shock radiates toward you and his stare is fixed onto your back as you finally have the satisfaction of being the one to reject him.
As you approach the table Hunter is sitting at, you stop caring about Bryce and all that history. Looking in your rearview mirror isn’t going to help you get back to California, and it won’t help you now either. It’s the here and now that matter. And, sure, here and now have been pretty suck-tacular up until Hunter showed up, but he might just be the bright ray of light you need to cut through all this dreariness.
“Friend of yours?” Hunter nods at the doorway where Bryce is still awkwardly standing, staring at you with disbelief.
You roll your eyes and he seems to snap back to reality and shuffles out of sight. “Nope, just someone I knew in high school,” you answer breezily and sit down.
“Good, ’cause I’m not into sharing.” Hunter’s voice drops an octave and sends a tremble through you like a booming bass at a concert.
You sit up a bit taller and clear your dry throat. Your eyebrows shoot up at the suggestion that you’re his to share, but before a single word can fall from your tongue, a waitress brings over a pint of beer to him.
“Here ya go.” Her eyes flicker from him to you. “And what can I get you, love?”
“I guess I’ll have one of those too,” you answer. Normally you aren’t a big beer drinker. For years, it’s been a strict no-no because going to auditions looking bloated is a bad idea. But that life is behind you now. It’s time you indulged yourself a little.
“You got it.” She smiles and disappears behind the bar.
Hunter’s eyes travel over you intensely as he takes a long drink from the glass. Tiny foamy bubbles cling to the scruff over his lip when he puts the beer down and wipes them away with the back of his hand.
The waitress returns with a drink for you, and you take a sip in silence. Was this a mistake? Maybe rushing off to a bar with someone you don’t really know wasn’t the best idea.
Your thoughts ping-pong around in your mind. You’ve had an overwhelming week, and so, when you take another drink of your beer and feel the warm fuzzy sensation inside, you don’t worry about any of it. Let it all go. Worrying about cars and careers isn’t going to do anything but make you crazy. Sure, you still have a lot to figure out, how you’re going to pay for your car for starters, but right now you decide to enjoy your present company.
“Are you traveling through here?” You finally break the silence.
Hunter shrugs. “Not exactly. I grew up in Phoenix but left for the military a long time ago.” His eyes glaze over like he’s gone somewhere else. Somewhere only he can see. He clears his throat. “I, uh, just let my contract expire and decided to come back home. I’m doing the whole apartment hunting thing right now.” Hunter takes another long drink of his beer.
“So, that’s why you’re here.” You twirl your hand around the hotel bar.
“That’s why I’m at the hotel, yeah. But now I’m supposed to go to this wedding tomorrow, and”—he sighs—“it’s a mess.”
“Wedding?” Bryce said he was in a wedding party. It must be the same one. “Did you recognize the guy at the door? He’s here for the wedding too.”
“No. Can’t say I did.” He scowls at his diminishing beer. “Not that I would anyway. I shouldn’t even be going to the stupid wedding. It’s so stupid.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know”—he laughs bitterly—“probably because it’s my ex-fiancée who’s getting hitched. And she’s the one who invited me.”
“What? Are you fucking serious?” You search his face for some sign that he’s messing with you, but his dark eyes look like the sky when a heavy storm is about to hit.
“Yeah, as a heart attack. I didn’t expect to run into her. I’ve been using this as my home base while I’ve been looking for a place to live. Yesterday, I got into the elevator and Myra, my ex, was in there. It was weird. We did the whole trying to act like it wasn’t awkward-as-fuck thing and then she went and invited me to her wedding.”
“That’s… wow. Why did you agree?”
“I have no fucking clue. I didn’t want her to think she broke me, I guess. Like, if I said ‘no,’ I figured she’d get the upper hand or something.”
You swirl your fingertip around the top of your glass and try to put the puzzle together, but you can tell you’re missing crucial pieces of the bigger picture. “Wait, why would she have the upper hand?”
“Myra and I were engaged while I went on my last tour. We were the ones who were supposed to be getting married around now. But then I got a ‘Dear John’ letter and that was that. She said she couldn’t do the distance thing anymore, but she knew it was my last tour. Anyway, I came to find out it wasn’t about any of that, it was because she found some new guy. She fell in love with him. Now they’re getting married.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, so when she invited me, I didn’t really think it through. I just didn’t want her to think I was broken and not over her. So, now I’m going to my ex-fiancée’s wedding, with no date, to prove a point to… I don’t even know.” He shakes his head in disgust and then downs the rest of his beer.
“Are you over her?” You eye him suspiciously. His actions don’t sound like those of a guy who’s “over it.”
Hunter waves down the waitress and holds up his empty glass. She nods and, even though you’ve not finished yours yet, she pours out a couple more pints.
“That’s the thing, I really am.” His voice doesn’t waver. It doesn’t crack. He sounds solemn. Like there’s no doubt in his mind that he is.
“Two more for the lovely couple.” The waitress smiles and slides the glasses across the table, picking up Hunter’s empty one before she goes.
Lovely couple.
She didn’t mean anything by the term, but the idea makes your belly flutter with butterflies. You can’t help but soak in Hunter—his chiseled jaw, his mysterious eyes, his obviously toned body. How did a
nyone reject him? How could they just leave him while he was overseas fighting for his country?
You know that sting of a cheater’s burn all too well. You just got a reminder of the first time it happened when you got sidelined by Bryce. You wish you could say he was the only man who put you through something like that, but you can’t.
“So, why did you agree to go then?” You know you should leave it well enough alone. Hunter is clearly conflicted by all this, but your curiosity is eating at you.
“I guess I wanted to do it for myself. Closure and all that. Believe it or not, a ‘Dear John’ letter and a bunch of rumors isn’t the most satisfying way to end a relationship. I felt like, going to her wedding, probably with the guy she left me for, it would be a part of my new beginning. If that makes any sense.”
You gulp the last mouthful of beer in the first glass you were served and mull over his words. You get that. New beginnings is what your life is all about right now. And, as you well know, sometimes you need to backtrack a bit to make that happen. Whether it’s crashing in your old hometown with your big sister, or watching your ex-fiancée walk down the aisle, sometimes we need to take a step back to move forward.
“What about you?” Hunter interrupts your thoughts and nods to your bag. The carry-on-sized suitcase carrying all of your worldly possessions. “You passing through Phoenix?”
“Believe it or not, I’m moving back too. Well, not to Phoenix, but Chandler. It’s about an hour from here.” You slide your empty glass over and pull the new pint toward you.
“I’ve heard of it.”
“Yeah, it’s where my sister lives. Her whole family actually. My parents technically live there too, but they’re in a retirement villa now. Anyway, I went out to LA with big Hollywood dreams and now I’m back, broke and beginning again. Just like you. Well, I mean the starting over part anyway,” you explain.
“That’s some shitty luck about the car. What are you gonna do?”
He makes you wince, bringing the very thing you’ve been pushing from your mind to the forefront.
“I’m not sure,” you answer honestly. “There’s no way I’m asking my sister for a loan. She’s already so damned smug about me coming back. I might have to abandon it. Lots of people get around with no cars.” A lump grows in your throat. You hate that everything seems to be conspiring against you.
“What if I could help you out? I mean, what if we could help each other out?” Hunter runs his broad hand down over his short scruff and holds you prisoner of his gaze.
“How’s that?” You tilt your head.
“Well, I’d be a lot more comfortable going to my ex’s wedding if I had a ‘fiancée’ of my own.” He makes air quotes over the table. “And, you need some cash to get your car back, so…”
You bristle, your back growing stiff, and the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Are you kidding me? I’m not a fucking prostitute.” You grab your purse from the back of the chair and sling it over your shoulder in a huff, ready to storm out of here. Where you’re going to go is anyone’s guess, but you’re not about to let some guy offer to pay you for your body, no matter how sexy he is. This isn’t Pretty Woman!
“Cool your jets. Hey.” Hunter grabs your hand and doesn’t let go when you try to pull away. “That’s not what I was saying, Meghan. Jeez, chill out, will ya?” He holds your hand and you stop moving. All you can concentrate on is the explosion of electricity buzzing up from your hand and over your arm. Your skin breaks out in gooseflesh and you find your mind wandering… wondering… imagining what it might be like if you did spend a night with him.
Your weak knees give you no choice but to sit back down. Slumping in your chair, you try to keep your jaw jutted out. You want to look like a take-no-shit kinda girl, but the swirling emotions inside you have caught you off guard. Just like his smoldering stare.
“Listen, I’m not trying to pay you for sex. I mean, really? Do you think I need to pay for sex?” He finally lets go of your hand and points at himself indignantly. “Come on.”
You immediately wish your hand was still in his. Even though it was brief, you really felt something for a second. You blink it away, focusing on what Hunter is saying.
“No,” you admit.
“I was saying you can be my fake fiancée, just for the wedding tomorrow. It’s up to you, but I think it could be a win-win. Hear me out.” He lifts up his hand and you close your mouth. “You spend the night here. I’ll give you the bed and I’ll take the couch, okay? No funny business, I swear. You have my word as a Marine, well, former Marine. Then tomorrow you pose as my fiancée at the wedding. I’ll pay for your tow and repairs on the car, and you can head off to your sister’s place and never see me again. What do you say?” He searches your face for some kind of response, but you’re frozen in thought and indecision.
Part of you wants to spend more time with Hunter, no strings attached. And certainly not for any kind of money. However, it’s probably a bad idea. Right? Still, you’ve already lost so damned much. Losing your car when you don’t really need to would just add insult to injury. You look down into your beer, like an answer is going to float up to you like one of those magic eight balls. What should you do?
Chapter 3
“Let’s do it,” you agree.
“Yeah? You’re game?” A smile crests his perfect lips and you find yourself wondering what that smile would feel like pressed against your skin. You push the thought away.
Didn’t you just give him shit when you thought he was turning this into a rip-off of Pretty Woman? What’s going on with you? You realize that, while the idea of being paid for a night or two in bed disgusts you, the idea of doing it for free has the exact opposite effect.
Still, Hunter said no funny business, and you know that’s a good rule to stick with. Your life is complicated enough right now. The last thing you need is to bring sex, even if it would be mind-blowing sex with one of the most gorgeous men you’ve seen in a long time, into the equation.
You blink. This is going to be harder than you thought. I bet he gets hard as granite.
Enough! You chide yourself silently.
“I’m game,” you agree.
“Nice. Well, how about I get the tab squared away for these and we get you settled in upstairs?” Hunter taps the side of his empty glass.
“Sure.” You nod curtly and down your last gulp of beer.
The way he walks across the room toward the bar almost leaves you breathless. Hunter looks like a guy from a hunk-a-month calendar or a naughty romance book cover, not the kind of guy who really exists. And definitely not the kind of guy who needs a fake fiancée. You let the words marinate in your brain, fake fiancée. This will take the top spot on the list of strangest things you’ve ever agreed to.
He finishes paying for the drinks and makes his way back. You pretend you’re not licking his entire body from head to toe with your gaze when you notice how blatantly the waitress checks him out. She bites her lower lip, soaking him in like a greedy sponge before her eyes flicker up and meet yours. Her eyes quickly dart away, guilt painting her face a pale pink.
Something stirs inside you, but you’re not sure what it is. Pride? Jealousy? Something else? One thing is certain. You don’t have any right to feel whatever this is.
Fake fiancée, remember?
You tell yourself that old habits die hard. You’re an actress right? This is just the way you prepare for a role. You’re getting into the part you’re about to play.
But you know that isn’t true. Not a single word.
What you feel isn’t just something to act out on a stage. This has nothing to do with trying on a role or putting on a show for an audience. This feeling twisting in your gut is anything but fake.
Plus, the last time you checked, the only “acting” you did was for a commercial trying to convince women they need to make their pussies smell like a chemical garden.
Not exactly Oscar worthy stuff.
“Ready?
” Hunter lifts up your flimsy suitcase and holds his free hand out to you, helping you from the wooden chair.
You nod and, for the first time since you sat down with him, you notice the windows are cloaked in darkness. Sometime, when you were nursing a beer, the daylight dwindled into night and you didn’t even notice. As your stomach growls, you realize you might not have noticed, but your body definitely did.
“Hungry?” Hunter’s eyes slide down over you, resting on your belly.
“I guess I am.” You try to remember when you last ate.
You’ve been too broke to buy anything but fuel for the car on this little excursion. The last fuel you put in yourself was the best tasting Pop Tart you’ve ever eaten. The one you pilfered from your snotty ex-roommate. You washed it down with that special blend of organic juice your other bitchy roommate always warned everyone to stay out of. After the way they kicked you to the curb, they deserved it.
“We can order a pizza to the room, if you want?” Hunter doesn’t drop your hand, instead leading you out of the bar and over to the elevators. You kind of hope he never lets go of it, even though you know it’s not possible.
“I’d love that,” you answer too loudly and your stomach growls even more ferociously than before.
Hunter laughs and steps into the elevator, still holding your hand.
It doesn’t take long to get into his room and the entire time you find yourself focused on the way his heat seems to wrap around your palm and travel up your arm. Those tiny buzzing pulses of excitement are back and stronger than before. If this is what only a hand feels like against yours, what would his entire naked body feel like?
A sigh escapes your lips and Hunter looks over at you, holding open the door to his room. “Are you okay?” His eyes study your face. “If you changed your mind, you don’t have to come in.” He tilts his head.
“No, it’s nothing like that. I was just thinking about my poor car,” you lie. You’re not about to confess that you were sighing because your desire for him can barely be contained inside your flesh.
Night Time Rendez-Vous: 3 sizzling novellas that will keep you up all night Page 7