by Grace James
“Seriously?”
“Oh yeah.” Harvey took gaming very seriously, and mornings were for gaming. Afternoons were for – well, more gaming, usually. With a few exceptions, he didn’t normally make it to work until the evening.
“Okay, what can I do to help?” Blake asked.
I paused what I was doing to look up at him. “…really?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Because you’re – well, you’re…”
He smirked. “Famous? Rich? Terrible with glassware?”
I gave a small laugh. “Don’t you have better things to do than sweat in a beer cellar with me?”
His roguish grin told me how he had taken that comment. “Nah, don’t think I do.”
I rolled my eyes and looked back at my phone; I didn’t think for a second that he was being serious. I selected the cab number and put my cell to my ear – but I didn’t get further than, “Hey, could I get –” before Blake plucked the phone out of my hand and hung up. “Hey!” I exclaimed.
“I told you, I don’t have anything better to do. C’mon, Princess, you look like you’re gonna collapse. Just let me help. I promise when we’re done you can go right back to hating me.”
I thought about protesting some more, but really, I was too tired and sick to turn down his help. “Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s see if you still know how to do real work.”
20
Blake’s car was a shiny, black Mustang that looked like it had just been driven straight off the lot – which I figured it had. Everything inside was pristine and it still had that new car smell.
As we roared out of Kane’s driveway, the silence between us was weird. Loaded. I must have opened my mouth a dozen times, only to close it again without saying anything. I started to fidget, playing with my hair, opening my purse and checking my phone, just for something to do other than look at Blake every thirty seconds.
I finally settled on a topic I figured was safe. “Whatever happened to your old Chevy pickup?”
He broke into a grin. “She’s in my garage in LA. Haven’t driven her in forever though. Don’t even know if she’ll still start. Keep meaning to fix her up just for fun when I have time off, but I never get around to it.”
“I always liked that truck,” I confessed, remembering the chipped blue paintwork and the worn leather seats.
“You did? Why?”
“I don’t know really, I guess it just had character. It was like it had a life of its own.”
He just nodded at that, and the silence started to swell again until he said, “Derren says you’ve been busy at work. You’ve had a bunch of meetings?”
“Yeah. It seems like after your show everyone suddenly knows we exist. I must’ve had a hundred bands and managers call me to organize shows, some of them are pretty big – well, for us. Not you big.”
“Well, my dick is way above avera–”
“Stop,” I told him sharply, holding my hand up.
He chuckled and then said, “Seriously, though, that’s great.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, biting my lip. It was great, but a part of me couldn’t help feeling a little…robbed. I had been busting my ass at The Academy for two years, trying to make it a success, and all of my hard work hadn’t achieved even a fraction of what Blake’s one show had. It was like every piece of business we got now wasn’t earned, it was given, and that didn’t sit well with me. “So, did it work for you?” I asked, changing the subject. “Did the show achieve whatever you and Aiden hoped it would? You got your ‘positive press’?”
“I guess. The videos went viral and there’s been a bunch of articles about my ‘Big Return to Vegas’.” His tone was self-mocking when he air-quoted that last part, making me smile. “I got a Rolling Stone interview this weekend,” he continued, “so it’ll give them something else to ask about besides that bitch.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was talking about Eva Merchant, his ex.
“What did she say about you in that article?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
“You seriously haven’t read it?”
“Nope.”
He sent a brief glance my way. “You ever read anything about me?”
“Nope.”
He shook his head slightly as he looked back at the road. “Right.”
“So…?” I prompted, grinning at his annoyance.
He pulled in a deep breath before he spoke. “She basically made out I was some kind of abusive asshole who tried to control her and threatened her and shit. She conveniently ‘forgot’ to mention the part where she lost her fucking mind and slashed up half the shit in my house with a kitchen knife.”
I felt my eyes get wide as a pulse of shock coursed through me. “She did WHAT?!”
“Yeah.” He mimed stabbing something Psycho style. “Pure, undiluted, fucked up crazy.”
“But what did you d– I mean, why did she do that?!”
The tilt of his lips showed me he knew what I’d almost said, but he didn’t comment on it, he just shrugged and said, “I told her we were done and she didn’t believe me at first, but when she realized I was serious she flipped out.”
“And came at you with a knife?!”
He glanced across at me again and I knew he saw my concern because he started to make light of it. Grinning, he said, “Yeah, but it’s okay, Princess, she didn’t get my band t-shirts.”
I didn’t grin back. “Did you call the cops?”
“Nah. It wasn’t too hard to get the damn thing off her – she didn’t put up much of a fight. It was all about the drama with her. She got off on that type of shit. I just tossed her ass out and called her manager, then turned up the TV to drown out her screaming and hammering on my door. He came over twenty minutes later with some Xanax. She popped that shit like candy,” he paused, snorting a grim laugh and shaking his head. “Even after all that, she still kept calling me for weeks, acting like it was just a little fight and saying she’ll forgive me. Must’ve told her to fuck off a million different ways. Anyway, eventually I stop hearing from her and I think that’s that – but then the story breaks.”
“Wow…she sounds…wow…”
“Yyyep.”
“Can’t you sue her for defamation of character or something?”
“Aiden looked into it, but honestly, I figure that just keeps her in the spotlight, which is what she wants. Besides, I don’t want money or anything else. I just want to forget I ever met her.”
For some reason, hearing him say that made me feel warm inside. I knew that was pretty stupid because it really shouldn’t matter to me what he thought of his ex.
Only it did.
21
When we were a few blocks from my place, Blake pulled his Mustang into the parking lot of a retro looking diner called Arlene’s. The exterior looked like it was stuck in the 80s; everything was sugary pink and baby blue.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Always,” he replied, turning off the ignition and reaching into the glove box in front of me to grab his sunglasses. As he slid them on, he added, “But we’re here for you.”
I wrinkled up my nose at the thought of food. “Ugh, I can’t eat, I’m too hungover,” I told him.
“Trust me, you’ll feel better if you do. C’mon.” Without waiting for my response, he got out of the car. I didn’t do the same, so he came around and opened the passenger side door. “Thought we were on a tight schedule,” he said as he leant down to look at me.
“Even if I wanted something to eat, there’s no way I’m going in there dressed like this.” I gestured to my sequined dress. I’d look like a giant ho-bag wearing it during the day. Nothing screams ‘walk of shame’ louder than a girl dressed like she just fell out of a club at ten in the morning.
Blake’s smirk showed that he understood. “Hang on.” He opened the back door of the car and pulled out a hoodie that had been lying on the back seat. “Here,” he said, offering it to me. “Put this on and com
e pick what you want.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, getting out of the car. I knew that determined look he was wearing; it was useless to argue.
Instead of handing me the hoodie, Blake held it out so that I could slip my arms inside. Then he came around and fastened the zip up the front for me before taking my hand and leading me toward the diner.
That wasn’t sweet. Not at all.
When we got inside, we didn’t sit in a booth like I expected. Instead, Blake steered us over to the counter where we ordered our food and drinks to go.
“You don’t want to eat here?” I asked, as the waitress walked away to fill the order.
“Do you want to?”
I shrugged. “Just thought we would.”
“Easier just to get takeout.” He leant his elbows on the counter, putting his back to the rest of the room.
I glanced around, noticing that there were people looking over at us. A couple of them were frowning thoughtfully, and another – a woman who was maybe in her early thirties – was just outright gawking.
“Holy shit, they recognize you,” I breathed as realization dawned. It sounds ridiculous, but I kept forgetting he was a huge rock star now. To me, he was just Blake.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes for the waitress to fill our order and place it on the counter in front of us. As she did so, I reached into my purse for my wallet – but Blake was way ahead of me, slapping a wad of bills into the waitress’s hand before grabbing our food and pulling me towards the exit.
As we started across the parking lot, I glanced back and saw that we were still being watched; there were a couple of faces practically smooshed against the windows.
I looked away, feeling a little uncomfortable. Even more so because of what I was wearing.
Could I look any more like just another Blake Maxwell booty call?
Ugh.
When we reached the car, Blake opened my door for me. As I climbed inside, I remembered what I had been doing in the diner and pulled my wallet free from my purse and slid out some bills, ready to hand them to him when he got in with the food. I didn’t want him to pay for me. I didn’t want to owe him any more than I already did for saying he’d help me.
“What’s that for?” he asked when I offered him the money.
“For the food. The least I can do is buy you breakfast if you’re driving me all over the city and helping me out at work.”
A look of disbelief flashed across his face. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I pushed the money towards him, but he didn’t take it.
“Do you have any idea how much cash I just gave that waitress?”
“Um, no. How much?”
“I have no idea. I just gave her what I found in my pocket.”
I frowned in confusion, failing to understand the point he was trying to make. “You don’t think you didn’t give her enough?”
He stared at me silently for a beat, then threw his head back and burst out laughing.
I gritted my teeth and waited. I had no idea what was so funny.
When his raucous howls had subsided, he cocked an eyebrow at me. “Trust me, Princess, breakfast’s covered. She probably got at least a seven hundred dollar tip.”
I stared at him, dumbstruck.
And then I started to get really pissed.
“Well excuse me for not just assuming you should have to pay,” I snapped. “I know you’re loaded, Blake. That doesn’t mean I can’t buy you breakfast.”
The humor faded from his face, leaving him looking vaguely bemused as he unwrapped his burger and took a bite. He rested it on his lap as he started the car and pulled out of the lot. I turned away, silently seething as I sipped on my shake and looked out of the passenger side window.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Blake said a few minutes later, his voice contrite. “Thank you for offering to pay. I can’t remember the last time someone did that.”
I shot him a look. “Well, if that’s how you react, I can see why.”
He chuckled as he glanced at me. “Eat your burger.”
I rolled my eyes at his order, but I did it anyway. And he was right, it did make me feel better. I devoured the whole thing in about three minutes flat.
22
When we entered my small studio apartment, Blake gazed around, taking in the eclectic mix of quirky thrift store furniture – and the amazingness that was my bed. I saw his eyes widen when he saw it, and his gaze lingered on it for a couple of seconds, but he didn’t make any comment. Wise move. Like I said before, I loved that bed.
Then his eyes travelled over the wall opposite the front door; it was covered with a couple of framed movie posters – both True Romance, my favorite – and tons of pictures of my family and friends. There were even a couple of group shots of me, Hayley and Mel with Sons of Sinners before they were famous. And before Connor passed away.
His eyes instantly moved away again, travelling around the rest of the space. “Nice place,” he said after a moment. “Very you.”
“Is that one of those insults that just sounds like a compliment?”
He snorted. “No, it was an actual compliment. I like it.”
“What about my bed?” I challenged. “You even like that?” Because NO ONE likes that but me and Hayley. Mel had once called it the ‘antithesis of class’. Rude.
As soon as Blake cut an amused glance my way, I realized my mistake. Mentioning my bed was the last thing I should’ve done. “That an invitation to try it out?”
“No. No part of that was an invitation,” I said quickly, walking past him to rummage through my dresser for a change of clothes.
“Definitely sounded like an invitation…”
“Well it wasn’t,” I snapped as I turned back around, clothes in hand.
He raised his hands, palms facing outwards, like, Jeez, okay, calm down! Then he backed away a few steps, making a big show of treading carefully as if he’d just disturbed a sleeping bear.
I shook my head at him in exasperation, but I was also biting the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling at his little pantomime. God, it was so infuriating how he could be sweet and funny one minute, and then practically dripping dirty sex the next. “You’re a nightmare,” I muttered.
He broke into a grin and dropped his hands to his sides. “As long as you’re dreaming about me, I’ll take that as a win.”
I rolled my eyes as I started toward the bathroom to take a shower. “You would.” I gestured to my small kitchen. “Help yourself to coffee or whatever. I won’t be long.”
“Okay – hey, Princess?”
“Hm?” I turned back to face him.
“Will you do me a favor while you’re in there?”
“Doubtful…”
“Yeah, I figured, but I’m gonna ask anyway.” He cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes taking on a seductive glint as he moved closer to me, slowly, like he was expecting me to bolt. Every one of my nerve endings tingled, telling me to do just that – but I stood my ground until he was right in front of me, standing less than a foot away from me, his eyes burning into mine. The tension that had been bubbling on low around us was rising fast, constricting my chest.
Before I could stop it, my tongue darted out, wetting my bottom lip.
Shit! I sooo didn’t mean to do that…did I? DID I?
Blake’s lips curled into that damn sexy smirk, like he knew exactly what was going through my mind. His voice was a deep rumble when he spoke again. “While you’re taking that shower, don’t think about that time up at the cabin when we showered together, will you? Don’t think about how I lifted you up and fucked you hard against the tile. Don’t think about how amazing it felt when you came all over my cock. Whatever you do, Princess, don’t think about that, okay?”
You. Bastard.
Of course, that was now all I could think about…
The water had turned his dark brown hair to midnight black. His gorgeous body had gliste
ned under the spray…and the water droplets had run down his face to his lips, where I had tasted them as we kissed. I remembered the way that his strong hands had grasped my ass when he lifted me up and pressed me against the cool tile wall…and the feel of his arousal, slippery and hard, hot and wet, pushing inside of me, filling me up…
I felt the telltale tingle in my cheeks and turned away quickly, hurrying to the bathroom and pulling door open. “That should be no problem at all,” I called over my shoulder. “I really can’t remember that.”
The sound of his laughter followed behind me. “Then why are you blushing?”
“Oh, shut up!” I slammed the door behind me, but I could still hear him laughing, right up until I turned on the shower and the sound of the water drowned him out.
Then I was left with the memories, just like he’d wanted.
23
When I emerged from the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a tank top, still scrubbing my hair with a towel, Blake was lying on my bed with his eyes closed. He looked just like he had at Kane’s house earlier, with his hands behind his head and his t-shirt riding up.
He’s trying to kill me. That’s the only explanation.
By some miracle, I managed to sound completely disaffected when I said, “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”
He cracked his eyes open. “Needed to stretch out for a minute. Someone slept like a starfish last night.”
I picked up my hairbrush and started to brush out my still-damp hair, “There’s no way I took up more than half the bed. It’s not my fault you’re a giant.”
He propped himself up on his elbows and grinned up at me. “You never complained before. I think you like how big I am.”
Back to this again? Really?
I shot him a bored glance. “Of course you do, you’re full of yourself.”
“Why? For thinking that my ex maybe used to enjoy fucking me once upon a time?”
My mouth dropped open in surprise.
“What?” He asked innocently, although his humor was evident.