I understand now why she bought the place.
That fucking view.
I could sit out there and think for hours.
My attention moves from the outside when two women walk into the room. Their mouths drop when they notice me, and I rudely stare as they come closer.
I recognize Stella immediately.
How could I not?
Stories and images of her plaster every magazine cover in grocery store checkout lanes, and she stays on TV with endless reruns. Cameron used to make me watch those stupid award shows with her, and Stella was a consistent winner.
Even with all that, I never expected her to be this beautiful. I can’t take my eyes off her full-figured body. She’s enthralling, flawless, fucking perfection. No wonder every cameraman wants a shot of her.
Stella Mendes is a woman who can bring a man to his knees with the slightest hint of a smile. Hell, she doesn’t even have to smile. Just her presence makes you hungry for more.
Straight hair the color of coal flows down her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face with minimal make-up. White skin-tight jeans show off her curves and stops a few inches from her ankles, and a black silk tank hangs loose on her shoulders, giving me a glimpse of her honey-colored skin.
Fuck me.
Good thing I’m only here until they find someone to take over the job.
Her attractiveness doesn’t change my opinion of her. She might be gorgeous, but that doesn’t mean she’s a decent person. Cameron has told me stories about Stella being a spoiled diva who expects people to jump when she yells. There were times it was difficult for Dallas to come home for the holidays because of her hectic schedule.
That shit won’t fly with me.
I’ll work for her but won’t be ordered around like a dog.
Stella holds out her hand to me. “Hudson, thank you for coming.” Her voice is flat, and I can’t tell if she’s impartial or pissed that I’m here.
I shake her hand. It feels soft against my calloused skin. “No problem.”
She jerks her head toward the petite redhead at her side that looks around the same age as her. “This is my assistant, Willow,”
Willow smiles and gives me a friendly wave before clapping her hands. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, we have so much to do. You two will be spending a lot of time together, so I want to make sure you take care of my girl, Hudson.”
Stella flinches at her remark and looks like she’d rather kick me out of her house.
Feeling is mutual, sweetheart.
Three
Stella
Oh fuck.
Not good. Not good.
I’m so screwed.
My new bodyguard is …
I can’t even think of the right words to describe him.
Mouth watering?
I laugh to myself.
I can’t come up with something more original and less lame than that?
Sexy. Masculine. Dominating.
Unfortunately, all humans with a penis are off limits to me right now.
Hudson is built, muscles aplenty, but not like the men who spend forty hours a week lifting weights at the gym to score the perfect six-pack for their next Instagram post. He gives off a tough demeanor effortlessly.
Someone would be bat shit crazy to mess with him, and that’s exactly what I look for in a bodyguard. His ash-brown hair is short in the front and buzzed on the sides. Your typical military cut. He didn’t dress up for the occasion—wearing a pair of old jeans complete with worn holes, a white tee, and beat-up boots.
Even though we barely know each other, I already feel safe with him.
The downside to him being here is that I’m certain he’s not my biggest fan. The grimace on his face made it clear he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Dallas has told me plenty about Hudson over the years. He’s a small town guy who spent the last eight years serving our country. He isn’t into the whole Hollywood buzz and has called his brother a dumbass countless times for working for me.
He had to be desperate to take the job.
We say goodbye to Jim and head into my office. I get straight to business as soon as we sit down.
“Willow will keep you updated on my schedule,” I tell him.
As if on cue, Willow hands him a folder and starts rambling off instructions. “Everything you need to know is in here, including all contact numbers, addresses, and emails. There’s also a blueprint of the house, details of each stop during Stella’s press tour, and a map of every hotel she’s staying in.”
Hudson listens and nods.
“How long have you been in the bodyguard business?” Willow asks. “Dallas didn’t list any references other than the fact that you’re his brother and that’s all that mattered.”
He scratches his head, and his voice is rough when he answers. “This is my first bodyguard job.”
“What?” Willow yells, looking to me in shock.
I expected her reaction, which is why I didn’t tell her. I trust Dallas’s word.
“So … you’ve never worked in this field at all?” Willow asks him.
I suck in a breath when he leans forward, plants his elbows on the table, and doesn’t look phased as he stares at Willow.
“I’ve never worked as a bodyguard, but I have plenty of experience fighting for my country, providing security at embassies, and putting my life on the line daily for the safety of others. That should be enough training for this job, don’t you think? I pay attention to every movement around me, and my mind is always on the job. Always. And if it makes you feel better, I’m only here until you find a more qualified replacement.”
We both stare at him stunned and speechless.
Holy fucking hotness.
That’s a damn good answer.
“He’s cute,” Willow says when we’re alone in my bedroom.
We showed Hudson his room and left him to unpack his bag … and hopefully take a happy pill to get out of his cranky mood.
She holds up a finger. “Correction. He’s not cute. Cute is how you describe a three-year-old freckled kid. That guy is a whole lot of man hotness. All man hotness.”
Willow isn’t just my assistant. She’s also my best friend. I can count on her more than anyone. She always has my back and won’t bullshit me when I’m being stupid. Frankly, she doesn’t kiss my ass like most people.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t go there.”
“It’s time to move on from that douchebag.”
“I have moved on from Knox. When I found out he bought a house and moved that pink-haired chick in, it was my reality check. Him and I knew we weren’t meant to be but were too comfortable with each other to cut the cord. He isn’t the reason I’m saying don’t go there. My situation is. I can’t mess around with my security guard. You know mixing business with pleasure is a big no-no in my book. Not to mention, the dude looks like he can’t even stand the sight of me.”
She climbs onto my bed and sits across from me. “Yeah, I’m not sure what’s up his ass, but maybe he’ll warm up to you. And hey, just because he works for you doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun.” She wiggles her shoulders back and forth. “You need to get laid before cobwebs start growing down there. Lack of dick is also making you very irritable. Get some dick. Grow a smile. Just like he said he does his job, I’m sure he gives one hundred percent in the bedroom.”
I throw my head back to stop myself from laughing. “Why am I friends with you again?”
“Because I’m Team Get Stella Laid.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. Last I heard from Dallas, Hudson is engaged to some long-time girlfriend. Guys meet their wives in like third grade in their hometown.”
She frowns. “Well, if you can’t get a piece of him, we need to find you someone else.”
“Reality check. Getting laid in my situation is not only doubtful but stupid.”
She gives me an annoyed glare. “You can bitch about it all you want,
but I don’t feel sorry for you. I told you not to do it.”
We’ve gone round and round about this.
“It was the best move for my future. My career triumphs relationships and sex. I won’t walk through my door one night and find my career sticking his cock into another chick.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh please, you’ll always have work. You’ve had constant work for years because you’re damn talented. Don’t let them assholes tell you otherwise.”
“It’s a big deal migrating from television to movies. I want people to take me seriously and stop seeing me as only Clementine.”
Clementine Storms was the character I played on my show. She was a geeky girl who found out she was a witch and spent her time experimenting and fucking up every spell and potion she tried.
She snorts. “People aren’t going to take you seriously if word gets out about what you’re doing. You’ll be the joke of showbiz. They’ll sever all respect, resulting in you becoming desperate and taking bad roles on the Lifetime channel where your husband plots to kill you.”
I scowl. “I’ll take my chances.”
She’s right. My credibility will be demolished, which was why I refused at first, but eventually, they broke me down. It was the best for my career is what they insisted. I question myself daily on whether I made the right decision.
“Can I ask you something?” Hudson asks.
Willow left twenty minutes ago, so it’s only the two of us. I hoped maybe he’d lighten up, but so far, all he’s giving me is the cold shoulder. Hudson is more intense than his brother. I immediately felt comfortable with Dallas. He cracked a few jokes, told me stories about his family, and was an open book. Hudson is distant, glowering, and humorless.
“Shoot,” I answer. It’s about damn time he seemed interested in something.
He runs his hand through his hair. “I should’ve asked this earlier.” He pauses and looks around. “What exactly are my duties here? What do I do all day?”
“Like Willow said, be prepared to spend time with me, a lot of time with me. You travel with me and stay here when I’m home.”
His face shifts into a more guarded expression with my last statement. Dallas must have failed to inform him that tidbit of information.
I shrug. “I like to feel safe.”
“I’ll do my best to keep you that way.” He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “Have you ever had any situations?”
“Stalker wise?”
He nods.
“A few, but most of them were with my old bodyguard. It became less frequent after I hired your brother. He did a good job scaring off the creeps, so they never got close enough to cause me any harm.”
I’m not sure how much Dallas told him about the responsibilities of this job. I’ve been stalked, harassed, and sent death threats. I do what I love, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t come with risks.
Four
Hudson
“What the fuck, Dallas?” I ask as soon as he answers my call. “I’m living with this chick?”
I want to shove my foot up his ass. It was stupid for me not to ask more questions before hopping on a plane to take an unknown job.
Dallas chuckles. “I see you made it safe and sound. How was your flight?”
“Shitty. I gave away my first-class ticket to some pregnant gal who needed it more than I did. Now answer my question. What the fuck did you get me into?” I figured I’d be crashing at a hotel, not her house.
“Of course, you stay there. That’s what I did when Lucy moved back home.”
The only reason Dallas moved to LA and took the bodyguard job was because Lucy wanted to spread her wings and get a taste of life outside of Blue Beech. The big city wasn’t what she imagined, so she moved home after getting pregnant with Maven. Somehow, Dallas and her managed to keep a healthy long-distance relationship while he stayed in LA.
“Lucy was cool with that?” I ask.
“I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are. I’m a married man who has the love of his life. There’s no need for another woman. My relationship with Stella was strictly professional.”
“How beautiful,” I mutter.
“I got you a kickass job with great pay. A thank you would be nice.”
“Thanks,” I grumble. “What exactly am I supposed to do here? Hang out with this chick all day and night? I’ll go fucking nuts.”
“It’s not all day and night. If you need time off, ask her. You’ll be spending the next week attending promotional events and screenings for her new movie. Your lucky ass gets to travel and stay in the nicest hotels for free. Quit bitching and enjoy it.”
“Do I have to paint her nails and braid her hair, too?”
“If you’re into that shit, go ahead. She might not be too keen on your offer. This might surprise you, but she’s a pretty private person.”
I scoff. Yeah right. If you make the decision to be famous, you’re choosing to give your privacy up and giving consent to all your dirty laundry being aired out to the world.
“What did you do with her?” I ask.
Dallas is more of a people person than I am. Maybe he’ll have some decent ideas to get me through this.
“We watched movies. I read. Find something you have in common.”
“We have nothing in common.”
“Stay optimistic. You never know.”
He changes the subject by giving me an update on Lucy. We talk for a good hour before I hang up to get ready for bed. It’s after eleven, and I’m nowhere near tired, but I don’t know what else to do with myself.
My bedroom is on the main floor and what I assume is the in-law suite. There’s a bathroom, a full kitchenette, and a desk that’s filled with monitors giving me a view from every camera on the property.
I undress, turn on the TV, and slide into the world’s most comfortable bed. My next three hours are spent tossing and turning until I get annoyed enough to go to my bag for an Ambien.
I go to the kitchenette for a glass, but the cabinet I open is empty.
I check another one.
Empty again.
I crack open the door and tiptoe down the dark hallway toward the kitchen. I make it around the corner at the same time a light flips on, and I collide with something … or someone.
“Fuck!” a high-pitch voice shouts.
I stumble back to find Stella standing in front of me with her hand settled on her chest as she takes in deep breaths.
“You scared the living shit out of me,” she says between pants.
It looks bad, but I can’t stop myself from sweeping my gaze down her body and appreciating the view she’s giving me. My dick is enjoying it as well. Purple silk shorts small enough to be considered panties stop at the base of her thighs. A matching tank stops above her belly button, showing off her tan hips and belly-button ring.
Stella has curves for days that I could explore for even longer. Every trace of makeup is gone from her face. Her hair is in a messy ponytail at the top of her head, a few tendrils sweeping in front of her wide eyes.
It’s my first day on the job, and she’s already trying to kill me.
“Shit,” I finally stutter out. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be asleep.”
She’s still startled but waves off my apology. “No biggie.” She always seems to be on edge—like she’s waiting for a killer to barge through the door with a chainsaw.
The room falls silent, and I start getting uncomfortable when her eyes drop down my body, not going any further than my cock. Her head tilts to the side as if she’s studying my junk, and I don’t understand why until I glance down.
I’m only wearing boxer briefs, and they’re not regular boxer briefs.
It’s the pair Dallas had given me as a gag gift.
Written across my cock are the words: Take Me To Your Beaver.
I clear my throat, and it takes a second to gain her attention. She’s smirking when she finally looks at me.
�
�Take me to your beaver?” she asks, laughing. “Nice, and here I thought you had no sense of humor. Only on your underwear does your personality come out.”
“They were a gag gift from my dickhead brother. I didn’t get the chance to go through my clothes when I got home, so I threw random shit in my suitcase.”
That’s a lie.
The truth is Cameron packed up my belongings while I was gone and dropped them off at Dallas’s place when she moved Grady in. She conveniently forgot to also drop off the furniture, appliances, and electronics I bought.
She smiles. “Can’t say I can complain about them.”
My dick stirs. I need to reroute this conversation before I end up taking my cock to her beaver.
“There are no glasses in the cabinet,” I say.
“The kitchen is always open. I’m pretty sure Dallas never used that kitchenette.” She turns to flip on another light, and the kitchen lights up like the Vegas strip. “Can’t sleep?”
I shake my head.
“Me either. I’m putting on some tea. Want a cup?”
“The only kind of tea I drink is laced with sugar and served on ice. Not sure that’ll exactly make me tired.”
She grabs a teapot, fills it with water, and sets it on the stove. “It’s herbal tea. Chamomile. My insomnia remedy.”
We’re standing in her kitchen both damn near naked, and she’s offering me a cup of tea.
Can this get anymore awkward?
I might as well make the best of the situation. She’s not freaking out or rushing away in embarrassment, and I’ll look like a dipshit if I do.
I shrug and sit down on a barstool. “It’s worth a shot. Why can’t you sleep?”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
I raise a questioning brow, a silent plea to go on, and am surprised when she does.
“I’m making a significant career change. This is my first big role in a movie, and I want people to like it … to like me. This is my chance to prove that I can do more than play some teenage witch.”
“Do you like it?”
Just a Fling Page 2