by Tara Leigh
I imagined it gliding over Landon’s ripped abs, his hands rubbing soap across inked muscles.
I was burning up from the inside, my freezer not nearly strong enough to cool my skin. Or my overheated imagination.
Finally, the water turned off with a tired shudder and the image in my head switched to Landon chasing droplets of water with a thick terrycloth towel, each one—
“Piper?”
I slammed the freezer door shut, jumping away from the appliance as if it had tried to swallow me. “Yes,” I squeaked, my eyes darting to the hall in case Landon was standing there, half naked.
No such luck.
“Uh, do you have any towels?”
“Of course. Under the sink.”
There was a pause. Then, “Nope. No towels.”
Confusion battled the heat of my lust, with much more success than my freezer. It had been a crazy couple of days—how behind was I on laundry? Had I used my last clean towel yesterday? Darting to the closet in my bedroom, a plush bath towel was draped over my full hamper like an accusation. I didn’t have to rifle through it to know there were three others beneath.
Cringing, I turned back toward the open door of my bedroom. Too much of a coward to actually step into the hall. “Are there any hand towels in there? Or washcloths?” I have reached a new low.
To Landon’s credit, he didn’t complain. “I have a washcloth!”
Like a man the size of Landon could dry himself with one washcloth. I spun away from my hamper before I was tempted to throw a dirty towel at him, and sprinted into my kitchen.
I had two dish towels. They weren’t as absorbent as regular towels, but at least they were bigger than washcloths.
Knowing my face was probably as red as it felt, I shoved the towels into the bathroom and averted my gaze.
Except that instead of taking them from me and shutting the door…nothing happened. “Landon, here,” I said, my face still turned.
Nothing.
Did the man pull a Houdini?
The sound of silence was deafening, I couldn’t even hear Landon breathing. I turned my head, my eyes snapping open. No, Landon hadn’t disappeared.
Standing two feet away from me, the door completely open, Landon filled the doorway. Naked and dripping wet.
I’d seen Landon naked before, recently. But the impact of every impressive inch of him slammed into me anew. Miles of tanned skin. Muscles earned from hours of drumming and the punishing workouts I knew he used as a hangover cure.
Who does that?
Not me. When I had even a glass too much I could barely manage not to puke during downward dog.
My eyes traveled up and down the entire length of him—twice—before coming to my senses and finding his face. The second I did, I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and pull me into his hard, wet body. “That was quite a sightseeing trip you just took. Any place you’d like to visit?”
I blinked at him, reading deeper meaning into the innocuous question, and wondering—Where? Whatever we were, wherever we had been—it wasn’t a destination worth returning to. We were nothing. He was an ex-boyfriend I hadn’t quite gotten over. A recent one-night stand that hadn’t had the good sense to end there. And now my temporary assignment.
None of which meant much at all. At least, not to him.
I swallowed the knot of intrigue, of lust, though it didn’t go down easily. It lodged itself in my chest, pulsing like a second heartbeat. “We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”
“Good. We’ve got a lot of years to make up for.” The husky growl of Landon’s voice was an invitation for make-up sex—mind-blowing make-up sex.
But that was all.
I pushed away from Landon, knowing that what he was offering—casual sex, on his terms—and what I wanted—a committed relationship with a man who genuinely cared for me—weren’t nearly the same things. Knowing we’d both be disappointed.
I’d had enough disappointment.
Any more and I’d lose hope that things would ever change for the better.
And hope was all I had left. I wasn’t going to let Landon snuff it out. Used up for his benefit, then thrown away. Forgotten.
Again.
“No, we don’t.” My voice came out steady, almost indifferent. Going with it, I walked stiffly back into my bedroom and glanced through the few things of Adam’s that had made their way into my closet. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Landon, but the only other option was staying in my apartment for the next hour while I washed and dried the scrubs he’d worn home from the hospital.
I grabbed the only things he would fit into and shoved them into his chest. The cocky smile slid off his face. “What the hell are these?”
“Spare clothes you can borrow.”
“I’m not borrowing your boyfriend’s clothes.”
“Ex-boyfriend. And beggars can’t be choosers.”
He leveled an intense stare my way. “I’m a lot of things, Piper. But I’m no beggar.”
No. Landon Cox was a Greek god. “Fine. Would the rock star prefer to wait while I do a load of laundry?” I lifted my short pink bathrobe off the hook on the back of my bedroom door. “You can wear this.”
Landon blinked, his mouth pressed into a thin slash below his flaring nostrils. Then he took a step back and closed the door. “Boyfriend’s not going to want these back after I stretch them out.”
Landon
I’m not sure what was worse, having my balls crushed in a pair of too small bike shorts or having to wear the spandex contraption at all. The shirt wasn’t much better, leaving two inches between where it ended and the damn shorts began, although at least it was made of cotton.
Neither situation compared to actually having to squish myself into Piper’s doll-sized front seat. I tried, and it was like having my nuts squeezed by pincers. “Fuck this.” I jerked the lever beneath the seat and pushed it as far forward as possible, then climbed in the backseat. That was tiny, too. But at least I could spread my knees.
I glowered at Piper as she looked at me through the rearview mirror. “You all set back there?” Her mouth wasn’t visible in the small piece of glass, but shards of her unreleased laughter poked at me.
“Yeah. Just didn’t want to cut off my circulation. A certain critical piece of anatomy depends on it.”
Piper’s laughter spilled out, filling the car like the sweetest music, wrapping around me even tighter than the ridiculous bike shorts. “Your anatomy looks—”
“Enormous, I know,” I interrupted.
Her lips twitched as she looked away from me to focus on the road. “Mmm-hmm.”
Sitting in the backseat put me at the perfect angle to study the silken curve of Piper’s neck, the golden sweep of her hair as it caressed her skin, the elegance of her fingers as they gripped the gearshift.
Piper’s car was an automatic, there was nothing to shift. And yet still her hand curved over it, her soft palm on the hard knob, fingers tapping against the leather.
Pure lust bubbled up from deep within my gut. A steady stream that should have been crushed into a stupor by the unforgiving material.
But apparently lust was the only thing not held at bay by the tight spandex. I shifted in the backseat, again. My eyes jumping from Piper’s skin to her hair to her hand as my dick tried to jackhammer its way to freedom.
And when I finally tore my gaze away and looked out the window, my brain filled in the visual gap by assaulting me with Piper’s scent. So fresh and sweet.
Just when I thought I was going to jump out of my skin, we finally pulled through the open gates at the edge of my property.
What the fuck?
Even Piper’s tiny car could barely find a place among the brigade of vehicles crammed into my driveway.
I read the logos etched onto the sides of the vans frantically.
Advanced Plumbing, LLC. Enterprise Electric. J & J Contractors. Fine Woodworking. Custom Windows, Doors, & Glass. Perfect Pools. Diamond Cleaning Company. Carmine�
�s Custom Closets. Angel’s Roofing.
Uh, this didn’t look like “a tiny carbon monoxide scare.”
Piper made a little hiccupping sound in her throat as she pushed open her door. I crawled out after her, barely noticing the ball-crushing capability of my shorts as I struggled to take in the hive of activity.
“Mr. Landon!” I followed the top of Ana’s dark head through the Tetris maze of commercial vehicles arranged around us. She yanked me into an embrace that had my neck throbbing, but I wrapped my arms around her warm bulk. The woman had saved my life. “Thank you, Ana. I owe you…everything. And for the millionth time…can you drop the ‘mister’ already?”
She released me, and I looked down at my housekeeper with a smile as she wagged a finger at me. “No. Not while you’re still signing my checks. But if I have to save your life again, I’m quitting, do you hear me?”
“Got it,” I answered seriously. “Next time I’m on my own.”
“No. Next time I will kill you myself.” Before I could laugh, she’d wrapped her arms around me and hugged me again. My eyes met Piper’s over Ana’s head, and she was wearing the sweetest smile.
When Ana finally disengaged, I glanced over at my house. The door was open, various workers coming in and out. “Tell me. How bad is it inside?”
Ana shook her head, her chin quivering beneath a frown. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Landon. This is all my fault. I forgot to close the gate after the ambulance and—”
“Stop. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be in a pine box right now.” It was true. No matter what I found inside, the fact that I was here at all was a gift. A second chance.
Ana was having none of it. “You should take him away from here,” she said to Piper. “Mr. Landon shouldn’t see his home like this.”
“It can’t be as bad as it looks. And besides,” I gestured at my Lance Armstrong getup and began walking toward the front door, “I need some clothes.”
Inside, scaffolding had been set up in the middle of my foyer. I edged around it, my gaze drawn toward the one-of-a-kind blown-glass chandelier I’d had shipped back from Italy on our first European tour. It had hung in the lobby of our hotel, and I’d known immediately I wanted to be reminded of the rush of success I’d felt walking beneath it once I returned home.
It hung crookedly now, as if someone had jumped from the second floor landing and decided to swing from it, taking handfuls of crystal with them on their descent. The floor was covered with a canvas tarp, and from the rough feel of it beneath my feet, much of the glass that had belonged to the chandelier had shattered on the wood.
Continuing on, I trudged up the stairs, wondering what I would find in my bedroom.
A minute later, I had my answer.
People wielding measuring tapes and brooms.
Cardboard boxes and garbage bins lining the walls.
Air that stank of cigarettes and liquor. Acrid notes of perfume and piss and vomit.
In a daze, I wandered into my closet, expecting to find an assortment of clothes stocked by a personal stylist.
Being the most fuckable rock star on the planet meant I had to dress the part.
Except that there was nothing in my closet.
Nothing.
Not even a cardboard box.
“The people that came for your party—they took everything.”
I spun around at the sound of Ana’s voice. But my eyes landed on Piper. The woman whose absence had made me desperate to fill the void she had left. So desperate I’d needed to surround myself with the noise of people and partying.
And now, standing inside my broken shell of a house, I realized that nothing, and no one, could ever replace the woman I’d spent years trying to forget.
My home could be repaired. But righting the wrongs I’d done to Piper, becoming a man worthy of her—and proving it—was a task of Herculean proportions. I looked down at my hands, wondering if they could be fixed, too. But if I couldn’t hold my stix again, I was worried I wouldn’t be worth a damn to Piper. To anyone.
Chapter Twelve
Piper
Landon’s mood took a nosedive while walking through his house, and I couldn’t blame him. He was silent as I backed out of his driveway, but once I pulled onto the street, Landon’s throaty growl filled the car. “You knew my house had been trashed, didn’t you?”
I didn’t bother lying. “Yes.”
“Travis told you not to tell me?”
“To be fair, the doctors said stress could impede your recovery.”
I was met with silence. “Landon…” He’d been so distracted that he was sitting in the front seat again, and offered only a resigned sigh, his head tilted back against the headrest. I drove into Beverly Hills, and we spent the next couple of hours at Blue Cocoon, getting Landon a new wardrobe, including half a dozen pairs of designer sweatpants that had no zippers or buttons for Landon to struggle with. All of our exchanges went through Jude, who was responsible for making Nothing but Trouble look like actual rock stars instead of overgrown boys.
Which apparently included dressing them in six-hundred-dollar sweatpants.
Once my tiny trunk had been stuffed full of garment bags, I headed out to the Valley, toward one of the houses Travis owned. I’d been there before, to work with an actress whose fiancé had implanted cameras and microphones in every corner of her home, uploading the feed to a website he’d set up on the dark net and earning thousands off the video stream.
Celebrities lived a life of glitz and glamour, but they were also easy marks, and often targeted by those closest to them.
“You’ve got to let me buy you a car.”
I gave Landon the side eye. Case in point—they had a tendency to dole out outrageous gifts, opening themselves up to people treating them like human ATMs. “You’re not buying me a car.”
“Someone needs to. You’re driving around in a shoe box, it’s unsafe.”
I snorted. “Because you’re the poster boy for safety first? How’s your neck feeling? Want to try another drunken back flip?”
I was saved the pleasure of a response when my phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth speakers, MOM flashing across the display screen. Crap. Not a call I wanted to take with an audience. I was reaching out my finger, ready to swipe IGNORE when Landon, clearly eager for the distraction, tapped ANSWER instead.
I mouthed “asshole,” before forcing an upbeat tone to my voice. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, sweetheart. I’m sure you’re busy, but you haven’t called in a while—” She broke off, interrupting herself before launching into an apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother—”
“Mom, stop. It’s fine, I’m glad you called. How are you?”
“Oh.” She sounded startled, like she didn’t know how to respond to someone being happy to hear from her. “Well, I’m okay, I guess. I’m taking a cooking class these days. You know how your father loves French food.”
My heart sank. My mother could earn a Michelin star and my father would still find something to criticize about whatever she put in front of him. “That’s great, Mom.”
“And how about you? Is Adam taking good care of my baby girl?”
Tears came to my eyes. She rarely asked me about work or friends. As long as she thought I was being treated well by whomever I was dating, my mom was happy. Deciding to postpone telling her about our breakup, I gave her my standard line. “Like a princess, as always.”
“Oh good, good. If he doesn’t, you be sure to tell him your daddy won’t hesitate to get on a plane and set him right.”
I gripped the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles turned white. “Will do, Mom. I love you.” I choked the words out, hating myself for ending the call before she had a chance to respond. There was only so much of the charade I could take.
I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt Landon’s finger sliding along the curve of my cheek. “Pull over.”
I shook my head, gripping the wheel even tighter and pushing down on the p
edal. If I stopped driving, I was going to completely lose it. The emotions choking me—rage, fear, sorrow, helplessness—they would settle down in a minute. They always did. “I’m fine, Landon.”
He shook his head slowly. “No, you’re not. And neither am I.” My foot eased off the gas, and Landon pointed out the windshield. “Up ahead there’s a turnoff. Take it, and you’ll see a cabin a few miles down.”
“A cabin?”
“Trust me. I think we both need this.”
I wanted to know what this was, but decided to trust Landon. Given our past, it probably made me a fool.
I navigated the turn off, driving down the secluded road in silence. As Landon said, a ramshackle cabin came into sight, and as we got closer, I was able to read the wooden sign posted in front. I read it out loud. “Harmony’s Dog Sanctuary.”
“It’s a place I try to help at when I can.”
Landon Cox volunteered for a nonprofit? I made an effort to disguise my surprise.
Most celebrities publicized their philanthropic efforts. One of my jobs in PR was to find causes for scandal-plagued stars to associate with—often televised fund-raisers or concerts to benefit the victims of the latest mega-storm or earthquake. For a celebrity to volunteer their time or money without benefitting from good press was rare. Extremely rare.
An RV was parked to the side of the cabin, and I read the letters painted on the side. HARMONY’S PETTING PUPS. “Do they do birthday parties?”
“Yeah, it’s one of the ways they earn money to fund their rescue efforts.”
The door opened and the woman I’d met at Devon’s birthday party came out, a broad grin appearing on her face when she spotted Landon. They exchanged a warm hug as I stood awkwardly to the side for a moment before he motioned toward me. “Piper, this is Harmony. Otherwise known as the patron saint of abused dogs.”
“Nice to meet you, Piper.” She paused, studying my face thoughtfully. “I feel like I’ve seen you before though.”
“Yes, at my boyf— At a birthday party about a week ago.” The last person I wanted to think about right now was Adam.
“Ah. That’s it.” Now that she’d placed me, Harmony seemed content to let the matter drop. “You picked a good day to come. Shania had her puppies and she’s just starting to get comfortable showing them off.”