by Scott, S. L.
I roll my eyes. “For the last time . . .” I realize it is for the last time, and the thought makes me sad, but I take a page from her book and raise my chin. “For fuck’s sake, Darce, there’s no one preoccupying anything of mine. That’s why you gave me that toy. So I appreciate your constant concern for my sexual satisfaction, but I’m good.”
“But you’ll tell me if you meet someone, right?” Flipping her mask up, she eyes me.
“Yes. You’ll be the third or fourth to know.”
“Wow, Fellowes. And here I thought we were besties.”
“We are.” She stretches her arm toward me and then her pinky pops out. I wrap mine in a pinky promise. “Besties.”
“Besties.” As soon as our hands fall away, she says, “You’re still prettier than Angelina Jolie.”
“You’re still drunk. Go to sleep and I’ll call you later tonight when I’m settled in.”
“Cheerio.”
I laugh because I’ve been here for all this time and never heard one English person use that term until now. “Now you’re just showing off your fancy accent and English-isms.”
She laughs as I drag my suitcase to the door. Stopping, I take one last look before I go. “It’s been good, flat, but it’s time to go. Cheerio.”
2
Meadow
The first week back in the States is spent acclimating at my sister’s new house in the Hollywood Hills. I lounge by the pool most days, and we go shopping for new furniture and décor on the other days.
We’ve gone sightseeing, to the beach, and I’ve napped a few afternoons away. “Basically, I’m living my best life,” I brag-joke to Darcy on the phone.
“Sounds like it. Any new details about the wedding I should be aware of? Which celebrities will be in attendance, and is there a way to get a copy of the list of single men who will be there?”
“No new details. Yes to musicians. And no to the list. Does that answer all your questions?”
“For now.” She laughs, then says, “I need to go. My boss is being a real wanker today.”
Her boss, Carrig, laughs in the background. “Is that Meadow on the phone? May I speak with her?”
“Yes,” she replies, but her voice is muffled as if she’s covering the phone with her hand, “but she’s off in the City of Lost Angels and can’t be bothered with us lot.”
“Are you speaking with her on company time? That’s against policy, you know.”
Next thing I know, his voice fills the line. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I lie in my bed with the phone to my ear, not wanting to get up to start the day.
“How are you getting along across the pond?”
“Fine and dandy. It is where I’m from,” I say as if he’d forgotten. “The transition back is much easier than when I arrived in London.”
“I imagine. Darcy was telling me that you’re in LA. I have business there in two days. I was thinking we could have a meal together.”
“How long will you be here?”
“One night and then I’m off to New York for meetings there.”
“Quick trip.”
Not shy to put on the pressure, he adds, “Seeing a friendly face will ease it.”
“Two days? I’ve already made plans, so—”
“I’m only there for one night, and I was really hoping to see you.”
I’m sucker for the guilt. “Well, whether I go or not, we can at least meet for a drink.”
“Yes, at least,” he says. “Text me the details and I’ll see you then.”
He hangs up so fast that I don’t even get a chance to say goodbye to Darcy.
* * *
“Which one?” I ask, flipping between the two dresses. “The green or the red?”
My sister glances from one dress to the other and then scrunches her nose. “They’re so dressy. It’s just a bonfire.”
“But I’m getting drinks beforehand.” Swinging the green dress in front of my body, I study my reflection in the full-length mirror in her master bathroom. “I want to look nice.”
“You always look beautiful whether you’re in cutoffs or fancy dresses, but you can’t wear heels on the beach.” She sits on the vanity chair, and asks, “When did you become such a fashionista anyway? You didn’t used to pay much mind to labels.”
“The dresses look expensive, but Darcy gave them to me. So, you see, I got an amazing deal.” We didn’t grow up with money to blow. Stella still drives her aging beige sedan she’s had for years, so she tends to be frugal. But her fiancé, Rivers Crow, is like my big brother. I’ve known him since I was eleven, so when they got engaged last year, he offered to help pay my living expenses and college tuition. This included my internship in London.
I saved in other ways to afford a few nice things, which allowed me to be a whole new me in England. It was a gratifying change, but overall, I’m still the same girl I always was. I don’t mind a broken-in pair of jeans and cozy tee. Darcy, who has money to burn and seems to be working for fun, gave me a few of her hand-me-downs, like last season’s runway hits. But according to her, they’re out this season. I happily took those off her hands and bought her a few cocktails in payment for the others.
“Can’t beat that good deal.”
Stella comes up behind me and messes my hair up. “What are you doing?” I gripe, ducking out of the way.
“Trying to find Meadow.”
“I’m right here.”
Although she’s being a brat, her smile is still kind as she looks at me. “You’re the fancy version. If you don’t mind slumming it, I have a new sundress that would look perfect on you and fits tonight’s occasion.”
I drape the dresses over my arm, and say, “Lead the way.” I haven’t changed that much. But being around Darcy for six months helped me realize I like to dress up occasionally. Before I leave the bathroom, though, I dab the corner of my mouth where my lipstick has smudged.
Standing in the middle of the bedroom, I wait for Stella to appear from her immense closet. Hollywood homes have the best closets I’ve ever seen. She walks out holding a white dress on a hanger with tags still hanging from the side of the dress. I move closer to inspect it. “It’s actually very pretty.”
“Gee thanks. You say that as if I wear ugly clothes.”
Touching the bottom of the skirt, I say, “No. I didn’t mean it that way. I just didn’t expect you to like something so sweet. It reminds me of what I used to wear in Austin.”
“Me too.” I’m not sure if she’s referring to me or her, but either way, she’s right. I’m the spitting image of my older sister. Her hair is a little darker and her green eyes a shade softer, but there’s no denying from our features that we’re closely related.
“The tags are still on. Are you sure you don’t mind me borrowing it?”
“Not at all. I think it’s perfect for you and tonight.” She hands me the dress, and asks, “So your date tonight—”
“It’s not a date.”
She looks at me, analyzing me. “Then what is it?”
“It’s two friends getting together.”
“Ah,” she hums as if she doesn’t believe me. “I thought he was your old boss?”
“He’s not old, but he is a friend.”
Sitting on the bed, she rests her weight on her hands. “There were never any sparks?”
For him. Maybe. For me. No. “I told you—”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You’re just friends. I get it.”
Cocking an eyebrow up at her, I ask, “You sure?”
That makes her laugh. “I’m sure.”
“I’m going to wear dressy shoes for drinks, but I’m bringing flip-flops in my bag for the party so I don’t have to come home first.” With the three dresses in hand, I turn to go to the room I’m staying in while I’m here. “Thanks for the dress.”
* * *
I should have known better. Carrig somehow managed to wrangle himself an invite to the bonfire. The reality is I was a sucker for his poor me
sitting in a hotel story. One day, I hope to grow a backbone.
Having drinks was fun, but I was hoping to catch up with everyone without having to entertain someone else.
As soon as we got our first drinks, he had to take a call from Tokyo, so we headed out front to get away from the crowds. He’s since wandered down the driveway.
With a red Solo cup in hand, I sit on the porch under the light collecting flies. The wood bench is hard, so I begin to pace until I hear voices coming up the path. “Carrig?” Looking around the wide column, I freeze.
And so does he.
Dave stands on the pavers looking at me as though he’s seen a ghost. The woman on his right stares at me, but then her gaze drifts to her date. “Ridge?”
The name brings him out of the state I seem to have caused, and he says, “Meadow.”
My heart beats faster from the sound of his voice.
My heart beats.
It’s the first time I’ve felt that organ come alive after so many months. “Dav—Ridge.”
I don’t need a man to make me feel whole, I remind myself.
I definitely do not need Ridge Carson trying to woo me into his bed.
All he ever had to do was give me that smirk, and I’d be two steps ahead. Seeing him now, it’s clear I need more time to build up a tolerance so I don’t fall under his seductive spell again.
Too late.
He shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “It’s good to see you.” You feel so good to me. Maybe we should be more to each other.
Dressed in a body glove of a revealing red dress, the woman with long and wild strawberry hair wraps her hand around his arm. I suddenly feel like a child in this white dress. I straighten a spaghetti strap that’s fallen down. “You too.”
The woman doubles down and adds her other hand to his arm. “Should we go inside?”
I take a sip and hope they’re gone by the time I lower the plastic cup. His gaze finds its way to the pathway, and he nods. Just as he passes me, he says, “I’ll see you inside?”
“Yeah.”
His words from another time suddenly feel meaningless. When the door closes behind them, I’m left feeling like an idiot. I finish off the wine I’ve been nursing and set the cup down just as Carrig comes back. “Did I tell you how ravishing you look?”
“Ravishing. No. I would have remembered that.”
The smile slips up the right side of his mouth. “Ravishing indeed.”
Unlike what I just experienced with Dave . . . well . . . Ridge, I guess here . . . Carrig is excited to see me. And it’s only been ten minutes and not six months.
“Thank you. You look . . . beachy.” He’s nailed 1990 with his rolled-at-the-ankles khakis and white-and-pink-striped button up. All he needs is a sweater wrapped around his shoulders. He’s always in a suit or a more casual version of it when I’ve seen him. I’m curious if he always tries to hit the theme of a party or if tonight’s just special.
His elbow pivots out, and he says, “Shall we go in?”
“Absolutely.”
When we walk inside, the house is fairly empty. “Most people are at the beach already. Want to grab a drink and head down?”
I get another cup of wine, and he fills his cup with beer from the keg. We then make our way across the patio and down the steps to the sand, my eyes immediately landing on Dave despite the dark.
The fire roars to life to a thrill of happy hoots and hollers. Carrig takes a few steps back, but I stay. Teasing him, I ask, “You afraid of a little fire?”
He points at the bonfire. “That’s not little.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” I laugh and take a sip.
At least he has a sense of humor and laughs. Within minutes, I’ve run out of things to say. I never had this problem in London, but here, with my sister, friends, two of three of the Crow brothers, and Dave, my mind’s gone blank. I could blame it on the wine or the company, but deep down, I know.
It’s him. “The one” Darcy loved to tease me about.
I’ve caught Dave’s eyes on me a few times just as he’s caught mine on him. We’ve orbited around the fire as if our paths have never crossed and never will.
It’s probably best I accept that our short time of fun was just that. I don’t know if the woman on his arm is his girlfriend, but he hasn’t left her side.
Because he is a gentleman, Mead. You know this.
I sigh. She doesn’t seem like his type, but what do I know these days. For a while, I knew him and thought I knew him well, but he hasn’t been in my life for six months, and I’ve not been in his.
We’ve been leading entirely different lives. Even though he seems like the same man, I’m not the same little girl he once knew.
I introduce Carrig to Stella and Rivers when they’re free from chatting with others, then say, “You do a mean big brother stare, Rivers.”
Rivers half smiles before crossing his arms over his chest and keeping his eyes on Carrig. “Mission accomplished.” Carrig doesn’t come off as intimidated, but I know him well enough to know he won’t push back.
Stella finally elbows Rivers, and says, “Leave him alone.”
She turns to Carrig and smiles. It’s not as genuine as most of hers, but she still manages to make him feel at ease. He leans closer to me. “Would you like another drink?”
“Let me get you another beer.”
“Okay.” I dash off before he decides to come with me.
Tonight feels weird. I knew it was a bad idea to bring him. I can’t relax, too worried he’s not having a good time instead of only worrying about myself. Between him and the jet lag that I can’t seem to fully shake, a tension hangs around my shoulders.
And I’m still surprised Dave didn’t know I was back in LA. Hadn’t Rivers said anything to him? Or did he really not actually care? Gah. Overthinking much? Just go to the loo already—the bathroom. Leftover British influence.
Inside the navy blue powder room, I pull my lipstick from between my boobs and carefully apply a new coat. I don’t rub my lips together to spread the temporary paint. It messes up the smoothness.
I tug a few strands of hair back in place and then open the door.
Standing there with his back to the wall of the hall and a leg kicked up while his arms are crossed, Dave says, “Hello again.”
3
Ridge
God, she’s gorgeous.
Meadow was before, but wow, she’s changed. Gone is the girl I met last year in Austin and standing here is a woman. A sexy, stunning, and fucking incredible woman. Every part of her from those emerald-green eyes to those full cherry-red lips causes a guttural reaction in the rawest form.
“Hi,” she says, shifting out of the doorway as we exchange places. We’ve been doing this dance all night. I move to the left, she moves to the left. Our positions around the bonfire are always changing, but the distance never lessening.
I’m starting to take things personally.
“How are you?” Fuck, this is awkward. Standing alone with her in this hallway, there’s no hiding how I feel, and every hard swallow is heard. But it seems she’s forgotten how to read me. Her expression is one of curiosity, but shyness is winning out.
“I’m fine. Good. You?”
“Yeah. Fine. Good.” This is fucking painful. Kill me now.
Maybe I’ve also forgotten how to read the nuances that make up the myriad of Meadow Soleil Fellowes’s emotions. Even now, she looks down the long hall, her discomfort obvious, but why? It’s me. Me, the man who offered to lasso the moon that night in the desert. And her, the girl who managed to lasso my heart with just three words—I’ll miss you.
“I should go,” she says, glancing down the hall for like the billionth time. I’m tempted to ask if she actually did miss me or if it was easy to forget who we once were. But that sounds bitter, and I haven’t been bitter until now.
“Why?”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Why what?”
“Why do you have to go?” I ask with nothing left to lose.
Her expression softens, and she smiles. What a glorious sight to see. The question seems to put her at ease, and she rests her shoulders against the wall. “Why is this so awkward?”
“I was just thinking the same thing. It’s not like us.”
“No,” she agrees with a nod and a little laugh that tickles my ears. “It’s not us at all.” Pausing, she finally looks at me, past the hazel of my eyes and deep inside. She always had a knack for seeing the real me. Dave instead of Ridge. “How are you really?”
“I have great days.” Leaning against the doorframe, the light from the bathroom behind me shines bright on her, putting me in a silhouette. “And some really shit days.”
“Why do you have shit days?”
She never used to swear or maybe I just never noticed before. “Same ole. Gets lonely on the road. It’s tiring to perform so many shows in a row.”
“How are you lonely when you’re surrounded by friends?”
“I think you just answered your own question.” Friends. Not the more we once talked about. Just friends.
“First time back?”
“Yeah. I was kept busy at the firm. Made friends.” Her eyes light up. “London was amazing. I didn’t expect to like it as much as I did.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yes, that’s good.” The light dims in her eyes, and she looks down. “I’m sorry I didn’t call—”
“No, you were busy. You did what you needed to do. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to leave. I’m proud of you.”
When her eyes find mine again, she asks, “You’re proud of me for leaving?”
“I’m proud of you for following your dreams.”
“Oh,” she replies, toeing the hardwood floor.
“There you are.” The sound of Kiki’s voice echoes from the other end of the hallway. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Meadow pushes off the wall and glances at me once more before she walks away. Her head isn’t lowered, and the shyness gone when she passes Kiki, and says, “You found him.”