by S. E. Rose
“I hate blood,” he murmurs.
“Don’t we all. Hey, guys? Can you help me get Will to my car?” I call out to Rhett and Max.
They bend down and we all hoist Will back up and help him outside, followed by about ten spectators.
“Seriously, I’m fine,” Will tries to reassure us.
“Buddy, you fainted and you’re bleeding through that towel. So, I’d say, you need stitches,” I state as I open my car door. Emma gets in on the other side to help Will, who bats her hand away.
“Fine. I got this,” he says to everyone as he uses his good hand to put on a seat belt.
“Keep your hand elevated,” I command.
He props it up and gives me a look. What. A. Douchebag.
“I’ll be back later,” I say to my crew as I jump into the driver’s seat and take off toward the nearest ER.
Emma sits in the back, trying to console Will. I turn on the music and ignore their conversation as best I can in a small space. What does she see in this guy? He’s clearly not anything like her. I’m no people person, but I know a mismatched couple when I see one.
I pull up to the ER and Will opens the door as Emma gets out and rushes around to meet him.
“I’ll park and meet you inside,” I state and head off before she can protest.
I find parking and walk back in to find them sitting in the waiting room. Before I can say anything, someone calls Will and he gets up and looks down at us.
“You two can just wait here. I’m sure it won’t take long,” he grumbles as he heads to the door and disappears out of sight.
“Well, uh, thanks for driving us,” Emma stammers, as she wrings her hands nervously.
I can’t help it. I place my hand over hers, noticing how small hers are for the first time. She freezes and looks up at me.
“He’ll be alright,” I reassure her.
She blushes and again I want to caress her cheek to feel the heat, but I keep my hand on hers. She doesn’t pull away, which I’d like to think is progress.
“I know,” she whispers.
“I’ll wait with you,” I tell her as I grip her hands before letting go.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “But…the party.”
I shrug. “I don’t need to be there. It’s my mom’s house, not mine. And she’ll be back there soon.”
She cocks her head to one side as though trying to figure me out. I want to tell her that no one yet has done that, so good fucking luck to her.
“Are you sure? It could be a while.”
“I’m sure,” I declare as I make myself comfortable in the uncomfortable hospital seat.
She reaches in the pocket of the sweatshirt and frowns. “Shit,” she curses under her breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“I left my phone in the bag with my clothes at your mom’s house.”
“It’ll be fine. You can get it when we get back.”
“Do you have Quinlan’s number? Can you text her that everything is OK? I feel bad that I had to leave in such a hurry.”
I pat her leg, which was a super stupid move on my part because her perfectly toned thigh is warm and smooth under my palm and it takes every ounce of my self-control to keep my dick in check. I pull it away slowly, trying to seem super casual.
“I’ll text her. It’s fine.”
She nods and begins tapping her leg nervously.
“Don’t like hospitals?” I ask as I type out a text.
“Does anyone?”
I laugh. “Valid point.”
“I just feel bad for Will. I mean, I practically begged him to come out to the after-party and now he’s here at the ER. I’m like the world’s worst date.”
“Well, he seemed to be having fun up until he cut himself.”
“I guess.”
“Were you having fun?” I ask.
She nods. “Actually, I was.”
“You say that like you are surprised.”
She smiles and I feel like I just won the Indy 500 because it’s the first time I’ve caused her to smile and it was worth the wait. Her whole face lights up as she grins and blushes. “I was a little surprised. I mean, it’s not like I hang out at movie stars’ homes all the time.”
“Aren’t you studying film?”
She nods. “But that doesn’t mean I know a bunch of movie stars.”
“You say a bunch. So, does that mean you know some?”
Now her blush intensifies, and I feel like I’m on to something. There’s more to her than meets the eye.
“I’ve met a few.”
“At school?” I ask.
She looks away and I’m confused. Why would she be embarrassed or shy about knowing actors?
“No. I have a friend who knows some celebrities.”
“Oh,” I reply, waiting for her to say more, but she doesn’t. And the mystery deepens. Damn, this woman has me going crazy and after only a few hours!
She leans back against the wall behind us and stares up at the fluorescent lights. “So, you’re a musician.”
I grin. “Yep.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
I laugh and make myself more comfortable. I lean back and stare up at the ceiling too. “I mean, our last album went platinum, so I guess pretty good.”
“I mean, do you like it?”
“I do. Plus, I get to spend time with two of my closest friends, so that’s cool too.”
“How long have you known Rhett and Max?”
“Since we were teenagers.”
“And you all get along well?”
“Are you interviewing me?” I ask her, turning my head to look at her. She turns her head too and we are mere inches apart. I see her eyes for the first time and it’s like seeing the galaxy. They are blue, but not just one blue, there are flecks of dark and light and aquamarine and gray. They are breathtaking and mesmerizing.
“Maybe I am.”
“You may not like what you learn,” I say to her. She stares at me with those amazing eyes and I swear this woman sees inside my soul. I’ve never felt an instant connection to anyone, ever, until this very moment.
“Or, maybe, you are scared that I will,” she replies quietly.
I take a deep breath and swallow. “Ask away, then.”
“You have a reputation. Is it true?”
I fight smirking because, for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to be a prick. “Which part?”
Her eyes narrow and I know she knows that I know what she means. “Really?” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm.
I sigh partly because I’m tired and partly because I don’t want to lie. “It’s mostly true.”
“Which parts are not?”
We’re still staring at each other and it’s becoming unnerving, so I look back up at the ceiling. “Being a rock star is…well, as soon as you make it, it’s like the world has these expectations of you. And the fact that I was this messed-up kid, who already had a reputation, well...it didn’t take a big stretch for me to make it true.”
“So, you ‘are’ a giant manwhore?”
I look back over at her and she’s grinning. Fuck. Me. “Wow. When you put it like that.”
“Come on, you have this massive reputation for being a total manslut and you know it.”
“You’re not wrong. And yes, there have been a fair number of ladies.” I turn my body toward her. “It’s hard, you know? These women throw themselves at me and I’m only human.”
“Did you ever cheat on any of them?”
I laugh sarcastically. “I’d have to be with one long enough to cheat on them and that’s not happened. Well, not often. And when it has, I’ve only been with a single woman for a few months. I guess you can say that I’m relationship-challenged.”
She giggles. “Relationship-challenged. Maybe there’s some sort of Hollywood fix for that.”
“Doubt it.”
I cringe at her words because she doesn’t know a thing about my parents’ actual relationship. “I guess I know it’s possible, but it’s still difficult. When you travel all the time and you wake up constantly in a new time zone, it’s hard to have a relationship that sticks,” I answer honestly.
“Rhett has a girlfriend,” she points out.
“Jackie? True, but he knew Jackie before he was famous, so she doesn’t count.”
“Oh, I see, there’s a famous rule. Once you get famous, you can’t have a relationship.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just harder, a lot harder.”
“If you say so, Casanova.”
I grin at her use of the name. “Well, I guess I do say so.”
She gazes into my eyes for a long moment, neither of us says anything. “You’re not how I thought you’d be.”
“How’d you think I was?”
She opens her mouth to speak when the door opens, and out walks Will. Emma jumps up and walks over to him.
“Just two stitches,” he declares, holding up his bandaged hand.
“That was fast. I’m glad you came here,” she says as she looks at his hand. I stand and walk over to them.
“Glad you’re all patched up, man.”
“Thanks for bringing me,” Will says, holding out his good hand to shake mine.
“The car’s just out here.” I motion to them. They follow me out, and I drive us back as Will tells us about his ER adventure. By the time we get back, I realize he’s not a bad guy, he’s just still figuring himself out.
“I should get him home,” she says to me as we reach the house.
I pull out my phone and turn it to her. “Give me your number. I’ll text you. Message me when you get home. I’ll worry otherwise,” I state. She looks at me with curiosity but takes my phone and punches in her number. She then texts herself.
“There, now you have my number. Use it wisely,” she says with a wink as she turns and heads toward the guest room to presumably get her things. I glance down at the phone and grin. She’s entered her name as Emma Baldwin, Badass Documentarian and Monopoly Player. But it’s her text that has me laughing.
Me: This is the number of Grady Daniels, sucky Monopoly player, decent driver, slightly arrogant musician, and a somewhat nice actual human.
Chapter Nine
Emma
I wake up to my phone pinging.
Kate: What? No details? Seriously?
I laugh as I read her text.
Me: There are too many for a text.
I barely hit send before my video chat pops up on my phone. A very fancy-looking Kate is staring at me.
“Well, damn, someone is overdressed for a phone call.”
“I wasn’t planning on video chatting with you, dipshit. What’s going on? And make it quick, I sort of am late for a function.”
I roll my eyes. “I met Andy Westin. He wants to have lunch with Blythe and me.”
Kate squeals. “Seriously? That’s huge!! OMG!”
“I ended up back at her house for an after-party. And Will cut his hand on a wineglass and we had to go to the ER. Blythe’s son, Grady, drove us.”
“Wait. Grady Daniels, the former race car driver turned musician, drove you two to the ER?”
I nod. “Yep. And at first, I thought he was a giant asshole, but then he stayed with me while I waited for Will and actually spoke to me, like a real conversation and he’s not a total asshole after all.”
“Wait. What? So, are you with Will or Grady?” Kate asks as she reapplies her lipstick.
“Neither. Will was just my date. And he’s super nice, but I don’t know how compatible we are. And Grady…I just…I don’t think anything will come of that.”
“Hey, don’t count your chickens,” Kate says.
“I’m not counting on anything.”
“Well, don’t just dismiss them either.”
“Kate, seriously?”
She shrugs. I hear someone speaking in the background, and she sighs. “I gotta go, but text me when you finally grow some lady balls and talk to him.”
“Who?”
She stares into the camera. “You know damn well who. Later.”
She hits end, and I sit there staring at my phone.
It’s then that I see I have a string of text messages.
Will: Thanks for taking care of me last night. Sorry again for ruining our evening. I’ll have to take you for a proper dinner to make it up to you.
Quinlan: Glad you go home safely. You didn’t miss much. The party started winding down after you left.
Grady: Glad you’re home safe. Do you like sushi?
I grin at his random question.
Me: Yes.
I’m surprised when the three little dots pop up telling me that he’s responding.
Grady: Dinner. Tonight. 7 pm. I will pick you up.
Me: (eye-rolling emoji) Two problems with that. One, I have reading to do for class. And two, even if I didn’t, you don’t know where I live.
Grady: You underestimate me. You have to eat, and you can do it with me. And two, you think I didn’t cyberstalk your ass after last night?
Me: Oh, so now you’re a stalker and a manwhore?
Grady: You have no idea what I am, but you can start finding out at seven.
Me: Seriously, I really do have to study.
Grady: And you will after you eat dinner with me.
I sigh. He’s not going to let this go. So, I cave.
Me: Fine, but I have to be back by nine.
Grady: Is that when you’ll turn into a pumpkin?
Me: That was her carriage, not her.
Grady: Same difference.
Me: Totally not the same.
Grady: We can debate that over sushi. See you later.
I toss my phone on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. What have I just agreed to?
My phone rings and I see it’s my mom.
“Hey,” I answer, knowing full well that if I don’t, she will just keep calling.
“Hey! How was it?”
“Great. I’m going to have lunch with Andy Westin and Blythe Daniels.”
“Wow! That’s amazing, darling! I’m so proud of you!”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“So, tell me all about it.”
I get up and put my phone on speaker as I make myself a coffee and tell my mom about my very strange night. I leave out many of the Grady details other than him driving us to the hospital. By the end, Mom is gushing over my evening. I tell her it’s really not that exciting. I’m relieved when she gets another call and has to go.
I sip my coffee and turn on my computer. If I’m going out later, I need to get some serious work done now. But, as my laptop rears to life, I pull up a search engine and type in Grady’s name. I hit enter and begin to scroll through every detail I can find. I try to tell myself that I’m learning more about Blythe’s son so I can talk to her, but even I can’t fool myself, I’m curious about the man that I loathed the first half of the evening and then came to respect the second half. I stare at a photo of him, remembering his face next to mine in the ER last night. His eyes are…beautiful. And he’s…well, he’s gorgeous. Everything about him is gorgeous.
And there goes the day. I am beyond sucked into every detail the Internet gives me about Grady. As a teenager, he began racing, following in his father’s footsteps. Then, when Ken Daniels was killed in a horrible collision in a race, he abruptly stopped. It’s around this time that he started Monumental Mistake with Rhett and Max. There are many photographs of him with fans, both from racing and music. And, of course, red-carpet events, some with his mom, some with supermodels, and a few with a female pop singer. From what I can tell, he’s only had two long-term relationships or at least only two that the paparazzi covered.
When I look up, it’s already three in the
afternoon. I sigh and close my Internet browser. Time to study.
Chapter Ten
Two things strike me about Grady as I open my door to find him looking impossibly sexy. One, the man can dress. Two, what they say about rock stars is totally true. His mere presence is so masculine and sexy, he could look like my creepy neighbor Rich and I’d still want to date him. So, why doesn’t he date more often? And what’s with this asshole persona he keeps? My journalism background begins to spin into overdrive.
“You should take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says with a smirk.
I realize my mouth is gaping, and I quickly shut it. “Sorry, I…you…I’m ready,” I stammer as I grab my purse and shut my door. He laughs but doesn’t say anything else as we walk to his car. I’m surprised when he follows me to the passenger side and opens my door.
“Wow, chivalry isn’t dead,” I mutter.
He grins. “I can be a gentleman.”
I raise an eyebrow, and he smirks again as he shuts the door. I watch him walk to his side, each step full of the confidence that normally oozes from him. Had he not opened up at the hospital last night, I’d have never believed that he could possibly be anything but a cocky musician.
“I hope you like sushi,” he says as he starts the car and pulls out of my apartment complex.
“You are in luck because I do.” I decide to wait to show him how much I like sushi. It’s not often that I can totally shock someone, and right now, I feel like I need the upper hand in some aspect of this so-called date.
“Music?” he asks.
“Sure.”
He turns on his car’s sound system and I’m taken aback to find him listening to Crowded House.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fan of this group,” I admit.
“I guess you’d be wrong, then,” he says as he glances over at me. “People peg me as a lot of things, Emma. But most of what they know is just a made-up façade.”
“You keep hinting about that. But I’ll be the judge of your so-called ‘holier than thou’ self.”
He laughs. “OK. Noted.”
He pulls up to a Japanese restaurant that I’ve been to before and I grin. Not only do I know the menu, but I also know most of the staff.
I open my own door before he can get around the car. He waits for me to exit and then places his hand on the small of my back as we walk inside. I want to roll my eyes at the cliché gesture. But I decide to play it cool and ignore it.