TAMING HOLLYWOOD’S BADDEST BOY Page 13

  “Well, princess, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but men have dicks. And when we sleep, sometimes they get hard. It happens.”

  “I know that.” She rolls her eyes heavenward. “I’m not a child.”

  “Yet, you’re still acting like I’ve scandalized you.”

  “Ugh.” She groans and shoves past me, her strides the longest I’ve ever seen them, and I smile.

  If I’d known this little argument would get her to move so fast, I would have had it out hours ago.

  Luca

  There is nothing colder than a woman’s cold shoulder. The science of my current situation has concluded this as fact ten times over.

  Billie has gone from nonstop chatter to complete silence.

  Her body has vibrated with irritation since we had it out on the trail, and now, after three more hours of hiking and one hour of setting up camp for the night, I’d be surprised if she’s said all of ten words.

  Tonight’s location is near one of my favorite freshwater ponds, filled with enough trout and bass to feed an army. And since I’ve grown tired of corn and beans, I snagged two trout on a fishing line, prepped them for cooking, and put them over the fire.

  “Hungry?” I ask, and Billie just shrugs.

  Fucking shrugs.

  Today, we put in eleven miles of hiking, and all I’ve seen her eat is a small bag of M&Ms and one of the high-calorie protein bars Earl packed in her bag.

  She’s hungry. No doubt.

  “What does that shrug mean? Are you not sure if you’re hungry?” I ask, and I can’t hide the smirk from my lips. “I can practically hear your stomach growling from over here, princess.”

  Apparently, watching the fire is too interesting for her to respond.

  “Well, how about I plate you some fish and green beans, and you can decide if you want to eat it or not?”

  She shrugs again. “Whatever.”

  Jesus. She’s got the willpower of an Olympic athlete.

  I set to work on putting several hearty pieces of trout onto the reusable plates from my bag and add a helping of warm veggies. One for Bailey, one for me, and one for Ms. Cold Shoulder.

  Bailey dives in like he hasn’t eaten in days, and thankfully, Billie actually takes the plate from my hands and doesn’t throw it into the fire.

  Besides the snuffly snort of a canine scarfing down his food and the surrounding sounds of nature, the silence between Billie and me is omnipresent.

  I let it go for a little while, discreetly watching her eat her food as I do the same with mine, but when she’s finished half the contents of her plate without saying anything, I decide to address the pink elephant in our nonexistent room.

  “Are you mad at me?” I ask, and she lifts her eyes from her plate, chewing a fresh bite of trout.

  “No.”

  A soft chuckle escapes my lips. “Bullshit.”

  “What? I’m not mad,” she refutes falsely. It’s the equivalent of a woman saying she’s fine when she’s so obviously not fine.

  “Princess…” I pause and will her eyes to meet mine. “You’ve hardly said a word since you called my boner stupid on the trail.”

  She purses her pretty lips. “That’s not true.”

  “It’s true. You know it’s true, and I think it’s time I extend an olive branch your way.”

  “An olive branch?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “I’d like to apologize for the morning wood—even though I couldn’t exactly help it—and for making you feel uncomfortable earlier today.”

  She glares. “You were finding amusement in my discomfort.”

  “Yes,” I admit with a soft smile. “Isn’t that what we do? We argue and tease and find joy in the other’s misery.”

  “That sounds fucking terrible.” She snorts and resumes staring at her half-eaten food like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

  “I don’t know…” I remark with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been enjoying it.”

  Her gaze jerks up to meet mine.

  “You’re just very cute when you’re all flustered,” I admit.

  Because, fuck, she is cute, and not just when she’s flustered.

  Though, I choose to keep the latter to myself.

  “For the love of God, don’t get a boner over it,” she retorts, and I laugh.

  “Smartass.”

  Her face relaxes, and the first smile I’ve seen on her face all day starts at the corners of her lips and doesn’t stop until it consumes her whole mouth. A giggle follows.

  Thank fuck.

  “Is the fish okay?” I ask, trying to change the subject to less risky territory.

  She nods. “My daddy used to make trout for us all the time in the summer. His favorite fishing lake was not too far from our house.”

  I take her relaxed admission as a good sign and strive to keep on this path of conversation.

  I’ll chat about anything with her at this point if it gets her talking again.

  “He liked the outdoors?”

  “Loved it. Hunting, fishing, you name it, and Daddy was a fan.”

  I grin at the irony. “Your dad loved the outdoors, and yet you seem to hate it.”

  Her laugh is infectious. “Obviously, those genetics weren’t passed down to me.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “West Virginia.”

  “Really?” My eyes go wide in surprise. “I would’ve never guessed.”

  “And I would’ve figured my accent tipped me off.”

  I shake my head. “I thought you were from a southern state like Georgia or Alabama.”

  “Nope.” She shakes her head as she finishes chewing a bite of fish. “Born and raised in West Virginia.”

  “And now you live in LA?”

  “Yep.” She nods and finishes another bite. “Been there for over four years now.”

  “But your family is still back on the East Coast?”

  “Not really.” She shakes her head, and I quirk a questioning brow toward her. “Most of my closest family have passed away, and my sister, Birdie, is currently in Nashville, working on her country music career.”

  “Your parents aren’t alive anymore?”

  “Died when I was nine.”

  Damn, that’s fucking awful. And I feel like a dick for bringing it up.

  “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind,” she comforts, and honesty rings true in her voice. “My granny basically raised my sister and me, but she passed away too, about six years ago.”

  “Wow,” I say, and my heart aches with sorrow for her. “That’s a lot of hard losses.”

  “Yeah,” she admits. “But that’s life, you know? We all eventually lose the ones we love the most. That’s why it’s so important to soak up as much time as we can with them.”

  I don’t really know what to say to that. I’ve been estranged from my entire family since I left LA eight years ago. My mom and dad, even my sister. Billie reads my thoughts perfectly and doesn’t hesitate to dive into the awkward breach.

  “Since you asked me when I arrived if your parents and your sister were dead, can I assume you’re not close with your family?”

  I shake my head. “Not since I left.”

  “Not even your sister, Raquel?”

  I laugh dryly with another small shake of my head when she says my sister’s name. “You know, sometimes out here, I actually forget about my old life. That everyone knows so much about me—that they know my family.”

  “Do you miss it?” she asks, but just as I’m opening my mouth to respond, she adds, “Not the celebrity, but your friends and family and just your day-to-day life in LA.”

  I pause for a quiet moment and try to figure out how to explain. It’s way more complex than a yes or a no. “It’s all kind of bittersweet. I do miss my sister. And some of my close friends. But I don’t really miss that life. It was starting to consume me, turning me into someone I didn’t want to be.”<
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  “Hollywood does have the power to change people,” she says, and her voice is soft with understanding. “That’s why it’s important to surround yourself with the right people.”

  I raise an amused brow. “And yet you want to be a part of it.”

  “It’s not all bad.” She laughs. “There’s a lot of Hollywood that’s magical.”

  “Magical?” It’s my turn to laugh. “Conniving, manipulative, fucking greedy? Yes. But magical? That’s a side of Hollywood I’ve never seen.”

  “But you said you loved acting,” she states with a knowing gaze. “Surely, that part of it felt magical to you.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. But for me, all the bad overrode any of the good.” I shrug and pop one last bite of fish into my mouth.

  When I left that town eight years ago, it was out of pure survival instinct.

  The longer I stayed in that life, the more reckless and out of control I became.

  Billie stares down at her plate for a quiet moment, swirling her fork through the last bit of green beans on her plate. “My momma thought Hollywood was magical,” she admits and looks up to meet my steady gaze. “She played a small part in a TV show once, and I think she would have tried to make it as an actress if she hadn’t gotten pregnant with Birdie.”

  “What show?”

  “I don’t know…” She pauses and breaks our eye contact, glancing out toward the dark forest for a beat. “After she died,” she continues, meeting my eyes again, “Birdie and I would spend hours trying to figure it out, just wanting to see our momma one more time, but we never found it.”

  Her gaze flits to the fire, and I half expect her to veer this line of conversation into something less heavy, but she takes me by surprise when she quietly adds, “But I do know the one line… Do you want to hear it?”

  “Yes, please.” I smile. I can’t help it. Right now, ironically, I want to hear anything she has to say.

  She sets her finished plate on the ground and stands to her feet. Bailey takes it upon himself to slide over and lick off any crumbs, but I’m too fixated on her to scold him.

  “So, she played a waitress,” she begins, “and the main actress on the TV series, who was also a waitress, was taking someone’s order in the scene.” I watch as her hands pretend to pour a cup of coffee. “As she’s pouring the coffee, she overhears the other waitress’s conversation with the customer at the diner, and she chimes in with, ‘Whatever you do, don’t try the meatloaf.’ And then, her little TV debut ends with her bursting into laughter and walking away.”

  Billie blushes, giggles, awkwardly tugs at her sweater with nervous fingers, and sits back down. “Obviously, she did a better job than me, but you get the gist.”

  It hits me that this woman, this gorgeous, intriguing, little creature, has no idea how damn beautiful she really is or the charming power she holds inside that tiny body of hers.

  I grin. “I liked it.”

  “She didn’t actually try out for the part,” she adds. “She just happened to be a beautiful woman, laughing her ass off in the middle of a fancy Italian restaurant, and a casting director overheard her and approached her.”

  My grin grows, and I stand up to clean our plates. “I think that’s the first Hollywood story I’ve actually liked hearing.”

  Bailey sighs, most likely sad that all of the food is finished off, scoots a little closer to the fire, and puts his head in his paws. His eyes fall closed in seconds, and a few soft snores leave his snout.

  Billie glances at him and smiles, kneeling down to gently scratch her nails down his back and the dog responds by smacking his sleepy lips together in contentment.

  “I think he’s calling it a night,” she says, standing back up and following my lead as we start the process of washing and drying our dishes.

  A soft smile crests my lips, and I nod. “When that dog is tired, he’s fucking done.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She giggles and stacks up our clean dishes. “So, how many miles do we have left tomorrow?”

  “Just a little over eight,” I answer, packing everything back up in the main compartment of my backpack and sliding the zipper closed. “If we start early, we should be at Lou’s by two.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Her full lips curl into a yawn, and I smile softly.

  Looks like Bailey isn’t the only one who needs to call it a night.

  “You ready for bed?”

  She nods through another yawn. “Definitely.”

  “How’s your ankle?”

  “It’s so good that you shouldn’t even start in on the ice bullshit tonight.”

  A chuckle escapes my throat. “All right. I guess it’s time for bed, then.”

  “C’mon, bud.” I whistle for Bailey, and he groans his annoyance but slowly stretches himself to standing and follows my lead.

  But when Billie starts to head toward her bright-pink tent, something stirs inside of me and I reach out and stop her by gently gripping her forearm.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, and her eyes go wide with confusion.

  “It’s even colder tonight than it was last night,” I say, but this time, I don’t fight to hide the soft smile that wants to slide across my lips. “So, you might as well skip the part of sneaking into my tent in the middle of the night and just start there.”

  Billie stands still, unsure of what to do.

  “Come on, princess. Let’s go to bed.”

  She searches my eyes for a long moment, but then, to my utter surprise, without a million questions or comments, she simply follows me.

  My chest grows light and airy with an emotion I don’t understand. It’s like I’m happy about it. Like I want her with me tonight, lying beside me.

  Probably because you do…

  I shake off the thought, and the three of us head inside my tent and I zip the door closed behind us.

  Bailey settles in the corner on his favorite blanket, and Billie and I slip inside my sleeping bag.

  She doesn’t hesitate to curl her body into mine, and I don’t hesitate to let her.

  I should probably hate how good she feels inside my arms, but I don’t.

  Instead, I relax into our snuggled state and shut my eyes.

  “Luca?” she asks, her voice a whisper.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For…” She pauses, and I open my eyes to look down at her. It takes my vision a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, but when it does, I find her looking back at me. “A good day,” she whispers. “And for taking such good care of me yesterday.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Our gazes stay locked, and I search her eyes while she searches mine.

  And then, before I know what’s happening, Billie leans closer and presses her lips against mine.

  It’s a soft, gentle kiss, and I wish I could say I take the opportunity and run, but the shock of the moment wins out by a landslide.

  Quicker than it started, the kiss is over, and Billie is snuggling back into my chest and shutting her eyes. Soon, her breaths soften, and her body goes lax against me.

  And I’m left to lie here, wondering how one innocent little kiss could feel so damn good.

  Billie

  Mercury is in retrograde, and my stupid ass is in the loony bin. Last night, I kissed Luca.

  Just a gentle press of my lips to his, but when you go from arguing all day long to kissing in any capacity, the moment is undeniably momentous.

  Honestly, I don’t know why I did it. I just couldn’t not do it.

  For as strangely as yesterday started, it ended somewhere even stranger. Not only did I open up to Luca about things I haven’t even considered talking about in what feels like forever, but he returned the favor, giving me some insight into his mysterious nature. I didn’t even have to go through dentistry school in order to pull some fucking teeth. It was just…natural.

  And for as much as I would have denied the possibility e
ven twenty-four hours earlier, I can only say the same about the kiss. It felt right. Maybe, if I’m being critical—and painfully honest—it also felt a little short. But, impulsive or not, the rational part of me was a little too freaked out that I’d given in to the temptation to take it any farther.

  When I woke up this morning, after sleeping like a freaking baby in his arms, I held my breath, waiting for World War III to begin.

  Bickering is what we’re known for.

  But it never came.

  We started our hike a few hours ago, and not a single moment has felt awkward or uncomfortable. If anything, it all just feels…normal.

  Heck, my ankle isn’t even bothering me too much.

  I’m so comfortable, in fact, that the real reason I’m here—to save my job—is starting to feel less and less front and center.

  “We’re here,” Luca says, yanking me from my thoughts. When I look up, a big, distinctly unique cabin is jutting up from the nothingness around it like a flower does from its seed.

  Bailey wags his tail, visibly familiar with the house, and jogs up to the massive, wooden front door.

  I follow Luca’s lead, up a small hill and a stone staircase that leads to a wraparound porch.

  Two rocking chairs sit perched on the deck floor, and when I turn around, the view damn near takes my breath away. Trees peppered in front of a glistening lake, the sight makes it easy to see why the chairs are a necessity. When it’s warm outside, I bet this is the place to be. Just relaxing out here and taking in the atmosphere.

  Bailey barks three times, and Luca steps forward to rap his knuckles against the door.

  “Lou!” he shouts. “Open up!”

  A few moments later, a man with silver hair and a long beard is opening the door and greeting us. He hugs Luca and gives Bailey a few friendly pats to his side, and when his gray eyes meet mine, recognition hits me.

  “Oh my stars,” I mutter.

  This isn’t just any man. This is Louis Lennox, a famous Hollywood actor from way back in the day and a man Luca starred in Agent Zero with. God, my heart tingles inside my chest as all my memories swirl together.