by Jillian Dodd
"My love life?"
"Yes. You are a movie star, Ash. You don't need to galavant all over the world for a man. The right guy will make time for you, not ask you to follow him. When you cause a movie to shut down for a week because you have to go to England with your boyfriend, studios see you as a liability."
"You don't like Zach either?"
"I think that Zach is in it for himself. Shouldn't he be here with you?"
"He said he would stand by me. A lot of guys would run."
"The right guy wouldn't run. He would be here, worried about you, not out giving a performance for the press."
Tipsy and Horny
Cash
"Fucking Seattle weather," I say to the guy sitting next to me in the airport bar.
"Tell me about it. Every time I look at the board, my flight's been delayed another hour. I'd almost rather they just cancel it so I can get a hotel."
"I'm on my way to a wedding. Should have gotten an earlier flight."
"Well, if nothing else, they have alcohol here and football on the TV."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
A few hours and a few drinks later, I'm sitting on the tarmac in the plane having another drink. One of the benefits of first class is they serve you right away. The pilot comes on and tells us that we'll be taxing for a while and to sit back and relax. I glance at my watch, knowing I'm going to miss the ceremony.
I look at the older couple sitting across the aisle from me. They are drinking champagne and chatting, not seeming to care how late our flight is. They kind of remind me of my parents, who are still crazy in love after over thirty-five years together.
It doesn't seem that long ago that I was celebrating my anniversary with Kelli, my girlfriend of four years. She was the complete opposite of all the party girls I'd dated and hooked up with during college. She was smart and made me feel like the bad boy who turned the valedictorian into a slut. She got a job at a big accounting firm after graduation and worked while I went to law school. Don't get me wrong, I think girls who are smart, motivated, and driven are sexy as hell. But she became obsessed with her job and worked non-stop so she could become the youngest partner ever. Which is a great goal, if that's all you want out of life.
I just wanted more. Someone to share life with. To travel with. To be crazy with.
Once I graduated law school and had landed a job, the hints started coming. It was the next step, she said. She'd happen to go by a jewelry store and drag me in, so I'd know what type of setting she'd want. She started buying bridal magazines.
Each mention or reminder was like death by paper cuts. Even my older brothers, who are notorious bachelors, wanted to know when I was going to pull the trigger.
But anytime I thought about spending the rest of my life with her, I think I died a little inside.
I come from a family of four. We have lots of cousins and extended family, and I can't wait to have children of my own. Kelli wanted to get married but said kids would be far in the future, if at all. And that combined with the fact that I didn't have much fun with her anymore sort of sealed the deal.
When our anniversary passed without a proposal, she demanded to know when we were going to get engaged. I shook my head and said probably never. She didn't even shed a fucking tear. Said something about me not being supportive of her career. I said something about living life and having fun. She said we had grown apart. I mentioned something about it being due to lack of sex, and she calmly packed a suitcase and left.
But in the last year, I've started doing all the fun things I could never get Kelli to do with me. I've gone skydiving and scuba diving. I've gone on a safari and climbed Devil's Tower. I've also been to every major sporting event and spent a shit-ton of money just last weekend to get fight tickets for me and Jared.
And while I'm having fun and banging a whole lot of chicks along the way, I really do want to find the right girl. A girl who loves life and wants to live it with me, who's smart and sexy and cute and impetuous.
But until I find that kind of girl, I'm sure as hell going to have fun.
I'm so late, that I consider not going to the reception. It's probably almost over by now.
But I'm tipsy and horny. I might as well take Jared's advice and go flirt with all the hot models, because it's a well-known fact that weddings depress single girls. Their rationale is that if they aren't married, they might as well fully enjoy being single.
And I plan to help one of them do just that.
I Adore You
Ashlyn
"To Harper and Maddox!" I cheer to the bride and groom, lifting my glass into the air, clinking it against everyone else's, and then downing the shot.
A happy warmth spreads through me as I dance my way over to Zach and pull him out onto the dance floor. The sex tape crap is still ongoing, it's been the longest and shittiest week of my life, but Zach has stood by my side. We deserve to forget about it all and celebrate my friend's happiness.
"Let's get this party started!" I say.
"Looks like you already have," Zach states flatly. "You know I adore you, Ashlyn, but this is going to be our last dance."
"Don't be silly. The reception just started. We'll be dancing all night long. We just need to get you loosened up a bit. Wanna come do some shots with me and the groomsmen?"
He puts his hands firmly on my shoulders, stopping my movement.
"What I mean is I can't see you anymore. I know the publicity fiasco this past week wasn't exactly your fault, but I just can't be with the sex tape girl anymore."
"But you stood up for me. You asked your fans to pray for us."
"Apparently they didn't. We've gotten terrible backlash from the parents of my fans. The band--my family--feels that this is for the best."
"And how do you feel about it?"
"I think it sucks. I like you a lot, but we've worked hard to keep our squeaky clean image and I can't let you ruin it. I'm really sorry."
"But in Vegas you told me you were going solo. That you wanted to be wild."
"I was mistaken," he says, pulling his phone out and flashing a press release at me. "They made the announcement already."
"Your family broke up with me in public before you broke up with me in person?"
He shrugs. "Kinda. They're right. You almost drug me down with you. You need to get your shit together, Ash, or you'll become the next Lindsey Linderman."
"Who?" I ask.
"Exactly," he says. "Everyone has already forgotten her. I mean, look at you. Last weekend, you were drunk in Vegas when the sex tape released--"
"You were in Vegas with me and you'd been snorting cocaine!"
"Shhh," he says, looking around. "Lower your voice."
"And you were trying to undress me while we were walking down the hall," I counter. "Was it all just a show?"
He shrugs. "Dating someone high profile like you has been good for my career. But it's not anymore. My family feels I need a nice, stable girl in my life. You're just not it."
"But . . . You told me it would all blow over. That there would be another scandal soon."
"I'm sorry. Goodbye, Ash."
Tears threaten to fall, but I'll be damned if I'm going to stand here and feel sorry for myself. And even though Cade's lecture about getting my life together is screaming in my brain, I can't help it. I can't deal with all this.
I stomp off the dance floor, stopping to grab a bottle of champagne and one of the cashmere throw wedding favors.
I'm just rounding the corner, making my escape, when I hear a voice say, "Hey, Hotass, where you sneaking off to?"
I stop and spin around, the sudden movement almost causing me to fall. I grip the bottle tighter. Can't spill the champagne. I'm going to need every ounce to drown my sorrows.
The guy grabs my elbow, keeping me upright.
I stare at his big hand, then follow his arm up to a broad shoulder and a face so handsome it makes my heart ache.
"You saved the champagne," I
tell him. He grins, the smile changing his face from handsome to devastatingly hot. "You look sorta familiar. Have we met before?"
"Probably in your dreams."
I touch his light brown hair, which is flipped up in the front. "You have cute hair."
"I have a lot of other cute parts," he flirts. "Wanna feel them all?"
I chuckle. "You're funny. Did you really just call me Hotass?"
"I call 'em as I see 'em."
I lean back to check out my ass, which makes me sort of dizzy.
He grabs me again, this time planting his hands firmly on my hips.
"I bet you're good in bed," I blurt out, imagining those strong hands guiding me on top of him.
"Only one way to find out," he says with a smirk.
What is with that smirk? Is he as fucking hot as I think he is?
"I'm gonna need to be drunker for that," I say.
"Way to kill my ego--and my hard on," he says seriously.
I lock eyes with him. "You're teasing me."
"Maybe a little." He grins again. "So, back to my first question. Where are you sneaking off to?"
"Not sure. Over here somewhere--away from everyone."
"Not in the mood to party?" He grabs the champagne bottle and takes a slug.
"Let's suffice it to say I've had a rough week. Do you know why I've had a bad week?" I ask. I mean, I'm pretty sure everyone in the world has seen the Ashlyn Roberts sex tape, despite Cade's efforts to get it taken down.
"Honestly, no," he says.
"Really? Do you not get on the Internet?"
"Usually I do, just not this week."
"Why not this week?" I hold my hand up in front of his cute face. "Wait, don't answer that. Just come with me."
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know. That's the problem--with my whole life, really." I give him a pout and look into his warm, brown eyes. He has the kind of eyes that make me want to curl up in his lap and let him pet me.
He touches my nose. "If you're leading, Hotass, then I'm following. If only for the view."
"You can walk next to me." I grab his hand, leading him down the path and away from the party.
Suddenly, I realize I'm holding his hand.
And it feels--good, natural, warm. He's a walking contradiction. I can't decide if that smirk just makes me one-night stand horny or if I want to keep him.
When we get to a grassy clearing under a large tree, I say, "This looks like a good spot. Here, you spread out the blanket. I'll hold the champagne."
Once our spot is ready, he helps me sit down.
"Wow, the view up here is gorgeous," I say, looking out over the grounds of the country club that sits on a cliff in northern California.
"It is," he says. "You can see the ocean, the stars, and can still hear the music from the wedding."
"Here's to gorgeous views," I say, raising the bottle in the air and looking more at him than the view. With his gorgeous smile, hot body, and pretty face, he's quite the sexy package.
I take a gulp of champagne then pass it to him. He takes a drink and hands it back.
"Sure you haven't had enough already?" he asks.
"Oh, no. I'm just getting started. Tell me why you weren't on the Internet. You may have been the only one in the world who didn't see me at my worst."
He hands me his phone. "If you want me to see so bad, why don't you show me?"
I shake my head. "No! I don't want anyone to see! I was naked. Doing things. It's really embarrassing."
He glances at my chest, which is on full display in my sequined bridesmaid gown. "Somehow, I doubt that. Maybe you could reenact it for me."
I roll my eyes and pass him the champagne. "Where are you from anyway?"
"Seattle," he says.
"And how do you know the bride and groom?"
"Family friends."
"You're cute. Are you an actor?"
He laughs. "Me? No."
"Model?"
"Uh, nope."
"Hmm," I say, trying to figure out how a guy this hot could be anything else.
"You'll never guess," he tells me.
"Fireman?"
"I'm an attorney."
"No way! You're way too sexy to be a lawyer!" I blurt out.
"You think I'm sexy?"
"Yes, in fact, tonight we're going to have fun. You and me. No names. No baggage. Just fun. I will call you Sexy and you can call me--"
"Hotass," he says, handing me the bottle and giving me a lopsided grin. "Drink, Hotass."
We goof around, taking selfies and videos of ourselves drinking and dancing crazily.
"Are you a good guy?" I ask.
"Never had any complaints," he teases. At least, I think he's teasing. But with the way he looks, he's probably not. And I kinda want to test that theory.
I smack him. "I'm not talking about sex. I mean, at the core, are you the kind of asshole who would sell our silly pictures and videos to the tabloids?"
"If I were an asshole, I'd tell you no but do it anyway."
"True. Lie down and look at the stars with me." I push on his chest, which is broad, hard, and doesn't budge.
"You add some sugar to all that bossiness, and I might be more likely to do what you say," he says.
When he says sugar, I take another swig, drop flat on my back, and let out a huge sigh. "I fucking hate sugar."
"You hate sugar?" he asks, lying next to me. "Tell me you're not one of those girls who doesn't eat anything sweet."
"I love sweets but this guy I used to date wrote a song about me. Said I was like sugar and a hurricane."
"Those things don't really go together."
"He thought I was sweet like sugar but crazy like a hurricane, or something. I don't know. I thought it was cute when he sang it for me, but then he told me that our relationship and the song would help him go more mainstream. It did."
"Then what happened?"
"He hit it big and decided he didn't need me anymore. We'd been together for a year. One night he kissed me on the forehead and went to get sushi." I look at Sexy. "Have you ever kissed the forehead of a girl you didn't love?"
He shakes his head. "Nope."
"Wait. Are you dating anyone?"
"Me?" He points to himself and laughs. "Definitely not."
"Why not? You're a cute guy."
"My long-time girlfriend and I parted ways about a year ago."
"Parted ways?"
"When another anniversary came and went without a proposal, she left."
"Why?"
"Um, it may have been because when she asked if I was ever going to propose, I said probably not."
"Why did you stay with her for so long if you didn't want to marry her? You not the marrying type?" I ask gently.
"No. I definitely want to get married. Just not to her. We had fun in college, but once she started working, it was all that mattered to her. I'm all for working hard, but I also believe in enjoying life."
"Me too," I say, handing him the bottle. "I'm sure the breakup was for the best. There must be something brighter in your future." I say it with confidence, as much for him as for myself. As thrilled as I am for Harper and Maddox, their wedding sort of depressed me because I'm jealous. That's what I want. A sexy guy who will love me no matter what.
And maybe one who will do me up against the wall.
I sneak a peek at the sexiness sitting next to me. He's still looking up at the sky. And, damn, even his profile is handsome.
And he smells so freaking good, I want to lick him.
"So, did your guy not come back with sushi?" he asks, facing me.
"No, he sent me a breakup text."
"That must have been a shock." He places his hand on top of mine. And there's something in his gesture--something in the warmth of his hand--that makes me feel safe. "It was."
His thumb caresses the top of my hand--comforting me--for a few seconds before he hands me back the bottle. "Here, drink. Then keep talking."
I take a big gulp. "I'm going to be drunk. Actually, Sexy, I might already be drunk. Anyway, that breakup was like a year ago. The last few months, I've been dating Zach Ellison."
"The boy band guy?"
"Yep. He's the oldest brother in the Summer Boys. I went on tour with him. We traveled all over the world together. He had a carnival set up on an estate in England for my birthday, just because I said I wanted a funnel cake. We escaped from his crazy fans in Paris on a motorcycle, and he took me to this little macaroon shop, where we drank wine and learned how to make them. I've never had a guy do such crazy, over-the-top romantic gestures. Then, exactly nine days ago, the ex-boyfriend, Luke, decided he wanted me back. I said no thanks. Last weekend, Zach and I were in Vegas when a sex tape of Luke and I found its way to the Internet. Tonight, Zach broke up with me because"--I start to cry--"I'm ruining his image." I sigh dramatically and then spill my guts about my life. "And if that isn't bad enough, I'm currently filming a project and I absolutely hate my costar. Actually, that's not right. He hates me. He says stuff that sounds polite, but is really a backhanded slam. When I can't take it, I tell everyone that I'm going to my dressing room, but I really sneak out back and get high just to calm the fuck down. And I'll eat healthy at craft services and then sneak in my dressing room and eat crap snacks. And, sometimes, I say I'm going to workout, but I really drive around and look at houses. I'm a house whore. I want a house--no, I want a home. I keep leasing places, but none of them are right. I'm on the beach now, and I hate it. It's where Luke and I lived, and I just need to be somewhere else. But I have a lease, and my manager says it's expensive, and I can't just leave. My publicist is a bitch and probably had a hand in the whole sex tape thing and was probably fucking my ex while we were still dating. My mom hates me unless she needs money. And, sometimes, I wish I could leave the house looking like crap. Sometimes I just want to drive through, get a burger, and not be photographed. And, sometimes, when I tell someone I work with that I respect their opinion, I'm yelling fuck off to them in my head. And, sometimes, I just need a hug."
The next thing I know, he's wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest.
Then our lips meet--slowly, softly, like he's exploring them.
He kisses my neck. Gently unbuttons my halter--causing it to fall down and expose my breasts, which he quickly covers with his mouth.
