by Lauren Rowe
“Huh?”
“That you’d ‘never’ make a move on me? If I’m so hot and you knew we were going to be stuck together like glue for a solid three months, why’d you feel so damned sure you wouldn’t be tempted, at least possibly, to make a move on me at some point? For that matter, how’d you know I wouldn’t make a move on you?”
Zander shifts his hulking body underneath his blanket, momentarily baring his deliciously tented hard-on to me. “I... Because I knew I was gonna be your bodyguard.”
“And?”
“And that made you off-limits, as I’ve already explained to you more than once.”
“According to Barry.”
“According to Barry, but also according to me. According to common sense.”
I vaguely indicate Zander’s forearm, which at this moment is, presumably, still covering a straining boner. “So I guess Mr. Happy has no common sense, then?”
Zander rolls his eyes. “Mr. Happy always comes out to do morning yoga, dude. Don’t take it personally. He’s extremely fitness conscious.”
I smirk. Sure, Zander.
“My eyes are up here, babe,” he says, and I let my eyes scorch a path from his forearm, past his impressive pecs, all the way up to his gorgeous dark eyes. He continues, “I told the guys I’d ‘never’ get physical with you because I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this job if I’m chasing you around a tour bus. Plus, let’s not forget my state of mind on Monday night: I’d just gotten the shit kicked out of me by Daphne a few days before and I was pretty much obsessed with the idea of winning her back.”
Was obsessed. Zander just used past tense in that sentence. Does that mean he’s not presently feeling that way? Oh, God, I’m dying to know—but too scared of the answer to ask.
Zander continues, “And Dax was like ‘A hundred bucks says you’ll have sex with her.’”
“Ha!”
“Listen. Dax said that, but then Keane goes, ‘Hey, guys, that’s a douchey bet. Not feminist-approved.’ So they all agreed the bet should be whether I’d fall in love with you by the end of the tour. So, you see? At the end of the day, the bet wasn’t about sex. Not directly, anyway.”
“Indirectly?”
He shrugs. “Nobody said it out loud, but let’s get real. Even if my friends think it’s possible for me to fall for you without sleeping with you, I’m sure they assume it’d be a slam dunk if we did get it on. Because, see, that’s the rap on me in that crowd: ‘Z can’t separate fucking and feelings.’ ‘There’s a high-speed elevator between Z’s dick and heart.’ ‘Lust almost always turns into love for Z.’ And, honestly, they’re right to think that way about me, generally speaking. I mean, is it possible for me to separate my dick and heart? Yes. But, truthfully, if I’m having sex with someone I really like, someone with whom I’ve got great chemistry in every way—which, for me is the preferred kind of person to be having sex with because I’m not a huge fan of sleeping with someone who doesn’t light my fuse in every way—then why the hell wouldn’t I develop feelings for the woman?” He shrugs. “But, I swear, sex wasn’t an official part of the bet. Just the opposite. At the end of the day, the bet was one hundred percent about nothing but good old fashioned, Disney-approved love.” He flashes me side-eye. “But I’ve got a hunch Keane or Dax already told you all this and you’re just fuckin’ with me for sport.”
“What? No. Nobody said a word about any of this. At least, not that I remember.”
“You sure? Because all last night, you kept asking me if I’d fallen in love with you yet.”
“I did? Ha! That’s funny. No. As far as I know, they said nothing to me.”
“Then why would you keep asking me if I’d fallen in love with you?”
I shrug. “Because I’m me.”
Zander laughs. “Oh my God, you really are the female Peen, aren’t you?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Do you honestly expect me to believe a bunch of straight guys sat around smoking weed and drinking whiskey and watching me shake my ass in a bunch of highly titillating music videos... and then decided to place bets on whether you’d ‘fall in love’ with me? I find that excruciatingly hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth and I can prove it. Louise Morgan—Momma Lou—is in on the bet.”
My jaw drops.
“Yep. She threw down a hundred bucks on month three. In fact, Dax got his entire family to place bets, just to pad the pot as much as possible.”
“That’s crazy.”
“That’s the Morgans.”
“What did Captain mean when he said ‘Judge Peen’ had to issue an ‘official ruling?’”
“Keane decided he should judge the competition, rather than bet, because—get this—according him, I might fall madly in love with you without even realizing it myself. He thinks he’ll be able to look me in the eyes and tell everyone the truth about whatever’s going on with my purportedly tender heart.”
“Well, damn, now I’m even more offended. You didn’t find me attractive enough to at least leave open the possibility that you might fall in love with me? How insulting.”
Zander palms his forehead. “Oh my God, I can’t win with you. Aloha, you know full well I find you attractive. I believe you were tipped off—pun intended—about my rather intense attraction to you last night on the dance floor.”
I snicker. “Yes, your attraction to me has been a hard thing to figure out, but, somehow, I’ve managed it.”
He rolls his eyes. “But being intensely attracted to someone isn’t the same thing as acting on that attraction. And it certainly isn’t the same thing as falling in love.”
Okay, now I’m highly annoyed. Doesn’t this man realize I’m irresistible—at least, when I want to be? That if I were to turn on my charm to full wattage with him, I could bring him, or any man, to his knees? Because, hello, guess what’s been my job since I was three years old? Making every creature who comes in contact with me—man, woman, or child—fall in love with me! The fact that Zander doesn’t—
Wait.
Hold on.
It’s just occurring to me Zander said he’s “intensely” attracted to me a moment ago. Not just attracted. That’s new. The plot thickens.
“Look,” I say, trying not to smile. “I know Barry put the fear of God into you, but forget about him. If something physical were to happen between us at some point on the tour, hypothetically, thanks to our ‘intense’ mutual attraction, then you wouldn’t have to worry or think twice about Barry finding out. I’d never tell him or anyone about us. And they’d never guess, either, because I’d be discreet. Case in point, I had a tour-fling with a keyboardist a couple tours ago and nobody ever found out. Even when the guy broke the most important rule of tour-flinging and wound up telling me he’d fallen hard for me, I still didn’t say a word to anyone about him. Even when everything turned awkward and weird between us after he confessed his feelings, I was a locked vault. In the end, thanks to my steel trap and the guy’s NDA, he wound up finishing out my tour and then going on to another, even bigger, one with my full endorsement and recommendation and nobody was ever the wiser about what went down between us.”
Zander rolls his eyes. “Aloha, all that just confirms why you’re off-limits to me. Don’t you see? Forget Barry for a minute. Regardless, I’d be a damned fool to get involved with you. I’m not one of your musicians. I’m your bodyguard. I’m gonna be stuck to you like glue every day for the next three months. If we were to mess around and you were to get bored with me a few weeks later—which sure seems like your MO, sweetheart—or if, God help me, one-sided feelings were to develop on my end like they did for that keyboardist—then I’d feel compelled to show myself the door the minute things got ‘weird’ and ‘awkward.’ And as far as nobody guessing, that possibility is blown now, thanks to that stupid video. The whole world, including Barry, is gonna be watching you and your supposed ‘boy toy’ like hawks now, waiting for any indication we’re actually boning.” He shakes his head and
exhales. “My buddies were exaggerating when they said lust always turns into love for me. But not by a whole lot. I’m not a ‘friends with benefits’ kind of dude. Can I do it? Yes. I’ve indeed had flings and casual sex in my lifetime. But never with anyone I really like.”
My heart skips a beat. He really likes me?
“So, whatever incredible chemistry we’re both feeling,” he says, “I need to ignore it and do my job.”
I can’t stop smiling. I realize Zander intended everything he just said to shut the door on a possible fling for us, but I can’t help feeling like he just kicked that door wide open. But since no means no, I’ve got no choice but to respect his stated boundaries and treat him as my friend without benefits... that is, until he finally comes to his senses and makes the first move.
“Thank you for making all of that crystal clear to me,” I say. “Now that I understand your boundaries, I, too, will ignore the intense chemistry I’m feeling with you.”
Zander looks pained. Ha! For a guy who just won this argument, he sure looks like a guy who lost it.
I extend my palm. “May I have your phone, please? I’d like to send a text to Dax.”
“Oh, God, Aloha, please don’t chew Dax’s ass for the bet. We were all stoned out of our minds and drunk off our asses and—”
“I’m not upset about the bet. I want to tell Dax I want in on it.”
“Huh?”
I smirk. “I want in on the bet. There’s money at stake and I want to win it.”
We engage in some back and forth. And then a staring contest. Until, finally, reluctantly, Zander places his phone in my open palm.
“Thank you.” I place Zander’s thumb against the thumb reader on his phone and head straight into his contacts list. When I find Dax’s name, I quickly tap out the following text:
Hey, Dax. This is Aloha on Z’s phone. I just found out about the bet. Count me in! Z and I haven’t had sex, despite what I said in that TMZ video. In fact, Z just informed me he’ll never, ever have sex with me and he certainly won’t fall in love with me because he’s just going to do his job like a good soldier. Of course, I have full faith in him. If he thinks he can ignore our insane, intense attraction and chemistry, then I’m sure he’s right. But just for kicks, just because I like throwing money away, I guess, will you please mark me down for a hundred bucks on month two? I figure when I lose, it’ll be another hundred in Z’s pocket, right? And I can certainly live with that. Thanks bunches! AC
Chapter 18
Aloha
Zander puts his phone down after reading the text I just sent to Dax.
“Please don’t be mad,” I say.
“I’m not. He’s a Morgan. He’ll think you’re hilarious.”
“No, no. I mean please don’t be mad I made everyone on planet Earth think you’re my boy toy.”
“Oh, that.” He sighs. “I couldn’t care less what ‘everyone’ thinks. I do, however, care very much what my mother and Barry think. My mom because she was thrilled for me to get this job and I don’t want her thinking I couldn’t go a full twenty-four hours without bonin’ the fuck outta the woman I was hired to protect.”
My clit pulses. Yes, please.
“And Barry because I’d very much like to keep this job. Not to mention my good name.”
“Your good name?”
“Barry, unlike my mother and ‘everyone,’ knows exactly how drunk you were when I brought you to this hotel room. I don’t want him or anyone else thinking, even for a minute, that I took advantage of an unconscious or incapacitated woman. That’s a crime, you know.”
I grimace. “Oh, jeez. That angle didn’t even occur to me.”
“I don’t think Barry would believe your drunk ass babbling in that video over me telling him nothing happened, but what if I’m wrong about that? Or what if a little piece of him isn’t completely sure about me going forward? I don’t need him or anyone wondering if I’d do something like that, Aloha.”
“Shit.” I sigh. “Well, unfortunately, I can’t do anything to clear things up with your mom. But I can certainly clear things up with Big Barry, which I promise I’ll do the minute he wakes up.”
“Wrong. You most certainly can and will clear things up with my momma. She’ll be at our dinner with the Morgans. You can tell her then what a fine, upstanding bodyguard I’ve been since jump street.”
I’m utterly confused and I’m sure my face shows it. “Our dinner with the Morgans?”
“On your free night in Seattle.”
I stare at him blankly.
“In three weeks...?”
Still nothing.
“Aloha! You agreed to have dinner at the Morgans’ on your free night in Seattle in three weeks!”
“Have you gone mad?”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Tell me you are!”
“Aloha!” Zander tilts back his head and rubs his face with his large hands—thereby taking his forearm off his crotch for the first time in a very long time. And, dang it, much to my disappointment, Zander’s tent is gone. “Jesus, take the wheel,” he mutters behind his hands before dropping them and turning his dark gaze on me. “You don’t remember the conversation you had with Keane and Maddy while sitting on the floor of Reed’s home gym?”
“Well, yeah, I remember talking to Keane and Maddy in Reed’s gym. Of course. But we didn’t talk about some stupid dinner. Maddy told me about her new documentary and promised to send me a preview copy before it releases at some film festival next month. And Keane told me about all the crazy nicknames in his family and I was like, ‘Oh, I love nicknames!’ And he was like, ‘Well, then, I hereby christen you Alo-haha because—’”
“Aloha, think,” Zander says sharply. “During that same conversation, you told Keane and Maddy your mother doesn’t love you and you wish you had a mother like Keane’s. A real mom, not a mom-ager. And he said his mother loves all her kids, rich or poor, dumbshit or ‘smartshit,’ and that she makes amazing—”
I gasp. “Lasagna! Oh, shit! And I agreed to come to dinner so his entire family can adopt me!”
“Bingo. And then Keane texted his mom about it right then and there, sealing the deal.”
I snort. “Well, obviously, that’s not gonna happen. You’re gonna have to unseal the deal for me.”
“No.”
“Yes. Text Keane and tell him the dinner is off.”
“No way. You made your bed and now you’re gonna lie in it. You’re going to that dinner in three weeks and you’re eating lasagna and getting adopted by Mrs. Morgan and the entire Morgan clan, exactly like you said you would.”
“I can’t go to dinner at some random family’s house in Seattle! That would be a crazy thing for me to do.”
“Keane already texted his mother. She was probably beside herself with excitement at her Zumba class this morning, telling all her friends she’s gonna be playing honorary mommy to everybody’s favorite spitfire, Aloha Carmichael.”
I clutch my chest. “Listen to me, Z. I’m not being a diva about this. I can’t go.” I swallow hard, my heart racing. “Zander, I get... anxiety.”
To my surprise, Zander doesn’t look the least bit surprised by my admission. “You’ll be fine.” He grabs my hand. “The girl I saw onstage in front of tens of thousands of people last night can do anything she puts her mind to, least of all sit at a dinner table with a nice, friendly family and eat a delicious homemade meal.”
“You don’t understand,” I choke out, my heart beating like a steel drum. “I can sing and dance in front of tens of thousands. I can say my lines in front of cameras. I can sign autographs with a painted-on smile. I can do anything that requires me to be the ever-charming ‘Aloha Carmichael.’ The thing that’s hard for me—the one thing I absolutely cannot do—is sit in a room filled with a small number of complete strangers—non-celebrity strangers—non-Aloha-nators—and try to have an actual conversation about normal-people things and still live up to their expectations
that I’m gonna be this perfect, dazzling beam of radiant light they’ve ‘known and loved’ for the past ten years!”
Zander’s features are awash in sympathy. He touches my shoulder gently. “Honey, the Morgans don’t expect you to entertain or dazzle them. They just want to eat lasagna with you. You don’t have to perform. Just be.” He smiles. “Trust me, when you’re with the Morgans, you won’t even be the funniest, coolest person in the room. And I’ll be with you the whole time. So will Keane and Maddy. So it won’t feel like you’re eating dinner in a room filled entirely with strangers.”
“I can’t, Z.”
“You can, honey. And you will. I promise, the minute you meet the Morgans, you’ll feel like you’ve known them your whole life. Before you know it, you’ll feel comfortable enough to turn off the ‘Aloha Carmichael’ charm and just be yourself.”
I don’t know what that means, I think. But, of course, I don’t say it. Because Zander wouldn’t understand. Nobody could possibly understand because nobody has lived my crazy, abnormal life.
Zander strokes my arm, sending goosebumps flashing across my flesh. “I’ll be right there with you the whole time, sweetheart,” he whispers soothingly. “And I think you’re beautiful and amazing and perfect, just the way you are, absolutely no ‘Aloha Carmichael’ dazzle required.” He strokes my forearm. “And this coming from the guy who, mere hours ago, watched you barf into your hair.”
I smile. Just this fast, Zander has managed to guide me back from the brink of panic in a way only Barry has ever done before him. I take a deep breath and speak on my exhale. “Okay.”
He pats my arm. “Good girl. And while you’re eating lasagna at the Morgans’ and being your boring, imperfectly perfect self, you’ll explain to everyone that you were just acting a fool last night with that TMZ guy.”
I twist my mouth. “Yeah. About that... Yes, of course, I’ll tell the Morgans and Barry and your mom the truth. But, um, do I have to tell the entire world you’re not my boy toy... or can we just let that ride a little bit longer out there in the general population?”
