by Aly Martinez
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be in town? I could have at least come to the airport to see you before you took off,” I snapped entirely too roughly.
“Uhhh… I figured you were busy. You are, after all, Henry Alexander.” He flourished to make me sound like a pretentious dick.
“And?” I drawled.
“And I’m not going to be one of your groupies waiting with bated breath for you to work me into your schedule. If you wanted to see me, you could’ve called.”
“First, I don’t have groupies.”
He actually laughed at my statement.
“I’m serious.”
“Henry, I’m not stupid. You don’t have to bullshit me. Half the world wants your attention. And you want me to believe that you’re just sitting around, waiting for me to let you know I’ll be in town for less than an hour?”
Clearly, he had no idea what I was capable of in less than an hour, but that wasn’t why I was upset.
“Yes! That’s exactly what I want you to believe because that’s what I’ve been doing since the day I met you. I would have dropped everything for less than an hour with you. Christ, Evan, I would have dropped it all only to wave at you from the runway as you took off. I just had no idea you were going to be in town. You should’ve called.”
“Orrrr…you could have called me. Seems like I’m always the one calling you. Phones work both ways, Henry.”
“I text you all the time,” I defended.
He laughed without humor. “Right. Once-a-day texts are the same thing.”
His sudden attitude made me cop my own. “I’m giving you your space!”
He immediately shot back, “Well, don’t!”
I blinked. “Well, don’t?” What was that supposed to mean? Don’t give him space?
“I need to go,” he said just seconds before he literally went.
The silence filled my ear as I sat befuddled by the entire exchange. I pulled my phone away to look at the screen. Are we fighting? Does he want me to call him more? Does he want me to be interested?
I stared at my phone for several seconds before I typed a message out.
Me: Fine, Maverick. No space. But I’m not positive you can handle the truth. (Gratuitous Tom Cruise reference.)
Evan: Try me.
And there it was—the defining moment. Bracing myself, I typed out what would be either the truth that opened the door for me with him or the truth that would cause him to slam it in my face for good.
Me: I’m pissed that I missed a chance to see you yesterday. I’ve thought of absolutely nothing but you for the last two weeks. And I don’t know how to show you that without going too hard too fast and risk scaring you off.
Evan: Christ, Henry. What the hell are we doing here?
Me: I can’t answer that. It’s your turn to be honest, Evan.
Evan: I fucking hate when you type my name.
I swear I needed a decoder ring to read between the lines with this guy.
Me: I don’t even know what that means.
Evan: The scary thing is I don’t either.
I squinted at my phone, trying to see if some sort of sense could be made from our current conversation. I typed out several messages in reply, but the words didn’t feel right, so I deleted them all.
“You’re Henry Alexander.” His words rang in my ears.
In my world, I wasn’t Henry Alexander. I was just Henry, smartass extraordinaire. But I’d forgotten that Evan wasn’t of my world—no matter how much I’d wished he were.
“Shit!” I dropped my phone.
So, now, on top of convincing his conscience that it was okay for him to be with a man, I had to overcome the stigma of my fame. There I was, worried about him meeting a woman, when he was worried about me meeting…well, everyone else.
I hated that I’d made him feel this way, but this revelation immeasurably filled my damaged soul. The potent high sent me spinning, and the warmth brewing in my chest made me brave.
I couldn’t lose him over a misunderstanding. For the first time in years, I’d found someone I could actually imagine a future with. I’d been handling him with caution because I wanted more than just a cat-and-mouse game. But, if Evan wanted to be chased, I’d cat the fuck out of him.
My hands began to tremble as I reached for my phone, knowing what I had to do.
“DO I NEED to slap that shit out of your hand again?” Scott joked, pulling my attention away from my phone.
I’d been staring at it for the last five hours. That damn text bubble would occasionally pop up, taunting me that Henry was typing, but no messages had been sent.
It was official. I was a bitch. But, for over two weeks, Henry had been driving me insane. Baiting me with texts but never calling. He hadn’t even mentioned wanting to see me again. Every so often, I’d give in and call him, and he’d always act like he was happy to hear from me. But I had no interest in another one-sided relationship.
Relationship?
My head was a jumbled mess when it came to him. Just the thought of being with a man again sent me into a tailspin, or that’s what I told myself. When, in reality, Henry’s indifference toward me was what really had me on the edge of sanity. I wavered from minute to minute between what I wanted—him—and what I needed—self-preservation.
I reminded myself every day that this thing with him was as casual as I’d told him it was. Unfortunately, the more I got to know him, the less I wanted it that way. I couldn’t deny that I was attracted to him, but wasn’t everyone?
He was charismatic, charming, and unbelievably sexy.
But, on the other hand, he was so charismatic that bullshitting me would be easy for him.
And he was charming with everyone—not just me.
And, sure, he was unbelievably sexy, yet I was supposed to believe he’d set his sights on only me? For fuck’s sake, I knew firsthand that life didn’t work like that. Much less when you add in fame and fortune.
But, despite what I’d told him on the phone, I didn’t care that he was superstar Henry Alexander.
I did, however, care that, for some reason, I was starting to develop feelings of the non-naked variety for him.
And, tonight, I’d broken, making myself more vulnerable, because now, he knew I cared. Pretending was safe. I could even convince myself sometimes. Now though? I’d exposed my hand, and he had absolutely no response. Watching that text bubble flicker was like salt in a wound.
“Dude,” Scott laughed. “You’re missing the fight. What the hell is wrong with you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Tired, I guess.” Pushing to my feet, I headed to the kitchen to grab a beer. “You need another?”
“I’m good,” he replied before yelling at one of the fighters on the TV.
We’d been planning to go out to the sports bar, but when he’d gotten to my house, I’d been in a shit mood. So shitty that he hadn’t argued when I’d told him that I’d rather stay in and order the pay-per-view.
I was once again preoccupied with my phone when I heard a knock at the door.
“You expecting someone?” he asked.
“Not that I know of.” I popped the cap on my beer off and followed him to the door.
The second he pulled it open, we both froze.
We were shocked, but for two totally different reasons.
For him: Celebrity Henry Alexander was standing on my front porch.
For me: The man who scared the living shit out of me was standing on my front porch and not hundreds of miles away like he’d been earlier.
His eyes met mine and an apologetic smile spread across his mouth. Tipping his head to the side, he shrugged.
Simple. Silent. Stunning.
Henry.
My mouth dried and I momentarily lost the ability to speak. He appeared tired and slightly disheveled but still sexy as sin, and it caused my hands to itch to touch him.
“Hi,” he said, shifting the two large brown paper bags he was holdin
g to one arm in order to extend a handshake Scott’s way. “Henry Alexander. I’m Evan’s boss.”
Scott clasped his outstretched hand, but his surprised gaze jumped to mine. I felt it, but I couldn’t drag my eyes off Henry long enough to acknowledge his silent question.
“Scott Dalton,” he replied.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Henry. It was an accusation, but it came out as a whisper.
He flashed his gaze to Scott then back to me. “I, um, have some business to talk to you about.”
I pointedly looked at the bags in his hands in question.
“And I thought you might be hungry.” He smiled, but his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
I couldn’t help it. My lips twitched as I fought a grin. “It’s almost eleven.”
He blew out a breath in mock frustration. “Okay. Fine. I was hungry.” His smile spread.
Scott interrupted our stare off. “Great timing. I was just about to get out of here.”
He hadn’t been. The main event hadn’t even started yet. His offer to go was just one more reason why he was my best friend. But I was his, and as much as I wanted to be alone with Henry, I couldn’t let him leave.
“You aren’t going anywhere. You’ve been drinking, and you’re on the bike. I don’t have any desire to scrape your sorry ass off the pavement tonight.”
Henry pounced. “I have a car.” He swung an arm toward my driveway. “I mean…if you need to go. My driver can take you wherever you’d like.”
I opened my mouth to object, but Scott slapped me on the shoulder.
“Perfect. See you later, man. Nice to meet you, Henry.” He grabbed his boots from beside the door and didn’t even waste the time to put them on before he jogged out.
The best part about Scott was, unless I brought it up later, he would never speak of the eye-fuck I’d just been throwing my male boss.
We both watched him jog away, and Henry threw a thumbs-up to the driver as he quickly got out of the black SUV to open the door for Scott.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Henry again when he’d finally turned back to face me.
He didn’t wait for an invitation before he came inside. “Is it going to be a problem for you that he saw me here?”
“You are my boss,” I deadpanned.
He studied me for several seconds and then blew out a relieved breath. “Good. That could have been bad. Anyway, we need to talk.” He strode past me, toward the kitchen.
As I raked my eyes over his ass, talking became very low on my list of things I wanted to do.
“Are you hungry? I really did bring food.”
I shook my head and asked, “How’d you get here? I thought you were on the road?” I folded my arms over my chest and watched him settle his two bags on the counter.
His blue eyes smiled as they lifted to mine. “I was. But you weren’t. And I wanted to see you. So I flew back.”
My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline. “You flew?”
“I also might be slightly drunk now.” He smiled, but I didn’t return it.
He’d flown? Why did that make my stomach wrench? I pretended that it was because I hadn’t been the one in the cockpit, but I knew that it had more to do with the fact that he’d done something so terrifying just to come see me.
“You flew?” I repeated in a whisper.
“My last name is Gilchrist,” he randomly announced, pulling a takeout container of wings from his bag. He nabbed a piece of celery and crunched a bite.
“Answer me. You flew? To see me?”
He ignored my question. “Henry Alexander Gilchrist. For obvious reasons, I dropped the last name when I started the music thing. I grew up in foster care, and my most prized possession was an out-of-tune guitar I’d bought at a garage sale. I taught myself to play, and I’m not going to lie, at first, it was like nails on a chalkboard even to my ears.”
I tilted my head to the side in confusion. “Why are you telling me this?”
He tore off a paper towel from the holder next to the sink and wiped his mouth. “Because, earlier, you told me I was Henry Alexander. I’m not. I’m Henry Gilchrist. I’m a simple man who makes music the same way you’re a man who flies planes.”
I took a step toward him. “And you decided to face your biggest fear of flying to tell me this? You could have texted.”
He grinned proudly. “Texting did cross my mind, but where’s the romance in that?”
The walls around my heart began to shake, and I instinctively took two steps back before firing off the first thing that came to mind. “Romance doesn’t sound casual.”
His eyes darkened at my retreat, but he didn’t let it dampen his mood. “No, it doesn’t, but you didn’t sound all that casual earlier, either.”
“I was in a bad mood.”
With a confident smirk, he closed the distance between us. “Yes. You were. And so was I. I’m sorry for being short, Evan.” He winked when my breath caught. Leaning toward my face, he rubbed his jaw against mine and whispered in my ear, “Suddenly, I’m feeling better. How about you?”
I was.
Actually, I was fucking elated.
And suspicious.
And worried.
I backed away. “Why did you come here?”
He moved back to his bags on the counter and started digging through them. “I like you. I believe I mentioned that on the phone. However, my favorite part of that call was when you, in a roundabout way, admitted you liked me too.”
Fan-fucking-tastic. I’d fucked up when I’d caught an attitude. I just hadn’t realized I’d opened a door too. And I sure as hell hadn’t had any idea just how quickly Henry was planning to storm through it.
I squared my shoulders. “Maybe, but I don’t think that required you to fly across the country to see me.”
He propped his hip on the counter and crossed his arms across his chest. “You want me to leave?”
Fuck no. But what I did want was for him to stop talking so I could stop thinking. “No.”
He shot me wickedly seductive smile. “Good, because I brought dessert too.”
Now, dessert I could do, because I had a sneaking suspicion that it involved being naked. But this—whatever he had to say—I wanted over as quickly as possible.
“So talk,” I said.
“Well…okay. I figured we could eat first, but—”
“Talk,” I ordered sternly.
“Stop barking at me. My nerves are shot after the flight.”
And, with that, I felt guilty. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed. “I’m sorry. If you want to eat—”
Only I didn’t get to finish before he rushed out, “For the first time in my life, I have no idea what to do.” He laughed. “I mean, seriously. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath since that night in L.A. I’m starting to become a little delirious. So I’ve been letting you run the show. All I want is for you to be comfortable.” He paused to smirk. “Well, I mean, that’s not all I want, but your being comfortable is an integral part in getting what I do want. Which, just in case you’ve misunderstood any part of me being here, that something is you.”
My body tensed as my mind flooded with a million things I wanted to say and even some I told myself I needed to say. But my brain wasn’t firing in the proper directions at all. His words should have terrified me, but they only made me want to kiss him that much more.
I cleared my throat. “That really doesn’t sound like casual.”
He smiled, reached into one of his brown bags, and pulled out a bouquet of deep-blue flowers. “I guess I’m not a casual kind of guy after all.”
I blinked. “Did you seriously bring me flowers?”
“Guys can like flowers!” he defended.
I shot him an incredulous glare. “None I know.”
“Well, none I know, either, but I was hoping you would. I was on a serious time constraint while shopping.” He looked from me to the flowers and back again and then twisted hi
s lips. “Okay, so no flowers.” With a dramatic toss, he threw them over his shoulder.
They bounced off my pantry door before falling to the floor.
I did my best not to laugh only to fail miserably. “What else you got in there, Casanova?”
He bit his lip and then began digging through his bags again. Next out was a bunch of chocolate-covered fruit in a clear, plastic container.
“I tried, but they didn’t have kiwi. Sorry. I noticed that was all you ate out of the snacks at the hotel.”
I couldn’t even remember if I’d eaten kiwi in front of him, but he’d not only noticed but also remembered.
Why did that feel so good?
Why did it make my stomach twist?
Why did it fill my chest with a warmth that I swear seeped into my bones?
I had no clue how to react to any of those things.
When I didn’t respond, he discarded the fruit on the counter.
“Right. Stupid. But look what I have that goes with them?”
“Henry…”
“Whipped cream!” he exclaimed, pulling out a tub of Cool Whip.
“A tub?”
His shoulders fell. “Come on. Cut me some slack. It was all I could find.” The disappointment on his face made me burst into laughter.
I walked the final two steps to him and squeezed his hips. “Anything else in your magic bags?”
“Um…” He reached inside with both hands and pulled out a giant bottle of lube and a box of condoms. He fought his own laugh as he unceremoniously dropped them back into the bag. “Nope. Nothing else.”
He was gorgeous as he stared at me with that mischievous glint in his eyes, but that had nothing to do with why my heart was swelling.
Nipping at his bottom lip, I said, “You flew to see me?”
He nuzzled his nose with mine. “I did. And it was terrible, but this makes it worth it.”
I rushed on a breath, “Jesus, I wanted to see you too.” I held each side of his strong jaw as I pressed a reverent kiss to his lips.
His arms folded around my waist. “I’m treading in uncharted waters with you, Evan. I don’t want to fuck this up.” He slid his hands into the waistband of my pants and gripped my ass.
