Loving a Bad Boy (Bad Boys Western Romance Book 4)

by Susan Arden

  “Pretty sure those are all filled by the Baptists who came through earlier this week on a half-dozen tour buses.” Ivy shook a can of hairspray and spritzed around her head.

  “Tell that to one hot-under-the-collar cowboy.”

  “My phone is on the bed. Go for it and tell him ‘howdy’ from me.”

  Sommer called Rory’s phone but his was off. Now that was super odd. Her call went right to voice mail—and she left a long-winded message for him, trying to explain her busy schedule without sounding chaotic.

  After changing into her golden ensemble, she applied a quick coat of mascara, eyeliner, and glossed her lips. Fluffing her hair, she smiled at the expression on Ivy’s face.

  “Your cowboy should see you now. Let’s take a photograph and post it.”

  “Can’t reach him,” Sommer said and pursed her lips. “Not like Rory.”

  “Smile.” Ivy snapped several photos of them posing near a window. “Isn’t this the cattle drive week from hell, back home?”

  “Good memory,” Sommer replied. “I guess you’re right. I’m not the center of the universe.”

  “You’re definitely his true north, better than Polaris,” Ivy snorted loudly.

  “Polaris?” she echoed. “As in the North star.”

  “I have this app on my phone. Word of the day. Polaris with a twist. You’re his journey and his path. True north is like being the center of attention and for Rory, that’s what you are. But sometimes you have to shake things up.”

  “Oh, there’s no one falling asleep back in Annona,” she was quick to supply.

  “If you say so. How about a drink for the road?” Ivy offered, crooking her finger for her to follow.

  She couldn’t outright divulge how shaken up things had gotten. Clayton Bell getting smacked around normally would be serious news. Yet since it involved Mike and Carlo, Sommer imagined Deputy Demento didn’t say boo. They’d delivered a warped form of justice. Maybe her perception was seriously skewed.

  But it was her dad’s finances, which tore at her. If she didn’t watch it, she’d continue spiraling and trip into disaster, all the way out here. She had to keep it together, do the tattoos, and figure out her next move.

  “Promise me this isn’t one of those parties where everyone gets plastered. Three is my limit.”

  “Is that three after this one or including?” Ivy asked, pouring a liberal finger of vodka into chilled shot glasses.

  “Umm. Including these,” Sommer said.

  Ivy nodded and splashed another semi-shot into each glass. She just knew that’s what her friend would do. Ivy could outdrink a thirsty fish, and not once had Sommer bested her.

  “To Hollywood,” Ivy sang out.

  “Cheers!” She tapped and tipped her glass, swallowing the Grey Goose, and flinching at the chill that turned into a slow burn once her throat figured out that it wasn’t a sip of ice water sliding down her chute.

  Sommer gripped the armrest of the Escalade as Ivy floored the gas. The forward motion caused her head to knock back into the neck rest. She noticed they were headed away from the city and toward the hills. “I thought we were headed to the studio, to meet Vince.”

  “Nope. He texted earlier. He’ll get a ride and we’ll rendezvous at the party,” Ivy said, flooring the gas.

  They sped down street after street until they reached the foothills, and the streets turned dark and became far, far less congested in winding paths and single lanes. The GPS’s robotic voice spat out the directions, sometimes in a rapid-fire sequence. Humongous trees and vegetation grew in abundance, black shapes against the night sky. More and more homes sprawled from the confines of tall stone walls, visible between the metal spindles and rails of electronic gates.

  Up ahead, the red glare of taillights shone, getting brighter, and then headlights flashed through the rear of the SUV, as other cars crept closer behind them.

  “Is this the place?” Sommer asked, peering over at valets dressed in white shirts and dark shorts, opening doors, and exchanging places with drivers.

  “Yep,” Ivy exclaimed and inched the SUV forward. “Get ready to tuck and roll.”

  No sooner had Ivy warned her, then the driver’s side door opened and a sweaty-faced guy smiled and had a ticket stub ready for her to take. Sommer unbuckled and grabbed her purse, opening her door, and stood back as the SUV’s tires screeched. The street rose at a serious incline, and Sommer attempted to skitter across the road, but the next driver had already started forward in the fast growing queue.

  “Hold it,” the valet hollered, jerking his palm out. “Better hurry.”

  “Sommer, be careful,” Ivy gasped, meeting her in the middle of the street.

  “It’s crazy to cross the street in Hollywood,” she panted, and waved at the valet. “Whew! Thanks, ya hear.”

  “Do I hear a little bit of country?” The valet grinned and followed up with a wink.

  Both she and Ivy laughed and shook their heads. “People act so surprised when I speak.” Ivy shrugged. “I don’t get it, but now I have company.”

  “How long are we staying at the party?” Sommer eyed the swarming mass of people milling about what appeared to be an exclusive and stately home hidden behind a high stone wall.

  The gates were open and sleek cars lined the sweeping circular driveway in both directions, spilling up and down the street for as far as she could see. A loud rumbling rose amidst the car horns, and Sommer recognized a steady, threading bass beat that grew louder as they crossed the driveway.

  “Jesus H. Christ!” Ivy shrieked when her heel got caught. She and Ivy grabbed hold of each other, balancing on their heels. Not so easy, considering some of the walkway pavers rocked perilously in haphazard spots.

  Sommer bent down and freed Ivy’s heel. “We’d better watch our step.”

  “You said it. Walk on your toes if you can.” Ivy glared at the walkway.

  Up ahead bright lights shone from within the house; the front door was perpetually opening and closing, emitting bleeps of music, laughter, and a few cheers.

  “How are we going to find Vince inside this place without a GPS and a highly trained Sherpa. Does your phone have a special app?”

  “Not to worry. A lot of these dudes roaming around are security. Once we breach the front door, things will settle down. People come and go from house parties all the time. Nothing gets too out of control.”

  She held her quip that limits probably did get pushed up here—not wanting to tempt fate. Once they were inside, things did calm down just as Ivy had promised. The spacious white room decorated in ultra-modern furniture and all sorts of colorful artwork.

  Ivy immediately snagged two flutes of champagne, pushing one into her hand. “Cheers, girl. Welcome to Hollywood.”

  “Back at ya,” Sommer echoed.

  As they sipped and walked amongst the horde of guests, Ivy whispered the names of several celebrities and used her eyes to direct Sommer’s attention where to star gaze. Several well-known people passed by them. Some greeted Ivy while others looked at them with varying degrees of interest to downright ogling.

  A willowy woman with cocoa-colored skin and long bleached dreads hugged Ivy and laughed. “You’d better go catch your fiancé before his band gets going. He’s looking for you. They’re setting up outside or at least the drummer was.”

  Ivy turned to her. “Sommer, meet Bonita. She’s Vince’s agent. Bo, this is Sommer. My best friend from back home.”

  “Well, hello. Pretty name. Is that like summer, the season?” Bo asked, speaking with a melodic accent.

  “Sort of, but spelled with an ‘O’.” Sommer nodded. “You’re not from here either.”

  “Hardly. Cuban born, but I was raised in Louisiana. We came over on a raft in the 90’s and had a choice, Nebraska or Louisiana.”

  “Do you remember crossing the sea on a raft?” Sommer couldn’t fathom what a small child would do in such strange circumstance
s.

  Bo smiled and nodded. “Only too well. I don’t enjoy bathing in the ocean. Lakes…I’m okay with, but I stay clear of the sea.”

  “Can’t say I have anything to compare,” Sommer replied.

  “Oh, I doubt that. Ink artist, right? Enjoy the party.” Bo laughed.

  “You’re not leaving already?” Ivy’s eyes widened.

  “Afraid so, but you know how that goes. Gotta begin saying adios an hour before launch. But you just got here. Plenty to see and do. Nice to meet you, Sommer. Catch you around.”

  “Bye, Bo.” Sommer waved and followed Ivy through the throng of people.

  Ivy handed Sommer her empty flute and jerked her chin sharply in the direction of the bar. “Go get another drink and I’ll meet you back here. I need to track down Vince.”

  Her friend leveled her shoulders as if she were preparing to go do battle outside on the patio. Hollywood wasn’t a cake walk, or that’s the feeling she was starting to get this evening from Ivy. How does she manage? I’d be a basket case in a week. Sommer walked up to the wide bar, setting the empty glasses down on the counter, and ordered a rum and coke, glancing around and noticing several pairs of unfamiliar eyes staring back. Hard to believe that a house would have a bar this long inside, but then again, considering the wall of glass overlooking a pool and beyond. The whole of L.A. backlit the party. What did she expect?

  She sipped her drink, stepping away from the bar, and idly moving within the flow of guests. She stationed herself near the doorway to the terrace, but men kept coming up to her and asking her if she was some actress. Someone she’d never heard of, and after denying it and almost getting into an argument with the last guy who drunkenly demanded to know why she hadn’t returned his call. She moved toward the other side of the room, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

  A pair of women knocked into her and her drink splashed down the front of her dress. “Oh my,” one of them said without apology.

  Sommer sucked in her breath and set her now empty cup on a table. Over the light hardwood floors her drink formed a puddle and she would be damned if she’d end up slipping and falling. She scooted past with one plan: to find a bathroom and hopefully a hair-dryer, and maybe she could remove the stain and dry the dress, and prevent this rough night from devolving further. Glancing around the large living room, she noticed several doorways and wondered which one contained less foot traffic. After a rapid eeny, meeny, miny, moe, she selected the dimmest looking doorway.

  Walking through the living room, several people glanced at her, and then lowered their gazes down her dress. She couldn’t escape into the hallway soon enough, and practically hugged the wall, her heels clicking on the floor as she searched, more like groped her way along the hall. She ended up bumping into a life-size statute and by mistake, murmured, “Excuse me.”

  On this side of the house, it was quiet, except for low-pitched music that seemed to be coming from behind one of the closed doors. Inside this never-ending maze, her neck tightened into bands of tension. Finally when she was just about to turn around, the darkness gave way to a beam of light. The hall veered to the right abruptly, and a crack of light shone from under a doorway.

  She stopped and pushed open the door, desperate to deal with her dress and wondering if Ivy had returned to the living room and was now looking for her. Rushing inside, she confronted several shades of naked skin. A woman motioned to her to join them on the ginormous bed and Sommer shook her head, glancing down not interested to see whatever else was going on inside.

  “Sorry!” she gasped, skittering back through the doorway then slamming the door shut. Oh dear God. What an eyeful. She leaned against the wall unsure what to think of the orgy she’d just witnessed.

  Okay, this was LA and those were adults. Was she going to revert to being small-minded? A small voice shouted, yes.

  “No,” she countered out loud and shored up her resolve to prevail in her mission to find a bathroom, not freak out. Stepping away from the doorway, she refocused on the task at hand, weighing if she should return to the main room and try another hall. But she’d have to brave a few hundred stares. The guests outside around the pool, or those mingling in the living room aka her future potential client list wouldn’t be impressed. A soda-stained girl from Texas was all sorts of ways not cute. Who would trust their skin to someone who looked less than sophisticated? She sure wouldn’t!

  Sommer stopped her mental rant. There had to be another bathroom here. The hall grew dimmer further down. Also became much more isolated. She opened a door, feeling along the wall for a light switch until her fingers glided over a panel and she pressed a button. Glowing light flooded the far wall from recessed high hats, as she stumbled inside.

  Thank goodness it’s a bedroom. A very vacant bedroom with three doorways—surely one of them of them led to a bath. Entering the room, she shut the door and stared across at the other three doors.

  Immediately she checked the far one off her list. A French door that led outside. Convenient. She’d clean up and afterward, she’d exit the bedroom to the patio, avoiding the mad crush inside the living room. A silver lining to her dash down the hall.

  Walking a beeline to the nearest door, she twisted the knob and hallelujah. Sommer met her reflection in the vanity mirror and flipped on the lights. With a single-minded tenacity, she opened and closed the cabinets, finding a whole lot of nothing besides a few rolls of toilet paper. Not a hairdryer in sight.

  She ran her fingers down the front of the dress. It was almost dry, and no wonder, the cloth was as delicate as tissue paper. If she could just blot the stain out with some soap and water, she’d consider that a score for the home team. Afterward, the dress could air dry, same as before.

  Standing in front of the sink, she wondered what removed soda? Hot water or cold? She shimmied out of the dress and wet the corner of the hand towel. With a little soap, a little water, and a little prayer, she gently scrubbed the stain.

  Someone upstairs must have liked her tonight. The stain began to recede in size and appearance as she rubbed. Standing there in her panties, without a bra, she blotted dry the dress and wanted to squeal with joy that the stain came out. She lifted the dress and shook it as a light flickered, drawing her attention to the mirror where she caught sight of a pair of dark eyes. She rapidly did a double take, meeting none other than Drew’s unwavering gaze. He leaned against the door jamb and didn’t break staring at her.

  Her heart all but leapt into her throat. “What are you doing in here?” she gasped, pressing the dress to her chest as her pulse galloped and her face heated.

  “Just watching you, beautiful. Shit, Sommer you’ve had me going since Labor Day. But it was worth the time it took to get you to come out here. You can’t imagine the connections I tapped and favors I called in.”

  Her brain reconnected and she realized the source of the flash. “Stop!” she demanded as he snapped another picture with his cell. “Fuck, you’re more stunning than I remember.”

  From stunned stupid, she saw red. “Are you depraved or just the spawn of the devil? You have no right to sneak in here and watch me. Take a picture of me—while I’m trying to clean up.”

  “Then you should’ve locked the door.” There was no mistaking his smug tone or how he looked like he could barely restrain his smile. The familiar, repulsive Cheshire cat grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, and she itched to slap the smile off his face.

  “You’re a freaking stalker!” Her chest heaved and she wanted to hurl something at Drew’s head. “Get out!”

  “You gonna make me, Sommer?” He tucked his cell in his back pocket, rolling his chin then he stopped abruptly as if he were gearing up for taking her on. Bracing his hands on either side of the doorway, he roved his gaze down her body. “Well? It’s your move, sweetheart.”

  Swallowing, she stood there half-clothed, frozen to the spot as she scanned the room. The bedroom door was shut. He entered and must�
�ve shut the door behind him. On this side of the house, who would hear me if I called out for help?

  He wasn’t some scrawny guy tanked up on too much tequila. If anything, the way his pitch-colored eyes glimmered, him poised and ready reminded her of one of the coyotes she’d seen after a decimating storm. Cunning if not ruthless in how they tracked and attacked cornered prey.

  The music outside was loud, and inside the room, echoes of drunken laughter rose and fell. This bath had to be on the far end of the patio—actually, she had no idea how the patio was laid out. But he wasn’t about to do something stupid and get arrested.

  He was a bully. Obnoxious, egotistical asshole. And there was only one way to deal with this type of tyrant. Looking him dead in the eye, she lunged forward and slammed the bathroom door shut, bolting the lock. She pulled on the damp dress chilly against her skin as Drew laughed snidely. The sound sent a chill up her spine. Low and sure, as if this were a game she was playing he greatly enjoyed.

  Great going. Inside the bathroom, she might’ve put a barrier between them, but she was truly caged, and her heart hammered faster. No window she could climb out of, and the bathroom door handle jiggled, pricking her senses.

  Drew knocked on the door. Two slow thuds. “Sommer, come out. I just want to talk. Get to know you better.”

  She stepped backward and bumped into the edge of the vanity. The only thing in the bathroom, herself aside, was TP and a hand towel. She couldn’t even make a run for the bedroom door with these god-awful stilts on her feet—she just had to wear neck-breaking heels. Reopening the cabinets, she spied a plunger.

  “Leave me alone.” She glared at the door as though she could will Drew away.

  “Now that’s something I just can’t do,” Drew said and the doorknob rattled again. “Sommer, you don’t want to make me mad. Not if you haven’t popped your cherry yet. I’m going to nail your cunt. How ramped I get is up to you.”