by Lynn Stevens
“Problem?” he asked.
The edge, yeah, I went over it. I was way too tired to deal with his bipolar bullshit. “Yeah, there’s a few problems. One, I don’t have a boyfriend. Two, I’m late for a party. Three, you’re being a colossal asshole right now, and I’d rather you wouldn’t. Is that enough or would you like more?”
“There’s more? Please, enlighten me.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Although I have to admit, I’m not surprised you don’t have a boyfriend. Scare them all off with your wonderful personality?”
“And we all know how your lovely personality handles the ladies,” I shot back like a spitting cobra. It was a strike below the belt, and I knew it, but this guy was so freaking arrogant and self-assured and just a jackass overall.
He laughed, and I hated him even more. “If you’re referring to Sheila, you’re so far off the mark you can’t see the target, sweet cheeks.”
“I wasn’t referring to Sheila,” I said. The tabloids were pretty sure Gracin’s fall from grace had to do with his famous girlfriend dumping him by cheating in plain sight. She was seen at a film festival with her arms wrapped around pop music’s latest bad boy. Apparently, she hadn’t bothered to tell Gracin it was over between them.
He closed the gap between us, breathing heavy as he bent so we were nose to nose. “You can’t believe everything you see on TV, Carly,” he whispered.
“What about what I read, Gracin? Or is everything that’s been written about you just a bunch of fairytales?” Me and my big mouth. I should’ve let it go, but I wouldn’t be me if I let him, or anybody else for that matter, have the last word. Well, that and arguing with someone who fought back was kind of a turn on. This was so not good.
“You don’t shut up, do you?” His lips were parted slightly. All it would take was a tilt of the head and an inch to close that distance.
And I waited for that to happen, wondering what his lips would taste like.
Gracin stepped back, breaking the hold his stare had on me and knocking reality back in. God, what was I thinking?
He shook his head and grabbed a white t-shirt as he strolled toward the door. “Lock up on your way out.”
I flinched when the thick wood connected against the frame behind him. Rage built inside me, resulting in a very childish scream and foot-stomping incident. Worse, I threw the only thing I had available. My precious cell phone shattered against the door like glass against concrete.
So much for screen protectors.
Why did August twenty-seventh have to be so far away?
CHAPTER FOUR
Ugh, the hangover to end all hangovers. I glanced around to make sure I was, in fact, in my own room and not waking up in someplace I’d regret. The dark purple comforter half covering my body slid to the floor. Black dresser with white drawers near the window, lamp with black shade on the nightstand, and a bookcase with rocks, leaves, and various colored carabiners filled each shelf. I smiled at my trophies, each taken or left over from a climb or jump or whatever adventure I had survived. Yep, made it home.
I closed my eyes to block out the sunlight breaking through the blinds. The night before flicked in and out like a blurry slideshow on my eyelids. After breaking my cell, I had pushed through the fans and photographers outside the theater and climbed on my scooter. The graduation party had been in a hidden cove south of town. The bonfire had licked the sky, and the alcohol had flowed like water. Things had gotten fuzzy really fast. I vaguely remembered midnight skiing, Jell-O shots, and a fire jump. Wait, had I tried to jump through the bonfire? I grabbed my hair and smoothed my hands over the strands. No damage. That was a massive relief. Then another question hit me. How had I gotten home?
The pounding on my bedroom door only intensified the pounding in my head. It was like a crew of miners were trapped inside my skull, and they were using every tool at their disposal to get out. Maybe that last round of quarters had been a bad idea after all.
“Carly May Reynolds, get your ass out here right now!” Dad didn’t need to yell so loud.
I rolled off the bed, tangling myself in the sheets and comforter. At least I’d had the forethought to change into my usual sleepwear – a tank and boxers.
“Yeah?” I asked after I yanked the door open. “What’d I do this time?”
If Dad’s face turned any redder, he could be mistaken for jolly. Although that was highly unlikely at the moment.
“Do you know what time it is, young lady?”
“No idea, Pops. I was dead asleep.” My sarcasm wouldn’t be suppressed by a mere hangover.
He pointed to his watch like I could see it. I’d left my contacts in all night so everything looked dry. After blinking several times, he finally came into focus.
“It’s one in the afternoon, Carly.” He rubbed his hand over his extended forehead. “Albert Ford called and said you hadn’t shown up yet.”
I waited for more, because with my father there was always a long pause before the indictments came. He stared me in the eye. I did my best not to flinch or look away. Chalk it up to another failure on my part, because I couldn’t handle the unsaid accusations. Especially since I was totally guilty on all charges.
“Just get dressed, Carly. I’ll drop you off at the theater.” He turned around, and I kept waiting for the ball to drop. “I’m sure you’ll find a ride home after the show tonight.”
Dad walked down the hallway, stomped down the steps, and didn’t say another word. Never in my life had I gotten off so easy. Never in my life had I felt worse, either. I showered in record time and didn’t even bother with makeup. Nobody to impress anyway.
The ride to the theater was silent, but the tension tasted like unrealized expectations on my tongue. Dad parked in the loading zone by the stage door. The car idled while I tried to come up with a feasible explanation. I hated lying. Usually twisting the truth to my family was a necessary evil, but I couldn’t come up with anything that would make sense. Maybe it was time I apologized for being such a selfish dolt.
“Dad –”
“I don’t want to hear it, Carly.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “We’ve been doing this for years, and it doesn’t matter what you say anymore. I’m tired of bailing you out. It’s time you learn that your actions have consequences.” He turned and stared at me, searching my face for something. Maybe the little girl he’d lost long ago. His shoulders dropped, and he sounded tired. “Just get to work.”
Swallowing the lump of guilt in my throat, I nodded and got out of the car. The door had barely closed before he backed away. I watched my father drive off. Not once did he even glance back in the rearview mirror.
Nobody said a word as I shuffled toward Gracin’s dressing room. This was the last place I wanted to be. Outside the door, I heard the distinct sound of an argument. At least someone else’s problems would be a distraction from my own. I pressed my ear to get a better idea of what was going on. It helped that hangovers amplified all sound.
“That’s final. How many times do I have to tell you this?” Albert Ford’s distinct timbre enunciated each word. “Stick with the set list. Don’t even think about deviating from it.”
“I just wanted –”
“It doesn’t matter what you want, boy. When will you get that through your thick head?” Albert paused before a heartless chuckle left his lips. “It matters what the crowd wants. Your opinion means shit.”
I opened the door without knocking. Gracin may be a dick, but his father shouldn’t talk to him like that.
“Oh, sorry.” It was pretty clear I wasn’t. “I guess I should’ve knocked first, but I’m running late –”
Albert turned on me. “Don’t be late again, Miss Reynolds. I won’t tolerate such behavior from my employees.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t work for you then, Mr. Ford,” I snapped and pointed to the white embroidery on my turquoise polo.
That seemed to piss him off to the point he didn’t know what to say. It was a
gift I didn’t mind bearing. Albert slammed the door behind him, rattling Gracin’s mirror, and sending a few of his assorted hats tumbling to the floor. I closed my eyes as the vibrations ricocheted around my head at lightspeed.
“Well, then,” I said, turning toward Gracin with a smile. It disappeared when I saw the anger building in his blue eyes. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me a little. His gaze intensified, reminding me of something I’d not like to relive in his dressing room. So, I tried and failed to diffuse it. “I’m here.”
Gracin came at me like a tornado in a trailer park. He ripped the sunglasses off my face and grabbed my chin.
“Hey, unnecessary roughness,” I whimpered. My legs weakened as his fingers burned into my skin. Memories swirled, raising bile in my throat. I pushed them back down with a heavy gulp.
“A little hungover, Carly?” Gracin cocked his head to the side. “Too much tequila?”
“Back off.” I tried to shake off his grip, but wooziness hit me wave after wave. He wasn’t holding me that hard either. His thumb rubbed over my jaw. My emotions joined the hangover dizziness. I closed my eyes, actually enjoying the softness of his skin. Then he opened his mouth, ruining everything.
“As long as you’re my personal assistant, you won’t drink. You won’t even look at alcohol the rest of the summer. If you fuck this up, I will tell your father and he will fire you. And if I understand the deal you made with him, you won’t go to U of N this fall.” Gracin let go of my chin and stepped back. “Now go home. I don’t need you today.”
I felt like a petulant child, and I didn’t like it one bit. And damn him for knowing the deal. “I’m fine.”
“Carly…” The way he let my name roll off his tongue sent shivers down my spine.
“I’m not leaving. It’s not the first time I’ve had to work with a massive hangover.”
“Make it the last.”
We stared at one another for a moment before I understood he wanted me to agree with him. Finally, I nodded.
“Good.” Gracin strode to the door with the grace of a gazelle. “Meet me at my cabin at six tomorrow morning. You’re going to start running with me.”
It took a minute to register, but when it did, my heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me?”
“You’re exhausted because you’re out of shape, and you need a different hobby. I run three to five miles every morning.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You’ll run with me. It’ll help.”
The door clicked behind him, but it might as well have slammed. Ow.
Not too many people can make me speechless. Gracin Ford seemed to be one. Out of shape my ass. I ran cross-country in the fall and track in the spring. I’d done it to pad my college applications but had no desire to become a professional marathon runner. I reached for my phone to text Gracin to go to hell before I remembered why it wasn’t in my pocket.
Dad’s voice rang in my head. “Give him whatever he wants, Carly. Make this the best place he’s ever played. We want a happy singer, not a pissy one.”
Dad wanted Gracin happy, which would make Dad happy. I’d have to do whatever it took to make my father proud of me again. Besides, there were worse things I could do than run with Gracin Ford. Running was actually fairly harmless. It also gave me a chance to show this guy what I was made of. Gracin thought I was some lazy alcoholic. Time to prove him wrong.
I loved a challenge, and Gracin Ford was going to find out how much.
CHAPTER FIVE
I stared at the coffee slowly dripping into the pot. Talk about torture. Five a.m. was too early for anyone under the age of thirty.
“Carly?” Dad shuffled into the kitchen in a Led Zepplin t-shirt and shorts. What was left of his hair stood at awkward angles, making him look like a mad scientist. If I wasn’t so tired, I would’ve laughed. “What’re you doing up at this hour?”
“Apparently, running.” I turned back to the coffee pot. Just one more cup to brew.
“Ah, that explains the clothes,” Dad said.
I glanced down at my neon green racerback tank and black running shorts and shrugged.
He slid onto a stool and leaned his elbows onto the island. “Pour me a cup when it’s ready. Any reason why you’re running?”
I reached into the cabinet and took out Dad’s favorite mug, setting it beside mine on the white granite counter. “Gracin runs every morning at six. He wants me to run with him. After …,” I didn’t want to remind him of yesterday’s issue. He wasn’t quite awake yet either, so it would only ruin the moment. “Anyway, he said I need to get into shape if I’m going to survive the summer.”
Dad chuckled as the coffee beeped. Finally, I poured the liquid gold into the mugs, setting Dad’s in front of him as I moved toward the fridge for the cinnamon creamer.
“That’s a little outside your job.” Dad sipped and let out an exaggerated “ah.”
We sipped in silence. The coffee woke me to coherency. “Well, you did tell me to give him everything he wants. I’m just following orders.”
Dad cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing. I could almost see the cogs churning in his brain. When his eyes widened, I wondered what his mind suddenly focused on. “There are … limitations to ….”
I almost choked on the last of my sweetened coffee. “Dad!”
“I just want you to understand –”
“Oh my God!” He couldn’t possibly imagine I’d … No, even imagining it made it too real. I’d never sleep with Gracin just to keep my job. For crying out loud, I had some standards. I rushed out of the kitchen, my face burning from anger. How little my father thought of me.
“Carly,” Dad yelled.
I kept going down the hall, grabbing my keys and wallet from the small table in the foyer without stopping. Dad yelled after me again, but I slammed the front door behind me before I heard anything other than my name. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing he said could take back the implications, the idea I’d do something like that. It would be a step below prostitution. I’d done some stupid stuff in my life, but nothing warranted this kind of reaction. I tugged my helmet on, rushing to get away before Dad could come outside and make matters worse. The scooter started with a kitten’s roar. As I pulled onto the street, I glanced at my mirror. Dad stood in the front yard, watching me drive away. His head dropped to his chest.
Good. I deserved a bit more credit.
∞ ∞ ∞
Gracin opened his door. His smile disappeared as fast as a blink.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” I tossed my wallet and keys on the loveseat just inside the door, stepping back before they fell with a clunk onto the hardwood floor.
“Okay,” Gracin said. He closed the door behind him and locked it, shoving the key card under a potted plant. There wasn’t any other place for him to put it. His tight black shorts and blue tank didn’t have pockets. Obviously. Not that I checked out how his butt looked beneath the thin material, but it was a great momentary distraction.
Dad’s unsaid allegation snapped me back to reality. Even if I found Gracin attractive – which hello, what living, breathing female wouldn’t – I wouldn’t have sex with him out of any sort of obligation to my father or my job. That’s what pissed me off more than anything.
Gracin stretched and instructed me to do the same. My body listened, but I fumed as I replayed the conversation again. And again. It made me angrier each time. We started to jog, Gracin talking non-stop. I heard nothing but the lull of his voice. He was so self-assured, he probably thought any woman would jump into the sack with him with a flutter of his too-sexy eyelashes. What an ass. After a few minutes, I lost it.
“Do you ever shut up?” I snapped. Our shoes slapped on the pavement, echoing off the buildings. Gracin had chosen to run along the road leading away from the lake and toward the heart of Branson. The slight incline forced me to run harder than I wanted to at the moment.
Gracin didn’t break stride,
but he stopped talking. We ran in silence, my breath growing heavy. The incline changed to flat ground, and I picked up the pace. Every time my foot hit the pavement, I saw my father’s eyes widen. My run turned into a sprint. Sweat mixed with the tears flowing down my cheeks. I ran out my anger until I had to stop to catch my breath. Sobs racked through my body, and snot oozed from my nose. God, I was a mess.
Gracin stopped beside me, his breath blowing hot air into my space. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I put my hands on my hips and stretched, arching my back and staring at the lightening blue sky. The orange tint from the sunrise faded before my eyes.
The last time I’d seen the sunrise was a week before prom when my then boyfriend had dumped me. The break-up hadn’t been as upsetting as the timing. Tyler and I had only gone out for a couple of months. He had been smarter than most guys I dated, and his runner’s build was sexy without being overly athletic. While I had liked him well enough, I wasn’t in love with him. I had wanted to be though. I had wanted to know what it felt like to love someone. No, the fact he dumped me only hours after we’d had sex for the first time had raised my inner bitch. Hell, I hadn’t even cared it was a week before prom. We were lying on his dad’s bass boat, half naked, when he’d said it wasn’t working. Let’s just say one of us had ended up taking a swim. I’d run to my favorite hiding place, a parking lot overlooking the lake. I’d sat there for hours, staring at the water and wondering why I’d let it get as far as it had with Tyler. I’d been trying to control every aspect of my life. The truth was it had been spinning out of control for so long, I’d forgotten what it was like not to spin.
“Are you –”
“I said I’m fine. Drop it.” I turned toward Gracin and grimaced. He wasn’t trying to be a jackass.
“Then stop crying like a girl, and let’s run.”
“I am a girl, jackhole. In case you didn’t notice.” My jaw tightened, grinding my teeth together.
