Dirty Jock

by Sienna Valentine

  “I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else I could possibly say. “I’m sorry. I... I was….”

  Layla pulled back again, looking from me to Campbell and back again. “You were with this guy?” Her tone and facial expression told me she was not impressed.

  “It’s... a long story,” I protested. My etiquette training kicked in, then, and I started introductions. “Layla, this is,” I began, and then I broke off. I still didn’t know his name.

  “Bennett Campbell,” he said, saving me the embarrassment by finishing the introduction quickly, not leaving a long enough gap for it to be obvious I wasn’t sure how to finish it. He offered his hand to Layla.

  Bennett. That’s right. Then I remembered something, a fresh snippet from last night returning to my foggy brain: it was me, laughing over his name, calling him Cowboy instead, for some reason. He’d kissed me after, I was certain of that, and my cheeks heated at the intensity of that particular memory.

  “Right,” I said, pulling my composure around me like a shield. “Bennett Campbell. My... my husband. Meet Layla. My assistant… and my friend.”

  I expected a violent reaction. Screaming maybe. For a brief moment, I worried the pepper spray Layla always kept in her silver-studded bag might make an appearance.

  Instead, she looked at me, eyes wide, then at Bennett, then back again.

  And then she started laughing. Layla’s laugh was the sort of laugh I wished I was allowed to have. My laugh was dainty and sweet, conditioned that way through years of coaching by Ken. Layla’s laugh was just like her: brash and loud and unabashed. She snorted a little, and even that was endearing.

  “Good one,” she said, her amusement still echoing slightly in the cavernous lobby. “I'm not falling for the 'married a stranger in Vegas cliché,' it's been done a million times before."

  I didn’t answer. It hadn’t occurred to me that Layla might not believe me, but of course she didn’t. Who would ever believe Ava Cassidy would have a Vegas fling that ended in matrimony. I hadn’t quite reached Britney levels of crazy yet, but it seemed like I was on my way.

  Bennett was quiet as well, as though he were taking his cues from me. I wished he wouldn’t. I was working off-script here.

  Layla must have noticed our silence because the grin slid from her face, and she looked at me sternly. “Shit. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Before I could answer, Bennett stepped in. “As cancer,” he said with a nod, but there was a twinkle in his eye that let me know he was enjoying this whole situation. “We’re just on our way off to our honeymoon.”

  Layla’s face seemed stuck in a mask of disbelief. Severely unimpressed disbelief. “Your honeymoon?” she asked, dry as a desert.

  “Yep,” Bennett answered. “Two weeks of blissful solitude just outside Fresno.”

  “Oh, hell to the no,” Layla responded, holding one hand up to Bennett before turning her attention to me. “There is no fucking way I’m letting you run off with a stranger to Fresno, of all places. Married or not.”

  I inhaled. Of course she was right. Of course this was ridiculous. Why did I think this was okay to do? Even if I wasn’t going to be working for the next few weeks, it was madness to run off like this with a virtual stranger. I was about to say as much to Layla when she continued.

  “Clearly, I am coming with you to oversee this,” she made a vague gesture with her hand, encompassing both Bennett and myself, “situation.”

  My mouth dropped open, and I glanced to Bennett, sure he would protest. Instead, he shrugged, grinning at us both. “The more the merrier,” he said. “I’ll call ahead and get you a room set up.”

  Layla moved closer to me, taking my free arm. “You do that, Mr. Campbell. We’ll wait right here.”

  As I watched Bennett move toward the desk to check us out, I felt Layla’s grip on my arm tighten. “Girl, you have got some serious explaining to do,” she said. “Best get started.”

  Chapter 8

  Bennett

  I left Ava to explain the situation to her friend while I finished checking out and made sure my bags were brought down to the car, as well as having Ava and Layla’s bags brought down from their room. Things were starting to get complicated. Now I was fooling both of them, and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep it up.

  I wasn’t sure how long I wanted to keep it up.

  Layla kept her eyes on me the whole time I was at the front desk. I could feel them, like they were burrowing into the back of my skull. If I came clean now, I was genuinely afraid she might beat the shit out of me, and she looked like the type who could manage it. Like the type who had probably beat the shit out of a good number of poor jerks over the years.

  No, I couldn’t fess up now. I had to get Layla on my side, first. If she liked me, she might not kill me. Or even more importantly, if she liked me enough, maybe she’d even help convince Ava not to hate me when she learned the truth.

  Once I’d been assured that we were all checked out smoothly (I covered the bill for their room—it was the least I could do), I returned to the two women. They were clearly still discussing me, so I cleared my throat softly to let them know I was within earshot.

  “Everything okay, ladies?” I asked, touching Ava’s arm lightly. Little details like that were key to selling my story, but even still, I was more than happy for any excuse to lay my hands on her again. After last night, it was hard to think of anything else but how wonderful her body felt.

  “Everything’s fine,” Ava answered, smiling up at me. Her smile was a little tight, a little forced, and I wondered what she and Layla had been discussing, exactly. Obviously I had been the subject, but it was the specifics that had me curious, if not the slight bit concerned.

  “So,” Layla said, turning to face me head on. “What’s so amazing in Fresno that a guy with a chartered plane would spend his honeymoon there?” Her arms were crossed in full-on defensive mode, and I knew I’d have to be careful around her. She was playing the part of Mama Bear, and even though it was me she was protecting Ava against, it actually made me start to like her. I was happy to know there was at least one person like that in Ava’s life. It made me feel less worried for her future. Ava deserved someone she could trust.

  “Ava said she wanted to get away,” I said, guiding them out to where the car was waiting as soon as I saw the bellhop with our bags. “So we’re going to my ranch. It’s quiet and secluded, and nobody will bother us there.”

  Layla arched an exquisitely manicured eyebrow at me, sticking as close to her friend as she could manage. “You own a ranch?” she asked, looking me over skeptically.

  It was a fair point. In my Ted Baker chinos and John Varvatos sports shirt, I was not exactly the image of a rancher. I shrugged, nodding to the driver as he held the door open for us to slide into the back of the car.

  Once we were settled, I said, “It’s more of a retreat.” I was answering Layla, but my attention was on Ava. She was the more important one. I tried to tell myself it was because it was more important for her to believe my story, but that wasn’t quite true. I really just wanted her to be satisfied—no, more than satisfied, happy—with our destination. With who she was going with. I wanted her to be looking forward to our honeymoon, even though I knew it was fake. “I used to go there with my parents when I was younger. Sort of an upscale dude ranch slash campground. I heard it was going up for sale a few years ago, and I couldn’t stand the thought of it being turned into condos, so….” I shrugged again, as though the rest were obvious.

  “So you swooped in with your bank account and saved the day?” Layla asked, her face a study in skepticism. “That’s so….”

  Clearly, she had been about to say something insulting, but Ava cut her off with, “Sweet. I didn’t know that. About your family going there, I mean.” She paused, looking me over with that curious expression I was already becoming familiar with, like I was a puzzle she was trying to work out. “Thank you. Thank you for taking me there.”


  She was so sweet, so goddamn sincere, that I almost confessed right there. And I probably would have, if Layla hadn’t broken in to say, “Yeah, thanks for taking us to your creepy murder ranch, strange, probably-not-a-serial-killer-but-who-really-knows dude.”

  “Layla!” Ava chided, but I held up my hands.

  “No, no, it’s a fair point. I’m whisking two beautiful young women off to my secluded ranch. She has every right to be concerned for her friend.” Turning to Layla, I added, “If you don’t want to go, if you’re worried my intentions might not be honorable, we can turn around right now and go back to the hotel.”

  Layla gave me a hard, considering look, then glanced to Ava.

  “Please,” Ava said quietly. “Please, I just want to get away. Just for a few days. Just until the worst of it has blown over.”

  Layla’s eyes stayed on me a moment longer before flitting over to Ava. “Honey, if you think running off to Fresno with some rando is gonna—”

  “I may be a rando, but I’m also rich and smart and handsome,” I cut in, flashing what I hoped was my most disarming smile.

  “Whatever... with any guy,” she said, rolling her eyes, “is gonna make things blow over faster, you gotta know that’s only gonna make things worse.”

  “I know,” Ava said, looking from Layla to me with such an intense plea in her eyes that my chest hurt, and I thought I’d do almost anything for her in that moment. “I know, but... I just need a few days away from... everything. I just need a few days to get my head on straight and decide what I want to do.”

  Layla’s gaze on me wasn’t any less suspicious, but she nodded. “All right. If that’s what you want, but,” she narrowed her eyes at me, “if anything even remotely creepy happens, we are out of there, got it?”

  “Got it,” Ava said, but Layla was still looking at me.

  “Got it,” I repeated, doing my best to look innocent.

  Layla humphed, and I grinned at her, unable to stop myself, until she finally asked, “What?”

  “You think I’m handsome. And charming. You think I’m handsome, and charming, and you’re excited to see what my ranch looks like.” My grin reached from one eye to the other, and I looked at Layla with as much self-satisfied smugness as I could muster.

  It was worth the slug to my arm from Layla to hear Ava laugh like that. Her laugh was like pure honey.

  I really tried not to be an arrogant, rich asshole. Sure I grew up comfortable, and my government contract has made me ridiculously wealthy now, but I’ve tried my best not to let that define me.

  Still, it stung my ego a little when Ava stepped onto the private jet I’d chartered and took her seat without even a moment’s awe. I was used to women being stunned by my generosity—or whatever it was they were stunned by—when I showed off a little for them. Ava just glanced around the cabin and took a seat on the semi-circular couch in the middle of the right hand side. I supposed she was used to this sort of opulence, but it still put me off my game a little. It even made me feel a little bit exposed.

  Then Layla swept past me and dropped into the seat next to her, glaring up at me as if daring me to protest.

  Instead, I squeezed myself in on Ava’s other side, forcing them both to scoot over to make room. Layla cleared her throat, and her glare darkened. I gave her my most winning smile and reminded her, “Handsome.”

  “Handsome only goes so far, buddy,” she answered, setting her purse next to her and rifling through it.

  “Be nice, you two,” Ava chided.

  “Yes, dear,” I answered, and Layla snorted, pulling a smartphone from her bag and plugging headphones in.

  “Ashley is going mental,” she said, scrolling through something on her screen. “She says you need to call her immediately. She’s worried you might have, and I quote, ‘done something desperate’ to yourself.”

  “Ugh,” Ava groaned, curling into herself on the seat next to me. I felt her shrinking, being diminished again by the problems and negativity in her life. I wanted to pull her back up again, let her fill the room like she had when we’d been alone together. “I can’t, Layla,” she said, and I reached over, curling my fingers around her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she squeezed them. “I just can’t. Let her know I haven’t offed myself, and I’ll... I’ll call her in a couple days.” I felt Layla’s eyes on us again, on our hands where they were joined on Ava’s lap. I couldn’t blame her for not trusting me. Not really.

  Even I wasn’t sure what I was doing anymore. I’d already let this prank go on too long, but the way Ava was leaning against me, seeming to draw strength from me….

  I couldn’t just drop her now. I couldn’t take away whatever sense of... I don’t know... peace? I’d given her. At the very least, even if she ended up hating me for it, she really could use this time away from everything and everyone. I told myself that the least I could do was give her that. If I fessed up now, the most likely scenario would be that she’d end up mad and leaving—running back into a world filled with complications that she really needed a break from.

  “Okay,” Layla said, our eyes meeting over Ava’s head. For once we both understood and agreed with each other. “Okay, boo.”

  Chapter 9

  Ava

  I fell asleep somewhere on the short flight between Vegas and Fresno, and I woke up with my cheek pressed against Bennett’s shoulder. It was hard to pull myself away. I couldn’t remember the last time Ken had let me just sleep on his shoulder. Bennett’s warmth and weight were comforting, and I inhaled slowly, breathing in the faint scent of cologne overlaid on the clean smell of the hotel’s soap. It amused me that someone with the kind of money he had would use the hotel’s soap.

  My head felt heavy as I lifted it from his shoulder, mumbling, “Hey, Cowboy.”

  “Hey, Sunshine,” he murmured in return. “We just landed. You wanna wake up your bodyguard?”

  I ran a hand through my hair, thankful I’d at least showered that morning. My clothes were starting to feel grungy, though. “My what?” I asked, looking around the cabin until my gaze fell on Layla’s sleeping form. She was curled up in the back of the couch, her heavy black boots on the floor beside her, pink-socked feet tucked under her legs.

  “Ah,” I said, finally sitting up straight. “Good call. She’s kind of a bear first thing.”

  “You don’t say,” Bennett answered, clearly amused. I watched as he stood and stretched, my eyes following the long line of his torso before turning away. Sometimes when I looked at him, quick and fleeting flashes of memory bloomed from that night, but every image that came to mind only brought a blush to my cheeks.

  “I’ll see to our luggage,” he continued. “Meet you outside if you survive?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said, laughing softly. As he turned and went I wondered about how easy it was to feel comfortable around him. Was that what I’d felt last night? Was that why I’d married him? It had been a long time since I’d known a man I just felt comfortable around. There was Layla, sure, but she was really all I had. I hadn’t seen my parents since Ken had convinced me they were trying to ruin my career. I’d said some pretty horrible things to them when I’d moved out. Going back home wasn’t really an option. I wasn’t ready to face them yet. Hopefully in time, I could figure out how to apologize.

  I managed to dodge Layla’s flailing arm when I woke her, and a few grumbling minutes later we were descending the staircase to the tarmac at another small airstrip. Bennett was waiting for us by a sleek, black Cadillac.

  “Well,” Layla said, taking my arm and adjusting her sunglasses. “At least he’s got style, boo.”

  “As if I’d be so tacky as to marry someone without style,” I returned, smiling in spite of myself when I met Bennett’s eyes.

  “Uh huh. How’s Elvis, by the way? I hear he does a mean Wedding March.”

  I nudged her ribs with my elbow, laughing, and turned toward Bennett as he held the car door open for us. The grin he answered with made my breath catc
h. I’d been trying, since waking up next to him this morning, to figure this guy—my apparent husband—out. Sometimes he seemed too smooth, like the guys at the clubs who just really wanted to say they’d slept with Gabby Rover. Sometimes, though, like when he smiled like this, he seemed like a real person.

  After spending a while in Hollywood, you start to believe that there aren’t any real people left in the world. Everyone is fake. Everyone is acting, all the time. Acting cool, acting smart, acting beautiful, acting sweet. Acting whatever it is that will get them the part or the deal or the headline.

  I could see that Bennett was acting too, some of the time, but when he grinned at me, when his hand lingered on my elbow as he helped me into the car, my heart stuttered a little. When Bennett was real, he was nothing but real.