by G. K. DeRosa
My luck it’ll be one of the chosen bachelors, and he’ll be super hot and I’ll do something really stupid. Like open my mouth.
Finally reaching my beat-up Corolla in the parking lot, I sink into the worn cloth seat and exhale a long breath. Patting the peeling steering wheel, memories of the cross-country drive to L.A. fill my thoughts. No one thought my old girl would make the twenty-eight hour trek. “We proved them wrong, didn’t we, Marilyn?” I named her after my all-time favorite actress, Marilyn Monroe, and I vowed to be as famous as she was one day.
I’d never forget the look on my parents’ faces when I told them I was moving to Hollywood after finishing two years of community college. Times were tough, but with my parents help, I’d scraped up enough money to pay for my associate’s degree and fund my trip to California afterward. I was worried now Dad would never be able to retire from the Quik Mart because of it. I felt bad leaving, but I promised myself that when I made it big, I’d pay them back.
A smile splits my lips as the image of Becky Sue’s slack-jawed expression flashes across my mind. My sister was so shocked at the news she almost dropped little Billy. She always has at least one kid strapped onto her while the other two pull at a leg or the hem of her skirt. That good-for-nothing husband of hers never spent more than a few minutes with those kids.
Sometimes I wondered if I wouldn’t have wanted to leave home so badly if my sister’s life hadn’t turned out so crappy.
The ding of my phone tears me away from the musings into my past. Digging it out of my purse, I grumble as the familiar name on the text message flashes across the screen. Bobby.
I miss you, Kimmie-Jayne.
I sigh and shove the phone back into my bag. Nope. I’m never going back. I refuse to become my mom or Becky Sue. I won’t get trapped in Clarksville for the rest of my life with a crumby job and a crumbier husband.
Not that Bobby is that bad. He was my first love—my first everything. When I found out he’d gotten a full ride to play baseball at the University of Missouri, I knew we were done. His path was set, predictable, and I wanted anything but. I want to be extraordinary. I want to be famous.
Maybe one day…
I flick the ignition, and Marilyn sputters to life. Turning out of the parking lot, I veer toward the sign for the freeway. I glance at the clock on the dash as I merge onto the on-ramp. Luckily, I have almost an hour until my shift starts. With this traffic, I’ll probably just make it in time.
The fifty-five minute bumper-to-bumper drive passes slower than watching paint dry. When I finally pull into an empty parking spot, I’m exhausted. Or maybe just depressed. I squirm out of my cute audition dress and into a bright yellow uniform shirt and black pants. Tugging the red apron out from under the passenger’s seat, I grimace. Through the windshield, the stupid chicken on the obnoxious red and yellow sign stares down at me.
I grab a scrunchie from the center console and pull my blonde hair back, adjusting my red visor under my ponytail.
That’s right. I work at a fast-food chicken joint.
Chapter 2
The best thing about working at a crappy fast food establishment is the free meals. Coming from Clarksville, Missouri, finding authentic Mexican food is a pretty impossible task. At least here, I get my belly’s fill.
Barreling through the front door, the scent of citrus, garlic and roasted meat fills my nostrils. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten all day. I’m totally having two orders of tacos for lunch. No reason to watch my weight after the blundered audition. The bell above the door chimes loudly, announcing my late arrival. I hastily throw the fire-engine-red apron over my head and tie it around my waist.
Hector stands by the cash register glaring, his chubby hands in tight fists on his hips. “Ay chica, you late again.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Hector. I just can’t seem to get used to this traffic.” I rush behind the counter, clock in, and slip my name badge on.
“Give her a break, jefe.” Lupita saunters over to my side and gives me a good hip bump. With her petite frame and darting dark eyes, she’s the only person I know that manages to look cute in our hideous uniforms. “She had an audition today. Our little gringuita is going to be a big star one day.”
I give her a grateful smile as Hector grunts and trudges away. I would never survive working at Pollo Loco without her.
“So how did it go?” she asks as soon as the door to the back office slams shut.
“I totally blew it.” I lean against the front counter and sigh. The place is empty. We’re in that awkward time between breakfast and lunch so I can vent.
“Ay, no mami, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” She adjusts my nametag and looks up at me from under a curtain of dark lashes. Lashes that I’d kill for. Lupita is beautiful and exotic, and I’m just plain. A plain Jane. “What was it for again?”
“It’s a new dating reality show called Hitched.” My voice goes up a notch, and even I can hear the excitement in my tone. I try to suppress it because there’s no way I landed the role after that cringe-worthy audition. “It takes place on some remote island, and one girl gets picked to date twenty-five guys. At the end, she has to choose one to marry.”
Lupita’s big black eyes widen. “Seriously? You’d marry some random guy?”
I shrug. “My agent told me most of it is fake, but what if I really did meet the one?”
She laughs and flicks my visor up. “You really are one of those hopeless romantics, aren’t you, chica?” She takes a sip from her soda and points a hot-pink manicured fingernail at me. “You better be careful, Kimmie-Jayne, I’m worried for you. Hollywood is going to eat you up and spit you out. You gotta be tough if you want to survive in this city.”
“I know,” I mutter, folding my hands over my chest.
The jingle of chiming bells draws my attention to the door, and a herd of teenagers make their way toward the counter. I glance at Lupita, and she rolls her eyes. Gossip time is over, and the lunch rush is about to begin.
I plaster a smile on my face and take a deep breath. “Welcome to Pollo Loco, what can I get you today?”
The next hour goes by in a rush of faces, piles of fire-grilled chicken, and overwhelming scents of cilantro and garlic. Every table in the small diner is filled, but the line has finally disappeared. I grab a drink from the soda fountain and lean against the counter, watching the customers scarf down their food.
My stomach rumbles again, reminding me I still haven’t eaten. I glance at my watch. Just fifteen more minutes until my lunch break.
Three police officers huddle around a table just a few feet away from the counter. I can’t help my gaze shifting in their direction. There’s something so dreamy about a man in uniform. I move closer to get a better look at one of the guys. He looks about my age, maybe older, around early-twenties. His broad shoulders and sandy-blonde hair pique my interest.
“I’m telling you I saw one of them,” says one of the other police officers.
Broad Shoulders lifts a brow. “A supernatural?”
The man nods, his lips tightly pressed together. “He was more beast than man. His hair was shaggy, and he had fangs instead of teeth.”
“You’re full of it, Riley,” says the third guy.
He lifts his right hand up. “I swear on my mother’s grave. The thing that attacked that woman in The Valley wasn’t human. Come on, you guys. We’ve all heard the rumors. We aren’t the only creatures in this world.”
Broad Shoulders’ gaze turns to me, and I quickly divert my eyes. Great first impression. The guy is going to think I was totally eavesdropping on their conversation.
He whispers something to the other two, and I can’t make out another word of their discussion. I take a long gulp of soda as my mind plays back their exchange. Could there really be supernaturals living among us?
The police officer is right. The rumors about them have been running rampant for months. Growing up in small town, Missouri, I’d never heard a t
hing about the paranormal until I moved to L.A. I didn’t believe it one bit.
A chill slithered down my spine as the gruesome images I’d seen on the news flashed across my mind. There had been a whole string of animal attacks at Runyon Canyon in the Santa Monica Mountains. It is the place to go hiking—luckily, I’m too poor to live anywhere near there. I live with my horrible roommate in what I like to call Beverly Hills adjacent. Also known as The Valley.
“Are you okay? You’re like ten times paler than normal.” Lupita sneaks up behind me, and I almost pee myself.
I glance back at the group of police officers, but they seem to have changed topics. They’re laughing and joking around now. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”
“Come on, chica. You look like you saw a ghost or something.”
I pull her away from the counter to the grill, the scent of roasted chicken thick in the air clinging to my pores. Lowering my visor, I whisper, “Do you believe the rumors—about the supernaturals?”
She plants her hands on her curvy hips and arches a perfectly-tweezed brow. “Of course, I do, chica.” Her hand flies to her forehead then her chest as she makes the sign of the cross. “My abuelita comes to visit me every year on Dia de Los Muertos. And I know spirits aren’t the only paranormal things lurking around here.” She lowers her voice and leans in. “You know that really pale guy that only comes in at night?”
I nod, knowing exactly whom she’s talking about. There is something about that customer that always makes my skin crawl.
“The guys in the back think he’s a vampire.”
My eyes widen, and I’m sure I look like some crazed cartoon character. “There’s no such thing as vampires,” I hiss.
She shakes her head, clucking her tongue. “I don’t know, but Ramos said he always asks for undercooked chicken.”
Eww. I glance at the grill and the slabs of pink meat thrown across the fire.
The bell chimes, and my eyes turn toward the door—to a pair of warm hazel irises. Oh shnikes! I just can’t get a break. I dive down behind the counter, praying the good-looking guy walking in didn’t see me.
“What’s the matter with you, loca?” Lupita yanks on my ponytail as I crouch behind her.
“Kimmie-Jayne is that you?” says a smooth deep voice.
Busted. I stay hidden, pulling the visor further over my face. Maybe he’ll go away.
“Oye, chica, there’s a hot guy here asking about you.”
Traitor! I adjust my apron over my shirt and muster my last shred of dignity, forcing myself to stand.
Camera Guy smirks as I straighten to my full height and meet his gaze. He’s actually cuter than he seemed in the dark audition room. Streaks of blonde run through his sandy-brown hair and coupled with his tan skin, he’s giving off a total hot surfer vibe.
“I thought that was you,” he says as he adjusts the sunglasses perched on his head.
“Yup. It’s me,” I mutter as heat floods my cheeks. What the heck is this guy doing all the way out in Sherman Oaks?
Lupita bumps her hip into mine and flashes a sexy smile. “So Kimmie, when are you going to introduce me to your hottie friend?”
“Cristian Cross.” He shoots her a big grin and extends his hand. “Kimmie and I only met today at her audition.”
Lupita’s dark brows nearly reach her hairline. “Oh! Wow, so are you some big shot producer?” She pouts out her full lower lip and gives him her hand.
He chuckles, and the sound is deep and warm like hot cocoa on a wintry Missouri night. “No, nothing that important.” He pries his hand from her tightly clenched fingers and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m the camera operator, and I do a little of the cinematography.”
“It sure sounds important.” Lupita leans over the counter, pressing her arms against her chest giving Cross a clear view of her cleavage. It’s her signature move. How she pulls off sexy in a bright yellow uniform shirt is beyond me.
Cross’s gaze moves from her chest back to me. “Um… I’m actually glad I ran into you, Kimmie. Do you think you can take a break and eat lunch with me?”
My heart inches up my throat as I stare at him blankly.
“Kimmie!” Lupita’s sharp elbow digs into my side, snapping me from a haze. “She’d love to have lunch with you. She was about to go on her break anyway.”
I smile and nod at Cross as Lupita shoves me toward the employee locker room.
“Are you crazy?” I hiss as soon as we barrel through the swinging door, and we’re out of earshot.
“Are you?” She squares off with me in front of the door. “That guy is one hot tamale, and you’re going to let him get away?”
“But this is so embarrassing…” I pull the apron over my head, and the scent of onions and garlic fills my nostrils. “I reek of chicken.”
“Who cares? If he likes you like this, it’s saying a lot.” She tugs the visor off my head and pulls my hair out of the tie, arranging the long blonde locks over my shoulders. “There—all set.”
“Thank you.”
She squeezes my hand and smacks my butt as I turn around. “Go get him, chica.”
I can’t help but laugh as I push through the doors into the main seating area. Cross sits at the corner table by the window and stands as soon as he sees me. “Sorry if I caught you off guard. If you have other plans for your break, I totally get that.”
I glance down at the array of food on the table, and my stomach rumbles. “No, it’s okay.”
He pulls out my chair, and I almost die of shock. In my two months living in California, he is the first guy to perform the chivalrous gesture. “I asked the guy at the register what you liked so I took the liberty of ordering for you. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? My mouth is already salivating at the sight of the tacos. “Not at all. This is perfect, thanks.”
I restrain myself from shoving the whole taco in my mouth and instead take a small bite in case he tries to talk to me. After the audition fiasco, I can’t fathom why he’d ever want to see me again. And is it really a coincidence he ended up here?
He looks up at me over his burrito, his hazel eyes flitting over me. I quickly swallow the mouthful of chicken and take a sip of soda. “So…” he says, then a wicked smile splits his lips, “What do I have to do to seal the deal?”
A big laugh tumbles out, and I almost spit my drink out with it. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I pull myself together and make sure the beverage goes down my throat and not all over his face. “Is that really how guys talk on the show?” I finally ask when I catch my breath.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah some of them, even without the prompting. To be honest, most of the interactions aren’t that scripted, the writers just like to give the show a general direction. If there’s enough drama without them, they tend to stay out of it.”
“Ugh, I would give anything to be chosen for Hitched.”
“Really?” His brows draw together, a slight frown crossing his handsome face. “Why would a beautiful girl like you need a TV show to find love? Or are you just doing it for the exposure?”
Heat seeps up my neck, and I’m sure I’m as red as one of the tomatoes on my taco. I stare down at my plate and shrug. “A little of both I guess. I don’t know. There’s just something romantic about the idea of it.”
His hand suddenly finds mine and warmth trickles into my fingers. “Listen, Kimmie-Jayne, you’re too good for that show. There are some things you don’t know and—”
His phone buzzes in his pocket cutting him off. He pulls it out and glances at the screen, his lips thinning. “Sorry, I gotta get this. It’s from the studio.”
“Sure, no problem.”
I watch him as he walks away, fully appreciating his perky cute butt in those tight jeans. I laugh internally; I’ve been spending way too much time with Lupita.
The spicy scent of the tacos calls to me so I dig back in, scarfing the rest down before Cross gets back. From the corner of my eye, his pacing form draws my attention
through the window. He’s yelling at whoever is on the other side of the line and marching back and forth like a caged animal. I press my ear to the window, but the double-paned glass doesn’t allow for a single syllable to be heard.
A minute later, he shoves the phone back into his pocket and heads back inside. I tear my gaze away from the window and suck down a big slurp of soda to wash down the tacos before he reaches the table.
“Sorry about that. It was Cullen, the casting director.” Bright crimson flushes his cheeks, and he sounds like he just ran a marathon.
“Is everything okay?”
He opens his mouth then snaps it shut as if reconsidering just as my phone dings. I quickly silence the text message alert and glance back up at him.
“You should probably get that.” He nods at my phone in my breast pocket.
My brows shoot up as I meet his troubled gaze. “How do you know who it is?” I assumed it was Bobby again and really didn’t want to deal with him right now.
“Just a guess.”
I pull my cell out and stare at the screen. It’s a message from Gianfranco, my agent. Opening the messenger app, I scan the words once then twice as my pulse skyrockets. I have to read it again because I can’t believe it.
Congratulations, bella. You are the new star of Hitched.
To continue with Kimmie Jayne’s story and meet all the hot bachelors of Hitched, grab your copy here! The complete series is FREE in Kindle Unlimited. Happy reading!
Also by G.K. De Rosa
Royally Hitched Series
Royally Hitched: The Fae Prince
Royally Hitched: The Fae Twins
Royally Hitched: The Fae Princess
Darkblood Academy
Darkblood Academy: Half-Blood
Darkblood Academy: Supernatural Slayer Squad
Darkblood Academy: Demons
