Bad Night Stand
Page 21
The jerk! The rotten—
Except . . . there was something off about him. I squinted, trying to discern the change, but the tray was taking its toll on my arms. I tore my gaze away from Rex to practically hurl the dishes at my customers.
“Anything else?” I asked, and was thankful when there weren’t any requests.
Two seconds later, I was in front of Rex.
Who wasn’t actually Rex.
Oh, he was the right height and had the same square jaw and the same gorgeous, sun-kissed skin, but this man wasn’t the one I’d slept with.
“Hi,” he said, his green eyes warm. They were a brilliant emerald and just as inviting as they’d been in the picture I’d seen on Rex’s desk. “Can I just sit anywhere?”
My nod was jerky. “I’ll get you a menu.”
Fingers brushed my arm—calloused fingers that felt both familiar and different.
“You okay?”
I forced a smile, my stomach churning. This could not be happening. “Just perfect—”
And that was the moment I puked all over Rex’s twin’s shoes.
—Get Disaster at Roosevelt Ranch here.
HEARTBREAK AT ROOSEVELT RANCH
Chapter One
I straightened from putting the last plate into the dishwasher and stretched for a towel to wipe my hands. I was exhausted after twenty-four straight hours with the kids, and Rob still wasn’t home. Not to mention, I needed to make cupcakes for Max’s school—and somehow do it without sugar.
So the ensuing crash upstairs was not welcome.
Dropping the towel, I whisper-sprinted up to the second floor—running on tiptoes while hopping, leaping, and skipping over every toy obstacle, creaky floorboard, and rogue crayon along the way.
The light was on in Max’s room, and considering that I had made this trek a half dozen times in the last hour, I was out of patience.
“You need to go to sleep,” I growled, throwing open the door, my fierce mom glare already in place.
Except the devil child was asleep.
He’d fallen out of bed, crashed onto an entire village of Legos—scattering them to hell and back—and was dead asleep.
My heart gave a little squeeze even as the logical part of me recognized the giant mess I’d be picking up tomorrow.
It was just that face.
A cupid’s bow of bright pink lips, slightly parted, rosy cheeks, and mussed hair. The boy was cute, and it was hard to believe he was part of me, that he’d come from my body.
I clucked my tongue at myself, knowing I was being ridiculous and romantic and Melissa-like because I’d spent the day with Kelly and her toddler, Abby.
My baby sister had a baby. And a man. And was all grown up—
Oh God. There I went with the tears again.
Swiping a finger under each eye, I navigated the minefield of toys as I made my way over to Max. I gave an internal grunt as I lifted the little—or not so little, anymore—monkey and tucked him back into bed.
One hastily constructed barrier of pillows and blankets and stuffed Minecraft toys later, and I was heading back out of the room.
I flicked the light off, started to leave—
“Too dark, Mommy,” he murmured.
A sigh. Back on it went. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Night.”
This time I made it to the top of the stairs before a sound stopped me.
It wasn’t the kids. No. This was more like . . . buzzing?
I cocked my head and listened, then made my way to my bedroom, a growing pile of toys in my arms as I went.
The door was open, and I walked inside, dumping the pile on the coverlet before stopping to pinpoint the sound.
I felt my pockets for my cell. Not even two days before, I’d scoured the house for my phone, it somehow having fallen out of my pocket, ending up under the dresser. It had taken darn near fifty calls and a search of the entire house before I’d found it.
Those locating apps were all well and good, but they couldn’t tell a person which room in a house their phone was. Which meant the app, for my day-to-day exploits, was pretty much useless.
I hardly left home at all except for the kids’ activities and school pickup or drop off.
Or if Rob needed something down at the station.
And that was fine. My place was at home. The kids needed me, Rob needed me. It was just that sometimes . . .
No. Don’t get sidetracked.
My phone was in my pocket. The sound wasn’t coming from beneath the dresser.
It was coming from the bed.
I peered under, saw nothing, and I was reaching for Rob’s flashlight in his nightstand when I realized where exactly the noise was originating from.
My hand slid between the mattress and box spring, jumping a little when the object buzzed against my fingers.
“What—?” I pulled it out, saw it was an older-looking iPhone. Why was there—
Then I saw the texts. An entire screen worth of them.
And my heart froze solid.
I’m heading to the hotel.
Where are you?
Don’t keep me waiting, honey.
I need you.
The question wasn’t why Rob had hidden a phone under his side of the mattress. It was why someone named Celeste was calling him honey and telling my husband that she needed him.
Downstairs, I heard the garage door rumble open and close, the clink of Rob’s keys on the kitchen counter. “Miss?” he called softly up the stairs.
My voice was gone, my throat tight. My eyes burned, and still, I held the phone. It wasn’t until I heard him walking down the hall to the bedroom that I sprang into motion.
I shoved the phone back under the mattress and scooped up the toys.
Rob stopped short in the doorway. “Oh.” He smiled. “I called you.”
“Sorry, I was cleaning.”
He touched my cheek, slid past me. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s my job,” I said brightly, and if it was too bright then what did it matter anyway?
My husband was moving toward the bathroom, already unbuttoning his shirt. “Is there a plate for me?”
I turned, saw he’d paused, and forced a smile. “Yup. I’ll heat it up for you.”
“Thanks, love.”
“Of course.” I walked out of the bedroom but didn’t go downstairs.
Instead, I hesitated in the hall, silent and waiting.
And my gut tied itself into knots when I heard Rob’s footfalls across the carpet, the slide of his hand beneath the mattress as he pulled out the phone.
—Get your copy of Heartbreak at Roosevelt Ranch here.
Look for the next two Roosevelt Ranch books coming soon!
Collision at Roosevelt Ranch (Haley and Sam’s book)
Regret at Roosevelt Ranch (Henry’s book)
Go to www.elisefaber.com and sign up for my newsletter to receive notice of their release.
TRAIN WRECK (LIFE SUCKS SERIES)
train wreck
noun
a chaotic or disastrous situation
a person whom disaster follows at every freaking turn
someone who could create disaster out of even the most innocuous situations
Pepper O’Brien
Chapter One
Human Directional Advertising
“So what do I do exactly?” Pepper asked, fumbling to hold the arrow-shaped sign as she wrestled her long red hair into a ponytail.
Bert, the owner and namesake of Bert’s Burgers, gave an exaggerated sigh. “You stand on the corner. You hold the sign and maybe dance a little.”
She should have brought a hat.
Her pale skin didn’t like the sun, and Pepper knew she’d be one giant freckle in less than an hour. But she wasn’t a complainer, so instead of running screaming out the door when her mind churned up the memories of the last time she’d danced—an Academy award-winning actor, blood, and her resultant flight from Plastic-town,
USA—she nodded. “Got it.”
Broken vases, expensive flowers crushed on the floor, armies of lawyers, publicists, and handlers were all in the past.
She’d been pigeonholed by her family’s expectations for too long. This was her chance to slip out of the spotlight and have slice of normalcy.
Pepper gave Bert a bright smile and pushed through the door.
She needed this job.
Not just for the money. Her father would give her anything she asked for. In fact, after paying the settlement to Christian Strand—aforementioned Oscar-winning actor she’d almost managed to de-brain with his own award—her father had technically given enough for three lifetimes.
But she was tired of being her family’s train wreck. Tired of being the thing her father threw money at even as he discounted her worth on every other level.
Oh dear, poor Pepper crashed a Ferrari and destroyed an entire film set. She’s such a mess, but hey, at least the movie is in the news.
That Pepper! She set fire to her dormitory at UCLA, and the entire building had to be evacuated when she attempted to cook a special dinner for her boyfriend. But, hey, the latest O’Brien film is set on a university campus—we can spin this.
Sigh. Pepper tried to set her class goldfish free by flushing it down the toilet and ended up scarring her classmates’ delicate little psyches. But, hey, all drains lead to the ocean, right? O’Brien Films is producing a set-at-sea drama. We’ll donate to clean water causes, drum up some positive publicity.
“Ouch,” she muttered when the door shut on her before she and the arrow had cleared it.
Pepper shoved the metal and glass panel back, wrestled her way through, and—
Le sigh.
Her talent wasn’t in traditional interviews and social media posts, not like her brother. He was brilliant at lining up A-list celebrities, at getting features on the Today Show. She, on the hand, was golden because of her screw-ups.
Everyone’s favorite joke.
A bumbling fool with a sweet face and disposition. The girl who everyone loved to laugh at, to exclaim that being born with the proverbial silver spoon didn’t give a person everything.
Like grace, she thought as she tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and nearly broke the cardboard sign in half. Righting herself, she exhaled slowly then moved toward the corner.
Hollywood might as well pat her on the head like a puppy.
“Good girl, Pepper.”
“Just stay in the news. The new movie releases next week.”
“Keep messing up. Just make sure that your screw-ups are hilarious and relatable.”
She huffed inwardly. The chatter was enough to make a grown woman insane.
But this, being here, making it on her own was her chance to prove she could do something and not screw it up.
She would not screw this up.
“Pepper!”
Bert’s head popped through the door—crazy white hair, bushy eyebrows, thick lumberjack mustache, and all.
“Yes?” She straightened her shoulders and tried to appear competent at . . . holding a sign.
“Right side up, please.” The door clanged closed as she glanced down.
Hastily, she flipped the arrow so the text—“Cheeseburger, fries, and a drink! Only $4.99!”—was readable to most normal human beings. Her cheeks were hot. “Okay,” she muttered to herself. “Not the best start, but it can only get better from here.”
She ignored her inner voice, the one that was practically screaming she’d just jinxed herself.
Enough.
After popping in her earbuds, Pepper stepped near the curb and began to make the sign do a jaunty dance, white-girl rhythm be damned.
She stood in the shade from one of the mature trees lining either side of the quaint Craftsman storefronts of Stoneybrook’s downtown area. The city had recently undergone a refurbishment to make even the most casual of its shops and restaurants—specifically Bert’s Burgers—appear sophisticated.
Cobblestone-covered walls and bright white wood columns gave the buildings a refined feel, and even the flowers filling each window box deemed it necessary to show off their brightest and prettiest blooms.
Her father had been the producer of a movie shot in the area several years before, and that income for the town had made the freshening up possible, not that she’d mentioned the fact to Bert.
She was trying to fly under the radar, not draw more attention to herself.
Pepper had enjoyed visiting before the restoration—a small town feel wasn’t exactly common in Los Angeles—but even cleaned up, Stoneybrook still felt friendly, welcoming, and . . . refreshingly wonderful.
No one recognized her here. Paparazzi weren’t waiting in the wings for her to screw up. Just blissful anonymity.
And a job to do.
Cars whooshed by as she bobbed around.
A little shaky-shaky to the left, some wiggles to the right and, crap, almost taking out a group of businessmen striding down the tree-lined sidewalk.
Thankfully, they were faster than they appeared and dodged the arrow’s point just in time.
“Sorry!” she called, straightening her Bert’s Burgers’ T-shirt and flashing her best smile before continuing her advertising specialist duties, which had been the actual title in the listing for the sign-holding job.
That was Internet job hunting for ya.
For a while it actually seemed like she was going to rock it. She bounced on the corner, didn’t hit anyone, and only dropped the arrow a few times. Nobody seemed to be paying her much attention.
Despite promotion being the purpose of her job, she considered that a good thing.
No attention meant no disasters.
Downtown Stoneybrook was busy at lunchtime. Pedestrians enjoyed the mild weather with a stroll along the slate sidewalks, and diners ate on the various restaurants’ patios, each enclosed by ornate, wrought iron fencing.
She could do this, she thought, twirling the bright yellow and black sign. She could get through one day’s work and not create a catastrophe.
A shriek pierced straight through the pop song blaring in her earbuds.
Pepper frowned.
Really, her dancing was not that bad.
Which was the precise moment she looked up and saw the car careening toward her.
Move!
But she couldn’t. Her feet might as well have been glued to the ground. Stupidly, she watched as time slid forward in slow motion and the car came closer.
She could feel the vibration of the engine, its heat on her face. Her fingers ached from where she clenched the sign like some sort of shield.
The impact took her breath away.
—Get your copy of Train Wreck here.
* * *
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you for reading Bad Night Stand! I hope you enjoyed Jordan and Abby’s story, as it’s one I seriously loved writing! If you’d like to catch up on all my other releases, please check out my website: www.elisefaber.com. There you can sign up for my newsletter (with monthly bookish giveaways, woohoo!), check out my other books (everything from paranormal romance to hockey romance to contemporary stand alones), and get to know more about my dorky self (hockey, chocolate, Star Wars . . . okay, I’m pretty boring ).
You can also find me on Facebook (@elisefaberauthor), via my FB fan group (facebook.com/group/fabinators), or Instagram (@elisefaber). I look forward to talking with you soon!
-XOXO,
Elise
OTHER BOOKS BY ELISE FABER
For a full listing and description, go to www.elisefaber.com
Roosevelt Ranch Series (all stand alone)
Disaster at Roosevelt Ranch
Heartbreak at Roosevelt Ranch
Collision at Roosevelt Ranch (coming soon)
Regret at Roosevelt Ranch (coming soon)
Life Sucks Series (all stand alone)
Train Wreck
Billionaire’s Club (all stand alone)
&
nbsp; Bad Night Stand
Bad Breakup (coming soon)
Gold Hockey (all stand alone)
Blocked (August 8th, 2018)
Backhand (September 6th, 2018)
Boarding (coming soon)
Phoenix Series (read in order)
Phoenix Rising
Dark Phoenix
Phoenix Freed
Phoenix: LexTal Chronicles (stand alone, Phoenix world)
From Ashes
KTS Series
Fire and Ice (Hurt Anthology, stand alone)