Celebrity Playboy: All American Boy Series

by Readnour, Kimberly

  “So, his threat was serious. The bastard’s blacklisting me.”

  “It appears to be. I’m so sorry.”

  “I knew having an affair with him would be a mistake.”

  “It’s not like it was a fling. You lived together. Not to mention that you earned that promotion with your article.”

  Yeah, with a damning article about Westlyn. God, I still need to come clean to him. I didn’t mention it before because I didn’t think I’d see him again, but now… Now that he’s staying with me, I have no excuse other than being chicken.

  “That doesn’t matter. Not in this cut-throat industry. Shit, I’m going to have to leave L.A.” The realization of that prick driving me away from the city hits me like a ton truck. I knew his threats had merit but still. I wasn’t about to cave to his will.

  “You can’t!”

  “I don’t think I have a choice.” Especially now that I won’t be staying here much longer. “But don’t worry. The bastard will get a piece of my mind.”

  “I’d like to hear that, Miss Nonconfrontational.”

  “Shut-up! I’ll prove it. When you come here, I’ll place the call on speakerphone.”

  “Uh, I’m afraid I have more bad news.”

  “What now?”

  “I’m not going to be able to make it back for my cousin’s wedding.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Things are too hectic here at work, and my boss wants me to cover a story in Delaware of all places.”

  “No, that sucks. I was looking forward to having you here.” And for you being my support for when things turn south. My gaze lands on the bookkeeping tab, and I bite back a sigh. Things will definitely take a southern turn.

  We talk for a few more minutes before exchanging goodbyes. I lean back in the chair and stare at the stone wall across the room, absorbing the silence. The small office space is tucked away in the cellar, and other than storing some old equipment, not much action occurs down here anymore.

  “Knock, knock.”

  I turn to face Westlyn, leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed. “Hey.”

  “Your aunt told me I could find you here.” Westlyn steps through the door.

  “Yeah, I lost track of time. I’m sorry for not being a good host.”

  “Nonsense. Remember, I’m infringing on you.”

  I offer a smile, but I’m not quite sure I pull it off. The way his eyes soften as he takes in my expression, I have my answer.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks.

  No. Nothing is okay.

  “You want the truth?” At his nod, I continue, holding back my ex’s dirty dealings, “Things look pretty grim. Another loan needs to be secured to keep operations going, and since my aunt and uncle want to retire, they won’t commit to a long-term contract. I suspect the prospected buyers know this, which is why they sent a lowball offer.”

  “I’m sorry. I know how much this place means to you.” Westlyn pulls up a chair beside me. “I take it the place is worth buying. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have a buyer already.”

  “It will turn a profit once new loans are secured.”

  “Hmm,” he says almost as an afterthought. His eyes flick up, taking in the tiny space, and he nods in approval. “This is a quaint office.”

  “No one uses it anymore, but I love it. This room used to be my dad’s office when they stored the wine in the oak barrels. I’d come here when I was little and sit next to him as he worked the books. That’s what got me interested in the accounting side of things.”

  “But you went in a different direction.”

  “After they died, it was too hard. I hated coming down here. My dad was one of those men little girls base their childhood princes on. He loved my mother wholeheartedly. He always made time for me. He was everything.” I pause. Somehow, I lost my way as to the type of guy I wanted. Maybe the flashy charmers who made me feel good for the moment hid the hurt of losing the best man I’ve ever known. But look where I am. I haven’t felt good in years. My breakup is less than a week old, and I’m more embarrassed over losing my job than my partner. What does that say about me?

  “Your dad sounds like a good man.”

  “He was.” I turn to face him, surprised by Westlyn’s proximity. The sincerity held in his stare makes my chest ache. His gaze drops to my lips, and my body ignites as the damp, chilled air crackles and pops between us. He’s a breath away, and for the second time, I find myself wishing Westlyn would kiss me.

  I watch as his Adam’s apple glides up and down before he backs away. “You’re lucky you had a good father.”

  Not missing his bitter tone, I push aside my disappointment from the lack of his lips on mine. I can’t think about that now. How could I when the look in his eyes—anger warring with sadness—guts me? There’s a story there. One I’d love to crack.

  “You didn’t get along with your dad?”

  He lets out a huff. “That’s an understatement. I haven’t discussed my parents with anyone. When it comes to my childhood, people only ask about getting my break at age ten.”

  “I remember the sitcom well.”

  “Playing the son to a famous actor put me in instant fame. Because of that fame, both parents checked out, not that they were doing a stellar job to begin with, but my agents and nannies raised me.”

  “That sounds kind of lonely.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know anything else. Dad never took my acting seriously. I think he figured it was a passing thing, and he’d hoped I’d take over his business. But I wanted nothing to do with the corporate world, and he wanted nothing to do with me.” He drops his voice. “Since I had nothing to offer.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “When he died, I remember feeling numb. I kept wondering what was wrong with me. Shouldn’t I have grieved?”

  “Not if he was cold and calculating.”

  Westlyn studies me for a minute before blinking and turning away. “You’d think my mom would’ve balanced him out, but she was just as cold. The only time I hear from her is when she needs something new.”

  The pang in my chest squeezes tight. He doesn’t know love. This handsome man sitting next to me gives the impression he has the world by its balls. But he’s nothing but a little boy screaming for attention he never received. I place my hand on his.

  “You’ve achieved a lot on your own. Don’t ever sell yourself short.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  But you shouldn’t have to.

  Remembering his love for wineries, I ask, “Well, how about an unofficial tour of the winery?”

  The corners of his mouth lift. “I’d like that.”

  “Be prepared to be wowed. By the time I get done showing you the ins and outs, you’ll never want to leave.”

  “Trust me, when the time comes, I will leave.” He laughs, but as silly as it sounds, his words hold more bite than they should, and the truth becomes apparent.

  I don’t want him to leave.

  “Now that’s a sight I never thought I’d see,” Westlyn says.

  “What?” I glance down at my flannel shirt and skinny jeans. “I can wear casual with the best of them.”

  “I agree. Casual looks pretty damn good on you. Just surprised, that’s all. I haven’t seen you in anything but designer brands.”

  “Most of my casual clothes were here. I didn’t have much use for them in the city.”

  “Living the glam life?”

  “Something like that.” I force a smile. Westlyn is only teasing—his life is by far more glamorous than mine—but knowing that doesn’t change the shallowness his words conjure. In my dad’s office earlier, I couldn’t stop reflecting on my life. The fast pace. The endless competition. The constant need to measure up to the person next to me. It’s exhausting. Sometimes I wonder if Dad would be proud of who I became. I somehow don’t think so, and that scares me. But to be honest, I’m not feeling too proud right now. I push
back the thoughts and grab the backpack filled with our lunch. “Are you ready to fall in love with Greer Winery?”

  “Lead the way.”

  We head to the stables. I phoned ahead and had a stable hand saddle the horses. I want to surprise Westlyn by showing him the beautiful countryside. The best way to do that is by horseback.

  “I’m assuming you know how to ride since you’ve been in a few movies with them.” I turn to face him. “Or was that a stuntman?”

  His deep laugh washes through me. “I can hold my own. I’m not a complete Hollywood elitist.”

  “Okay, big shot. Let’s see what you got.”

  We ride the grassy trail that tracks the edge of our property. Our talk consists of me explaining the production process from harvest to when the wine is on the table. When we reach a particular section of the vineyards painting the hillside, I halt the horse.

  “These rows here—the ones with the deep, almost black colored grapes—produce our famous merlot.”

  His eyes shine as they take in the vastness of the rows. I think this is the most peaceful he’s been. He looks settled. “This is pure perfection.”

  “It truly is.”

  He turns those eyes toward me and looks at me with that same dreamy expression, as if I’m pure perfection. My body erupts with need, and it takes a moment to recollect myself.

  I point southeast. “We’re going over there. There’s a grassy field where we can have lunch.”

  Once we arrive at the spot, we dismount from the horses, and I waste no time spreading a blanket for us to sit on.

  “This is awesome. I don’t remember the last time I had a picnic.”

  “I wanted to give you some normalcy.”

  Appreciation coats his eyes. He blinks and focuses his attention on the impromptu picnic I’ve laid in front of us. The Californian veggie sandwiches I secretly prepared this morning while he slept, along with the veggie chips, are a nice spread if I do say so myself.

  “You’ve thought of everything.”

  I pull out a bottle of merlot and two plastic wineglasses. “I sure have.”

  His laughter coats my skin like a fine fit glove. He sits beside me and stretches his long legs out in front of him. Grabbing his plate, he asks, “Is this more chick food?”

  I shove his arm playfully. “Quit calling it that. Food doesn’t have a sexual orientation.”

  He spies the special guacamole sauce. “You’re lucky I like avocados.”

  “I’m hurt you don’t trust me by now. I’d think you’d have more faith after ruining regular Chinese food for life.”

  His grin is as wide as the valley. “Fine, that was delicious.” He takes a bite as I pour us the merlot. “Mmm, this is surprisingly good. What kind of pickles are these?”

  “They’re homemade. My aunt keeps them on hand at all times.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  After eating, we sip our wine and stare out across the landscaping. Perched on this hill, we get a birds-eye view of the grapevines with the mountains as a backdrop.

  “This is beautiful. Thanks for bringing me here.”

  The softness in his voice causes me to pause and draws my attention to him. I absorb his relaxed expression. Seeing this peaceful side of him never gets old.

  “You’re welcome. You should consider yourself lucky.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I’ve never brought anyone to my spot before.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep. This piece of land was always my sanctuary. I came here a lot to escape, especially after my parents died. It calmed me down.” I had relished in the seclusion this section of land brought.

  “Thanks for bringing me then.”

  “You’re welcome.” And I mean that. I never even thought twice about bringing him. That surprises me.

  “Do you ever get tired of the rat race?” he asks.

  “Sometimes.” Like now. Being here with him makes me see the beauty I’m going to miss. I’ll miss this spot. The horses. Everything.

  “This right here has always been my dream.”

  “Having a picnic while overlooking a vineyard?”

  He chuckles. “That is a good part, but I was talking about owning a winery.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know where one’s for sale,” I joke.

  “You laugh, but I’m serious. There’s something about it that has always stuck with me, ever since working on that film. It’s hard to explain, but it’s so damn peaceful here. I feel content. The drawback is I know shit about running one.”

  “Lucky for you, I know the ins and outs. All winery jobs are important, but if you have a good vineyard manager and good winemaking director, you’re golden.”

  “Would you ever leave the city to live here if you could?”

  “It’d be easy to settle back into this lifestyle. The main reason I never wanted to stay was because it hurt too much. But now that I may be losing the very land that tied me to my parents, it feels like I’m losing them all over again. Why is it you never know what you want until it’s taken away?”

  “Human nature, I suppose.”

  “You know, you’re not who I thought you were.”

  “And who was that? Or do I want to know?”

  “I took you as the arrogant playboy the tabloids portrayed you to be.” Who I had portrayed you to be.

  “I’m not going to lie, I’ve partied hard, but not too many people know the real me. I don’t let my guard down too often.”

  “Then, I’m glad you feel comfortable with me.”

  His fingers lace with mine. “You show me a different side than most.” That cocky smile slides into place. “But guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I still want in your pants.”

  “Oh my God—”

  His mouth presses to mine, cutting my response short and catching me off guard. My hesitation seems to fuel his determination. He slants his mouth, and before I realize it, the smooth fruity flavor hits my senses. It’s intoxicating. The combination of merlot and him on my tongue is like a shot of adrenaline straight to my veins—a rush greater than any sugar high.

  I’m all consumed.

  By his kiss.

  By his touch.

  By the feel of his body perfectly molded around mine.

  I’m all in, leaving all inhibition behind and allowing the array of sensations to flood my body.

  That is, until a moan works its way through me, reminding me of the reality facing me. I abruptly end the kiss and back away. His hands fall to the side, our pants heavy in the air. Those brilliant blue eyes bore into me, hot and heady, and scream for more.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.” My voice is barely audible. He has me so weak.

  “I disagree. I think us being together is a great idea.”

  “If we continue, I don’t think I can stop.”

  “Then, it’s definitely a good idea.”

  “You make it very hard for a girl to resist.”

  “I’m not sure why you’re resisting.”

  Because I can’t afford to fall for another guy who’ll break my heart. “I’ve never been one for casual sex. I realize that’s an archaic way of thinking in today’s world, but it’s how I’m built.”

  “I can respect that.” He leans in and whispers next to my ear, sending chills down my spine. “But you wouldn’t be a conquest. I may not be looking for something long term, but you wouldn’t be a number. I happen to like you.”

  “I like you, too. That’s the problem.”

  I wrap my bare arms around my torso, hugging myself, and stare out at the twinkling stars embedded in the black, velvet sky. I had stepped outside to clear my mind while Westlyn took a phone call. His kiss from earlier capsizes my every thought. Those stolen glances he gave through supper didn’t help. I’m more confused than ever. I just ended a five-year relationship. Shouldn’t I be upset over that? But if I’m honest with myself, I’m
not. I know it stems from being here with Westlyn. And that thought terrifies me. His flirting is only that—a short-term stint to pass the time until he leaves—but damn, that kiss was amazing. It felt like more, and I liked it. I like him.

  “There you are.”

  I smile over my shoulder at Westlyn as he walks toward me. There’s a chill to the evening air, which I blame for the shiver wracking my body. It can’t be because I picture him repeating that kiss as he settles beside me on the bench.

  “All done with your phone call?” I ask the obvious, but I need a distraction. I need to keep my wits.

  “Yes, my agent thinks production will begin again in a week if not sooner.”

  “Then, back to the real world?” My question comes across as a statement, proving my point. I cannot fall deeper for him. He’ll be gone soon.

  “Back to the rat race.” Westlyn heaves a sigh and looks out to the sky. “Damn, there’s a lot more stars here than in the city.”

  “To say the least.” I half laugh and rub my arms.

  “Are you cold?” Westlyn turns his gaze toward me.

  “A little,” I admit.

  “Since I don’t have a jacket to give you, I guess my arm will have to do.” He drapes his arm around my shoulders and pulls me next to his side. I burrow closer to his warmth and shift my focus to the sky.

  “I do miss the stars when I’m in L.A. When I was young, I'd make a wish every time I’d see a shooting star.”

  “What would you wish for?”

  “Various things. At first, my wishes were more tangible—a certain toy I wanted or the newest craze. But as I grew older, they became more idealistic like being swept away by a sexy winemaker.” That draws a smile from Westlyn. He knows who I dreamt about. “After my parents’ accident, I only had one wish, and that was to get out of here.”

  His hug tightens as we continue staring at the dark sky. A streak of light shoots across in front of us before fizzling out.

  “Did you see that?” Westlyn’s question, filled with excitement and laughter, makes me smile. I close my eyes and whisper my wish to myself. When I reopen them, eyes, alight with desire and curiosity, stare back at me. “Did you just make a wish?”