The Has-Been and the Hot Mess

by Isabel Jordan

  He went a little pale. “A few million? Now I’m really nervous.”

  Jackson had no idea how right he was to feel that way. “Be afraid. Be very afraid.”

  Chapter 11

  Kendall hadn’t seen a celebrity frown this much since she’d told Lindsay Lohan that seeking attention by flashing her boobs and vagina at the paparazzi was a cry for help.

  Jackson sat across from her at the kitchen table, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at the copy of her plan to get him back into the limelight. He looked unimpressed and borderline pissed off.

  Maybe she should’ve done a PowerPoint. For some reason, clients just loved PowerPoints.

  “It’s a good plan, Jack,” Ray said from his position at Jackson’s side. “You should trust her. She knows what she’s doing.”

  “I just don’t see why all of this,” he said, pausing to gesture at the timeline she’d sketched out on pieces of graph paper she’d found in his study, “is necessary. I’m not looking to get my face back on MTV, for fuck’s sake. I want one job—one specific job. That’s it. Can’t you just, I don’t know, call some people? Get me an interview and tell me what to say to get an agent?”

  This was so freaking weird. Usually clients adored her social media plans. But then again, they wanted to get their faces all over MTV. Jackson, it would seem, wanted to do everything possible to stay out of the public eye—which made getting him noticed by studio execs really challenging.

  “Look,” she began, striving for a calm demeanor when all she really wanted to do was slap him and tell him to just trust her, for the love of Chris Hemsworth’s abs, “the studio has already put out a call to their top choices for the project. Do you know who’s on the top of their list? Dylan Conroy.”

  Jackson leaned forward and his expression took on an almost feral quality. “Dylan Conroy is a hack. He’s like, what, twenty years old and grew up in Beverly Hills? How could he possibly relate to the material? He doesn’t even write his own songs! He couldn’t score a film to save his life.”

  She leaned forward too, mimicking his intensity. “It’s true. He’s not as talented as you, and there’s no way he could relate to the material like you could. But do you know what he has that you don’t? That thing that makes every studio and record label in the world want him right now?”

  “What?”

  “Followers. Millions and millions of followers across all of his social media platforms where he regularly posts what he’s doing. He brings a built-in audience with him. Those fans will go see the movie just so they can hear Dylan’s work. They don’t care if he actually wrote the songs, or if his feelings about the material are authentic. They’re just eager for anything they can get from him.”

  “I would take whatever I could get from him,” Ray confirmed.

  “Not helpful,” Kendall said, her gaze still locked on Jackson.

  Ray shrugged. “Not trying to be helpful. Just saying he’s hot. And in interviews he seems like a good guy.”

  The frown line in Jackson’s brow was so deep at this point it looked painful. “So, you’re telling me my ability to get this one job is basically just a popularity contest?”

  “No. You’ll get the job because you’re the right artist for it and your work will kick Dylan Conroy’s ass. But I can’t get you an agent or on the short list for the job unless you’re at least as popular as he is. Right now, to the studio, and to agents, frankly, you’re a risk. You haven’t worked in a really long time. You have a troubled history. You have zero social media presence, so you’re not bringing an existing fan base to their movie. We have to make you less risky so that they can focus on your talent. That's all.”

  He raised a brow at her. “That’s all? You want me to go from zero followers anywhere to millions practically overnight, and you say ‘that’s all’ like it’s nothing?”

  Ray snorted. “Dude, have you seen you? I could post a shirtless pic of you on my Instagram right now and it’d get a hundred thousand likes in an hour.”

  Kendall lifted her hands, palms up, in the universal sorry-but-it’s-true gesture. “He’s not wrong. But I’m thinking maybe we start off a little more subtle than that. Featuring the dog rescue is perfect. A daily video of you holding whatever dog you want to find a home for that day would be huge.”

  And that really pissed him off. There was practically steam rising off his head. Great. She was about to lose another job. This was just not her week.

  He stabbed a finger at her Han Solo-style. “No. I will not use that rescue for my own gain. That’s—”

  “Smart?” Ray supplied helpfully.

  “Disgusting.”

  Kendall crossed her arms over her chest. Now she was pissed off. “It’s disgusting to put those dogs—those dogs who all need homes—on social media, where they can be seen by millions of people who might want to adopt them? That’s disgusting?”

  “That’s not what—”

  “Is it disgusting that you could clear every kennel here, find homes for all these animals probably in a month or less, then be able to refill every kennel with more animals who need homes? Being able to help twice as many animals as you do now? Is that what’s disgusting?”

  He still looked angry, but he was wavering. She could see it. “I don’t want to use those animals for my own personal gain,” he mumbled. “That’s all.”

  “It’s a mutually beneficial thing, Jack,” Ray said. “Your celebrity will get them into homes. That’ll allow you to rescue more. Besides, do you think the animals will give a flying fuck how you got them adopted?”

  Kendall grinned at him. “I could so kiss you right now.”

  Ray grinned back and blew her a kiss that she pretended to catch and pocket.

  “Jesus,” Jackson muttered. “There’s no way around this, is there? You’re going to make me famous again.”

  She shrugged. “If there was any other way, I would do it. But there isn’t. Getting the kind of job you want is sometimes a popularity contest, I’m afraid. But once you get it and knock that movie score out of the park, well, that’s a whole different story. You’ll be able to write your own ticket.”

  He let out a sigh like a condemned prisoner who just found out his last appeal had been denied. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I don’t have to like it.”

  Where the hell was Mr. “I’ll Be The Best You’ve Ever Had” when she needed him? Kendall managed to hold in her eye roll, but just barely. “I can agree to those terms.”

  She held out her hand, and it wasn’t until he grasped it with his own huge, warm, calloused hand that she realized her mistake.

  Do. Not. Touch. Him.

  It felt too good. Made her forget that he was a grumpy asshole sometimes. Made her forget he was a client. Made her forget her own name.

  That’s when his thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand and she almost came right then and there.

  Lord help her. If she made it through another day without mounting this man, it’d be a miracle.

  Chapter 12

  Setting up Jackson’s social media profiles took Kendall about four hours, but by the end of the day, it was totally worth it. He now had a few thousand followers, and the numbers were steadily increasing by the hour. A couple of phone calls to some social media influencers who owed her a few favors, and he’d have hundreds of thousands of new followers by tomorrow.

  It took a few more hours to get social media and a quick-and-dirty website done for the animal rescue. Ray, who was a startlingly great photographer, helped her get tons of amazing photos of the ranch and the dogs to include, and a couple of the employees had helped her write up emotional bios for each animal.

  And the most popular photo so far?

  It was a shot she’d snapped of Jackson with her own phone. One of the dogs had gotten sick in his pen, and Jackson had spent about half an hour cleaning it in the brutally hot sun. Kendall snapped the pic just as he’d lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe some sweat off his forehead. Most of
his face was visible, but she doubted many of the people liking the photo on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter would notice.

  They’d be too busy counting his abs.

  There were eight of them.

  Kendall knew because she’d not only counted them, but had imagined counting them with her tongue.

  Fortunately, he’d been obvious to her unblinking interest in his half-naked torso because he’d been focused on the task at hand, which was to get a little Cairn terrier named Monkey back into a nice, clean pen so he could recover from whatever he’d scarfed up during his yard time.

  She also had a picture of Jackson carrying Monkey from the groomer’s tub in the barn back to his pen. He had the dog tucked into the crook of his muscle-y arm like a football and was talking to him in that low, grumbly voice of his while Monkey licked his chin gratefully.

  It wasn’t a photo that was as overtly sexy as the ab shot, but this photo was the one that really played merry hell with Kendall’s good intentions. Because at the end of the day, licking clients just wasn’t professional. But that’s what she wanted to do. More than anything.

  Jackson had enough money and employees that if he didn’t want to clean pens and bathe dogs, he wouldn’t have to. But he did it. This wasn’t a job for him. It was a calling. And judging by the smile in his eyes when he carried Monkey back to his pen, he loved doing it.

  Ultimately, that’s what made Kendall decide to go ahead and buy a new vibrator rather than wait until she was reunited with hers in LA.

  So, the moral of the story? A hot man taking care of dogs was even more panty-melting than a hot man showing off his abs. Who knew?

  Her ovaries might actually combust if she ever saw him holding a human baby.

  She’d barely been able to make eye contact with Jackson at dinner, knowing that a vibrator was probably already on an Amazon truck, headed her way, and that she was going to use it to get off while picturing him taking care of that dog.

  In her fantasy, though, he’d be shirtless while doing it.

  And now, even though she’d worked hard all day and it was past midnight, sleep completely eluded her. She was still wired—unable to get her brain to wind down.

  If she was at home in LA, she would’ve gone for a run or headed to the gym to expend her excess energy. But in this place, that wasn’t an option. The land was so big, so open and vast, that she was pretty sure she’d get lost if she went for a run here.

  Plus, ever since Ray had uttered the word “bears”, she’d be damned if she was going anywhere off the ranch alone—or at least, not without pepper spray and/or a really big stick.

  So, she did the only thing she could think of. She grabbed some leftover steak from the fridge, and with the help of the flashlight app on her phone, headed out to the dog pens to see if she could entice Howard Hughes into being her friend.

  He was under his doghouse when she got there, like usual.

  It absolutely broke her heart to see him like this. Poor guy. What kind of horrible assholes would do this to a sweet, innocent dog?

  Since Jackson said he wasn’t aggressive, Kendall let herself into his pen and closed the door behind her. She sat down with the steak near the porch, but far enough away that she couldn’t reach out and touch the dog. She wanted him to trust her, so she wasn’t about to force friendship on him. Coming to her had to be his choice.

  Or so she’d read on the Dog Whisperer website before she’d wandered out here.

  Kendall sat down, leaned back on her elbows, and stretched her legs out. Glancing up for the first time was quite a shock. In LA, even when she was on the balcony of her townhouse, she’d never seen any stars. There was too much smog in the air for that. But here?

  Millions and millions of twinkling stars, lighting up the night sky. It was stunningly beautiful, and yet, it made her feel so small. Everything here made her feel small.

  She sucked in a lungful of fresh, clean, night air. Montana was really starting to grow on her.

  “Well, you sure have a great view here, Howard,” she said, glancing at the porch. “Hope you don’t mind sharing it with me.”

  The dog didn’t move, but he was watching her. She could feel it. She pulled a piece of steak out of the plastic container she’d stolen from the fridge and tossed it under the porch. He flinched when it hit the ground a couple of inches in front of him, but he didn’t cower or move away. It took a minute, but his nose started twitching as he sniffed her offering.

  She smiled at him. “Go ahead. Trust me. It’s awesome. You’ll love it.”

  Her heart swelled to probably twice its normal size when he stretched his neck out and gingerly grabbed that bite of steak. When he’d swallowed it, she tossed him another. That time, he didn’t hesitate. He just grabbed it and ate it.

  For the next twenty minutes, she talked to him and threw him bits of food, strategically making him move a little closer to her each time to get his next bite. She held her breath when she set a piece next to her. He’d have to come out from under the porch to get it.

  Would he be that bold? Had she done enough to prove she was trustworthy? Shit. Maybe she should’ve watched more videos on that site. What if—

  He eased his way out from under the porch and inched toward the piece of steak, warily, looking ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

  Kendall averted her eyes so that he wouldn’t feel threatened by her eye contact, and when he moved in next to her to take that piece of steak, she felt more pride than she could remember feeling in, well, anything she’d ever done.

  She was good at her job. But it wasn’t important work. It wasn’t meaningful. Ultimately, if she didn’t do her job, no one would die because they didn’t gain enough Instagram followers, or said the wrong thing in a press conference.

  But if Jackson hadn’t brought Howard here? He would’ve died. The shelter would’ve euthanized him because he wasn’t a fluffy, happy, sunshine-y puppy that everyone wanted to adopt. He was damaged and broken. Kendall could relate.

  This work was more important than anything she’d ever done in her life. And it was exhilarating and fulfilling in a way she’d never thought possible.

  “From one hot mess to another, we’re gonna be OK, Howard,” she whispered. “I promise.”

  She glanced over and was shocked to find Howard still right next to her. He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. And it was right in her face because he was way bigger than he had looked hiding under that porch.

  He was about the size of a petting zoo pony, with the biggest, saddest brown eyes Kendall had ever seen.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said. “I’m Kendall. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He stared at her for another few seconds before lowering his head. Kendall hadn’t seen anything about this on Dog Whisperer, so she wasn’t sure what the gesture meant, but she decided to go with her gut.

  She reached out and offered him her hand, palm down, so that he could sniff it and determine if she was worth further investigation. He didn’t flinch away or snap at her. Her eyes filled with tears when he sniffed her hand, then gently leaned into it with his giant head.

  A second later, he must’ve decided he’d had enough, because he turned away and wandered into his doghouse. She watched as he climbed up onto his couch, probably for the first time ever.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Kendall stifled a shriek at the unexpected voice.

  Jackson melted out of the shadows and rested his elbows on the top of Howard’s fence, shaking his head at her.

  Kendall swallowed hard. His short hair was disheveled, and his shirt was unbuttoned—like he’d just rolled out of bed, stepped into his jeans, and tossed that shirt on carelessly. A quick glance down showed that the top button of his jeans was undone, too.

  He looked like a walking wet dream.

  Come on, Amazon. Get your asses in gear. I need that vibrator, like, now!

  Chapter 13

  Jackson had never b
een so angry—and turned on—in his life.

  What the hell had she been thinking, wandering out here in the dead of night, turning her back on a dog that could kill her if he wanted to? Was she really that unconcerned for her own safety?

  And also…if he’d ever seen a gentler, more selfless display of compassion in his life, he certainly couldn’t remember it.

  Kendall Quinn was every bit as gorgeous on the inside as she was on the outside—a fact that would have thrilled him…if she hadn’t client-zoned him so hard.

  Now it just meant he had to work that much harder to keep things professional with her, when professional was the very last thing he wanted.

  It was all so damned frustrating. She’d barely looked at him all through dinner, which meant he must’ve done a shit job of hiding his feelings and he’d made her uncomfortable.

  He had to pull himself together or this was going to end badly for him. And for her. The last thing she needed was another asshole ruining a job for her.

  But knowing all that and respecting her wishes did not make the whole thing any less painful.

  Because he wanted this woman more than he could remember ever wanting anyone in his life.

  So, like an asshole, he took his frustration out on her and said, “What the hell were you thinking coming out here all by yourself in the middle of the night?”

  Damn it. She didn’t deserve to be spoken to in that tone. But before he could open his mouth to apologize, she stood up, straightened her spine like a general marching into battle, and stalked right up to him without hesitation.

  She directed some serious fuck-you eyes at him, and damned if it didn’t turn him on even more.

  “I was thinking I couldn’t sleep and needed some fresh air,” she snapped. “I didn’t realize I needed an escort around your property.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d be dumb enough to wander outside at night, knowing full well that we have bears, wolves, and coyotes around here all the time.”