The Has-Been and the Hot Mess

by Isabel Jordan

  Holy shit, why had he used the word dumb? It’d just popped out of his mouth. It was almost like his mouth wanted to see her flay him alive.

  He didn’t have to wait long for her reply.

  She shoved the pen door open, knocking him back a step, then closed it behind her before rounding on him. “You told me I could come see Howard. You didn’t specify times. And all your employees, and Ray, told me not to go outside the property borders by myself. They said all the noise and smells from the dogs made most of the wild animals think twice about coming in here. They said it was perfectly fine for me to walk within the fence row.”

  And they were right. If she were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have thought twice about her going for a walk, within his fences, even at night. But this was Kendall. The woman who couldn’t find her way down a flight of steps without her glasses. The woman whose head only came up to his shoulder. The woman who probably only weighed one-thirty soaking wet.

  The woman he suddenly wanted more than his next breath.

  But he needed to dial this whole thing back a few thousand notches. Calling her names and yelling at her wasn’t going to fix his almost crazy, desperate attraction to her. And she didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

  He took a deep breath. “Kendall, you have to know it’s a bad idea to turn your back on a dog you don’t know. Especially a big dog who’s scared. He could’ve turned on you and really hurt you.”

  Some of the fire in her eyes died down a little. But only a little. “You told me he wasn’t aggressive,” she argued.

  “I said he hadn’t been aggressive. That doesn’t mean he couldn’t get aggressive when he’s cornered or scared. When I said you could come visit him, I assumed you meant outside the pen.”

  That gave her a moment’s pause before she said, “But he’s not aggressive. You saw that, right? He’s a good dog. Very gentle.”

  Then she bit down on her lower lip, and he had to fight back a groan. He wanted to bite down on that lower lip. “Yeah. I saw it.”

  One corner of her mouth quirked up. “I did good, right?”

  When he didn’t immediately answer, she added, “It’s OK. You can say it. I already know.”

  There it was. The adorableness. How the hell was he supposed to keep his distance from that?

  While her eyes sparkled and she bounced on her heels, awaiting the praise that was due her, he eventually sighed and told her what she wanted to hear. “Yes, Kendall, you did good. It was damn impressive.”

  She squealed and jumped up and down, clapping her hands together like a little kid before doing a victorious fist pump. “I knew it! Thank you, Dog Whisperer!”

  He just shook his head and walked away before he did something stupid. Like grab her and kiss the crap out of her.

  If he made it another day without getting slapped with a sexual harassment suit, he’d be the luckiest fucking bastard on the planet.

  Chapter 14

  Jackson was avoiding her.

  That much was obvious. It had been two days since that night outside Howard Hugh’s kennel, and he’d barely spent five minutes in her presence since.

  She’d been trying to talk to him about his social media accounts and the rescue’s new website every chance she got, but he always waved her off like he had more important things to do than talk to her. Even though she was here to help him, for fuck’s sake.

  If he really wanted to score that movie, you’d think he’d show her a little gratitude.

  It was so annoying. And hurtful, if she was being honest. She’d been busting her butt for him and he couldn’t even give her two minutes of his precious attention to kiss her?

  No. Not kiss her. Talk to her.

  Geez, she was in trouble. Only people who were seriously messed up had Freudian slips in their own damn thoughts.

  And she knew why she was slipping.

  It was that damn look.

  Before he’d turned away from her that night, she’d been sure he was about to kiss her. His gaze had shifted from her eyes to her mouth, and he gave her a look that clearly said he wanted to devour her.

  She would have let him, too. At that moment, with the moonlight outlining his every chiseled feature, she would’ve given him anything he wanted. Professionalism be damned.

  Then he’d turned away and left her alone, thinking she’d imagined the whole thing. He’d left her wanting.

  That’s what she’d been since she met Jackson. Wanting. She felt like there was a void deep within her that only he could fill.

  She blinked at her own thoughts. That had sounded really dirty, even in her own head.

  And it wasn’t going to happen. There wouldn’t be any…void filling between them. Just a mutually beneficial, professional arrangement.

  Which was really a hard thing to have when one of the two participants was avoiding the other.

  “What in the fuck is this?”

  And with that, the object of her sexual frustration marched into the kitchen where she was blearily waiting for the coffee to be done and shoved his phone in her face.

  Kendall actually had to take a step back to see what he was talking about. And also because he smelled really good. Like, lick-ably good. If his skin tasted as good as it smelled, she’d for sure lean in and lick his neck at some point. She’d be powerless not to.

  So, stepping back was definitely the right call.

  She squinted at the phone. Her up-close vision wasn’t much better than her distance vision, even with her glasses. And she was way too young for bifocals, damn it! “Um…that’s your Instagram account. You know, the one I’ve been trying to talk to you about for two days?”

  His eyes narrowed on her, and a muscle in his jaw jumped. “Why are there half-naked pictures of me on Instagram?”

  Ray wandered into the kitchen in nothing but his boxer briefs, scratching his stomach and yawning. “Because they’re hot and women and gay men love them?”

  Jackson’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “No one asked you, Ray. I’m talking to Kendall.”

  “Because they’re hot and women and gay men love them,” Kendall parroted, earning her an even dirtier look from Jackson.

  He opened his mouth, started to say something, then swallowed the words back. She’d just bet that whatever he’d kept himself from saying was a doozy. Kudos to him for keeping it inside. That was a talent she’d always lacked.

  A moment later, he shoved a hand through his already disheveled hair and asked (in the most tightly controlled voice Kendall had ever heard), “Would you mind telling me exactly how being half-naked on Instagram will help me get a job creating music for a movie? How is this going to get me taken seriously?”

  She seriously could not have this conversation with him sans coffee. So, she waited a moment until the coffee was ready, poured herself a cup, took a deep sip, then said, “It won’t get you taken seriously. That comes later. What we need to do now is get you noticed—on people’s radar again.”

  He snorted and glanced back down at the photo. “And this shot of my abs is going to get me noticed?”

  Around a giant mouthful of Fruit Loops, Ray said, “It already did. That picture has seventy thousand likes. And the comments made me blush.”

  The comments didn’t make Kendall blush. They probably would’ve…if she hadn’t been thinking nearly every one of them herself.

  But, suffice to say, women around the world agreed that Jackson was hot. And lickable. And highly, highly fuckable.

  Phew. Was it getting hot in here? Someone should really crack a window.

  And now, after only a few days, all of his new followers were clamoring for more content. Anything Jackson-related they could get. Pictures of Jackson with the dogs, pictures of Jackson cleaning kennels, pictures of Jackson walking from his room into the kitchen wearing only his basketball shorts before going for a run…they loved it all.

  Kendall was starting to feel a little like a stalker, following him around, snapping pictures when he
wasn’t looking. But it had all been worth it.

  He was gaining more followers by the hour than any client Kendall had ever had. And that was just Instagram. She was having equally great luck on Twitter and Facebook, posting a mix of current photos and old concert footage and interviews.

  It was astonishing, really, that a musician who had dropped off the grid fifteen years ago could regain so much popularity so fast. She wouldn’t be surprised if Maelstrom suddenly started getting more radio play. And it was only a matter of time before VH1 and MTV started calling, offering him dreadful reality shows.

  Which was, of course, all as Kendall had planned it. And Jackson would know that—if he hadn’t been avoiding her like an asshole for the past two days.

  “It’s intrusive,” he grumbled, “and completely unnecessary. There have to be better ways to get attention than this.”

  Kendall shrugged. “Maybe. But in my experience, it’s foolish to waste assets. You need to use whatever you’ve got to win in Hollywood. And whether you like it or not, that face and those abs are assets.”

  “You are genetically blessed,” Ray agreed. “It’s pretty annoying, really.”

  “Still don’t remember asking you,” Jackson said to him.

  Kendall took another sip of life-affirmation in a cup, then said, “Look, the pictures are only step one in my three-step plan to get you an agent and a meeting with the studio. Step one was a roaring success. You should be happy. But don’t wuss out on me now, Mr. ‘I’ll Be The Best You’ve Ever Had’. You’re going to need to man up for steps two and three. Especially three.”

  His annoyed, angry glare shifted into something that resembled an appropriate level of fear. “What are steps two and three?” he asked warily.

  “Oh, so now you want to talk about the plan?”

  “Dude, you should just say you’re sorry for being a douche and move on,” Ray said.

  “No one asked you, Ray!” Kendall and Jackson shouted in stereo, still locked in eye combat.

  “Or you could just fuck and get it over with,” Ray mumbled.

  Jackson yanked the piece of toast Kendall had forgotten about from the toaster and chucked it at Ray like a Frisbee, hitting him in the center of the forehead. Then he gave him the finger and stalked out of the kitchen.

  He stopped in the hallway and glanced back over his shoulder at Kendall and said, “Tonight. Eight o’clock. I’ll listen to your plan.”

  The “but I’m not going to like any of it” was implied, not stated. Jackson was expressive like that. He could convey all kinds of messages with nothing more than intense eyebrows and growly grumbles.

  “Fine,” she said through clenched teeth.

  When Jackson was gone, Ray cocked his head to one side. “You know he’s going to fight you on steps two and three, right?”

  “Oh, I know.”

  And the worst part? She was weirdly looking forward to it. She was even starting to enjoy fighting with him, because it was better than being ignored by him.

  Hot Mess Express, table for one…right this way, Ms. Quinn…

  Chapter 15

  Jackson was in no way ready for this meeting with Kendall.

  He’d been doing a damn fine job of avoiding her for the past couple of days, but now, it was time to pay the piper, it would seem.

  When he walked into the dining room, she was perched on the edge of her chair, looking like she might leap out of it at any moment. Her glasses slid down her little button nose, but she was too engrossed in the pile of papers in front of her to notice.

  She was wearing a pair of black yoga pants and an oversized Queen sweatshirt that slid off one shoulder every time she shifted in her seat. And her mass of blonde curls was piled on top of her head, held in place by what looked like two pencils and maybe a yellow highlighter.

  She was fucking adorable, as always.

  And what was worse? He now knew that she found him attractive, too. Even if she hadn’t told him as much (in that clinical, PR manager kind of way she sometimes had), all the half-naked pictures she’d taken of him were somewhat telling.

  That night in Howard Hugh’s pen was still fucking with his concentration, too.

  He was certain—could feel it in his bones—that if he’d kissed her, she would’ve welcomed it. And it would’ve been fantastic and life-altering and complicated.

  She would’ve regretted it, too. Maybe not right then, because he would’ve made damn sure it was good for her, but soon thereafter. She’d made her feelings on mixing business and pleasure clear from the start. He wasn’t about to disrespect her wishes.

  No matter how much his body wanted him to.

  So, he took a seat across from her at the table, not next to her. Because while he wanted to respect her wishes, he was only human. And weak. So fucking weak.

  Kendall glanced up at him when he sat down and her smile hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. Or the balls. He wasn’t sure which.

  “Are you ready for this?” she asked.

  “Nope. But go ahead. Let’s hear it.”

  She pushed her glasses up with her index finger and slid what looked like a printout of an Excel spreadsheet in front of him. “This is a comparison of your new social media numbers—that’s followers and likes—compared to Dylan Conroy’s.”

  Jackson felt his upper lip curl involuntarily at the mention of Dylan Conroy. That no-talent having, showy assclown. “OK. Why is this important?”

  “Because he’s the number one candidate for the job you want. You have to beat him on as many fronts as you can before we introduce you to the studio. You can easily destroy him on the musical front, but he’s been kicking your ass on the social media and popularity front for a long time.”

  The emphasis she put on the word long seemed a little unnecessary, in his opinion. Rude, even. But he let it go because she was also right. “So, how do I beat him in a popularity contest?”

  She gestured to the piece of paper in his hand. “If you look at those charts, you can see that you’re not really all that far behind on the social media front anymore. Because of my contacts—and your abs, if I’m being honest—you are only trailing him by a few thousand followers across platforms. And you dominate among thirty-five to forty-year-old women. That’s good.”

  Was it though? He supposed he’d just have to take her word for it.

  “You’re also doing better with men,” she went on. “According to my research, his songs are a little too boy band-y for the average male music fan these days.”

  Now that was good news. Finally a group he could impress based solely on music.

  She glanced up at him over the top of her glasses, which gave him a few naughty librarian fantasies he wasn’t exactly proud of and said, “Now, where he’s still soundly beating you like you stole something is among eighteen to twenty-four-year-old women. They just don’t have any context of who you are or what you do.”

  I’m too old, he thought.

  “You’re too old,” she said, completely unnecessarily.

  Awesome. What wonderful things this process was doing for his ego. “So, how does an old, Crypt Keeper-like bastard such as myself get the youngsters’ attention?” he asked dryly.

  She smirked at him and handed him another piece of paper. This one was about the dog rescue. It was a glossy, professional looking brochure advertising a huge adoption event.

  Although, adoption event didn’t seem like a big enough term to describe what he saw on the brochure. It was more like a circus…in the middle of a clusterfuck…at the end of a complete quagmire.

  It was a bit much to take in all at once. The rescue’s adoption events were usually pretty low key. What Kendall was proposing involved multiple gourmet food trucks, upscale carnival games and rides, and news coverage. Lots and lots of news coverage.

  And live entertainment.

  He had a pretty good idea of who she had in mind for live entertainment.

  Shit.

  She held up her hands in
supplication. “I know, I know. You don’t want to use the rescue to get attention. But this is exactly what Ray and I were talking about. This is beneficial for everyone. This event won’t just be for your rescue. I’ve talked to rescues all over the country that’d be willing to send dogs here to get adopted. We’re talking about overcrowded kill shelters, Jackson. Dogs that might otherwise be put down. And there will be a cover charge to get in—nothing too daunting. Something like $40?—so all that money can go back into the shelter, too. Or you can donate it to other shelters or the ASPCA…whatever you want.”

  She was rambling. Nervous. She was afraid he was going to shoot down her ideas, or maybe even yell at her.

  God help him, he’d been such an ungrateful bitch about this whole thing. He was damn lucky she hadn’t hightailed it out of the state by now, leaving him to wallow in his own ineptitude.

  “It’s a great idea, Kendall,” he said quietly.

  “I mean, I know it’s probably more than you were…” she trailed off, cocked her head to one side like a confused terrier, then said, “Wait, did you just say it was a good idea?”

  He shook his head. “No. I said it was a great idea. If you can pull all this off—”

  She waved him off. “Of course, I can. It’s easy. I’ve got contacts everywhere that can help. The hard part was getting you to agree to all of it.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very, very uncomfortable. He’d been alone for so long with so little meaningful human contact that he’d become, well, a complete dick. The art of apology was a bit lost to him these days. But he had to try.

  “Kendall, what you’ve done in such a short amount of time is…miraculous, really. Nothing short of that. And while you’ve been working your ass off, I’ve been an ungrateful dick to you. I can’t believe you’ve been as tolerant of me as you have been. I don’t deserve it. I’m truly—”

  She shocked him by reaching across the table and slapping her hand over his mouth. “Stop. Just stop.”