Chapter 1
Josh
Sometimes, I hate being famous.
I realized that I was privileged as fuck to even say that… but it didn’t make it any less true.
This morning on my way to the set, I was walking my dog and stopped at a coffee shop to grab a latte. I thought it’d be safe since it was six in the morning… but nope. When you’re recognizable from a pretty decent movie career and a tv show that had been on the air for four years, no time of day was safe. There was a woman behind me in line who took out her cell phone and started snapping pictures of me and Cola—my husky. When the manager asked her to stop, she screamed: He’s public domain!
I’m public domain? What does that even mean for God’s sake?
And now this. Some Polaroids were slipped under the door of my trailer when I arrived on set. Naked Polaroids… but not a single one showed her face. Normally, this wouldn’t be so concerning. My brothers and I are on a popular improv tv show—sort of like a cross between Punk’d and Impractical Jokers. Our female fans are some of the most loyal and… well, exuberant I’ve ever had. Of my four brothers, I was the oldest and the only one out of all of us who had any acting experience prior to our tv show. If I was really being honest, I’m the reason the show got picked up to begin with. Having my name linked to it made Silhouette Studios greenlight it without much question. The executives jumped on the chance to produce an inexpensive comedy show with a movie star attached.
So, it was no surprise that we got fan mail daily that the studio delivered to our trailers. What was surprising about this, though, was that the fan mail hadn’t arrived yet today. And this envelope had no address or stamp on it. It was like she personally hand-delivered it here on set. These sets had security tighter than most airports. The only way she got in here was if she worked here in the studio or knew someone who does.
Either way, not good for me. I stuffed the naked photos back into the envelope and made a mental note to bring them to security to look into it.
Cola pawed at my leg, looking up at me with honey brown eyes as my makeup artist finished up, packing her makeup and tools. “You probably have fifteen minutes before they’ll call you onto set,” she said, halfway out the door.
“Thanks, Ava,” I said. As Ava exited, she passed a gorgeous young woman skipping up the steps into my trailer. With every hop up the steps, her long, curly dark hair bounced like a shampoo commercial.
“Knock, knock,” she said in lieu of actually, well, knocking. And she was chipper. So damn chipper for only eight a.m.
“Yes?” I groused, unable to hide my discontent. There weren’t many people who came into my trailer, and I was almost always wary of those who did. My eyes flicked to the envelope with the naked Polaroids, and I skimmed my gaze over her body. Was this the same woman? Had she managed to sneak back in to confront me?
Granted, this girl was stunning with razor sharp cheekbones, deep-set, doe-brown eyes, framed by thick, black lashes. They weren’t a dark chocolate brown like my eyes—no, hers were fawn colored. A whiskey gold with flecks of green peppering her irises. Maybe if all crazed fans looked like her, I wouldn’t care. Maybe I’d even let her keep sending me Polaroids.
My gaze landed on the gentle curve of her waist and her thin, muscled thighs—they were completely different than the busty curves of the woman in the photo. Even still, my cock sprang to attention.
She closed the door behind her and flashed a grin in my direction. “I’m Chelsea,” she said, offering me her hand. “Chelsea Griffin. Your new dog walker.”
Crap. I had totally forgotten she was starting today. My previous dog walker, Tula, had left for grad school a week ago. But holy shit, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when Tula told me she had a friend who could take her place. My assistant had interviewed Chelsea and assured me that Cola adored her, so I agreed to hire her on a trial basis without interviewing her myself.
Huge fucking mistake.
Tula didn’t turn me on like this when she used to work here. Tula didn’t leave my cock hard and aching or get me wondering what her nipples looked like beneath her clothes. Were they small and pointed? A rosy color or more tanned? Were they big and saucer-shaped?
I eyed her hand, taking it carefully in mine, and her grip was firm. Hard. I swallowed a groan, imagining that grip around my cock. Jesus. Get a grip, Josh.
“You’re late,” I grumbled, tugging out the napkin that Ava used to keep my shirt collar free from makeup stains. The irritability was apparent in my voice, and her face shifted at the change in tone, uneasy. Those perfect, petal lips formed into a pout, and fuck me, I wanted to suck that bottom lip and nibble it until she moaned in ecstasy.
“Am I?” Chelsea looked confused with a glance at her phone. “It’s 9:02.”
“Exactly.” I stood, grabbed the pot of coffee that had finished brewing in the corner, and poured myself cup. “Two minutes late.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I got caught walking behind one of those stupid studio tours. Slowed me down by at least a minute.”
Cola ran over to Chelsea, wiggling her butt and weaving in and out between her legs. “Hi, Cola!” she said, bending over to pet my dog, who practically crawled into her lap. Traitor. I couldn’t help myself as my gaze skimmed over her heart-shaped ass in her tight jeans. Her white t-shirt was sheer, and I imagined how just a little bit of water would reveal the perfect nipples beneath it.
Shit. I tore my gaze away from her as she scratched Cola’s chin. “Did you have a good morning little cutie?” she asked.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please!” she said and giggled as Cola licked her neck. Never in my life had I been so damn jealous of my dog. “I was going to stop by Kraft Services for a coffee, but… well, as you know, I was running late…”
“Ugh, don’t bother. The coffee down there is nothing more than coffee flavored water. It’s terrible.” I paused, grabbing another mug from the cabinet and pouring a second cup of coffee for her. “How do you take yours?”
“Black, please.”
A woman after my own heart. “Here you go,” I said, handing her the cup as she stood. She made her way toward me, her white Keds shuffling against the trailer floors. Reaching out for the cup of coffee, her hand brushed mine, and the edge of her long fingernail scratched me gently. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was a suggestive motion. But the moment I felt the tingle of awareness skitter up my arm, Chelsea drew her hand back, gasping. Like she felt it, too. No… like she was surprised she felt it, too.
I waited a moment for her to take a sip before starting my own interview. That wasn’t what this morning was necessarily supposed to be, but I wanted to know more about her.
“So, Chelsea,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “Tell me a bit about you.”
“I’ve known Tula for a long time. We went to high school together and were roommates after she graduated from college.”
“What was your major?” I pressed. I wanted—needed—to know more about her.
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t go to college. I took a few years off and worked in landscaping.” Well, that explained her muscled physique. A few years working in landscaping would do that for anyone.