“Two beers, please.”
“Not a problem.” Her blue eyes travel to my mouth before coming back to my gaze. I know the look. It’s her come fuck me eyes. I’ve seen them a lot, but once again, my mind isn’t there, so I turn away.
Noah chuckles, and I glance back at him. “Smooth.”
“I’m here for business this trip. I don’t have time for a woman,” I try to explain. It sounds plausible. I’m here to kick my agent and the network’s asses. I’m not here to fuck some bartender. I have a goal, a mission, and that doesn’t include detours.
I’ll stick with that line of bullshit.
Noah shakes his head in disbelief. “Because you’ve never been known to mix pleasure when dealing with business?”
I’m not quite the playboy everyone has made me out to be. Sure, I’m not known for being a long-term relationship guy, which I blame on the bitch, but my public persona and the guy Noah, Randy, Shaun, and Adam are friends with are not the same. I’m different on stage or behind the camera. I look the part they’ve created—a bad boy with women in every town. It could be true, but it’s not. I don’t know what it’s like not to always be putting on a show, but the other night with her, I felt . . . normal.
“Not since, Jo—” I almost said her vile name. “Her. I learned my lesson on the importance of keeping a clear head.”
Noah’s head snaps back. “Who? Penelope?”
Penelope is the reason I started acting. She pushed me to take something that would keep me around more, plus, the band was getting old and had lost a lot of its popularity. I loved her and wanted to make her happy. My heart was hers, and I thought she loved me, turns out she doesn’t love anything except herself.
“Yup.”
Noah eyes me carefully and pulls a long draw from the bottle. Then he proceeds to pick at the label as we both sit quietly. “I’ve known you a long time, and I like to think we’re friends.”
“We are.”
“I know you’ve got secrets, I don’t push because I’ve got them, too, but whatever happened between you and Penelope Ashcroft was years ago. She’s married now, she’s moved on, and you’re still reliving the shit she did.”
That has to be the deepest few sentences we’ve ever shared. I’m a private guy, you have to be in this world, but Noah is perceptive. Penelope married another actor—one more successful than I am—and lives her perfect life with her perfect bullshit. I refuse to let myself get close to anyone because I can’t afford to.
“I’m working on it,” I tell him.
“Yeah?”
I need a girl who will be there for me.
Stick out the hard times because life is chock-full of them.
Actresses are as fake as the characters they play, I want a real woman.
I smile knowing exactly what woman I want. The blonde who has invaded my mind. The girl who has no problem slamming the door in my face, telling me to leave, pushing me away, and making me want to stay.
I drain the remainder of my beer and slap Noah on the back. “There’s someone who I have in mind.”
He shakes his head. “She must be special to make you even pause.”
She’s more than special. Heather is the complete contrast to every woman I’ve ever known. She’s strong, sexy, determined, and I don’t care that she has some preconceived idea of how this is going to go. Too bad her idea is completely different from mine. She’s about to see how persistence will always win out.
Chapter 11
Heather
A week passes, and I’ve finally stopped looking over my shoulder, waiting for Eli to magically appear on my doorstep. It’s clear that whatever infatuation he thought he felt for me has passed. I’m not surprised. Eli doesn’t seem like the patient kind of guy anyway. Friends my ass.
It’s fine. I don’t need friends. I’ve done fine on my own for this long, sans the complication named Ellington Walsh.
After telling Stephanie how I felt about the deteriorating state of the house, she pushed me to do a few projects. There are so many, but I decided to focus on the main living area. I’m spackling nail holes, painting the kitchen cabinets and the living room, and updating the light fixtures. Nicole said she had a few pieces of furniture from a staging she wanted to get rid of and was happy to donate them. Luckily, my best friends agreed to come help and bring their jackass husbands.
I may hate Scott and Peter, but they’re good with tools, so I’ll play nice for an afternoon.
I hear the doorbell, and I rush over, excited to see my girls.
“Hey!” I smile and we do a big group hug.
“Morning, Heather,” Peter says and gives the customary kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you for doing this,” I say to all of them. “I appreciate it.”
Scott grunts and pushes through. “Let’s get this going, I have a game to watch.”
This is why I hate him. Peter is at least nice to us on the surface, but Kristin’s husband is a prick all the time.
“Don’t mind him, he’s crabby because the Gators lost,” Kristin says, gesturing in the direction where her husband just sulked off.
I touch her arm and shake my head. “It’s fine. I appreciate any extra hands, and I’m good at ignoring him.”
Nicole makes her way to us with her two guys on her arm. “I brought extra help!” I hope they’re contractors she works with, but with her, we never know. “This is Jake and Declan, they worked with me on my last redesign and graciously offered to donate their time.”
There’s no way they willingly offered, they were incentivized, I’m sure. However, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The number of things I’d like to do to this house is never-ending, it’s my cash flow that has a limit.
“Great!” I smile.
“We have a few of the pieces I was telling you about in the truck. I think the new tables will help, and I found a rug.”
“You’re the best,” I say as I kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You should’ve told me earlier, I would’ve given you anything you wanted.” She walks into the living room and pushes the guys aside. “Hold please. I need a minute to absorb the aura of a God,” Nicole says as she flops on the couch and starts to squirm.
“Nicole!” I yell and grab her arm.
“Whatever! I told you this was happening.”
She’s unhinged.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you rubbing yourself all over Heather’s couch?” Danielle asks.
Nicole rolls her eyes and laughs. “Umm, Eli Walsh’s ass was here, and I can now say I touched it.”
Danielle and Kristin’s heads twist to me, and their eyes widen. “What?” Danni practically screams.
Fuck. I haven’t told them anything. I’m going to kill Nicole. My friends are great, but I wanted to keep this quiet as long as possible. Now there’s no way I can explain away him being in my damn house. Not without making up some crazy bullshit, which they wouldn’t believe anyway because I suck at lying.
“It’s a really long story,” I start to explain and glare at Nicole. “One that I promise I’ll tell you about, but not now.”