Happily Ever His Read online

  “There’s a place called Hollywood, Maryland?” I didn't really mean to interrupt her. But once I had, I thought I might be able to derail the dangerous train she was heading my way.

  “Yes, actually. It’s just north of California, Maryland.” A little smile lifted one corner of her mouth.

  “There’s a place called California, Maryland?” This was a strange state.

  She nodded. “I know. It’s weird.”

  “Weird,” I agreed, glad we seemed to be veering away from discussing what had happened in the tent that afternoon.

  Just then, the oven timer dinged, and I stood, maybe too quickly, to pull the first pan from the oven. With cakes this big, I didn’t want to put more than one pan in at a time.

  “How’s it look?” she asked, peering over my shoulder as I set it on the cooling rack. She wasn’t touching me, but it didn’t matter. Every cell in my body lit up at her proximity and my dick decided this cake-baking thing was some kind of complex foreplay and that maybe now was a good time for him to wake up. I’d had enough trouble calming the guy down after the barn earlier.

  I took a wooden skewer and inserted it in the center of the pan, pulling it out clean. A totally misplaced pride washed through me. I didn’t fail in front of her. So there was something.

  “Looks good,” I said.

  “Here we go.” She slid the second pan in, and I closed the door once it was settled, moving back to my seat.

  “Look, the thing is,” Tess said, picking up the thread of conversation where the timer had interrupted it. “I just … I’m not used to being around movie stars, I guess. It’s just, I mean the way you touched me this afternoon…” Her eyes met mine and there was something vulnerable in her gaze, so pleading and innocent—I felt something protective shift inside me, a feeling I needed to hold firm. She was not mine to protect.

  She shook her head, as if to force her thoughts to fall into line. “Things are just pretty simple here most of the time, that’s all.”

  “You fucking hackers!” Gran’s voice came from somewhere deeper in the house, causing my head to snap toward the doorway. What in the world?

  “Is she … um, should we go check on her?” Gran was an interesting character. I didn’t know what she was up to, but I was starting to like her almost as much as I liked her granddaughter, Tess. Although right now Gran sounded pretty angry.

  “No, she’s fine. It’s her game.”

  Game? I wasn’t sure what game Tess meant, and just as I was about to ask, Gran’s voice came again.

  “You can’t fucking camp the spawn! You can’t camp the spawn, you fucking hackers!”

  Tess just smiled at me, her eyes dancing. “You really shouldn’t camp the spawn. It’s not polite.”

  The question I was about to ask must have been clear on my face as I started to smile, and Tess answered quickly.

  “World of Warcraft. She’s addicted.”

  “Oh,” I said, the confusion turning to amusement as I leaned back in my chair. “I had a roommate in college who played that. He ended up failing out. Never went to class.”

  “He was probably camping the spawn,” she suggested, grinning.

  “Must have been.” I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, though I’d played my roommate’s game a few times, but I’d sit here joking about it all night if it meant getting to see Tess smile like that again. The warm feeling I’d had being in this kitchen with her the night before returned. It was homey and close, and so fucking right it terrified me.

  I needed to watch myself. It would be so easy to lean into this reassuring comfort. But Tess wasn’t the Manchester sister I was supposed to lean into.

  “Sorry. She’s nuts. But she’s happy, so …” Tess smiled. “Look. I don’t know exactly what happened outside today. Maybe I hallucinated the whole thing.”

  I was about to jump in, to let her know that she definitely didn’t hallucinate it. The memory playing on constant loop in my brain, and the way my dick jumped to attention every time I let myself focus on that memory could attest to that.

  But Tess went on. “I shouldn’t even tell you this …” she laughed lightly, one of my favorite sounds. “I’m probably just bound to read too much into things because I’ve had this ridiculous movie-star crush on you literally forever.” That laugh again.

  My body stirred to life when she said this, my heart doing a little tap dance in my chest. “Seriously?”

  The blush brightened her skin again, and I had to grip the edge of the table to keep my fingers from chasing it up her cheek. “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head lightly. “So maybe it makes it hard to separate reality from years of seeing you in movies. But you’re with my sister. So maybe don’t touch me. It’s just confusing, you know?”

  I nodded, sure the pain of my disappointment must show on my face. She was right, she was only telling me what I already knew. So why did I feel like I was losing something? “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry, Tess.”

  I was. I was sorry for putting her in a situation that had made her uncomfortable. I had to do better. Somehow.

  “I’ll hold my fan-girling back, but in small towns like this, you can’t just go around … touching people.” She said this as if she knew the idea that I’d almost kissed her had absolutely nothing to do with some misguided belief on my part that it was totally normal behavior. She was giving me an out.

  “I’m really sorry, Tess. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. It was just… it kind of felt like there was a moment out there, and …” I wanted to tell her how my blood rushed when I stood near her, how my mind stopped turning when that light scent of hers wafted my way. “I guess both Manchester sisters are pretty irresistible.”

  Her face smoothed, becoming an inscrutable mask as her shoulders stiffened. She blew out a little breath that sounded a lot like frustration, and I had the distinct sense I’d put my foot in my mouth. “I mean, no. That isn’t what I meant.” But it was too late. Her eyes blazed as she took a breath and fixed me in my seat.

  “Can I ask you a question?” She said after a brief silence.

  “Yeah, of course.” My voice revealed just a hint too much of the longing I felt for her. I wasn’t sure if she heard it.

  “You came here dating my sister, nearly kissed me earlier, and just told me the Manchester sisters are essentially interchangeable in your mind. Don’t you think that makes you a bit of an asshole?”

  Oh God. Is that what I said? It wasn’t what I’d meant to say at all. “I think it came out wrong.”

  The light did not come back into her eyes and I had a sudden desperate churning feeling in my stomach, like I needed to fix this immediately.

  “I’m not sure there’s a right way for that to come out. This is a small town, Ryan. Maybe we do things differently here than in places like Hollywood. We’re careful with people’s feelings.” She paused, straightening her shoulders. “And if you hurt my sister after everything she’s been through … or if I find out you’re just using her…” she trailed off and the warning in her words lingered in the air between us.

  “I don’t want to,” I told her, guilt flooding every cell in my body and sending the semi-erection I’d had all through our baking adventure wilting like an ashamed flower. Because wasn’t that the deal I’d made? I was going to use Juliet, with her permission, to advance my own career, to land myself the financial security I hadn’t found so far. “Of course,” I said, my stomach twisting with what felt a lot like a lie.

  “Good,” Tess said, standing and carrying her cup to the sink. “Well, thanks for your help with the cake, movie star Ryan McDonnell. I can get it from here.”

  I was being dismissed. And even though it made my heart ache to realize it, maybe it was for the best. I made a promise to Juliet. And I needed to keep it. Spending too much time with her sister, no matter what my soul seemed to be telling me, would only complicate things.

  “Okay,” I said. “Okay, sure.”

  I turned and left the kitc
hen, heading back upstairs to try to get my head on straight.

  I couldn’t let my heart move closer to Tess Manchester and still honor my contract with Juliet.

  Chapter Eight

  Tess

  I finished baking the cakes myself, feeling the quiet and emptiness around me—it almost felt as if things had gone back to normal. Just me here on my own, Gran screeching intermittently at her computer, and Chessy flapping around here and there. Though Chessy had been distracted since Juliet’s entourage had arrived. But even with four guards and two movie stars in the house, it was easy to feel at this moment that I was just as alone as usual.

  I let my mind trace over the events of the day so far. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the moments in the barn and tent were the most exciting I’d had in years. Maybe ever. But Ryan’s words, about both Manchester sisters being irresistible, kept coming back to me too. And I kept reminding myself what a shitty thing that was for him to say—or at least how shitty it was to act on it, to assume that just because he was Ryan-fucking-McDonnell, he could almost-kiss whomever he liked.

  What bothered me most was that some part of what he’d said didn’t feel entirely true. And he didn’t really seem like an asshole.

  I couldn’t explain it, but something in my gut had clenched at his words, had signaled that something might be off. But I doubted I could trust my gut where hot movie stars were concerned, and besides, it was unlikely that anyone interested in my sister would look twice at me. In fact, I’d had plenty of experience with guys who’d seemed interested in me at first then suddenly became interested in my sister after meeting her.

  I’d even had a guy I was dating fall in love with my sister after she’d moved away. He’d fallen for her when she wasn’t even here—when there was no real possibility of him even meeting her. He’d found out my sister was the famous Juliet Manchester, and become convinced that if he could just hang around long enough to meet her, she’d fall for him too. Gran had taken care of that guy for me, ushering him directly back out the front door with the gun in her hand after I’d told her what was up.

  “You deserve better, Tessy,” she’d said, waving the barrel around over our heads as if to make her point.

  I’d taken the gun from her and tried to smile, wishing my heart could believe her words as much as she seemed to. I didn’t know what I deserved exactly. But maybe years of being jealous of my sister had poisoned karma against me. Maybe I deserved to be alone.

  I hoped that wasn’t true. And I was tired of being alone. Being with Ryan today had been strange—but nice. I was wildly attracted to him, sure. But even as the initial shock of hanging out with the actual human version of my movie star fantasy had begun to wear off, there was something really nice about being with him, if I just overlooked the way it ended.

  Nice wasn’t really the word I wanted to use. It was so much more than that. It was heady and powerful, basic and simple. It was like I was supposed to be with him, but I knew that didn’t make any sense.

  Because Ryan was Juliet’s boyfriend.

  I could hear them talking in the front room with Gran as I pulled the final layer of cake from the oven. I’d frost and decorate it tomorrow.

  Dinner was going to be simple. I grilled some fish, made a green salad and put a pitcher of lemonade and one of iced tea in the center of the table, and then wandered the house, calling out that it was dinner time. Two of the guards came in the front door, and Chessy’s favorite, Jack, was already out on the back porch.

  “Shoo, chicken,” he said waving his hands down at Chessy. But when I poked my head out there to see if anyone else had come down yet, Chessy was running at him, butting her head into his shins, a sign of chicken affection. I called up the stairs, and heard doors open and feet moving. After stepping through Gran’s new gaming room and having a small argument about her being in the midst of a quest, she came outside. It was early enough in the summer that it wasn’t stifling hot, and when the breeze picked up off the river, the mosquitos weren’t too bad.

  The meal was quiet. Juliet mostly stared off into the distance, looking haunted and sad, while Ryan didn’t say much either. Gran shoveled her food down and then stood.

  “I’m missing a raid tonight,” she said, sounding grumpy. “I thought y’all would be more fun than this. It’s like everyone’s practicing for starring in some shitty soap opera. Is “Life Sucks and Then You Die” filming here tomorrow? It’s supposed to be my birthday this weekend!”

  “Gran!” I said, wishing sometimes I could slip something into her Manhattans to make her more polite.

  Juliet stood and went around to wrap Gran in a hug. “I’m sorry Gran. I’m distracted.”

  “What’s his excuse?” She asked, pointing at Ryan. “Or theirs?”

  The four big men at the table looked embarrassed and muttered apologies before turning back to their food.

  Ryan actually blushed, and shook his head lightly. “I apologize, ma’am. I’ve been a terrible guest.” He looked between Gran and me as he said it, as if part of that apology was meant for me. My earlier anger had already softened, and now I found it hard to locate at all.

  “Hmph.” Gran wasn’t letting this go easily. Evidently she’d expected quite a bit more entertainment from our famous guests than she was getting.

  “Maybe I could mix you up a drink, Gran?” I offered, which earned me a dirty look from Juliet. I didn’t like Juliet being annoyed with me, but she wasn’t here most of the time. I’d learned how to mollify my grandmother to keep things peaceful around the house.

  “We should play Monopoly,” Juliet suggested.

  “You call that a game?” Gran sniffed. “I’ll take my drink, Tessy, and I’m going online. Y’all better be a lot more fun for the party. I didn’t live this long to have to try to figure out what everyone around me is moping about.”

  As Gran left the porch, sniffing, Juliet sighed and dropped her head into her hands. A little knot formed in my stomach as I realized now I was somehow responsible not just for keeping Gran happy and sedate, but I also had to worry about my sister disapproving of the way I did it.

  I rose and followed Gran into the kitchen. I purposely didn’t look back at Ryan, and I didn’t return to the table after I’d set Gran up with her drink. Instead, I went upstairs to read, and was in bed nice and early.

  I woke up the next morning early and dressed quickly. I wanted to get a workout in before any magazine crew craziness got rolling, and I thought a decent sweat session might clear my head, which was still muddled with movie star almost-kissing, intimate baking, chickens with mad bodyguard crushes and Juliet’s weird moping. It was too much to worry about, so for now I was going to focus on getting my heart rate up and banishing some worries with sweat. I’d left the watersports shop to the employees to run for the rest of the weekend, and felt free and light, despite all the chaos and strangeness in the house.

  I padded down the stairs to the basement, switching on the lights and ignoring the boxes stacked against the unfinished walls on the side beneath the stairs. That was storage, which was what this space was probably intended for. Most houses around here had basements, but the ones built as early as ours didn’t usually have the high-ceilinged, finished affairs that newer houses did. The ceiling down here was high enough to hang a heavy bag and a speed bag, but only because I wasn’t a tall girl. They would have been comically low for anyone over five-four.

  I moved to the center of the floor, where I’d installed some pads, and jogged in place for a few minutes before beginning to jump. I mimed jumping rope—something the ceiling was too low to actually do—and watched the clock. When I’d been moving for five minutes solid, the sweat beading at my brow and my breath coming fast, I took a few minutes to stretch out, moving the whole time. When I felt loose enough, I got to work, going through the same series of punches and kicks I’d been doing forever, moves I’d learned from my dad, who’d once been a Golden Gloves champion.

  He’d taught me t
o box when I was a tiny kid, as a way to feel powerful in a school system where being a scrawny mousy-haired girl didn’t always allow you to feel that way. Juliet had gotten along fine—being beautiful from age one would do that for you. But I’d always been a little different. And while I’d never minded not fitting in with all the other kids, it seemed to bother them a lot that I didn’t care. And I’d needed to learn how to make them leave me alone. Maybe words would have worked better, but Dad knew how to use his fists to convince people of things, and that’s what he’d taught me, perhaps against my mother’s wishes.

  But that’s how it was, I guess. Juliet was Mom’s. I was Dad’s daughter.

  I punched, kicked and jabbed until my lungs were screaming and my muscles were weak, and then I cooled down, throwing myself onto the mat once I’d finished stretching. The best thing about working hard enough to physically need the rest was that it stilled my mind and I was thinking about absolutely nothing.

  “You’re still beating the shit out of these bags, huh?” Juliet asked, stepping down into the musty space and looking over at me.

  Despite all the weirdness, it was still nice to see my sister.

  “Keeps me in shape,” I panted. “Gets my mind to still a bit.”

  She nodded. “Dad would be happy. Maybe I could use that,” she said. She reached out a dainty fist and hit the speed bag, watching it recoil and bounce a bit. Something in the action, and so much in her voice felt sad and lost.

  “You doing okay?” I asked her.

  She shrugged and punched the heavy bag with her other hand. “Ouch. Shit!” She stared at her knuckles.

  “You need to wrap your hands if you’re going to hit that hard,” I told her, pulling myself to my feet. I switched off my Bluetooth speaker and picked up my water bottle, turning to head back upstairs with my sister, but she stood still. She was staring into the middle distance, unseeing. “Hey, you,” I said, bumping shoulders with her. “You sure you’re okay?”