Текст книги "Fade to Red"
Автор книги: Willow Aster
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
She looked everywhere but in his eyes. He blinked and inched closer, thinking he saw tears in her eyes. Shit—had he really upset her that much?
“Look, please. Forgive me. What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked when she still wasn’t speaking. “Dinner?”
She snorted. “That’s how you fix everything, isn’t it? You think you can say anything and everyone just bends. ‘Oh Beckham Woods, you’re so hilarious! Everything you say and do is so fabulous! Let me just bask in your presence!’ Uh, no, thank you very much to dinner.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and stared at him.
The seconds pulsed in the air like bullets hitting their target. She turned suddenly and practically ran away.
Beckham was so stunned, he didn’t move until Anthony came down the hall with everyone else.
“You gonna stick around?” Anthony asked as he was passing Beckham.
Beckham had planned to say something to the group—to welcome them and thank them for committing to the tour—but he was so confused by what had happened with Roxie that he shook his head.
“I’m gonna head back home. Thanks for being here,” he said to the dancers. “I … well, I’ll see you later in the week. Don’t let Anthony be too hard on ya!” He tried to sound light, but knew he just needed to get out of there before he could screw things up further.
He sped home in his Jag, winding around the hills faster than he should. He was so angry with himself, but the more he thought about it, the more he resented Roxie’s attitude. What the hell? He hadn’t really done anything that awful. The whole thing was just embarrassing.
When he got home, he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottled water. He’d rather have a Jameson and Coke right now, but he’d settle for safe. Damn Roxie. She’d already made him want to cave on two of his vices and they’d barely spoken.
He picked up the phone and called Anthony. He knew his phone was off, but he wanted Anthony to hear the message as soon as he was done with rehearsals.
“Hey, Anthony. I need to talk to you about Roxie Taylor. I’m thinking Vanessa might be a better fit for the sets with me. I got Roxie all worked up today … and I just don’t see us having much chemistry when it comes down to it.”
He knew that was a lie. She might not feel it, but even as much as she had humiliated him, he still wanted to wrap his hands all over her body.
“Anyway … think about it. I’d be more comfortable. Vanessa and I have worked well together before—it wouldn’t be as far of a stretch.”
He hung up and felt better, but knew he had another call to make. She answered on the first ring.
“Hi, honey. How did it go today?”
“Hey, Ma. I left early. I’ll go back in a couple days. They don’t really need me yet. Anthony’s got it.”
“Okay, well, do you want to come over for supper tonight?”
His mom had her southern accent still, and nobody anywhere did good southern food like her. He always felt his accent slide on just a little more when he talked to her.
“That’s just what I need, Ma. When you want me?”
“You know you can come over whenever you feel like it,” she said.
“How ’bout I get a few things done around here and then I’ll be over. Is Sierra there?”
“Sure is. She’ll be glad to see you. Come on.”
He hung up with her and felt better yet. Time with his mom and sister always did him good. His dad had passed away a little over five years ago, with no warning. It had shaken their whole world. A seemingly healthy man, he’d had a heart attack in his sleep and died instantly. Nothing would ever be quite the same without his dad. It was part of the reason Beckham was anxious to be done with all the traveling—he knew his mom and sister needed him around more.
When his dad died, months went by that he barely came out of the stupor. His mom and sister didn’t talk about it much anymore, but when they did, they always bawled. He never wanted to put them through that again, and he hoped one day he could make up for the time they’d lost.
He planned to talk them into Italy when the time came. It wouldn’t be that hard—they’d gone to Italy a handful of times together and always talked about what it’d be like to live there. The slower pace of life sounded better all the time.
When he got to the house later that afternoon, he ran up the steps and walked right inside.
“I’m home. Anybody here?” he hollered.
“Back here, honey,” his mom called.
His sister stepped out of the kitchen and came walking toward him. “Hey, stranger. How are ya?”
“Better now. It’s been a long day,” he admitted.
“Well, come on. Once Ma found out you were coming, she put together a feast. You’d almost think you were her favorite or something.”
“No, the daughter always trumps, you know that.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Is that how it works? You better tell Ma that.”
Sierra was a few years older than him and they’d always been close. She teased him about being the favorite, but she had always been so proud of him. He’d tried every tour to convince her to come sing backup with him, but she wasn’t interested. When they finished their family traveling days, she was done. She didn’t want to see the inside of another tour bus.
“I need you to get her to stop trying to set me up. I don’t need a hipster musician. That’s all she wants to set me up with? Give me a nerd any day!”
“Shut up. That’s so offensive!” Beckham jabbed her in the side. “I resemble that!”
She groaned. “You know you’re a nerd in sheep’s clothing. All this hip rock star vibe thing you got going … I know you’re just a nerd begging to be loved.”
He gave her another good jab until she slapped his hand and tattled.
“MA! Beckham is picking on me!” she hollered.
“Oh, please.” He did it again just to annoy her. “Sierra’s calling me names,” he yelled, laughing and backing away as Sierra tried to pinch him.
Their mom came out with an apron on, wiping her hands on it. “There you are. Have you two already started? Come on, set the table, B. It’s almost ready.”
And just like that Beckham felt himself again. Well, almost.
“Please go on tour with me this year. Please, Sierra. I need you. Please.” He clasped his hands together and got on his knees, following her like that all the way to the kitchen.
“What is your problem?” she laughed. “I’m too old for tours. I have a good job, thank you.”
“Don’t you miss singing? It’s in your blood. I know you miss it.”
“Occasionally, I do … but not enough to get in a bus with all your crazy entourage. That time in Japan cured me. Your fans are cuh-razy. No, thank you.”
Twice today I’ve been rebuffed with fake politeness, he thought and then shook his head. Roxie wasn’t going to bust his good mood. They started eating and he was still on the topic.
“Did I mention Ian Sterling is going?”
“NO, you didn’t tell me!” Her eyes were huge. “You should have opened with that.”
“Oh, even I knew that, honey. It’s been all over the place, for the last month.” Their mom lowered her head, but her eyes were still on Sierra. “You should turn on your TV once in a while.”
“Ian Sterling.” Sierra breathed his name.
Beckham snorted. “No hip musician for you, my ass.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s different.”
“Um, yeah,” he said sarcastically. “Actually, you’re right, he is. I like him a lot. So come on. You’ll like his wife too. And you’d learn the material like that.” Beckham snapped his fingers. “I’ve got great singers, but it wouldn’t be like it is with you…”
The thought of having her with him made everything seem so much better.
“I’m gonna tell you two something and don’t you dare breathe a word of it to anyone. Not even yourself,” Beckham whispered.
“Oh gawd, you’ve always been so dramatic,” Sierra said.
“I’m retiring. This might be my last year—hell, I want it to be my last tour. I’m ready to be done. I’m almost at the end of my contract and I know they think I’m going to stay with the label, but I haven’t signed anything and I’m not going to. I want us to move somewhere very far from L.A. at the end of next year … Italy, perhaps?” He wiggled his eyebrows at his mother. “I’m walking away.” He picked up his fork and dug into the food, feeling better than he had in a long time. “I’d like you to be there with me, Sierra.”
Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. They looked at him like he’d just bombed a country.
“Well, say something!”
They both started talking at once.
“That is the best news.”
“I’m so glad! It’s time. I mean, I know you love it, but we miss you.”
“You can focus on starting a family!”
“Even if you go back to it later, you need a break!”
And on and on it went.
Beckham laughed and put another pork chop on his plate. He intended to eat whatever he wanted for one more night. It wouldn’t be like this once he was rehearsing.
“Okay, I’ll come,” Sierra said quietly at first, and then louder, “I’ll do it!”
“Really? You will?”
She nodded.
“Yes! Thank you! This is great. You have about two weeks to learn the material backwards and forwards. And then vocal work will be going on at the same time as the dance rehearsals. We’ll combine you guys in a few weeks.”
“I know it pretty well already,” she said. “I’ll just need to break it to the office that I’m leaving.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I was ready for a change anyway.”
She took a sip of wine and stared into space, a smile faintly touching her lips. He groaned, hoping his entourage wouldn’t embarrass themselves too badly over Ian.
She stuck a tack through the forehead of every person involved. Stick, prick, blood. She grinned. If it were only that easy.
There were only a few backup singers. His sister was the only new one. She touched the hair on Sierra’s picture and repositioned the tack so it looked like a hair barrette instead of a colorful ball in her forehead. Better. The sister was safe.
Ian Sterling and his wife and daughter were surprises she hadn’t seen coming. She had them on the wall, but they didn’t really seem threatening. From what she could tell, they were so wrapped up in each other, they wouldn’t stand in her way of getting to Beckham.
The dancers. She ticked off their names. Memorization had always come easy for her. There were two who had toured with him before, so that left two less to worry about. She repositioned the tacks on Justin and Vanessa’s heads. Brad and Shelton, too. They were gay and wouldn’t get in her way. Without question, Beckham was damn straight.
That left the last two: Brooke and Roxie. She left their pins right where they were and studied the pictures intently. Brooke was the prettier of the two, with black hair and porcelain skin. But there was something appealing about Roxie. Almost magnetic. Her thick, waist-length blonde hair made you want to pull it and her eyes looked deep blue-green innocent. She also had an ass that would probably be insured by the time the tour was over. Brooke was beautiful, but Roxie was sexier … by far. She tried to look at them through Beckham’s eyes and see what he would see in both of them.
Roxie. She would have to watch that one.
She stepped back to look at her walls. The maps were ready. Each of Beckham’s tour stops were marked on a huge map that covered a wall. The other two walls she’d been adding to for years, clipping her favorite shots of Beckham Woods. Some she’d printed from the Internet, some she’d clipped from magazines, most of them she’d taken of him herself. Those were her favorites.
The final wall was anyone who might get in her way. She belonged with Beckham. There was no doubt that she would have him.
Red X’s were drawn through Josephine Sales, Genny Freeman, and Bethany Cook—girls he’d dated. She kept watch on them every now and then to see if they were still in contact, but they seemed to have all moved on from each other.
There was one girl he’d met in rehab that she’d followed for weeks after he got out. He contacted the girl and went out with her once. She might have seen to it that the girl got reacquainted with her little buddy, heroin.
But that could never be pinned on her.
Stick, prick, blood. She grinned. It really was that easy.
Ian poked his head into the rehearsal room and watched for a few minutes before he saw a place in the back where he could sit unnoticed. Beckham had given him the security code, but Ian wasn’t expected to come in for another week at least. He was stunned by the whole set-up. The dancers were unbelievable. He’d done a lot of rehearsals and traveling—short tours and an extended tour—and liked to think he did things with excellence, but he’d never been part of something as big as this. This tour was a production, far better than anything he and Donny could have dreamed up on their own. He couldn’t wait for Sparrow to see all of it. She would freak.
When he realized Beckham wasn’t coming in, he went out the same way he came in—secretly. He walked outside, dialing Beckham before he reached the car. He looked around, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stick up … the way he usually knew he was being watched. Then again, he felt that way pretty much all the time now when he was out and about in L.A., and unfortunately, it was usually true. He hoped he hadn’t been followed. Beckham wanted to keep this location private as long as they could.
He looked around one more time but didn’t see anyone. Beckham answered just as he got in his car.
“I stopped by the warehouse,” he said. “Thought I might see you here.”
“Ahh, not yet. I dropped in the other day, but I probably won’t go in until later this week. I don’t want to make them too uncomfortable when they’re still learning the material.”
“They’re looking pretty damn phenomenal,” Ian said.
“Good, right?”
“Better than that,” he said. “There’s one that seemed like she could teach the whole group. Anthony kept having her demonstrate. She’s got it down, backwards and forwards.”
Beckham groaned. “That’s Roxie. She’s gonna be the end of me.”
Ian laughed. “Oh, it’s like that, huh. This is gonna be so fun.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, touchy.”
“Hey, baby, come take a ride with me.”
Sparrow looked up from the book she was reading. He was glad she’d listened to him and taken a break from packing while he was gone.
She managed to scrunch her nose and smile at the same time. “Journey’s right here. We can’t have sex right now.” The last three words were not even whispered, but mouthed.
He leaned down and kissed her nose. “I meant a ride in the car, but I like your idea so much better.”
“Oh!” Her eyes twinkled as her smile brightened. “Where are we going? We still have a lot to do…”
“Not today we don’t. I want to take my girls out. Come on. I need to show you something.”
He looked over at Journey, who had a cloth book in her mouth, her bib soaked with drool. He raised an eyebrow to Sparrow.
“She’s eating books. Are you really okay with that?”
“When you say it like that, no.”
She leveled him with her eyes, and he flinched, throwing his hands up.
“Everything is going in her mouth today. At least it’s not a copy of Gone With the Wind or something,” she said.
“Good point. I guess we’ve got to let her normal-ness come out every once in a while. She can’t be perfect all the time. I think she should be allowed to have at it with the book.” He nodded gravely.
She smiled up at him, and her head tilted to the side as she studied him. “Do you ever have a serious thought anymore?”
He blinked fast, giving her his best doe-eyed look.
Her lips twitched and he knew it was taking a lot of effort for her not to laugh.
“Define serious, Little Bird. I’m serious as hell over you and the pumpkin.” He pulled her up and moved his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Beyond that … I can’t seem to get too upset about anything since the day you married me—I mean, there’s rough stuff and all. Like you scaring me to death with the early labor, and now Donny being sick, life…” He kissed her cheeks and forehead and chin. “But you and that baby girl are the two very best things I’ve ever done. Every single time I see you, my heart short-circuits and I feel a rush to my heart, my brain … my other brain…” He moved her hand down to the front of his pants and pushed against her, grinning. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being in awe of the fact that you married me, Sparrow Kate Sterling.”
Journey made gurgling noises from her spot on the floor. She was on her back now, both feet in her mouth.
Ian shook his head, laughing at the baby, while he leaned in for one more kiss from his bride.
“I love you, Ian,” Sparrow said against his lips. She leaned back and suddenly turned serious. “I’m so happy it terrifies me.”
He frowned and put his hands on either side of her face. “Why? What do you mean?”
“Life is so up and down, I think I … I just can’t imagine us getting away with being this happy forever.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “We’ve already gone through hell, baby. It’s time for us to enjoy this heaven.” His fingers traced down her neck, to the especially outstanding cleavage she had since having the baby. He pressed a kiss there, between her breasts and wanted to stay there forever.
“I am definitely enjoying this heaven,” she said, her voice breathy.
“Woman, you can’t do that sexy voice and then stop me from making love to my wife,” Ian said, his own voice raspy. “God, my need for you never stops…” He reluctantly lifted his head and looked at her through a lust haze. She stared at him with the same craving. He twitched in her hands, and she gripped him harder, making him crazy.
He looked at the baby, still happy with her feet, and shifted Sparrow to the wall in the hallway, just out of Journey’s eyesight.
“Shhh,” he whispered, putting a finger to Sparrow’s lips. She nodded.
He had his jeans open and her underwear shifted to the side in a blink, not wasting a second this time before pushing all the way inside. They’d learned to steal their moments when they could. He knew she was beyond ready, by the way she was breathing. She wrapped her legs around him and rolled her hips, her urgency letting him know she didn’t want to go slow either. Their eyes stayed focused on each other, as his hands gripped her thighs and he slammed into her again and again and again, until he felt lightheaded. He didn’t let up. Her eyes were glazed in that way they got before she lost her mind. He fucking loved it when she lost her mind on him. She began whimpering when she was close and it was his undoing. His tongue dove into her mouth, claiming her moans. He pumped everything he had into her and she cried out into his mouth as she pulsed around him.
“Dadadada,” Journey sang in the living room.
He let out a shuddering breath and kissed Sparrow’s forehead.
“I’ll be right there, Pumpkin,” he rasped. “I’m in your mom right now. One sec.” He lowered Sparrow to the ground.
Sparrow swatted him on the shoulder, hard.
“Ow! Baby! What?” He slowly pulled out of her and pulled her skirt down before tucking himself back in his pants.
“Behave!”
Her eyes were fiery, but he knew she was far from mad. This was how his girl looked when she was satisfied.
He eyed at her smugly. “Really? Pretty sure you’d be disappointed if I ever behaved…”
Sparrow mentioned she’d already made the lemon caper sauce for his favorite chicken dish, so he went with plan B. He’d wanted to take her out to eat and then show her the surprise he’d been hiding for too long now, but that’s the trouble with surprises—they’re hard to pull off when you’re working alone. He put Journey on his shoulders and set the table while Sparrow finished making dinner.
Sparrow looked so tired while they ate. She seemed happy and content, looking after him and Journey in a way that always made him fall even harder for her. He didn’t know if it was this way for everyone, but she could do something as simple as touching his cheek when he complimented her cooking, and he’d think, I could die right now, complete. Life can’t get any better than this.
“I’m sorry—I can tell you’re worn out, but I don’t think I can wait another day,” he said. “I’m a little nervous to show you, not gonna lie.”
“I’m so curious now, I don’t think I can sleep until I know whatever it is,” she said, nuzzling his nose.
“I realized last night that I won’t sleep until you know what it is.” He laughed.
“So that’s what has had you tossing for weeks!” She shook her head and leaned forward to squeeze his chin.
He watched as her hair fell forward and got lost in the valley of her chest. She was smiling when his eyes finally lifted to hers. God, he loved her.
Journey was on her hip as they walked to the car. Sparrow placed her in the carseat, and he buckled her in, while Sparrow got in the front.
After Ian won Best Album, they gutted their tour bus to accommodate the baby and bought another bus for the band. In place of the bunks, they had a crib and cabinets built in, complete with a changing table. It was finished weeks before Journey was born, and she’d spent more time there than their place in L.A.
He hoped Sparrow wouldn’t kill him for making this new ‘celebrity-sized’ purchase without her.
They drove for about thirty minutes, the customary length of time it took to get anywhere, so she had no clue what they were doing. Soon they were in Malibu, driving along the coastline. Sparrow pointed out one massive mansion after the next, wondering who lived in these houses. They turned a corner and the sunset was out of this world. He couldn’t have timed it more perfectly if he’d tried. He turned into a lot that was thick with trees and stopped the car.
She looked at him in question and he hopped out of the car and ran around to open her door. He took her hand and pulled her next to him, then leaned in for a quick kiss and opened the back door to get Journey. Once he had her out of her carseat, he turned to Sparrow, glad there was still enough light to see everything, but knowing they needed to hurry before the sun set.
“This way,” he said, taking her hand.
They walked through the trees until there was a clearing. Just ahead was plush sand, and beyond that, the ocean.
He stopped while they were in the clearing, the area opening up into a vast space overlooking the water.
“I thought our house could be here,” he said. “What do you think?”
Sparrow’s eyes were huge. She swallowed and looked at him in shock. “This is ours?”
“All ours, Little Bird.” He tugged her closer and kissed her forehead, and then Journey’s. “Think we can make a home here?”
“I can make a home with you anywhere, but yeah, this looks … like a dream,” she said, turning around and moving toward the ocean. “I can’t imagine being able to see this view all the time!”
He watched her turn around, laughing and squealing with excitement. He tried to swallow around the huge lump that formed in his throat and hid his face in Journey’s soft waves while he blinked back the emotion.
Yeah, life can’t get any better than this.
The rehearsals became more intensive and Roxie loved every second. She felt challenged, and yet, fully capable of everything Anthony threw at her. They were only on their fifth rehearsal, but already they were becoming more of a cohesive team. It felt really good to work off all her frustration and passion when she got out on the dance floor.
Leo was adjusting really well too. She had gone home for lunch the past two days and each night they went out exploring when she got home from work. Chloe took that time to either get a break or sometimes she hung out with them. Roxie thought Chloe seemed lighter with each day away from Alex. The move had been good for all of them.
Working through one of the fast songs that had more of the pop/lock moves that Beckham was known for in his shows reminded Roxie of the dance-offs she’d done back home, only Anthony took them to the next level. As soon as the song was over, he turned on the slower song “Shadows” where Brooke and Vanessa mirrored each other’s movements and Roxie danced just outside of them. Leo would totally be making fun of me right now if he saw this. A smile crept up on her face as she thought about it. She usually danced like this when she was pretending to be the sleep fairy in his room. Anthony told her to freestyle around the girls for now, but that she would be trailing Beckham later.
Midway through the song, Beckham walked in the room. Her skin felt hot when his eyes landed on her. They scorched through her like a glassblowing torch, melting her into something she didn’t recognize. She tried to tune him out and keep her movements fluid. There was no way she could react to him like she had the other day. If she was going to do this tour, she needed to be professional … not act like a snotty bitch. Better yet, she just needed to stay off of Beckham’s radar altogether. She had absolutely no time for his type, whether he was her boss or not.
The song ended and Roxie walked toward the stack of clean hand towels. Beckham beat her there and lifted one up to her.
“Need this?”
“Thanks,” she said and turned around to grab a water bottle.
Anthony walked over to them and said, “I’m glad you’re here together. I wanted to talk about this song and a couple of the other slower ones. We’ll need to have extra time to work on these. I’m thinking let’s get after it tomorrow. What do you think?”
Beckham looked startled and then stretched his hands up over his head and left them in his hair. “Uh … whatever you think. It’s Saturday, though. Did you have plans, Roxie?”
“Well, kinda … but…”
Anthony studied her. “I told you I’d be owning your time,” he said. “So, I suggest you clear your plans. Unless you want me to hand all your solo parts over to Vanessa … Beckham? Is that what you wanted anyway?”
Beckham’s feet shifted and he glared at Anthony. “We have time. And it’s up to Roxie, whether she’s up for the extra work or not.”
Roxie put her hands on her hips. “Please stop talking like I’m not right here!” Shit, I have to start controlling my mouth. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
Both guys stared at her, stunned.
She backpedaled quickly. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be … uh, I will try to clear my schedule. Is there any way we can meet early in the morning? And how much time do we need?”
Anthony looked at her, half-awed and half-ticked. “Okay then, little miss. Let’s meet from 6-12 tomorrow and Sunday morning.” He took a step toward her and leaned close to her face. “And get your attitude on straight. There’s only room for one prima donna around here.” He looked over at Beckham and pointed at himself. “And that’s me.”
They laughed, while Roxie felt sick to her stomach.
“I really am sorry. I’m not normally … it’s not … I’ll be there.”
“That’s more like it!” Anthony smiled as he walked away.
Beckham groaned. He looked at Roxie with what seemed to be an apologetic grin. “Thanks. Listen, Roxie. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“You got that right,” she muttered.
He looked at her incredulously. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever, until Roxie couldn’t look at him anymore.
Finally, Beckham leaned in closer to her. “Whatever I’ve done to piss you off, I’m sorry. I’d like to start over, if that’s okay with you. We’re gonna be working together closely, and if you’re not good with me … it will show.”
Again, the silence.
She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear.
“I’ll never be good with you.” She tried not to inhale his scent as she got closer. His breath smelled like cinnamon and his skin smelled like something she wouldn’t mind sinking her whole face in. “But I will fake it and no one will ever know the difference.”
She stepped back and gave him a smile that was as bright as the California sun. She reached out her hand and he shook it, troubled by her words but lured in just the same. When their skin touched, an electric current zinged through and shocked them both, causing them to jump back at once.
“Ow!” he said.
She just smiled bigger.
He walked away from her, certain she had a voodoo doll of him at home.
Beckham stayed for rehearsal and he and Roxie were paired together several times. The whole group was part of the practice, but she was always the one selected to shadow Beckham. It was his first time to work with them and he seemed to have already learned every dance long before they got there. Roxie had always been impressed with the way he moved. All through high school, she studied every single music video he made and never failed to record every live performance. Dancing with him now was surreal. She could feel the energy radiating off of him, almost knew his move before he made it. It was easier than it had been dancing without him there. Everyone worked harder, did better. He made everything Anthony choreographed come to life.
This was what she’d trained for … forever. This was what she’d given up when she got pregnant with Leo. It was all worth it. She stumbled, getting distracted in her thoughts. Don’t blow it, Roxie. Beckham grabbed her arm and pulled her into him, doing the salsa and staring into her eyes like he owned her. The way he looked at her when they danced—like she was a delicacy he was scared to touch but also wanted to devour—she could almost feel her defenses begin to fall. But no, she hated him. She needed to hate him. No matter what. There was no way she could let him in. Not again.
She’d Googled his eye color before. She was embarrassed thinking about it now, but as she looked into them again, she remembered that she’d done it more than once. His eyes were such an unusual grey blue. Constantly changing. Chameleon eyes, just like him, she thought. Never trust a guy that doesn’t even have a distinguishable eye color.
He laughed. She’d also studied videos of his laugh. It was the best laugh. If she didn’t hate it so much, she’d love it. It was not contained. He always laughed with everything and almost sounded like a geek when he did.
“What?” she snapped.
“What is going through that head of yours, Roxie Taylor?” He stretched her out and pulled her back along the front of his body. Her eyes widened when she felt a little too much of him. “Your hair is amazing, by the way. I’ve never seen it down.”
“Don’t try to distract me,” she said through clenched teeth.
