Chapter 48
ASPEN
“–with three seconds left. The goalie didn’t even see it.
We celebrated by making ice cream sundaes from the soft serve machines in the cafeteria and Dex bought gummy bears to add to everyone’s bowl.
Even the losing teams because he’s nice like that.
We’re going to work on the zone-to-zone passing in practice this week. ”
“Wow, it sounds like you had an amazing time,” Mallory said, going over to Sierra and giving her a high five.
We were in a portable trailer on the Hansen ranch where the dating show was happening. A hairdresser had just finished with a flatiron and was now curling my hair. The combination didn’t make any sense, but I’d kept my mouth shut about it all since I showed up. Including the outfit I was wearing.
It was a pretty sundress, pale blue with cap sleeves and buttons down the front.
It was accompanied with a pair of brown cowgirl boots and chunky turquoise jewelry.
With my hair and makeup done, they definitely had me looking like a small-town girl primped to prairie perfection for three possible cowboy suitors.
“Think you can do me a favor?” Mallory asked her.
Sierra nodded.
“I don’t think Theo knows where I am. If he’s out there by himself, I’m afraid the producers will make him one of the bachelors. Can you bring him here so I can protect him?”
Sierra rolled her eyes. “On it. But you need to marry that man. Like I wanted Mom to marry Luke ‘cause he was cool.”
She stormed out of the trailer, and I sighed. Mallory laughed.
“She’s right. You need to marry Theo,” I told her.
“Yeah, I do.” Her eyes dropped to her cell, and we were quiet for a minute. I was doing my nose breathing to stay calm, but it wasn’t working very well.
I was going on live TV. I had to flirt and be excited about the possibility of love with one of the three cowboy bachelors. Then go to Hawaii with him… and Sierra.
Mallory looked up. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
I frowned. “About what?”
The hairdresser spritzed me with hairspray.
“Luke and everything being fake,” she added.
I’d tried hard… really, really hard, not to be sad or mad or both about him. I shouldn’t have been surprised by what he did. Not after all the times I’d been used and tossed aside. I was a little mad at myself. Okay, a lot.
And sad. And mad.
“Oh?”
“Have you seen Luke’s social media posts?”
I shook my head, but the stylist was using the curling iron again and it was clamped down around a section of my hair.
“Here.” She handed me her phone. “Swipe through.”
I looked down at the screen, at the grid of images on the social media app. The page was called Derek Dashwood Official, and it had over five million followers. I picked on the first image to enlarge it.
It was me in the green dress. I was walking away from Luke and the flowy skirt split showing the long line of my left leg.
My face was turned away, but my hand looked as if I was reaching back for Luke to follow.
I hadn’t even known he took the photo. The text Luke wrote with it said, Where she goes, I follow.
The date and time stamp showed it was posted before the party. Before everything fell apart.
I scrolled.
The next image was of me in Luke’s bed in California. Asleep. My face wasn’t showing, only my blonde hair strewn over my bare shoulder. I recognized the little mole on my deltoid and the gray sheets. Luke wrote: Perfection. Mine.
I didn’t remember him taking it, obviously again without me knowing. How long had Luke been awake looking at me?
I scrolled again.
This photo was of me in full jeté. My arms were flung wide, my back arched, legs in a full split in the air as I leapt across his back deck. That had been right before I met Sam, but I hadn’t known Luke had been watching.
Luke’s photo comment: Can you believe she’s with me?
Another swipe.
There was a fifteen second video clip of me dancing. Oh my God.
I started to sweat, and it wasn’t from the hot curling iron.
I flipped again and again. Photo after photo. Our hands linked together. My head turned, catching the corner of my smile. Me, silhouetted at the beach with the sun setting behind me. A picture of my ass in my leggings, which made me laugh. The two of us on the plane.
“I wish some guy saw me like that,” the hairdresser commented from over my shoulder. Her name was Rose, and she sighed wistfully.
“Right?” Mallory asked, taking her phone back. “What do you think this means?”
Rose set the curling iron down. “That guy is in love.”
“He is not,” I countered, putting my hand to my hair. “It’s to make it clear to those millions of followers and the tabloid websites that he’s not dating Lacey.”
“I call bull hockey,” Mallory said, going back to not using swear words. “What do you know of him? And I mean not what everyone else in the world knows.”
I looked at Mallory in the mirror. “He’s got amazing parents who live on a ranch. He’s from this weirdly named town in Nebraska. He likes chicken wings. His house in the Hollywood Hills has no furniture. He can’t cook. Like at all.”
“What does he know about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“He knows about Sierra.”
“Yes.”
“They obviously hit it off if she gave him the kid green light for marriage.”
I rolled my eyes like Sierra. “Whatever.”
“Did he know who your parents were?”
I gave her a look.
“I mean, did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him you used to dance?”
“No. But you didn’t know that either.”
Mallory flung her arms up. “Exactly!”
“What are you getting at?”
“When are you going to let someone in all the way?”
I blinked at her. “Why would I talk about my parents when they want nothing to do with me?”
She leaned against the vanity and stared at me. “You don’t, but Luke didn’t stand a chance, did he?”
I looked to Rose in the mirror, not wanting to have this conversation in front of her. “My hair looks amazing. Are we all done?”
She smiled. “Lookin’ good.”
“Thank you so much,” I said.
Rose left and held the door open for Georgia to come in. “Well butter my biscuit, look at you!” she said excitedly when she stopped beside me.
I rolled my eyes.
“I feel like a pageant queen,” I admitted. “I don’t think my hair’s ever been this big.”
Georgia waved her hand through the air. Of course her hair and makeup were perfect. “It’s not pageant hair unless you use an entire can of hairspray. I came to make sure you’re ready. It’s almost show time.”
I took a deep breath. Let it out. I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
When I picked Sierra up at the winter sports center this morning and told her about being on the show, she’d been beside herself with excitement that her mother was picking a random cowboy on live television.
She didn’t see it as insane. She saw it as cool.
“Here,” Mallory said, pushing her phone into Georgia’s hand. “Tell me what you see.”
Georgia frowned and scrolled through the photos. “Oh my.” Then more scrolling. “Look at you dance! Good lord above, you’re amazing!”
“See!” Mallory said, throwing up her arms.
“See what?” I yelled. “I walked away from dance!”
“You can’t keep something this amazing a secret!” Mallory snapped back. “Everything about you is a secret. You need to let people in.”
I shook my head, the curls bouncing. “People hurt me, Mallory. All people do is take, take, take.”
“Not everyone.”
Georgia was staring at us, wide eyed. She’d never heard us argue before.
“Did Luke really take from you?” Mallory asked.
“Yes!”
“Really? Because what I see here”–she pointed at her phone Georgia still held–“is a guy who’s all in with a girl.”
“Who wanted me for access to my mother.”
Mallory waved her hand. “Please. Your mother isn’t that special. She’s a senator, not Steven Spielberg!”
“Your mother’s a senator?” Georgia asked.
I nodded but kept my eyes on Mallory. “What do you want me to do, let Luke in and let him destroy me? I’ve had that happen and I really don’t like the feeling.”
“Not everyone is like your parents.”
“Everyone wants me for something, Mallory.”
She shook her head. “Not me.”
“Not me,” Georgia added.
“Not Bridget. Or Lindy. Or Melly. Or Eve. Or any of the guys. Not Mrs. Waddle.”
“But–”
“No buts,” she snapped. “Georgia and I both saw Luke at the pizza place that night. He was into you for you.”
“Oh yeah,” Georgia added with her southern twang.
“You kept him at arm’s distance. Refused to be anything but fake with him. Besides all the orgasms.”
“It wasn’t real! Besides the orgasms,” I muttered the last.
Mallory barked out a laugh. “Liar! You wouldn’t be so upset if it was fake. Your feelings are real. They are valid. It’s okay to fall in love with someone. It’s okay to be reckless and wild with your emotions.”
I shook my head, knowing doing that was when it hurt.
“You need to dance for the world just because you love it. You need to let yourself love Luke and show the world how much, because that kind of love is rare and amazing. You have to do it for you.”
“He’s in India or Ireland or some other country for the Living Dangerously film. He got what he wanted. Besides, you’re telling me all this now? I’m all primped to be a bachelorette on a TV show, remember? I’ve got to pick one of the three bachelors. I’m going to Hawaii with him.”
The trailer door swung open and Sierra stormed in. “Um, Mom, there’s a guy here to see you.”
I flicked my gaze to Mallory, and I knew she was thinking the same as me.
Luke?
But no. The man who came in was in his early thirties, six feet tall, sandy blond hair, and an equally sandy blond beard. He wore navy pants and a white dress shirt, as if he’d recently removed a suit coat and tie.
He looked to Georgia, then Mallory, then me. “Aspen Lane?”
I nodded.
“Mark Rasche with the FBI.”