CHAPTER 9 Ainsley Riggs
You Look Nice
Dex is quiet when he returns from his meeting, and he doesn’t say much about what happened, but he does go straight for the liquor cabinet and pours himself a healthy glass of whiskey before he stands by his window looking out over that gorgeous view.
It’s nighttime now, and the lights glitter in the not-so-far distance, casting a glow that makes it look simply magical.
“Jack go down okay?” he asks.
“Yep. He’s starting to like his baths since we gave him those squeaky toys.”
“Not terribly sorry I missed out,” he murmurs, and I laugh.
“I don’t blame you. I can’t say I escaped without a headache.”
He glances over at me. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Hey, so my publicist wants me to get more involved with some charity stuff after, uh, a little scandal went down a while back. Would you want to go with me to an event tomorrow night? I know it’s short notice, but he got me in and said I should bring a date.”
Holy. Shit.
Did he just ask me out on a date?
And…he doesn’t have anyone else to ask?
“What about the baby?” I ask.
“We can find a babysitter.” He shrugs.
“I’d love to go.” I really wasn’t expecting this.
I figured he’d sort of hide me out here with the baby, but I guess he did tell the mother that I’m his girlfriend, so maybe he wants to push that a step further and be seen in public with me.
I decide to ask because I’m nothing if not direct.
“Are you just wanting to be seen with me because you told Jack’s mom that I’m your girlfriend? ”
I wish I would’ve asked before I agreed to go.
He doesn’t seem affected by my question. He keeps his gaze focused out the window. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” I try to hide the disappointment I feel in that. He wasn’t asking me on a date after all. Not really. “We should probably tell Ivy about what’s going on since presumably the press will be there.”
“I don’t want her to know about the baby yet.” He takes a sip from his glass.
“Then how do we explain why we’re together?”
He sighs as he turns toward me. “Good question. I guess we could just keep it vague. Say we ran into each other and you’re helping me out with some stuff around the house while you lay low after your reality show ordeal.”
I bite my bottom lip as I think it over, and then I nod. “Yeah. That could work.”
I don’t particularly want to call her just yet since she’ll want to know all the details about my appearance on the show.
I’m still technically bound by an NDA, which I can conveniently blame for pretty much all of it.
But I miss her, and I miss my family. I’m fairly close with my mom, dad, and four younger siblings.
Claire is only three years younger than me, and Holly is five years younger.
My two brothers, Carson and Henry, are fourteen and twelve, respectively, and I spent a lot of hours babysitting the two of them when they were little before I started playing volleyball and the sport ate all my after-school hours.
“I’ll just text her,” I say. “My parents, too.”
“Mm,” he murmurs, and he continues his brooding.
“What should I wear tomorrow to the event?”
He clears his throat. “It’s formal, so a gown if you have one.”
“I don’t.”
He nods as if that’s no issue at all. “I’ll have Milton send up a selection of designer gowns in the morning. What’s your dress and shoe size?”
“Stop, Dex. I can’t possibly let you do that.”
“Why not?” he asks, nearly affronted at my rejection.
“Because it’s too much money to spend. Designer gowns are a waste of money.”
“You’re in a new tax bracket, sweetheart. Get used to it.”
My jaw drops. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes. If you’re attending charity events with me, you need to dress the part. If you think they’re a waste, keep them all and donate them to a women’s shelter when you’re done wearing them. Now what’s your goddamn dress and shoe size?”
I huff out a sigh as I give him my details since the donation thing isn’t a bad idea, and then I head to my room to draft a text to Ivy. As it turns out, the content of the text to my best friend is harder to come up with than I thought.
I stare at what I drafted, and eventually I click the send button.
Me: Done with the show, can’t talk about it. I randomly ran into Dex and he needed some help. Since I don’t have a job at home anymore, I’m staying here for a bit. Miss you so much. Xo
My phone rings less than thirty seconds after I click send, and I know I’ll regret it, but I pick up.
“Hey, Ivy!” I answer, faking a cheerfulness I don’t feel.
“Fuck this can’t talk about it bullshit. Spill the tea, babe!”
I laugh. “I really can’t.”
“When you say you’re staying here for a bit, do you mean Vegas? Or my brother’s place?”
I clear my throat. “Both.”
“Okay, so that tells me you’re not living with whoever you were with on the show…unless they make you live apart. Did you get married?” she asks.
“I really can’t talk about it,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
She lets out a frustrated breath. “Fine. What did Dex need help with?”
“Just like some stuff around his place. Picking up, that sort of thing.”
“You’re his housekeeper?”
More like his nanny, I think to myself. “Something like that, I guess. I’m going with him to some charity thing tomorrow.”
“Ew, Ains. He’s, like, so old.”
I laugh. “And so not my type. It’s not a date. I’m just being the wholesome foil to his bad boy.”
“Well, be careful. Nothing is sacred to him, if you know what I mean.”
I do know exactly what she means, and how two siblings could have such different values is a total mystery to me.
Like me, Ivy’s a virgin too.
Dex is decidedly not.
Neither of us is waiting for any particular reason. It’s unusual in this day and age, maybe, but neither of us found anyone worth giving it up to.
I’m two years older than her, and she’s going into her senior year of college while I’ve got a year of work under my belt already.
“Nothing to worry about there. Believe me.” I’m starting to wonder if I’m saying it to convince myself, too.
Because there’s definitely an attraction there on my part, even if he’ll never see me as anything more than the hired help.
Though the next evening, I feel his eyes on me as I walk out into the kitchen in one of the ballgowns Milton gave me to try on.
I kept several of them for future events at the suggestion of Dex, but this one is just a simple black A-line dress with a plunging neckline that sinks down into a banded waist, and he’s looking at me like I’m walking into the room naked.
His teeth are sort of bared, and he looks… hungry.
Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see and he’s just looking at me with normal eyes. Or maybe he’s just actually hungry. Maybe I’m hungry, too. I mean, I’m hungry-hungry, like for food, since I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But when I look at him, I think maybe I’m hungry for something else.
I don’t know.
I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.
I wore darker makeup tonight, and a glittery barrette is holding back a French braid down the side of my hair that ties back into a curly bun.
I don’t often put in the effort with my shorter hair, but when I have the time, I love trying out different hairstyles.
Meanwhile, Dex has probably gotten used to seeing me with no makeup and air-dried hair.
That’s probably why he’s looking at me like that. He doesn’t recognize me.
I almost don’t recognize myself.
Milton’s sixteen-year-old niece, Madison, was able to babysit for us on short notice, and he’s right downstairs should she need anything. The baby is in good hands, and I’m learning more and more about Milton and how he’s a pretty good dude.
I take Jack from Madison and give him a squeeze since I’ve become the closest thing he has to a mother over the last week—a scary thought indeed—and then Dex asks if I’m ready.
I nod, and we head out to the elevator. He’s quiet as we step on, and I wonder what the night has in store for us.
“You look nice,” he says awkwardly as the doors seal us into privacy.
“So do you.”
He clears his throat. “I meant to say beautiful. Not nice. You look beautiful, Ainsley.”
My cheeks burn at his compliment and the way his voice gets all raspy when he says my name. I force myself to remember that this isn’t a real date. He lied to Jack’s mother that I’m his girlfriend, and his publicist wanted him at a charity event. That’s all this is. “Thank you.”
But when we arrive on the red carpet and he grabs my hand, it suddenly doesn’t feel like that’s all this is.
“Dex, who’s your date?” some reporter yells.
He looks over at me, and I look up at him. We ignore the people yelling at us, and I’ll be dubbed the mystery woman in the tabloids by morning.
I kind of like being Dex’s mystery woman despite what I told Ivy.
Tonight’s charity event is Vegas-themed, and it features both gambling and drinking. We start by heading over toward the bar.
I’ve seen Dex with a drink several times in the week I’ve been living with him, but as for myself…
I’m not much of a drinker at all. I hate the way wine tastes, and beer is disgusting.
I can tolerate a vodka and Sprite if it’s heavy on the Sprite and has a cherry or three thrown in, and so that’s what I ask the bartender for.
Dex opts for straight whiskey, and I’m not the best at hiding what I’m thinking. He chuckles when he sees my nose wrinkled in disgust.
“You don’t like whiskey?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“You’ve probably only ever had the cheap shit. Try this.” He hands me his glass, and I take a sip. As I do, I realize how very much it’s something two people might do on a date.
But he’s right. The sip I take is smooth, where the whiskey I’ve tried before had a bitter aftertaste and a gross burn as it slid down my throat. This one pulses a warm feeling through my entire chest.
Sort of like Dex is starting to do.