Chapter 15
15
RYAN
I ’m all smiles as I stretch once more in the kitchen. My body is deliciously sore in the best way possible. The kind of sore only good sex can provide. Well, that’s an assumption, because I’ve never felt this achy after having sex before, and after sleeping with Marcus, I can safely say I’ve never had good sex before either.
Being with him was…wow.
I slept better than ever before. Like a baby. Or a woman who was royally sexed up from head to toe, her vagina thoroughly stretched and filled. And that was after being eaten to orgasm, which is another thing I’ve been lacking in my life. It’s something I love, but Vaughn just wasn’t a fan, so he rarely did it.
The fucker.
But Marcus enjoyed it. In fact, he may have enjoyed it more than me. Well, not more than me, but he was a serious fan. Seeing my juices glisten on his face, coating his lips and chin, was epically erotic, and my thighs are clenching at the thought of seeing it again. Is it bad to shoot him a text and ask? I’m not above begging.
At the end of our sexed-up night, I left with an extra pep in my step and thighs that burned from his stubble. It was perfect.
Now, I’m trying to decide how to spend my Tuesday. Marcus is at work, so it’s not like I can buzz through the pathway to his cabin and jump his bones. Or specifically, a very large bone. If I thought he had big dick energy before, last night only confirmed it. He’s practically the president of the big dick man club.
Grabbing my phone, I take a sip of my coffee and grab a seat at the small dinette. I haven’t paid much attention to my device since I arrived on Friday, so I’m sure I’ve got plenty of communications to catch up on. The scent of fresh caramel infused coffee with yummy sugar-free Italian cream fills the air. It may not be an eight-dollar cup of Joe from a coffee shop or café, but it’ll do, all things considered.
The number shown above the text message icon is staggering, so I tap the email app first. I scroll through, deleting spam and advertising emails, and click on one from my business manager. Ariana was the perfect fit for the job when I was searching for someone to help run the day-to-day business for Ryan Holmes Cosmetics. She has a decade of experience under her hat and came highly recommended by several in the industry.
I read through her message and make a few notes in my calendar for when I return to Los Angeles. We’ll start working on our winter line then, introducing a new palate of gorgeous colors, as well as more skincare products. I’m incredibly giddy at the thought, ready to show the world I’m not just a one-hit wonder, that my business has the staying power.
When I’ve finished my notes, I click over to the phone app and hit her name.
“I was starting to get worried you were eaten by a bear or something,” she says in way of greeting.
“Don’t put that out there,” I say, taking another sip of coffee. “I was told there are bears in the area.”
“Well, you need to get bear spray or something,” she replies.
“Do they have bear spray?” I wonder. Maybe I should order some.
I’m greeted by a pregnant pause. “I’ll check Amazon.”
Smiling, I jump into business. “I received your email. Everything looks good to me. I’ve added notes to my calendar and can meet you when I return.”
“Perfect. I’ve asked the design team to start putting together compact layout samples. Last we talked, you didn’t want to do traditional marketing and product displays for the winter release. Is that still the case?”
“Yes. I want to combine classic with edgy for this release,” I confirm, ideas swirling through my brain.
“That’s what I told them. I’ll reach out and make sure we’re all on the same page. Maybe by the time you return to LA they’ll have some design concepts for you to look at.”
“I like that,” I say, taking another sip of coffee.
We talk business for a few more minutes, running through sales numbers and projections. By the time that’s over, she switches gears on me. “There’s one more thing. The network called the office. They said you weren’t answering your phone.”
“I’m not answering anyone’s calls,” I reply lamely.
“And with good reason. I gave—what’s his name? Bradley?— a piece of my mind when I had him on the phone,” she states, starting to get a little heated.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Ari,” I reply. The communication from the network isn’t unexpected, but I did ask them to give me space while I sorted a few things out.
“Well, if that guy was standing in front of me, I would have kneed him straight in the balls.”
I can’t help but giggle. “You’re not the only one,” I mumble, mostly to myself.
“Anyway, this is me giving you the message, like I said I would. I can’t tell you what to do, but as your business manager and friend, I think you should do exactly what you told him you were doing. Take the time off and work through the crap in your head. What he and the network did to you on that finale is bullshit, Ryan. Pure bullshit. They deserve to sit and sweat a little bit.”
“I signed a contract for two years,” I remind her, wishing I hadn’t, but when the network pitched me the idea, they swore it would be a ratings gold mine and that two years was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Look at the Kardashians.
I was eager to get my name and new brand out there, and what better way to do so than a behind-the-scenes look at what I was doing. Two years seemed like nothing at the time. Two seasons. Forty total episodes. I could totally allow cameras to invade my life for a few hours a week, right?
“Get out of it. Contracts like this always have early-out clauses, right?”
I close my eyes and think about the clause that’s printed in black and white with my name scribbled on the last page. Not only would I have to pay a huge sum of money to terminate the contract, I’d have to cover costs for every episode not fulfilled, and the number wasn’t pretty. Not that I couldn’t dip into my trust fund to get out of it, if I absolutely had to. I’m sure Mom would understand. She invested in my initial start-up, so I wouldn’t feel right to ask for her help either.
“They do, but mine has some pretty heavy financial and legal repercussions.”
“Well, that’s bullshit,” she sputters out, angry on my behalf.
“Agreed.” After a beat, I add, “I’ll figure it out, Ari.”
“I know you will, honey. You’re very business-savvy for someone so young, but if you need direction, call your lawyers. That’s why you retain them, right?”
I nod.
“So, enough about all that. Tell me about that little place you’re staying,” she says, excitement on my behalf pouring through the phone.
My mind instantly flashes to Marcus. “It’s…fine.” I shift in my seat, my clit starting to throb a bit as memories filter through my mind.
“What? What happened?” she digs.
“Nothing.” Of course, my reply is way too quick and with too much force.
She gasps. “Something happened. What? Tell me!” she insists.
“Ariana,” I reply through a groan.
“Ryan,” she mimics, waiting me out.
“Fine. I met someone,” I say quietly.
“Really? Good for you! Tell me more. Where did you meet?” she hedges.
“Actually, we met on the side of the road.”
“Seriously?”
I recall the night we met, just four short days ago. “Yeah, my tire went flat, and he stopped to help. I thought he was a murderer or something.”
“Did he kill you with his charms?” she asks with a laugh.
Not his charms, but his big dick tried to kill me.
“Something like that,” I reply, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Oh, I can practically see you blushing through the phone. Don’t make me FaceTime you,” she chastises.
“Stop it.”
“ You stop it! Is he checking under the bed for bears?”
I roll my eyes. “No, he took me fishing.”
I’m met with silence. “Are you serious? You went fishing ?”
A shiver sweeps through my veins as I recall putting that nasty worm on the hooks. “It was…interesting.”
“I bet,” she replies. “I could never go fishing. I’ll stick to ordering it at a restaurant.”
“I’ll never look at fish the same,” I tell her, even though the fish Marcus made for dinner was delicious.
“So, the sexy mountain man took you fishing, huh?”
“He’s not a mountain man, Ari. There aren’t any mountains here. He serviced my car.”
“Okay, fine, I get it. But tell me this.” After a beat, she asks, “Are you at least getting your vagina serviced while you’re there too?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Atta girl,” she replies, and I can feel her grin through the phone. “You keep servicing it. Have fun.”
“I am, Ariana.”
“Good. I’ll let you go, so you can get back to the vagina servicing,” she blurts out with a hearty laugh.
“Goodbye, Ari.”
“Bye-bye, sweetie. Oh, wait! Don’t forget about the release celebration when you get back. It’s the following night. You’re still coming back for that, right?”
How could I not? The release celebration has been in the works for the last three months. It’s a culmination celebration of the reality show, the summer release of my line, and a preview of what’s to come. “Yes, I’ll be home on that Friday.”
“Good. Anything I can help with?”
“No, the party planning company is on it, and my mom is their point of contact, working on all the behind-the-scenes details. You know she loves these kinds of things.” Jade Holmes is the ultimate party planner and event organizer.
“I’ve got a meeting scheduled for later this week to go over what she needs from me on this side. Plus, we’re working together on announcing Desi as the new face of Ryan Holmes Cosmetics, since the network completely fucked you over and didn’t include it during the finale.”
No shit. I was totally fucked, and not in the good way.
“We’re working on it. The celebration is in good hands. Don’t let a single worry enter that pretty little head of yours. Take this time and decompress. Everything will be here waiting for your return, and then we’ll hit the ground running. Until then, we have it handled, and if there’s something we need help with, we’ll reach out.”
“Thank you, Ari.”
“You’re welcome, Ryan. Talk soon.”
I hang up the phone and shake my head. Everything is being handled.
My vagina is still in firm agreement with Ariana, hoping to get a little more servicing soon. The way blood keeps humming through my veins and my panties are slick with desire, I might be sitting on his front porch, waiting for him to get home.
Or maybe I’ll stop by the repair shop.
No, that won’t work. Not that I think the paparazzi are hanging out near Marcus’s auto shop, but the last thing I need is to be photographed coming out of his office after being “serviced.” I wouldn’t mind having his fingers in my hair, but I don’t necessarily want the world to see the aftermath.
I scan through the rest of my emails, replying to the ones I need to and putting the rest off until later. My fingers hover over the ones from Bradley and the network, but I don’t tap to open them. I should—I’m under contract—but I told him I needed time, so that’s what I’m doing.
Taking time.
That stupid reality show.
No, I can’t exactly blame the show. It did exactly what I was hoping it would. It gave me the exposure to elevate my makeup and skincare line into a global sensation. My name is being carried in some of the biggest department stores in the world, and I couldn’t be prouder.
Now, all that feels…inconsequential.
Why? Because what should have been dubbed a success—meaning the end of a great first season and the skyrocketing global sales—was completely overshadowed by the fact my boyfriend betrayed me.
On television.
And I found out along with the rest of the world.
Bradley told me they were planning a big bombshell during the season finale, but it wasn’t what I expected. I thought it was going to be the announcement of my new product line and the fact one of the biggest stars in Hollywood was going to be the face of my company. That’s what I was expecting.
That’s not what I got.
Instead, I watched in horror as the man I’d been seeing off and on for three years confessed his darkest secret—and biggest lie—to the world. Sure, the network got exactly what they wanted. Ratings gold. Me? I get to clean up the mess.
After replying to a few emails from my mom and the party planner, Veronica, about the celebration event, I closed down my email and flipped over to my text messages. I scan through the list, tapping out replies to the few friends who reached out following the finale. Most were shocked, repulsed by what they saw, and a couple even had comments about Vaughn’s duplicity and the fact he should be shunned right out of Hollywood.
Couldn’t agree more…
I scroll past the man himself and tap on my father’s name.
Dad
Just checking in. Hope you’re enjoying your vacation.
Again, Marcus flashes through my mind, but I can’t exactly tell my dad about him. I’m sure he’d be real proud of the fact his daughter—his only baby girl—slept with the grumpy neighbor just three days after meeting.
Me
The relaxation is exactly what I needed.
The bubbles appear immediately, which doesn’t surprise me. Even though California is two hours behind, my dad has always been an early riser. I can picture him sitting in his home office, his second cup of coffee steaming on his desk as he works.
Dad
Good. You know, I’ve been thinking, maybe after this movie, I’ll take your mother away for a little while. Find us a cabin in the mountains somewhere, like Tennessee, and just decompress.
I can’t help but smile, because picturing my father in a cabin in the mountains, let alone one in Tennessee, was a bit absurd. But then again, what did I know? I seem to be enjoying my time in a little rustic cabin, so maybe Douglas Marcotte and Jade Holmes would too.
Me
I’m sure you’d love it. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Dad
I’m proud of you, Ryan.
Tears fill my eyes. I’ve always been close to my parents. They did their best to make time for me in their busy schedules, but it could be difficult at times. Dad traveled a lot, on location for whatever movie he was producing, and my mother was incredibly busy with her charity. Yet, I always felt their love, even if we weren’t together.
Me
Thank you.
Dad
I mean it, honey. You’ve grown into an amazing woman and business owner. You’re making your mark all on your own and doing it with class and dignity. You’re so much like your mother. Beauty and brains.
The tears start to fall. My mother was the epitome of class. I have looked up to her my entire life. I’ve been compared to her too, especially under the powerful lens of the camera. The criticism has been brutal over the years, the digs about the ways I don’t measure up. But in the end, it’s all bullshit. None of it mattered then.
And it doesn’t now.
Something I’m learning as the days go by.
I’m also learning about myself, about who I really am and who I want to be.
Dad
Anyway, I’ve been thinking…about Vaughn.
I fire off a text before he can continue.
Me
No.
Dad
I wish you’d let me. It’s not right. He doesn’t deserve the part.
Me
No, he doesn’t, but he won it based on his talent, not because he was dating the producer’s daughter. Right?
I worry my lip, waiting for his response.
Dad
Right. He was the only one we saw for the part.
Me
Then you stick with your gut. Just because he turned out to be a lying fucker doesn’t mean he deserves to be fired. Keep the line between business and personal in place. You can’t fire him because of what he did.
Dad
I can.
Me
But it wouldn’t be right. He was a business decision. You said he was perfect for the part, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed.
Dad
No, it hasn’t.
Me
Then you have to let it go.
Dad
I’ll never let it go. He hurt you. I won’t tolerate that.
Me
I love you, Daddy.
Dad
I love you too, baby girl.
Me
I should let you get back to work.
Dad
I always have time for you. Always.
Me
Likewise. Have a good day.
Dad
You too.
I ignore the rest of the text messages—for now—and set the device on the table. I sit here, enjoying the morning quiet with a cup of coffee, and a smile. It may not be Hollywood or Los Angeles or a fancy coffeehouse, but that’s okay.
This is growing on me.
Wisconsin, this small town, the cabin—it’s all starting to feel…good.
Better than good.
Comfortable.
Sure, it’s only been four days since my arrival, but I don’t know. There’s something magical about this place. It makes me feel hopeful for the first time since my entire life seemed to implode on national television.
This is me taking control. Not letting the media and gossip rags and loudmouths of California dictate my story. It’s my life, dammit, and I can do whatever the hell I want with it.
Starting with the gorgeous mechanic next door.
I think I’ll add him to the top of my to-do list.