Chapter 3
Noah
Rosa’s grin stretched wide, revealing a set of perfectly straight, pearly-white teeth and dimples that framed either side of her mouth.
“I can’t help but notice you grimace every time you take a sip from that Michelob Ultra you’ve been nursing since we arrived at the bar.
Why not order something else if you don’t like it? ”
I spun around, resting my elbows on the bar and pushing the lukewarm, half-drunk beer away from me. I asked for it in a pint glass with a lemon wedge to try to make it feel more special. But she was right. I didn’t want the beer. “A bottle of this is under a hundred calories.”
“Okay…” she says, drawing the word out and clearly not understanding. “And?”
“ And I’m supposed to be shredding down for when we start back up filming in a few weeks. And believe it or not, this is my best option.”
“Ah. Shredding, sure.” She took another sip of her daiquiri, wrapping those pretty lips around the straw. Damn, I wanted those lips on mine. “But would one drink really hurt? Just one little sex on the beach to celebrate and enjoy the marriage of two of our closest friends?”
Just one little sex on the beach …
Her words catapulted my imagination to a more literal depiction of that. And the thing I craved way more than any alcoholic beverage.
I tore my gaze away from the teasing curve of her seductive mouth and instead focused ahead at the bartender pouring something pink and fruity from a steel cocktail shaker.
“Probably not,” I admitted.
I could have one good drink and then go back to my low-calorie beers and gin and soda water… basically the only drinks approved by my trainer. And even those, only in moderation.
“Okay, then!” She slapped her palm down on the bar and the sudden shift in volume and tone was enough to make me jump, nearly knocking over the pint of beer near my hand. “What’s your poison?”
“I… don’t know,” I said. “Um, a martini?”
“Tripp! Are you kidding me?” Rosa threw her hands into the air. “We’re in a tiki bar, and you’re going to splurge for the first time in God knows how long, and you’re going to choose a martini like you’re some sort of James Bond?”
“Are you saying I’m not James Bond?”
Her brow lifted. “I don’t know. James Bond always gets the girl. Do you always get the girl?” Her teeth slid against her bottom lip and she smiled at me.
Wait a minute. Wait a goddamn minute. Was Rosa… flirting ? With me?
She knew damn well I didn’t always get the girl. Because I’d never gotten her.
I paused, ignoring the heavy thrum of my pulse against my jaw. I had to be reading the signs wrong. Rosa wasn’t into me. She was never into me. She had made that perfectly clear.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Well, then why don’t you order for me since you’re such an expert on tiki bars, apparently.”
“Oh, I will order for you.” She put her finger in the air. “Hey, Mark! Can we get a pain killer and another strawberry daiquiri for me?”
“You got it, beautiful.” The bartender, Mark apparently, winked at Rosa from across the bar, and the sight caused a weird twisting sensation in my stomach.
“The fact that you already know the bartender by name is maybe a sign you’ve had too much.”
“ Or ,” she said, quirking her eyebrow at me, “the fact that you don’t know his name is a sign that you haven’t had enough.”
“Uhhh, I don’t think your logic checks out—” I laughed all the same. Rosa had that effect on me. Things just felt easy around her. My laugh, my smile, the conversation… easy.
“And look,” she continued, slurping the last of her drink through the straw. “Not for nothing, but these last few hours have been really stressful. Planning a wedding—even an elopement with only four people—on a moment’s notice is fucking intense.”
Well, that was for sure. “We pulled it off, though.”
I grinned down at her as she offered me a fist bump, which I accepted by tapping my own knuckles to hers. “Hell yeah, we did,” she said. “Best friends of the bride and groom for the win.”
After a few minutes, Mark came by with our drinks and a cocktail napkin with his name and number scribbled onto it. “Here you go, gorgeous.”
It took everything inside of me not to growl—literally growl at the guy. I had no right to feel protective of her. I had no right to stand in the way of a guy trying to give her his number.
Rosa wasn’t mine. But not for lack of trying on my part. Though, she’d never given me a straight answer as to why she said no… not that she owed me that.
After asking her out a few times, and getting rejected a few times, I backed off. But remained her friend, deep down secretly wishing and hoping she’d change her mind and ask me out for once.
I winced, clearing my throat, and nudged the napkin with Mark’s phone number toward her. “Looks like you caught his eye.”
Her nose scrunched and she shrugged. “I’m not interested in him. I’m not sure what’s the kinder way to handle it… take the number and never call him? Or leave his number on the bar so that he knows my intentions.”
Don’t take the number… don’t take the fucking number.
If she had his number, at any moment she could change her mind and booty call him, and since we had adjoining hotel rooms, I was pretty sure I’d hear every fucking moan, which would probably kill me. I didn’t want to hear her being pleasured by any man other than me tonight.
The image of those condoms and the pocket rocket in her purse flooded my memory and I winced, trying to get the thought out of my head by stirring the straw into my blended drink. “Can I ask you something that I hope isn’t disrespectful?”
Her eyebrows tightened in the center of her face as curiosity twisted her features. “Okay…”
“You and me… you always said it would be a bad idea. Why?”
Her expression softened and the playful flirt quickly gave way to the normal Rosa I’d come to know over the last two years.
She tucked her wildly curly hair behind her ear. “Because,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I would ruin you, Noah Tripp.” The salty sea breeze caught her words, nearly floating them out to the ocean.
Her expression became suddenly solemn, as though this wasn’t sarcasm or playful banter, but something she truly believed.
“ You would ruin me ?” Somehow, I doubted that.
“You have fame. And a reputation to uphold. You have people and a team.” Her gaze drifted to my mouth and just knowing that her attention was there on my lips caused my pulse to quicken. The effect of her stare was so potent, it was almost like a caress on my skin.
“What does that have to do with us?”
She sighed, dragging her gaze away from my mouth—my face. The aftershocks of her attention were still palpable and left gooseflesh on my skin.
“You know my father’s a politician. I grew up in the public eye.
They tore apart and scrutinized my every move.
If I went to a high school party, then I was a wild child.
Got straight A’s one semester? They speculated that I was clearly cheating.
Shifted in my seat a little at my father’s rally?
I was undiagnosed ADHD. My rebellious teenage years almost cost him the election.
I felt terrible and guilty and… I just… I never want that life again.
I never want my choices in life to run the risk of ruining my partner’s dreams.”
I swallowed hard. Well, shit. My fame had always gotten me so far in life. So much of what I had could be credited to it.
She played with her straw, dipping it in and out of her daiquiri.
“And if you’re happy with your life, I don’t want to make you feel bad for your success and choices, Noah.
” She paused, glancing at me, her eyes dark, glistening orbs in the low-light of the bar.
“You are happy, right?” She paused to tap her straw to my discarded pint glass. “Shitty beer aside.”
“Yeah, I am,” I answered automatically. And it was the truth. I was happy.
Mostly.
Sure, I didn’t always love being famous. But I loved my job, I loved acting. And while being a public figure could get kind of tiresome, it also came with the territory. I didn’t think I’d change it for anything.
“Good,” Rosa said. A pinch in her eyes told me there was more to that response beneath the single word she spoke.
“So… we’re friends, right?” I asked, the word souring in my mouth like I’d taken a bite of lemon.
I watched as her smile dropped for only a moment before she quickly plastered it back on. “Friends,” she confirmed with a nod. Then she lowered her lips to the straw, taking another big gulp.
How many drinks had she had tonight? Three? Four?
She lifted a delicate hand and dragged her fingernail down my jaw and across my bottom lip.
It was intentional. Seductive. And as she lowered the finger away, I licked my bottom lip as though I could taste the remnants of her touch.
“Rosa,” I said, my voice a graveled ghost of what it usually sounded like.
I slid my hand across the bar, draping it over hers and giving a gentle squeeze.
“I hate the media attention, too. I don’t want to drag anyone into this lifestyle—even the people who think they want it.
I doubt they really understand what they’re signing up for.
” She nodded and I could see the agreement in her eyes.
But before she could answer, I continued speaking.
“But don’t think for a second that you would ruin me or my reputation. Got it?”
She rolled her eyes, softening the motion with a small smile. “You say that now. But I’m telling you, I’m like a dirty penny. A bad luck charm.”
“Why? Because once when you were a teenager, you did something stupid that landed you in the papers?”
She sighed and swirled her finger across the rim of her glass. “It wasn’t just the once…”
I didn’t know what that meant exactly, but she didn’t seem to want to go into more detail. “You know, a relationship is hard to hide in my line of work. But one date? That can be hidden from the media. One night together to see if this is worth exploring.”