Chapter 3
Marjorie
It took less than an hour to track Oz down. I have connections throughout L.A. It’s part of my job. And I’m damn good at my job.
Not only did I find out Oz’s hotel and room number, but the concierge also tipped me off that he’d arranged transportation for Oz to attend a private party at the Beverly Hills mansion of an heiress. Ten minutes later, I had the heiress’s publicist on the phone, and five minutes after that, I’d scored an invitation to the party myself.
I may have sort of name-dropped my brother and implied that he’d be attending, but white lies are not only commonplace in this business—they’re expected.
I drive to the mansion, regretting that I didn’t run home for a nicer change of clothes first. Glancing down at my jeans and plain, white tee, I fear I’m underdressed. Oh, well. There’s nothing I can do about that now.
Tilting the rearview mirror down to see my reflection, I reapply my lipstick and add a couple of swipes of mascara to my naked lashes. I do my best to smooth my frizzy curls into a simple ponytail.
I step out of my car and walk up to the mansion. Following the sound of music and laughter, I walk to the back of the house. There’s an Olympic-sized pool and a massive patio. It’s packed with bikini-clad models and actresses.
I realize that I’m not underdressed; I’m overdressed.
I spot Oz quickly. I’ve always been able to find Oz in a crowd. It’s like I’m trained for the task. He’s lounging on a raft in the middle of the pool, surrounded by half-naked women. His expression is bored until he sees me. When his gaze meets mine, his eyes widen, and his face splits into a cheeky grin. He rolls off the raft, carelessly splashing a model on a nearby float, and swims to the side of the pool.
An overwhelming sense of panic rises in my chest as he pulls himself out of the water. I spin on my heel and run away. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I don’t belong here with the scantily clad stick figures and Victoria’s Secret models.
Why did I come here? This was impulsive… and I’m not impulsive!
I’m organized, a planner, living by clocks, calendars, and to-do lists.
I didn’t even plan what I was going to say or do when I found Oz; I’d just set my mind on finding him to do… something. I’d lectured Colby about acting the fool around Oz, but it turns out, I’m not any better.
“Marjorie!” Oz calls, chasing me around the house. “Wait up!”
Tears of embarrassment sting the backs of my eyelids, and I will my legs to move faster. Oz is more physically fit than me, but I have a head start. If I can just reach my car—
A sprinkler pops up from the ground, tripping me. As I roll in the grass, clutching my sore ankle, it douses me with water. Way to kick a girl while she’s down, universe.
“Jori! Are you okay?” Is that concern in Oz’s voice? He catches up to me easily, kneeling beside me. “Anything broken?”
“Just my pride,” I grumble. My eyes greedily drink in the sight of him. His muscular chest glistens with beads of water. His dark hair is plastered to his face, and he shoves it back with a hand.
When he and my brother stopped being friends, I thought my childhood crush would end, too. No such luck .
And now, he’s transitioned from a cute boy to a drop-dead gorgeous man. I’m doomed .
He chuckles softly and gestures to the empty lawn. “At least everyone else is by the pool, so no one witnessed your fall.”
I grimace. “No one but you.”
“Let me see,” he urges, reaching out his hands to gently prod my ankle. His touch causes my skin to erupt in goosebumps. A chill ripples down my spine, and I long to lean back and pull him on top of me.
“Can you write the alphabet with your big toe?” he asks.
“Can I what?” I stare at him blankly.
He smiles sheepishly. “I read that in a book or something, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? If you can write out the alphabet, then you still have full range of motion in your ankle, and it’s probably not broken.”
I do as he asks, spelling out each letter with my big toe. “It’s fine.”
Oz nods, relief on his face. “It’s going to be a hell of a bruise, though.”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I need to get away from Oz before I throw myself at him. “I guess I should go home and put some ice on it.”
“Let’s go in the house to find some ice.”
I push my wet hair away from my face and scowl at the nearby sprinkler head. “No way. I can’t go in there looking like a drowned rat.”
“You look gorgeous, as always.” Oz smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.
Liar. I stare into his gorgeous irises, the color of milk chocolate, unable to look away. He breaks eye contact first, his gaze dropping to my shirt. His jaw falls open, and I follow his gaze to see what he’s looking at.
Looking down, I see that the water has made my white t-shirt completely see-through. I quickly fold my arms across my chest. “Eyes up, mister.”
Oz leans back and clears his throat. “So, um, you never said what you were doing here?”
“I was looking for you, actually,” I admit.
The cocky smile returns to his face in an instant. “Is that so? What can I do for you?”
“Call off this stupid bet with Colby before you get him killed.”
“Colby knows what he’s doing, Marjorie. And if you recall, this whole thing was his idea. Not mine.”
“Be that as it may, he has a nice job,” I argue. “A safe job. And it’s not worth risking it for a stupid dare.”
Oz scoffs. “He has a desk job, you mean. Colby Raynes wasn’t made for that kind of life. He needs to be where the weather is. Just like me.”
I clench my teeth. “I’ll pay you to call it off, Oz. Name your price.”
Oz shakes his head slowly. “There’s no calling it off at this point. Colby’s not going to pass up the opportunity to see the storm of a century.”
I sigh, realizing that he’s right. The wheels in my head spin, trying to come up with a solution to the mess.
“Take me with you,” I blurt.
Oz’s eyes shoot up to meet mine. “What?”
“I want to go with you to chase the storm.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “I’ve never seen a tornado in person. I want to see what the big deal is.”
An idea has started to take root. Colby’s doing this, whether I like it or not. I see that now. But if he loses, he’ll be devastated and embarrassed. And I do trust him to be far more careful than Oz, which means he won’t get as close to the action as Oz.
But if Oz takes me, maybe he’ll be a bit more cautious, too.
Plus, I can sabotage him. Maybe I can offer to navigate and give the wrong directions. Or “accidentally” break his video camera…
Oz purses his lips, looking skeptical. Then his eyes drift to my wet shirt again, and he nods. “Okay.”
What have I gotten myself into?