23. Ashton
ASHTON
S o. Many. People.
My heart hammers against my chest, its rhythm banging in my eardrums. My boss babe bravado diminishes.
There’s got to be at least a hundred people here.
A small DJ booth is set up off to the side of the elevated terrace, complemented by flashing lights moving across the pool and adjacent yard.
There’s a bar next to the pool with staff serving drinks.
An expansive table sits poolside with an ice sculpture depicting a dog sitting on his hind legs, begging for a treat. The birthday boy, Ranger, no doubt.
The sight is all too similar to my disastrous thirteenth birthday party.
It, too, had been an epic party fit for any teenage princess, at least, from the outside.
Mom had pulled out all the stops—an expensive location, a massive guest list, loads of elaborate decorations, and ample food—all costing a fortune.
The perfect content to elevate our show to viral status. Though I hadn’t asked for any of it.
I lurk in the shadows, off to the side of the back porch, unsure of where to go or what to do.
Panic creeps up my throat. One thing I do know is I don’t want to be standing here when America’s Greatest Hollywood Couple reemerges from their private chat to greet friends, pick up puppies, and kissing each of them.
Pretend or not, it’s harder than I thought to see them together, especially knowing Griffin’s feelings toward me.
It’s fine. I’m fine. I can totally do this.
I just need a little breather first.
I carefully weave through the crowd. Both Roxy and Teddy stop to sniff and greet other dogs. I smile at guests but mostly study their dogs with intense focus to avoid too much eye contact.
I reach my goal, a set of secluded lounge chairs arranged in a circle around a stone fire pit.
The area is segregated from the party by some manicured hedges, though low enough I can still observe everything from a comfortable distance.
I sit, feeling the throb of my ankle anew, wishing I had thought to bring some Motrin.
I elevate it on the chaise lounge. The pain is tolerable so long as I remain seated.
Teddy climbs onto the lounge next to me, and Roxy sits by my side on the ground. A server wearing a full tux comes around with a platter of hors d’oeuvres—mostly veggies, fruits, and cheese cut into dog bone shapes. I snatch a couple.
“Thank you.”
Another waiter comes behind him with a tray of drinks. “Would you like a drink, Miss? We have Pawsome Punch or Furtinis.”
“What’s in them?”
“The punch is just punch, and the Furtini is a regular martini.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I select a punch.
He nods and walks away.
I study the guests at the party, trying to decipher who might be best to approach. Which ones look the most likely to support a rescue foundation? My eyes keep darting to the patio, nervously waiting for Griffin and Scarlet’s reappearance. Instead, Wren appears.
Her smile is bright, even in the dim lighting.
She’s wearing a bright kelly green dress with buttons down the front.
Her hair is curled in loose cherry waves down her back.
Churro complements her by wearing a green bandana.
She peers out into the party, squinting slightly. Her eyes land on me, and she waves.
I give a quick, subtle wave back.
She makes her way through the crowd toward me. She greets multiple people, saying a brief comment to a few here and there before she reaches me.
A frown mars her face. She stops at the foot of my chaise lounge and places her hands on her hips. “What are you doing over here, missy?”
“Um, sitting?”
She perches on the edge of the chair next to my hip, Churro in her lap. “This is not the socializing we talked about.” Her tone is firm but teasing.
“I know. I’m just…studying my targets. Looking for my window of opportunity.”
She arches an eyebrow.
“Stalling?” I ask.
“There it is. Well, your wing woman is here now.” She stretches her neck, looking over the hedges. “Where’s Griffin?"
“He’s having a private chat with Scarlet.”
Wren quirks her head and studies me.
“I’m fine.” I infuse as much confidence into the statement as I can.
“I see. Well then, girls’ night it is.” She stands, brushing the non-existent dirt off her dress and looks at my elevated ankle. “How’s your ankle?”
I shrug. “It’s tolerable.”
She digs into her tiny purse. “Here, I brought you some ibuprofen just in case.”
My heart swells. Who knew having a girlfriend would be like having your own fairy godmother?
“Bless you.” I take the pills and pop them in my mouth, guzzling the rest of my punch.
The temptation to stay put glues my butt to the chair. History has taught me to avoid people. They only cause hurt and pain. But as I look at Teddy, one of my few constants over the last five years, and then at Roxy, my resolve to help other dogs like them pushes me to stand.
Wren holds out her hand.
I grasp it and I clasp it like the life raft it is.
“You ready?”
No. “Yes.”
“That’s the spirit! Okay, walking in, I saw Cynthia Martin. She’s obsessed with adopting rescues. Let’s start with her. You’ve got your cards, right?”
I pat my purse. “Yes.”
“Good! How about I take Teddy’s and Roxy’s leashes? Will they let me do that?”
“Sure,” I say, knowing Roxy will follow Teddy’s lead.
She hooks her other hand through my arm, shaking it. “Let’s do this!”
Wren whizzes me through a blur of strangers.
Each one is surprisingly kind and affable to my rescue center.
I lose count of how many cards I pass out.
Some even offer to give me money on the spot, cash in hand.
I do my best not to let my eyes bulge at the sight of so many large bills.
Each time, I decline and request they use the QR code on the card and pay through the separate account I set up.
I want to make sure everything is above board.
When Scarlet said Hollywood’s elite would be here, she wasn’t kidding. At first, I fumble through my words, but with each new person, I get better and better at my pitch. Almost like I were reading from a script. By the tenth or so couple, I dare say, I almost felt comfortable.
At some point, Griffin emerged from the house, but I was too busy in my conversations to catch exactly when he rejoined the party. He mingled by himself for a while before Scarlet joined him.
I lean backward behind Wren and see them standing together, chatting with an older couple. Though they stand close, her hands aren’t plastered to his body somewhere. I hope that means their conversation went well. Selfishly, I want him by my side instead.
Jealousy clenches my stomach, oddly similar to my thirteenth birthday party. I wanted nothing more than my mom’s love and attention at that party. And yet, she never even took a moment to tell me happy birthday—too busy working the crowd, ensuring a successful episode. Always her career over me.
Wren leans in close and whispers, “Remember, it’s just for show.”
I blink from my haze and turn my focus to her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her eyes soften, sympathy exuding from them. “I think you know exactly who I’m talking about.” She squeezes me with a quick hug and guides me to the food table. “I’m starving. How about we take a break from mingling and eat some of this snacky food?”
Wren picks up a bone-shaped carrot and nibbles.
“That is some stunning work right there, I tell ya.” She waggles her carrot up at the massive dog ice sculpture towering over us.
“Look at that. They even have his name chiseled on the dog tag. That kind of detail is impressive, don’t you think?
” She chomps on a paw-tato chip, per the snack’s label.
“It sure is.” Even though it’s started to melt, the details—down to the fur—are extraordinary.
Somehow, during my sculpture study, Wren manages to pile a collection of food on her plate. “I’ll take the dogs and save you a spot at that table over there, okay?”
“Sure.”
She guides all three dogs toward the table but gets stopped by a couple. Within seconds, she’s laughing and talking so boisterously that I can hear her from the food table over the loud music. The girl is too social for her own good. At this rate, I’ll beat her to the table.
I gaze at the food display, laughing at all the kid-friendly foods. There are pupcakes (cupcakes), chew sticks (celery), hot dogs (actual hot dogs), and fruit kibble (fruit salad). I fill my plate, though I’m not sure I can stomach any of it.
“I hear you’re some kind of fairy dog mother.”
The deep voice jolts me, my plate nearly tumbling from my hand. I turn to the voice, seeing none other than famous actor, Jaxon Barnes. My jaw loosens from its hinge.
His smile is wide, his expression open and friendly. His light brown hair blows softly in the breeze, and his blue eyes twinkle with mischief. He could almost be Griffin’s twin or stunt double. The likeness is uncanny. How have I never noticed this before?
“It’s actually The Furry Godmother . But close enough.”
He juts out his hand. “Jaxon Barnes.” His hand encases mine, his skin smooth and warm.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ashton Reid.”
“So I’ve heard. It seems you’re the talk of the party.”
“I am?”
His eyes crinkle. “Yes. Apparently, you’re the future savior of our animal community.”
I laugh. “I don’t know about that, but I’m going to try and help.”
“I got tired of waiting for my chance to meet you, so I decided to take the opportunity when I saw an opening and come introduce myself. You already know my name, but this here is my rescue pup, Georgie.”
By his feet stands the cutest brown-and-white bulldog I’ve ever seen.
I place my plate on the edge of the table and greet her.
She’s sporting a daisy-printed bandana. On closer inspection, I see it reads, “ Trouble never looked so cute .” I laugh and scratch her forehead.
It wrinkles, and her nubby tail wags vigorously.
I pop back up to face Jaxon. “She’s adorable. I love her bandana. Very true. Looks like you found a good one here.”
“She’s a menace, but I happen to love her.” He shrugs, looking at his pup, smiling. His attention shifts to my plate and down to my ankle brace. “Looks like you could use some help. Here, let me.”
Before I can respond, he snags the plate from my hand. “Thank you, but that’s not ne?—”
“Where you headed?”
I point to where Wren sits with all the dogs. She made it to the table after all. “My friend is over there.”
His smile widens. “You’re friends with Wren Reynolds? Man, I love her music.”
I laugh. “You’re a pop music fan, huh?” Wouldn’t have pegged him as the type.
He leans down, closer to my height. “Yeah, but don’t tell my niece. I pretend to loathe her, even though I’ve taken her to see Wren in concert twice.” His lips quirk.
“Can’t blame you. She is pretty fantastic. She’s taken pity on me tonight, helping me navigate all these people.” The words are out before I can stop them.
He tilts his head. “I doubt you needed much help. From my point of view, you had people quite captivated. Me included.”
My cheeks bloom with heat. “Thank you.” I look away.
Jaxon opens his mouth to say something when his gaze travels from my face to behind me. His smile falls.
A warm hand lighting touches my waist, before disappearing.
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Griffin says next to me.
“You have?” I try to contain the bitterness from my voice. He seemed pretty content to stay latched to Scarlet’s side.
“Of course, it’s just been so crazy. So many people wanting my attention and all.” His tone is too arrogant, his expression too haughty.
“I see.” I don’t like this version of Griffin. His cockiness grates on my nerves, reminding me too much of Tanner.
Jaxon clears his throat. “Hey Griffin, good to see ya.” He sticks out his hand.
The two perform the slap, shake, shoulder tap thing guys do. “Good to see you, Jaxon.”
Griffin says his name like seeing him is the very opposite of good.
“What have you two been talking about?”
Jaxon lifts my plate. “I was just about to take this plate to the table for my new friend, Ashton. I guess you two know each other?”
“Of course. I’m the one that brought her here,” Griffin says in a low, growly tone.
What is with him? He’s acting like a completely different person.
Jaxon’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really? I had no idea. Haven’t seen you two talking.”
“Keeping tabs on me?”
What is happening right now? It feels like I’m stuck in the middle of some kind of gorilla, chest-thumping match. The air feels stifling.
Jaxon chuckles, either oblivious to or ignoring, the tension steaming off Griffin. “Actually, I’ve had my eye on Ashton the whole night.” His eyes move toward mine, his smile lopsided and easy.
His undivided attention makes my back sweat.
“Let’s get you to your table, huh?”
Griffin steps forward, his body blocking my view of Jaxon. “Actually, I’ll take it.” He grabs the other side of the plate.
What the actual heck? First, he ignores me the entire night, and now that a man comes along seemingly interested in me, he starts some sort of…pissing match?
Well, I’m not interested in being man-handled by anyone .
“Excuse me, gentlemen. My friend is waiting.” I snatch my plate and walk off.
I slap my plate on the table and sit down.
Wren leans forward. “What was all that about?”
“I have no idea.”
She smirks. “It looks to me like two grown men acting like dumb boys vying for your attention.”
I gnaw on my lower lip, uncomfortable with this amount of attention. “You’ve got the dumb part right.” If Griffin’s not careful, it’ll look like he cares more about me than a friend should.
Wren brings her cup to her lips, speaking behind the rim. “Ashton’s a hottie,” she taunts.
My eyes widen. I look around to make sure no one overheard before facing her. “Stop it. I am not. Now, quit your teasing and eat.”
She leans forward, looking behind me. “Aw, look. Your boyfriends are still fighting over you.”
“Would you quit it?” My voice goes an octave higher.
She loses it in a fit of giggles.
I stick out my tongue, but a smile erupts across my face. I hadn’t realized how much I missed having a friend—someone to laugh and tease with.