Chapter Two

4:52

Rumors Keep Me Warm At Night

If I were to write the thriller I’ve been dreaming of writing, a rock hard man like Clinton would be the inspiration for my hero.

In fact, I find myself taking mental notes for just that reason.

As he’s worn in every situation I’ve seen him, the man is all in black. Skin tight t-shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination–although my imagination is going wild with visions of his biceps wrapped around me. Sculpted forearms leading to calloused, capable hands are equally thought provoking. And I haven’t even started on his face which is angled and focused. He’s never made eye-contact with me, not directly, but if he did? I’d more than likely fall under a spell.

I’m already halfway there without the intense focus I’m sure he’d provide. I fan myself at the thought, glad the sun is warm enough for the excuse, although it isn’t the sun heating me up at the moment.

That’s all him.

Strong and silent, Clinton’s the type who’d swoop in to save the day before you even realized your life was in danger. The way his jaw clenches as he scans the back patio makes my heart race. Thank goodness for my dark glasses because the way I’m checking him out is not subtle. If he had a view of my gaze, he’d know exactly what I’m thinking about.

Him, with his shirt off and glistening under the Hollywood sun.

The day I flew here with Zack and Brianna to support her big performance at a Diva tribute show, I slid into a stretch limo after getting off the plane and had my first glimpse of Clinton. Being a small town girl, I realized at that moment I’d been sheltered from men like him; confident, protective, capable of ending a life if necessary.

I’d never had such an instant attraction to anyone. Even going to school on the other side of the country hadn’t opened my horizons to such a man. I’d been in a college town, not a haven for talent and beauty. 

Hollywood has opened my eyes in more ways than one.

And while I’d love to open the door to the possibilities with a man like Clinton, my time here is up. Reality is once again upon me.

Seated on the top step in the shallow end of Brianna’s pool, I watch from the corner of my eye as Clinton takes up a position against the wall. He’s already searched the hills behind the house and the untamed slopes on either side of the yard before standing guard near Brianna and I. Jacob sidles up to Zack, both of them talking and laughing about something while Char pointedly ignores him.

“How much longer on the food, Zack?” Brianna calls over to him.

Without glancing back, he answers. “Not long. Give me five more minutes then dry off and we can eat.”

“I’ll dry off now. I want to change.”

“Me, too,” I say as I follow her out of the pool. Self conscious in my pink bikini now that Clinton is within arms reach, I grab my towel from the chair it’s draped over and fling it open in order to wrap myself up.

Instead, I fling a bee right into Brianna’s face.

“Ahhh!” She screams as it buzzes against her eye. Her arms flail about to swat it.

Immediately, Clinton and I are in front of her, trying to brush the bug away.

“Stay calm,” he says in his deep, gruff voice. Zack calls out from the background but I’m dialed in to Clinton so I don’t register what he says.

Brianna’s arms fling out furiously, tangling with mine and Clinton’s. The three of us somehow lose our balance and trip over each other’s feet onto the chaise lounge chair Char is relaxing on. Her very leaded pink lemonade splashes everywhere, the pungent scent of tequila covering us. The sticky drink is like a mating call to the darn bee who seems to buzz even closer. 

“Got it,” Zack says with a snap of his towel. The buzzing stops.

We aren’t horizontal for another second before strong hands grip my arms and pull me up, a jolt of electric heat burning across my skin in the process.

Clinton looks down on me with what will now be seared into my mind as his thirst-trap scowl. He says nothing before turning back to Brianna and pulling her up from the middle of our pile.

“You good? Did it sting you?” he asks. 

“No, I’m okay.” Brianna sounds rattled from the experience.

Before Clinton can look her over for any damage, Zack has her in his arms. 

“Baby, you’ve got some moves on you,” he says, rubbing her back. “That was some kind of dancing.” 

“Maybe we can incorporate it into my next video and call it the drunk buzz.”

“I’m sure it will be the next night club hit,” he says.

Jacob laughs while holding a giant cob of corn. “That ending, though.” He shakes his head while looking directly at Char. “I didn’t have Char involved in a smash and grab on my bingo card, if ya know what I mean.” He wiggles his eyebrow at her suggestively.

“No.” She deadpans. “What do you mean?” Her glare is next level. I’d pee my pants if it was aimed at me, that’s for sure.

“Um,” he coughs. Or laughs awkwardly. It’s hard to tell. “Like a three-way.” He waves his hands in their direction, referencing the pile of limbs we’d just been on her lounger. “Pool party porn, right?”

“Mmm. Yeah, that sounds about right.” She shakes her head, her glare still firmly in place. “I’ve got to go meet up with Curt to talk band contracts and rehearsal schedules. You know, adulting.

“I’ve got some ‘adulting’ you can do,” Jacob says with a wink.

Char rolls her eyes. “I don’t have time for the inner workings of middle school boy hormones. I have an actual job to do.” Char stands to gather her things, including her empty pink lemonade glass.

Jacob leans forward. “I was talking about having dinner with me.”

“I don’t go out with jobless men. That’s a solid rule. No bending.”

“Ben-ding?” He repeats the word, straining each syllable. He shoves a fist in front of his mouth when he’s done, no doubt to shove the innuendo I can read clear as day on his face back down his throat.

“Oh my gawd,” She rolls her eyes as hard as I’ve ever seen anyone do so while spinning away from him and exiting the patio. “Get a job.”

“I have a job,” he says with a defensive tone mixed with what I can only describe as ‘butt-hurt middle schooler.’

“Washing dishes is a chore, not a job.” Char’s voice reaches us even as she’s now in Brianna’s ultra modern kitchen.

Jacob sits at the table with his corn cob and a sullen expression while the rest of us move on from their little show. I don’t know how Zack puts up with those two. It reminds me of high school, if I’m honest. Ross was a little bossy, like Char. Although he had a mean streak and an aggressive side I’m not seeing in her.

Maybe Jacob likes the back and forth. Not me. I’m much more interested in the grunts and growls of the little storm cloud who’s currently scowling at his phone in the corner of the patio.

“It’s already blowing up,” Clinton says suddenly, startling me out of my obsessive ogle.

“What is?” Zack asks, worry in his voice.

“The little cluster we all just had over a tiny bee.” Clinton glares over at the lounge chair still sticky with lemonade where said cluster occurred.

“Colleen didn’t want me to get stung,” Brianna says. “And what are you talking about? What’s blowing up?”

Clinton flips his phone around, displaying an all new headache inducing headline:

Brianna Royce’s Poolside Tryst: the threesome has morphed into a foursome

“How in the heck did they post that so fast?” Bree jumps to her feet.

“I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. Your rooftop deck and backyard patio are not secure locations. The hills have eyes and they share what they see. You should not be out here.” 

I thought he was grumpy when he got here but this is next level. Even his beautiful blue-grey eyes look irritated. How does he do that? 

“I appreciate your concern, but this is my home. I refuse to hide. I’ve already lived that way once. I’m not doing it again.”

Zack puts his arm around her. “We’ve got this. The tabloids and the lowlifes at Star Tracker can say whatever they want about us. We know the truth.”

Clinton’s phone chimes as Zack finishes speaking. He pulls it up for a glance before sliding it back into his pocket.

“More headlines?” Zack asks, arm still secured around Brianna.

“No. Mara has some issues with our custody arrangement while Brianna’s on tour. She wants to figure it out today.”

Brianna pulls Zack along toward the house, patting Clinton on the back as she goes.

“We’ll give you some privacy. Your daughter is welcome to join us on tour anytime if that helps.” Brianna glances back at me. “Let’s go inside so the grump can grovel to his ex.”

“Channeling your inner Char, babe?” Zack teases.

“Oh my gosh, is that how I sound?” She laughs. “Never mind, Clinton. Go take care of what you have to take care of. Zack and I will pop some corn and chill.”

“Popcorn and chill? That’s a new one.” I say as I follow them in.

“You’d be surprised what a little popcorn confessing can do.” Brianna wiggles her eyebrows at me over her shoulder.

Do I want to know? Shrugging to my own silent question, I answer myself as well. Probably not.

I lean over the island, watching as Zack pulls out the old school popcorn ingredients: oil, unpopped corn, covered pot. He fires up the stovetop and gets to popping.

Through the slider, I see Clinton on the phone, pacing back and forth under the cover of Brianna’s patio cover. I guess that’s his version of privacy. The way he runs his hand through his very short dark brown hair gives testimony to his stress. He and his ex-wife must not get along well. I guess that’s why she’s his ex.

“I can’t believe you’re already flying back. These last couple of weeks flew by.” Brianna refills her drink and grabs a seat at the island next to me.

“I know. I can’t thank you enough for bringing me out here.”

“Any friend of Zack’s is a friend of mine,” she says.

Laughing awkwardly, I must remember high school a bit differently than Zack. I kind of used him to get away from Ross, if I’m being honest. He asked me to prom and I knew it would be a huge middle finger to my ex if I said yes.

So I did.

But I suppose Zack’s either forgiven me for it, or doesn’t realize why I went with him. Either way, I vow to be a better friend now that we’ve reconnected. Besides, I have no reason to give Ross any more middle fingers. He’s out of the picture.

“I don’t know about that,” I say in response to Brianna, “considering the drama that came along with my friendship.” Among other things.

Brianna waves me off. “Pfff, in this town the rumors are what keeps us warm at night. Literally. I’ve used some of the celebrity gossip mags to start the fires in my rooftop fire pit.” She winks.

“Glad I could provide you with kindling.” 

Clinton finishes his call and walks through the kitchen, barely saying a word to anyone but Zack. He doesn’t look my way, unfortunately. I’m left wondering about the grey eyed hottie with the broken soul.

It’s kind of like catnip for an aspiring suspense author. I’ll be making some notes before the night’s over. With that thought, I make my exit from the kitchen.

“Well, I’m going to bed. Early flight and all.”

After hugs and goodbyes, since Bree has early morning rehearsal for her upcoming tour so Zack will take me to the airport in the morning, I head downstairs to the guest room that’s been my home for the past two weeks.

Before I can finish up my packing, I pull out my plotting notebook and list every feature I can about Clinton. I wish I’d thought of this before my last day but I’ll just have to daydream about my time here to fill in more details.

I wake up to a group chat filled with texts from everyone wishing me a good flight and hoping I can come visit again soon. I don’t see one from Clinton, but after checking the contacts, I see he is in the thread.

Knowing I’m now on a text chain with a hot, growly bodyguard is the perfect souvenir.

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