Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(36)

“Can you fix it, doc?”

“Only if you promise to never show me your butt again.”

“Can’t promise that, sorry. I’m just going to have to rely on the kindness in your heart.”

I should have politely refused, because I couldn’t be in that house another minute. But what was it about mistakes? Why were they so sticky? They rolled along, picking up other mistakes, growing into a ball of unstoppable bad habits on an ever-steeper incline. A dozen people could have looked at his foot, but I had to do it because he challenged my kindheartedness.

“Lean on me,” I said, about to enter into my eleventy-millionth mistake. “I put the kit in Nicole’s bathroom.”

He put his arm around my shoulder, while his other arm held his daughter. He smelled of pool chlorine and alcohol, leaning on me to hop to the bathroom as he fist-bumped his buddies, promising to return to the good times. When we got to the private part of the house, his hand cupped my shoulder instead of hanging off it. Like the waterline creeping forward on the beach, the dreams seeped into my mind. The pool table. His hands on me. The way I came when he entered me.

Remember the part where he pulled his pants down like a child?

I did. And this was a symptom of being a heterosexual woman of childbearing age who hadn’t had sex or male attention in too long. But his hand felt good on my shoulder, and after yelling at him in front of a room full of people, I needed to feel good.





CHAPTER 28


BRAD


Nicole’s bathroom looked like a bloody crime scene and Cara was a sadistic f*cking criminal. I sat on the purple kid-size chair. Cara sat on the pink-and-green plastic stool we kept by the sink so my daughter could reach the faucet. My foot rested in her lap as she dug tweezers into my skin. She’d put Nicole in bed and closed the door behind us.

“Big one coming,” she said. If it was so big, why did she need the goggles? Was she trying to look like a fierce f*cking human-torturing alien from Venus?

“Ow! Jesus!”

She held up a bloody shard, smiling.

“Are you all right, Daddy?” Nicole asked from the other side of the door.

“I’m fine, pumpkin.”

Clink. The shard went into a tray. Sadist.

“You have nice feet,” she said, angling the tweezers to grab another piece of glass.

“Thank you.”

“Can’t say the same for your ass.”

“My ass isn’t nice?”

I was actually offended. Deeply hurt. I’d been called worse, but coming from her it cut deep.

“Nope.” She pulled at the skin on the bottom of my foot to expose the glass. Or to turn me on a little. Just a little. Between her hands on me and the way she stuck my heel between her legs, I was turned on just a little.

A lot. If I had to split hairs, she was turning me on a lot, and I had no idea if she intended it or if this was just Cara being Cara.

“I get paid good money for that ass.”

“Well, it’s not nice.”

“You’re making some comment about the circumstances.”

She pulled the goggles to the top of her head. Her eyes were ringed red from the edge of the eye gear and her hair made crazy spikes around the strap.

“The circumstances?”

“You came at me like a wild banshee.”

“. . . and so you mooned me?”

“You treated me like a child in front of people I work with.”

“Then you acted like one?”

“It’s my job to make the story fun. That’s what I did.”

She slid her goggles back down and inspected my foot, wielding the tweezers with her mouth pressed tight. She must be stung from losing the argument. I wouldn’t rub it in. I liked having her attention on me. Liked her hands. I leaned back on the plastic chair, soaking in my victory. I was going to take it easy on her. I was drunk on pain and forgiveness. Her thumb along my skin. Yeah. Gentle and confident. My dick woke up a little and I was just relaxed enough to not give a god damn that she was off-limits.

The music still came in loud and clear from downstairs. I was torn between missing my own party and settling into the way she touched me.

“I have a comeback for that, you know,” she said. With her eyes not grabbing all my attention, I got a chance to really look at those lips. The top one was slightly bee stung, and the bottom one was trapped under her teeth as she bit it in concentration.

“Oh, yeah?” I linked my fingers together over my stomach. “Tell me your comeback.”

And if it involves those lips around my dick.

She pulled a piece of glass out of my foot. No pain.

“That it’s my job to protect Nicole, and by yelling at you I was protecting her. It’s a pretty good comeback, as they go. But then you’d come back with, ‘No, it’s her father’s job to protect her,’ and I’d say, ‘Nice job, Daddy,’ and I’d win the battle but lose the war.”

Too-f*cking-shay.

“No one told me there was a war,” I said.

“There is.” She dropped the tweezers in the sink and took off the goggles, plucking a little spray bottle out of the kit. “There’s a war for Nicole. And you win. No matter what. You can and should do whatever you need to. It’s my job to make sure she doesn’t die on my shift.”