LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(49)

There was a long pause. “You brought a man to Vermont?” His opinion on the matter was clear in the tone of his voice.

“No!” I protested. “Well, yes, sort of. I mean, not really. I didn’t invite him or plan it, but I guess technically you could say I brought him since I paid for the conveyance in which he—”

“Who is it?” Oscar cut me off. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Um…” I knew it wasn’t going to go over well when I told him about Scotty. If the tabloid press discovered I was sleeping with the same guy whose carriage I’d jacked, especially when I’d all but admitted to fathering Polly’s child… well, let’s just say that would make for a very exciting day in the news media. Especially once you threw in the little detail about Scotty’s mother being a convicted felon who’d recently been released from prison.

“Fuuuuck,” Oscar said with a resigned sigh. “Fine. I’m coming up there.”





15





Scotty





The Clorox Guide To Safe Chicken Handling



I woke to find myself alone, the fire reduced to ember and the afternoon sky faded to evening outside the windows. I could hear the sound of Roman’s voice coming from somewhere in the house, and while I couldn’t pick out what he was saying, the rhythm and cadence of his tone made it sound like he was likely on the phone. I figured it would be best to give him a bit of privacy and stretched, luxuriating in the feel of my sex-sore muscles.

A stupid grin spread across my face when I noticed the blanket tucked around me. Roman must have pulled it over me before leaving me to nap. He seemed to enjoy doing things like that—little tasks to take care of me like getting my beer and peeling my clementines earlier. And I had to admit, I didn’t mind being taken care of. Though it was a new experience for me—even when I’d been a kid, my mother hadn’t been the most nurturing of parents and I’d learned early how to take care of myself.

It was what caused my fierce independent streak and was one of the reasons it had been so difficult to accept Roman’s offer to help. I refused to allow myself to become reliant on someone else because I didn’t want to deal with the consequences when they inevitably left. Because they always did.

At least with Roman I already knew there was no future. Somehow that made it easier to accept his little acts of kindness. I didn’t have to worry about whether they would last because I already knew nothing about us would last outside this tiny bubble of Vermont.

The real world with its responsibilities was still waiting out there for me in the same way the paparazzi was probably still camped out in front of Roman’s house waiting for him.

The thought caused an ache in my chest, and I rubbed my fist against my sternum as though that could somehow ease the pain. It wasn’t just that I would miss Roman once this bubble popped, but I would miss the potential of us. In another world, if Roman wasn’t a movie star and I wasn’t a nobody with a criminal record, maybe we could have seen if something might work between us. But the idea of dating—I didn’t even want to fantasize about the possibility because there was no way it could happen. It would be too much of a risk for his reputation, and I couldn’t bear the thought that my past might harm his future.

Stop thinking of what you don’t have and enjoy what you do have, I scolded myself. Right now that was Roman, and suddenly my desire to see him, to touch him, and be reassured by him, overcame any concern about interrupting his phone call. I slipped out from under the blanket and shucked on my clothes before following the sound of his voice to the kitchen.

He was standing barefoot by the stove, ignoring a large pot belching steam to concentrate on the phone conversation. He seemed to be begging someone not to come, and I snorted, unable to think about how that was the opposite of what he’d said to me earlier when he’d been begging me to come. Roman’s eyes snapped up to meet mine, and he grinned, clearly realizing what he’d said. His cheeks pinked and his free hand reached out for me in a come here gesture.

I wandered over to him and slipped under his arm. He wrapped it around me, his hand cupping my shoulder and pulling me against him with my back to his chest. I let myself sink into the feel of him. He was so much bigger than I was—wider and taller, his muscles more bulging. And he was warm from the heat of the stove. He felt safe, like he could protect me from the weight of the world.

If only that were the case.

I pressed a kiss against his bare wrist, and he squeezed me tighter before releasing me. I turned to help myself to a drink from the fridge. When I turned back to see if he wanted something, I caught him staring at my ass. He was still arguing with someone, so I lifted my eyebrow in silence. He winked.

I grabbed a second beer, wondering if the kind in the fridge was a brand Roman particularly liked or something that Oscar just kept stocked in his house. Either way, I could tell by the fact it came in glass bottles and had a name I’d never heard of that it was way out of my price range. I tried not to think about how much cheap food I could have purchased with the cost of those two fancy beers.

“Oscar, dammit, stop,” Roman said with a big melodramatic sigh. “Seriously. I’ll let you know if we need you. No! I mean, if I need you.” His eyes flicked to me and away, his cheeks growing even redder. “Gotta go… Don’t come here.”