Decked with Holly (19 page)

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Authors: Marni Bates

BOOK: Decked with Holly
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Chapter 28
Dominic
 
S
omeone must have gotten the number of horses in the Apocalypse messed up, because there was no mistaking it: It was Christmas and I was officially in hell.
Or I was foretelling the final destruction of the world. Either way, I wasn't exactly enjoying myself.
It only got worse when Holly's grandfather decided to bond with me on the ride back along the beach. His “friendly chat” was focused entirely on what I would do if my career suddenly tanked. I wanted to tell him he could take his concern and shove it, but I thought that Holly might pepper spray me for revenge.
So I kept my mouth shut while he lectured me on the importance of a good education and suggested that I stop sniffing around girls like his granddaughter. He also speculated that dating her probably wasn't helping my career any.
On that point he was definitely wrong.
While Holly had relaxed in the suite last night, I had found an empty corner in one of the lounges and used it as an opportunity to Skype the guys. I didn't want to watch her mooning over my best friends—both of whom looked absolutely exhausted.
“I was serving mashed potatoes for
two hours,
Dom!
Two freaking hours in an itchy hairnet!
”
“That was, uh, very generous of you. Don't you feel like a great person?”
“I had to cancel my date!” Chris snarled, as if I hadn't spoken. “It took me ages to get penciled into her schedule and then
you had to screw everything up!
”
“I know. I owe you both. I get it. How's the sound track project looking?”
Tim's scowl softened. “We should be finding out any day now. The most recent photos of you and Holly are definitely helping the cause. You're ranked as one of the cutest couples in Hollywood. Congrats.”
I nodded. “Good. I'm ready to put this act behind me.”
It was the truth. I had nothing against Holly, sometimes I even enjoyed being with her, but I'm a private guy. I don't want my love life splashed all over the front page.
Chris rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, you look like you're really suffering. Making out with a beautiful blonde on a cruise ship—that must be so hard for you.”
I couldn't help staring at Chris. “
You
think she's beautiful? We're talking about the same girl, right? Holly Disaster?”
“She won't land on any Most Beautiful lists, but she's got definite appeal. It's not exactly a hardship to picture her wearing your striped shirt . . . and nothing else.”
“Okay, shut up. You're done.”
Tim and Chris traded looks. “You like her.
Romantically.
For real.”
I groaned. “Are we seriously going to do this right now, guys?”
“Aw, little Dom has a crush on Holly! Isn't that
sweet!
”
Shit.
“You're reading way too much into this,” I told them. “She's all right. That's it.”
Chris smirked. “Then I can ask her out once you're done with her.”
I wanted to punch my best friend in the mouth.
“No, you can't. Holly couldn't handle a rock star like you on the make.”
“Oh, and you're so different?”
I glared at him. “It's not the same.”
“Well, you should make a move soon then. You put her on the map, man. Can't be pissed if another guy tries to score.”
I disconnected the call.
Juvenile, maybe, but I wanted to discuss other guys hitting on my fake girlfriend about as much as I wanted Chris to chat her up.
Which was probably why I spent the rest of the night making the arrangements for her birthday party. And then, since I still felt restless, I sent my parents a Merry Christmas email, bought a double shot of Scotch, and took over the piano in the almost deserted lounge. It had been way too long since I had last played on a high-quality baby grand. Keyboards are great but they've got a completely different feel. So it was late by the time I returned to the suite, something that would've been fine if I'd been able to sleep in and then relax.
But now that I had to deal with an overprotective grandpa, wheedling cousins, and a horse who was acting about as moody as my fake girlfriend, I was really wishing I had gotten a few more hours of sleep the night before.
Christmas had already proved itself to be a full-blown disaster for me.
If I had to choose between running a food kitchen for the homeless and being interrogated by an old man on horseback, I'd wear the hairnet without complaint.
Still, it was impossible to deny the beauty of the scene. The beach stretched out ahead while a myriad of blues in the ocean glimmered in the sun. I didn't have much time to admire the scenery because I was preoccupied with my horse, but I wasn't immune to Puerto Vallarta either.
I had originally thought that Holly and I could rent motorbikes and explore more than just the touristy parts of Puerto Vallarta. And if Holly felt more comfortable riding behind me with her arms wrapped around my waist, I was fine with that too. We could have ditched her family and our paparazzi tail, leaving them all in our dust.
But we had been roped into horseback riding instead, which successfully killed any interest I might have had in straddling anything for a long time.
I was damn sore and my every muscle ached. Staying civil during the lecture Holly's grandpa gave me was almost more than I could handle. So I excused myself from the family lunch, boarded the ship alone, and headed for the onboard hot tub.
Heaven.
Then I returned to the suite only to find Holly talking to Jen on my computer. Again. She didn't even look remotely guilty about getting caught. She merely waved and then tried to end the call without hurting her best friend's feelings.
Not an easy feat, since Jen kept craning her neck and stalling on the good-byes.
“Is he there, yet? Holly, you have to let me know! Because I do
not
want Dominic Wyatt hearing that I think h—”
“He's here.”
Jen's mouth snapped shut. Then she whispered, “Maybe I could talk to him for a little bit? I think we got along well last time.”
The girl clearly had a celebrity crush on me but she was harmless. Especially over the Internet.
So I walked right behind Holly and winked at her. “Hey, Jen.”
Her mouth bobbed open and shut a few times before words emerged. “You're . . . oh, my . . . uh, hi!” Then she turned to Holly and hissed. “You didn't warn me he was in
swim trunks!
”
Holly shrugged. “He likes flaunting his chest. You get used to it after a while.”
“I doubt I could ever get used to that view.” Jen sighed. Seriously. She
sighed.
And girls claim that guys have no self-control when it comes to their hormones.
“I just got out of the hot tub.”
Jen sighed again. Jesus.
“I'll leave you two alone to talk. Merry Christmas, Jen.”
“You're the best present of all,” she replied dreamily. Then she shook her head, as if forcing herself out of a fantasy that probably featured me shirtless with a Santa cap. “I mean, uh, Merry Christmas, Dominic!”
“Smooth,” Holly commented. “Real smooth, Jen.”
I headed for the bathroom, but I couldn't help overhearing Jen say, “You didn't do those abs justice in your description, Holly. The guy's a
freaking
Adonis!”
Holly rested her head in her hand and then methodically began hitting her forehead against her palm.
“The things I would do if we were sharing a suite together,” Jen continued, apparently oblivious to Holly's head thumping. “I mean, if the rest of him looks even
half
as good . . .”
“I have to go now.” Holly's voice sounded strangled. “Merry Christmas, Jen.”
“Thanks. Erm, happy belated Chanukah?”
Holly laughed. “Unnecessary, but thanks.”
“Well, happy early birthday. I've got a present waiting for you here!”
“Can't wait! I'll see you soon, Jen.”
“Sure. And in the meantime, I vote you start celebrating early by grabbing Dominic and—”
Holly disconnected.
Interesting. Very interesting.
It didn't look like I was the only one getting advice about our relationship from friends. Which made me wonder whether she would actually take any of it. I didn't exactly mind where Jen seemed to be going with that last comment. Something about grabbing me and . . . well, it had a lot of possibilities.
But Holly just turned to me and said, “As much as you love flaunting your body, we should get ready for my grandpa's birthday/Christmas dinner.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don't flaunt.”
“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, rock star.”
Once again, I didn't think she meant that nickname as a compliment. Then again, half of the time I wasn't sure if “Holly Disaster” was intended to be one either.
I smirked at her. “It's not my fault you can't take your eyes off my body. Out of curiosity, just how did you describe my abs to Jen?”
That shut her up. It also had her cheeks turning a bright red that I rather enjoyed.
On that note, I walked straight into the bathroom and intentionally left the door unlocked behind me.
Chapter 29
Holly
 
I
love my grandpa, but I just wanted his stupid dinner to be over.
Once again, Allison and Claire had me in their pocket and that meant they could flirt harder with Nick than usual . . . if that was even possible. Meanwhile, their younger brothers, Andrew and Jacob, kept begging their dad to consider buying an all-terrain vehicle. For LA.
My cousins, combined with the nonstop Christmas music piping over the ship's speakers, made me want dinner to be over fifteen minutes after it started. I understood why my grandpa had scheduled his birthday party for December twenty-fifth: He didn't want his Jewish family to feel excluded from the general celebratory mood. It was sweet . . . but I really didn't want to be there. Correction, actually.
I
wanted to be there. I just didn't want the rest of our family to be there with us.
Especially now that Nick's rock star novelty had worn off, providing my relatives with absolutely no incentive to check themselves around him.
Not that they had ever tried much in the first place.
Still, I thought I was going to lose it when my aunt calculated the number of pounds I had to lose if I wanted to look “presentable” on the red carpet: fifteen. At least.
Luckily, Nick spoke up before I could blast her.
“Holly doesn't need to lose a pound. She's beautiful just the way she is, inside and out.” He looked so sincere I almost believed that he meant it . . . until I remembered his very impressive acting skills. Nick could probably transition from music to television and film whenever he wanted. Hot musician with a killer body and a great smile . . . yep, all he needed was a fresh-faced starlet on his arm and he'd be the next big tween craze.
Definitely something to mention later to Nick . . . and not just because that might entitle me to a small share of the profits. I indulged in a brief fantasy of showing up to school in designer clothes, tossing back my hair, and saying, “Oh, my Gucci bag? My work in the film business paid for that. Dominic Wyatt? Yes, we're still friends. We're very close. I'm sorry, I just don't have time to answer all of your questions,” then I'd let out a strategically placed chuckle. “I suppose I'm in demand now.”
End scene.
I bit my lip. The only problem with my otherwise glorious fantasy was that the girl who could get anything with a look or a snap of her perfectly manicured fingers . . . I couldn't picture her as me.
Although I could definitely get used to designer purses.
Still, no amount of fantasizing could make dinner go any faster. I had to watch my grandpa painstakingly open each present, mindful of the wrapping paper, and do the obligatory “ooh” and “ahh” routine. Nothing had changed and yet everything was different. Legally, it was my last night as a kid and that felt momentous somehow.
Which probably sounds stupid.
It wasn't as if I expected to receive the secrets of grownup-ness and be magically transformed in the space of a single day. If birthdays actually worked that way then most adults (cough, Aunt Jessica) wouldn't be so screwed up.
Still, I couldn't help becoming nostalgic over past birthdays with my grandpa . . . or wondering how long it might be before we stopped celebrating them together.
Not exactly the kind of upbeat, happy thoughts I could share.
So I was relieved when dinner ended and I could pretend that it made sense for me to snuggle against Nick's side as we headed back to our suite. I probably shouldn't have acted so girlfriend-y in case it gave one of us the wrong idea. Especially since the way he came to my defense with Aunt Jessica made him seem safe. Steady. Reliable. I hadn't had much of those things in my life.
And I craved it more than I cared to admit.
Which is why even in the photographer-free elevator we played the happy yet exhausted couple. At least that's why I kept my arm loosely wrapped around his waist. Not that he seemed to mind the gesture. Which should have been weird since both of us were faking our attraction. But the only thing that felt strange for me was stepping back into our suite and realizing that I didn't want to act any differently. I wanted to stay pressed against Nick all night, actually.
Of course, Jen would probably say that lacking interest in
Dominic Wyatt
was grounds for rushing me to the emergency room to have my head examined. When a guy looks that good, severe head trauma was the only justification for pushing him away.
It's a good thing Jen had no idea that our romance was way more complicated than
People
magazine was reporting. She was already a nuisance who demanded the physical play-by-play for my entire vacation. If she knew that everything wasn't copacetic emotionally with Nick, she'd be a royal terror.
As it was she had me confessing that yes, I had seen him with his shirt off.
Then she made me give her my (abridged) description of it.
Although I needn't have bothered, since she got quite an eyeful for herself when he had come strolling into the room, dripping wet in his board shorts. I had a feeling that Jen would go glassy-eyed over that for years to come. She'd probably mention it at inopportune moments too . . . for the rest of my life.
There are definitely times when I want to get my best friend a muzzle.
But Jen was the last thing on my mind when Nick propelled me toward the king-sized bed. My feelings were all muddled in the wake of his standing up for me over dinner . . . and I thought,
Well, that's forward
but not necessarily in a bad way. More of in a
if his kisses are every bit as good as I remember this will work out fine
kind of way.
I was even looking forward to it.
But he didn't kiss me. In fact, the only part of me he touched were my shoulders when he casually pushed me back onto the bed.
“All yours.”
I stared at him in confusion, certain there was something I wasn't picking up on. Sure, he had claimed from day one that any physical relationship between us would depend on me, but saying
I'm all yours....
Then again, he hadn't said that
exactly
.
“Uh, sorry. What?”
Brilliant. Nothing like a short string of one-syllable words to make a girl appear unflustered.
“The bed,” Nick replied as if it was obvious. “It's all yours. For tonight.”
“But . . . why?”
Oh, yeah, nothing gets by me.
He shrugged. “Consider it an early birthday present.”
Which had to be the nicest thing he had ever done for me. Okay, besides telling my aunt that I was beautiful already . . . and letting me spend the night even when I could have been a burglar or a psychotic fan.
But this was . . . sweet.
Best of all, it was just for me. Nick's offer had nothing to do with press or publicity. Nobody would hear about it. Nobody would use it as an example of what a great guy he is just to prove a point. Not to mention, it wasn't even officially my birthday yet!
I couldn't come up with anything to say so I wisely kept my mouth shut.
“You also might want to take some more of those seasickness pills. It's nonstop sailing from here to LA.”
He was right, but I didn't want to hear it. The idea of spending three days on board didn't sit too well with my stomach. Then again, ever since I began taking the seasickness pills Nick had picked up for me I hadn't felt nearly as nauseous. Which was great news for my body and terrible news for my pride since I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it on my own.
I still didn't know what to say to him. Sarcastic rock star Dominic Wyatt, I could handle. Serious
all-that-matters-is-my-career
Dominic, not a problem. Even outraged
why-the-hell-are-you-wearing-my-Hawaiian-shirt
Nick probably wouldn't faze me anymore.
But I had no idea what to say to him now that he was relinquishing his king-sized bed of luxury for . . . me.
I had gotten so used to him acting like an impatient rock star that this sudden Prince Charming maneuver sent me reeling.
“Seriously?”
Nick grinned. “Well, I don't want you puking in my bathroom again. So, yeah, you should definitely take the pills.”
Not the answer I wanted to hear, but what could I say?
Why are you being so nice to me, Nick? Is this just to make sure I'll keep playing the role of fake girlfriend?
Because that was the only reason that made sense to me. Unless he was actually interested in me . . . but that was even less likely than Allison and Claire agreeing to delete all of my elf photos.
Still, I couldn't hold back an answering grin. “Well, thanks for the bed, Nick. Does this mean I might get the Hawaiian shirt for good behavior?”
He laughed. “You don't know how to be on good behavior.”
And maybe he was right.

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