Party Girl (27 page)

When I open the door hundreds of flashes fill the air in the split second between me stepping out and the paparazzi realizing I’m not anyone famous. I step over to two men who have been our door guys all week as the flashes come to an abrupt halt.

“Joey,” I call to the bigger of the two. “Revere says he left plates of food for your team back in the kitchen. They’ll keep them warm for you, just head back when we’re done here and grab them.”

“Thanks, Brinkley. We really appreciate it.”

I turn back to go inside. “You’re lucky too,” I call. “I think they had extra filet so you’re livin’ large tonight, gentlemen!” I laugh at their happy expressions.

Every single event we work has security, and the easiest way to their hearts is through free dinners. Just as I turn to grab the door, it opens inward. The flashes go off again but die off when the Riverton team steps out. Selah follows behind them, ahead of Brody and Liam. I cringe at the vision of Selah in her stiletto boots, tights, cashmere sweater, and fur vest paired against me in my dirty snow boots, ponytail, and practically no makeup since I’d sweated it all off long since. I turn back to the guys. “Joey, can you escort them to their cars, please?”

“Absolutely. Right this way, Ms. Smith.” Joey offers Selah an arm, which she clutches rather than fall off her six-inch heels.
Honestly, what idiot wears those boots in the snow?

I turn back for the door. Brody gives me a hopeful grin, and Liam’s face brightens in recognition. “Hey! How are you—?”

“Excuse me,” I mumble quickly and duck back inside the space.
Great, now I’m being openly rude to everyone.
Ugh!

I walk slowly back to toss my jacket in its hiding place and start overseeing strike of the party. I decide right then that Miko is right: we
are
drinking tonight.

“There she is!” Miko squeals from her perch in the middle of the kitchen island. The main room is full of people, but true to her word, there can’t be more than twenty total. There is music and lots of loud, happy conversation, but nobody appears to be doing anything that might get them (or us) into trouble.

“Here I am,” I say in agreement with Miko. “Let me just drop my stuff off in the room, and I’ll be right back.”

I jog up the stairs to our shared bedroom and change into clothes that don’t smell like the food we’d served at dinner. I redo my pony, pull on a pair of UGGs, and apply gloss. Back down in the kitchen, Miko, Chadwick, and Revere are lining up shots of Jameson and cackling like hyenas . . . Clearly they’ve been drinking since they left me at the venue.

“Come on, comeoncomeon! It’s your turn,” Miko croons.

“All right.” I grab a shot and throw it back without hesitation.

“You drink like a guy,” Revere slurs.

“Or a pirate,” Chadwick agrees.

I laugh. “Either way, I just want a buzz as fast as physically possible.” I grab another shot.

“Hey, careful there, slugger.” Taylor comes up next to me and stops the forward motion of the shot by grabbing my wrist. “The altitude will mess with you if you’ve never been up here before. You get drunk a lot easier, so you might give it a minute before your next one.”

He must have just taken a shower because his hair is wet, and he’s changed into an old Rolling Stones shirt.

“You can have this one then.” I hand him my shot and he drinks it for me. “And I’ll just get the next.” I grab the next in line and swallow it before he can stop me. The group assembled around the kitchen gives me a round of applause, during which I stop to curtsy.

“You’re going to feel that tomorrow.”

“Yes, but at least I won’t think about anything tonight.” I smile at him as the whiskey starts sizzling its way through my veins.

“Who wants to play I’ve Never?” Revere asks, sloshing around the dregs of the Jameson bottle.

“I do!” I laugh. Because right about now I want to drink and be silly and not think about my crappy boss or the way Brody’s face looked when I ignored him tonight. So we play games, and we drink a ton, and I end up teaching Revere and Chadwick the first eight counts of my favorite routine from junior high cheer squad.

The last thing I
sort of
remember is a group of us creating suits out of trash bags so that we can make snow angels without getting wet.

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

As soon as my eyes catch the smallest bit of daylight, I wince and slam them shut again. I reach a hand up to rub the clumpy mascara out of my right eye but keep them shut until I can assess my wounds. My head is pounding, probably because I didn’t drink any water last night. I remember that I did eat my weight in Costco pizza that someone showed up with last night; it must have absorbed the worst of the liquor because I don’t feel as terrible as I should.

I slowly open my eyes to test out the level of my hangover . . . and see Taylor’s head asleep on the pillow next to mine.

“Oh my God!” I spring upright in bed with a yelp.

Taylor jumps up too. “What’s going on—?”

He’s wearing a rumpled white T-shirt and pajama bottoms.

I look down at myself, wearing only his “Back in Black” T-shirt.

“Oh my God!” I cry louder this time.

What did I do?

What did we do?

I don’t remember anything after the trash-bag snow angels, and I’m . . .

“Calm down, Brinks, it’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be.” He flops back down on the bed with a yawn.

“
Not that big of a deal
?” I clutch the blanket and pull it up above my chest. How have I gotten myself here? And with a guy who doesn’t even seem that worked up over what happened?

“How can you say that? I don’t do things like this, Taylor!” I’m either going to cry or be sick . . . maybe both.

Taylor sits up, suddenly very awake.

“Brinks, you didn’t do anything, I swear. Well, you did a few things that I’ll tease you about until the day I die; but
we
didn’t do anything.”

“But why am I in your bed?” I ask weakly.

“Everyone was down in the game room playing pool, and you must have ferreted in here when no one was looking. I came in and found you passed out across the covers, apparently having helped yourself to some pajamas.” He gestures at the shirt I’m wearing. “You wouldn’t wake up, and I was too tired to care, so I just left you here.”

“I can’t believe Miko didn’t stop me from doing something so stupid,” I gripe.

“Don’t be too mad at her. She was the first one who went up to bed. And even if she was awake, I doubt she was sober enough to have kept you in line.”

“OK, yeah, you’re probably right.” I look around me, a thought occurring suddenly. “But why didn’t you sleep somewhere else?”

“
You
snuck into
my
bed!” He laughs. “I’m gentleman enough not to touch you but not gentleman enough to sleep on the couch just because you want to pull a Goldilocks!”

The tension in my shoulders eases.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot.” I run my hand through the rat’s nest on my head.

Taylor’s smile is slow and sleepy. “No, you’re not an idiot.” He reaches out to push a piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re actually kind of adorable.”

My breath hitches a little at the gesture because I know what it means. How many girls would kill to be in this position with Taylor right now? He’s sweet and funny and completely gorgeous, and I just . . . I just don’t feel excited or nervous or get goose bumps on my skin when he touches me.

I look down at my hands nervously. “Taylor, I—”

He starts to chuckle a little and leans back against the headboard. “No, Brinks, don’t even say it. I know that tone of voice, not that I hear it a lot, mind you, but I know what it means.”

I look up at his kind expression. He really is the best.

“I’m sorry. I really do care about you so much as a friend, I just don’t—”

“Want to make out with me?” he finishes for me.

“No, I don’t.” I give him a helpless shrug. “And I don’t know why either, because you’re totally gorgeous. But I don’t think make-out sessions are in our future.”

“It really is your loss,” he says playfully.

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” I look around for my phone or my clothes or something, but I don’t see anything helpful. “What time is it?”

Taylor looks at his watch on the nightstand. “Just after ten o’clock.”

I scoot to the edge of the bed and do another cursory search for my clothes.

“I don’t know where they are either. I tried to find them last night,” he says as I hunt. I pull an afghan off the end of the bed. It’s an ugly, crocheted mustard color, but it’s big enough to wrap around myself like a cloak so I can get upstairs.

“Lord, I’m the worst!” I laugh at the idiocy of the situation and wonder if he’ll ever let me live this moment down. “If you wanna meet me in the kitchen, I’ll throw actual clothes on and make you some coffee; it’s the least I can do.”

Taylor peels himself out of the bed. I shouldn’t notice how nice his body is, but I do. Someday he’s going to make some lucky girl very happy.

I keep the afghan draped over my shoulders like a cape and use one hand to hold it in place. The other hand slowly turns the knob on his door, and I listen for a moment to see if anyone else is awake. The house is still, so I’m assuming everyone else is sleeping off last night.

Taylor’s room is in the basement next to the game room, so we have to trudge up steep steps to the kitchen. Just as I get to the last step up, Taylor accidentally snags the edge of the afghan, which makes me trip, and then he trips, and both of us sort of half-tumble into the kitchen, laughing.

I straighten back up and pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders, still snickering. “I’m honestly the least graceful person you’re likely to meet, I just—”

A throat clears.

I look up at Revere, who’s standing in the archway of the kitchen . . . next to Brody.

I look at Taylor and then back at them and . . . and . . . I’m wearing his T-shirt and my hair’s a mess and I don’t have pants on and I . . .

Oh God this looks so bad!

Revere clears his throat again. “I’m sorry, uh, Mr. Ashton asked to speak with you, Brinkley, and I, uh, thought you were in your room.”

Brody’s face has drained of all its color. I start to say something, but then his features shift and for one fleeting moment I see a look of disgust that makes my heart hurt.

“Excuse me, this was my mistake.” Brody turns around and heads back out the way he came.

Damn it!

I leave Taylor and Revere standing in the kitchen still gaping at the spot Brody just exited, and I chase after him. I’m wearing an old T-shirt and a mustard-colored blanket; I pick out a random pair of snow boots from next to the front door that end up being two sizes too big, and I run out into the snow.

“Brody! Brody!”

He’s almost to his car but he spins back around.

“Oh
now
it’s Brody?”

I’m stumbling through the snow. I nearly crash into him when he comes striding back to me.

“I’m sorry. I know how it looks but I—”

“How it looks? It
looks
like you were in bed with Bennett . . . who’s your coworker, by the way!” he shouts. “Which is really confusing because you said we couldn’t even be
friends
because it was unprofessional!”

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I promise—”

“You
promise
?” he sneers, and I shrink back and hug the blanket tighter around myself. “Are we back to pretending then? You’re going to play good girl again, and I’m supposed to buy it?”

I know it’s an utterly ridiculous thing to say, but it falls out of my mouth like a plea.

“I
am
a good girl.”

Brody leans closer and points an accusing finger at me. “Hard to believe that when the only thing you’ve got on is
his shirt
.”

His face blurs in my vision, and tears start rolling down my cheeks. I am so damn sick of crying all the time!
When did I become this girl?
I scrub them away with the edge of the blanket. My brain races to figure out the right thing to say, to make him understand. He’s looking at me like he’s finally figured out who I really am and it’s disgusting to him. I don’t know what to say. He’s practically vibrating with anger, and I have to fight the urge to reach out to him.

“Why are you so upset?” I ask in a small voice.

“That’s the question of day!” he says contemptuously. “I came over here because I was
worried
about you. Every time I’ve seen you this week you looked upset, and I thought you were having a hard time. I wanted to make sure you were OK. But the joke’s on me, right?” He’s almost yelling by the last sentence.

“Please don’t be angry. Just let me—”

“Brinks, are you OK?”

I turn to see Taylor standing in the doorway of the house, looking pretty angry. He’s clenching his right fist at his side, and I wonder if the bad boy image isn’t actually an act after all.

“I’m fine. Can you give us a minute?” I call over.

He doesn’t look happy about it, but he closes the door. When I turn back Brody is smirking.

“You’ve just got all kinds of men checking up on you, huh? The damsel in distress is a good game. I certainly fell for it.” He looks out into the snow for a minute, and when he speaks again his voice is quiet. “The worst of it is, I don’t know why I’m so upset. I’ve been in this scenario plenty of times, I just thought this time—no, I thought
you
were going to be different.”

“Brody, please listen to me. I’m in this situation, and I know how it looks, but it’s not my fault. I had too much to drink, but I didn’t do anything!” I’m pleading; I need him to understand.

“And that’s your thing too, right? You don’t
do
anything. You let Selah control your life and make you miserable and you just take it. You’re depressed for weeks and your friends try to help and you’re rude to them. But that’s not your fault, right? They should have left you alone? You end up drunk in bed with some guy, but you don’t take responsibility for that either!”

“Please.” I’m really crying now. “I’m not like that.”

My tears only seem to make him angrier.

“You’re
exactly
like that! But you know what? I don’t get to tell you how to act; you can be whoever you want. But at least take responsibility for it. Stop pretending that your life is just
happening
to you and that you have no control over it!”

I can only imagine how pathetic I look sobbing here in the snow, but I can’t stop. He’s so angry and each word cuts like a knife. I am so tired of people being mad at me but the worst of it is . . . he’s right. I have let Selah boss me around. I was rude to my friends, and I did get drunk and end up in bed with Taylor. What would have happened if it had been someone else’s bed? For the first time I realize how dangerous my actions were last night. I’ve been so wrong, so much lately. I’m sorry about all of it, and I don’t know what I can fix, but I have to make him understand. I can’t let him leave here without knowing what really happened. I swallow back more tears, and start at the beginning.

“I’m s-sorry. I shouldn’t have let Selah tell me that we couldn’t be friends—”

Brody holds up a hand to stop me.

“You know what? Don’t even worry about it, really . . . I don’t want you as a friend.”

He walks away through the snow back to his car, and drives all the way down the hill before I can stop crying long enough to go back inside the house.