Aced (10 page)

I somehow managed to drag my eyes away from Dylan to give Russ a sweeping once-over. “Not bad for a petty officer. Not bad at all.”

“Thanks. I think I scrubbed up okay. I mean, no one can look as good as pretty boy here, but we can at least try.”

I glanced at Dylan, whose eyebrow had arched. “Pretty boy, huh?”

Russ bumped shoulders with Dylan, then winked at him. “Oh yeah, Dylan here was a model before he came to try out. He’s even got a billboard in Hollywood.”

“You don’t say,” was my automatic response, and I could’ve sworn I caught a flush hit Dylan’s cheeks. Then again, it could’ve been the sun heating him in his outfit. Either way, I couldn’t help myself from slowly checking him out before speaking again. “I think you might be right, Russ.”

Dylan shook his head. “I’m pretty sure once you put some clothes on, no one will even notice me.”

“But if I walked around naked no one would?” The words were out of my mouth before I even thought about them, and that was exactly what I’d meant when I said he made me forget myself.
 

Around Dylan the tease was easy, the feeling was right, but I didn’t have the luxury to just say what I felt. I had to constantly think.
Constantly
be on. And not in the turned-on way I seemed to be when I was near this guy.

Lucky for me, Russ didn’t seem to be too clued in on what was going on in that moment, because he let out a loud laugh and clapped me on the shoulder. “Pretty sure if you walked around naked, everyone in the world would take notice. No offense, Dylan. But Ace would trump you for sure. He’d likely wind up on the cover of every magazine on the planet.”

And wasn’t that the damn truth. With that glaring reminder of how under the microscope
my life was, I took a step back both physically and mentally and chided myself for my reckless behavior. Saturday night had been a one-off, careless move, and though the man now watching me through narrowed eyes was everything I could’ve ever wanted, I knew I had to be smart. I had to fucking think, which was close to impossible in his presence.

I stepped to the side and held my hanger up, motioning to my clothes with a nod. “Right. I’m gonna go and get changed before my makeup melts off my face,” I said, and even to my own ears my tone was dismissive, and judging by the confusion on Dylan’s face, the change in my mood was obvious. “I’ll see you inside.”
 

As I headed toward my trailer, I could’ve sworn I heard Russ say, “You don’t think I pissed him off
again
, do you?” And though I was curious when he thought he’d pissed me off the first time, there was no way I was about to stick around for Dylan’s response.

* * *

IT HAD BEEN an uneventful few hours, and as I piled my plate with a chicken salad sandwich and sides, I marveled at how I could’ve worked up such an appetite simply by waiting on the sidelines. Apparently, the term “hurry up and wait” was one I needed to get used to, since it seemed the majority of the time had been used to get the lighting right and to shoot about ten seconds worth of Ace walking into a room.
 

I wasn’t sure this movie stuff was for me.
I much preferred just going in, doing the job, and getting out, but I had to admit, it hadn’t been all terrible. The view
had
been pretty amazing, and by view, I mean watching the imposing figure who’d just entered the lunch tent.
 

When I’d seen him come out of the makeup trailer, he’d looked good enough to eat—again—but fuck, there really was something about a man in uniform. I’d have to add that to my list of Ace bedroom fantasies.
 

He was laughing with the director as he carried a lunch container to one of the tables, and it was such a different side of Ace to the one Russ and I had run into before shooting began hours ago. Something Russ had said during that conversation seemed to have Ace retreating into his shell, and fuck if I was going to let him stay that way. Not after what had happened Saturday night. I could still feel the velvet smoothness of his cock in my mouth, and it had me biting back a grin at the secret stolen moment in his bedroom.
 

After heading back downstairs to the party and rejoining Russ, Ace and I hadn’t spoken, but the way we’d locked eyes across the room several times after had my goddamn stomach flipping like I was some fifteen-year-old girl with a crush. Would it happen again? Or was the way he closed himself off this morning a sign that he regretted it?

One way to find out.

I walked over to where he was sitting down at an empty table by himself and placed my tray across from him.
“Hey,” I said, then took a seat and bit into my sandwich.
 

Ace looked around us and then gave me a wary glance. “What are you doing?”

“Eating,” I said, holding up my sandwich.
 

“Yeah, but why are you doing it
here
?”

“Because it’s empty. Why, is this table reserved? Big shots only?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “No.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. “So assholes only, then. Well, I don’t really feel like moving, so…” I took another bite of my sandwich and gave a closed-mouth grin.
 

Ace’s shoulders seemed to relax, and he opened his prepackaged container with chicken breasts, kale, and sweet potatoes.
 

I screwed up my nose. “Is that what your chef makes you eat every day? He should be fired.”

“Some of us can’t afford to eat nothing but carbs,” he said, looking at my plate.
 

“So just protein, then?” I said, meaning every bit of that double entendre. “Good to know.”

Ace blanched and took his time cutting up his meat, obviously avoiding my gaze.
 

Jesus, does he think I’m going to talk about what happened in front of everyone or something?

“Hey.” I waited until he looked up. “That was a joke. You can laugh. It won’t mean anything if you do.” When he didn’t say anything and shoveled a forkful of kale into his mouth, I sighed. “I’m not going to say anything. And sitting here having a conversation with me won’t make anyone suspect anything, either, so can you please at least humor me by laughing at my jokes?”

“I would if you made any.”
 

I was about to say something equally assholey, but then Ace looked up, and there was a twinkle in his eye.
 

“You’re kind of a shit,” I said, and
that
finally had him chuckling.
 

“I can be.”

“Because you can?”

He shrugged. “Because it keeps people out.”

Well, that was honest.
“You trying to give me a hint?”

“That would imply I let you
in
in the first place.”

“Didn’t you?” I said, grinning, and then I shook my head. “Sorry, sometimes the filter doesn’t work.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Ace took a sip of his water and looked past my shoulder, and that was when it hit me. Ace was
scared
. This larger-than-life man in front of me had talked the talk, but he wasn’t ready to show anyone, the world
or
me, who he really was.
 

And fuck if I was going to let that stop me.
 

“Do you like salmon?”

His eyes darted to mine. “What?”

“Salmon. Fish. You like it?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’ve been told I make killer almond-crusted salmon, so maybe you could tell your chef with the bland technique to fuck off tonight.”

“Are you…” He looked around again, and lowered his voice. “Like a date or something?”

“It’s easier to cook for two, and I feel bad for you. You poor, deprived man, having to shovel dry chicken and kale into your—” I had to stop myself from saying
sexy-as-fuck mouth
, and instead finished, “—mouth.”

“I don’t have a chef,” he said, and speared his chicken with his fork. “And I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s just dinner—”

“I said no,” he said quickly, with a surprising amount of force behind his words. I soon learned why, though, when Ron took a seat beside me, along with the cinematographer.
 

As they all began to talk about the drought or some shit, I stayed silent and wondered what the hell to do now. Ace’s blue eyes flicked to mine, and there was a pleading expression in them, and then, just as swiftly, he looked away.
 

Ace seemed to be a man of contradictions, and, if I had to guess, one at war with himself. It had been so long since I’d been around anyone who wasn’t completely open with who they were that I wasn’t sure what the next step was, or even if there should
be
a next step. But as I stared at the attractive man in front of me, I knew I wasn’t willing to give up on the promise of something, even if it meant hiding in the shadows and waiting for him to seek
me
out. Because my gut told me that whatever this was between us wasn’t over yet.

* * *

LATER THAT EVENING, I rummaged through the refrigerator for something other than carrots as my manager, Roger, yammered on in my ear.
 

“Yeah, I get that it’s a good deal financially, but I’m not posing for a goddamn hemorrhoid cream ad. That shit’s not gonna happen,” I said. “I’d never fucking get laid again.”

I held the phone away from my ear as he tried to convince me it was worth it and the ad would only run overseas.
 

Jesus, maybe I do need a chef
, I thought, as I stared at the meager prepackaged meals and containers of vegetables. I kicked the door shut and said, “Roger. I’m not doing it. Now what else ya got for me?”

When he rambled on about a vodka launch in Vegas that I’d been asked to attend, I perked up. “I’ll do that. Put it on the calendar.”

Taking a seat on the barstool at the kitchen island, I tried to ignore the last time I’d had vodka and
who
I’d had it with. My eyes drifted over to the spot where the makeshift bar had been during the party. I couldn’t blame the lemon drops for what had happened later in my bedroom, and even now I didn’t regret it, even though I knew that was the impression I’d given Dylan earlier.
Fuck
, I knew I was being a dick, but I couldn’t open myself up to the guy, because I knew I’d never be satisfied with what little I could have from him.
 

“Ace? Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, Roger, I got it. Vegas in three weeks and a commercial for Rolex.”

“I’d like you to really reconsider the—”

“I’ve gotta run, fuck the hemorrhoids,” I said, and then hit the end button and tossed the phone on the counter. I was so damn irritable, and as I sat there in my eight-bedroom
empty
house, I was annoyed that this was the first time that empty was translating to lonely.
 

Damn Dylan.
The guy had totally gotten in my head. Him and his offer to make me dinner not only had my stomach growling but also had me sitting there feeling sorry for myself. I stared at the phone where it sat silently mocking me. Because stored inside it under
D.
Prescott
was the number of the man I was trying so hard to not want to call.
 

This was ridiculous. Hadn’t the whole reason I’d come out publicly been so I could pursue someone I wanted? Someone I couldn’t stop thinking about? Someone like Dylan?

Yeah, that was great in theory. But like Kenny, and even Shayne, had been quick to remind me, I had a constant tail right now as everyone waited for that first man on my arm, that first kiss caught on camera—and I wasn’t ready to give them either of those things anytime soon. Had the press known what had happened in a house full of people on Saturday night, they would’ve gone into a frenzy. But they didn’t know. So why was I still hesitating?

I snatched up the phone and opened Dylan’s contact information. I took a calming breath and was surprised to notice my hand was shaking, so I hit call and then balled my fist, reminding myself that there was nothing wrong with calling the guy.

As the phone rang I shut my eyes and made myself wait, and considering how much I wanted to hang up right after the second ring, it was a miracle I was still on the other end of the line when it was finally answered.

“Hello,” Dylan said, and even that simple greeting had my heart racing and my words getting stuck somewhere in the back of my throat. When the silence stretched between us for a couple more seconds, Dylan said again, “Hello?”

Knowing I needed to say something or he would likely hang up, I managed to get his name past my lips. “Dylan?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me. Who—” Dylan cut himself off, and as though a light bulb had switched on, his voice came back through the phone, and this time it was laced with amusement. “This can’t be who I think it is…”

I frowned at his words as they lingered there, and when it was obvious I wasn’t about to say anything, Dylan continued.

“Because if this
is
who I think it is…then I’d have a couple of questions he would need to answer before I hung up on him.”

I got to my feet and gripped the back of my neck. There was no way I wanted Dylan to hang up on me, but at the same time if I encouraged questions, was I going to be opening myself up to more than I was willing to answer?
Ahh, fuck it.
 

“I guess that would depend on who you think you’re talking to, wouldn’t it?” I heard a loud clang through the phone and then an expletive before it went silent and Dylan laughed.

“I suppose so. I wouldn’t want to say something highly inappropriate to just anyone. However, if it was the right person…”

When I got to the glass doors that opened onto my back patio, I looked outside to the deck to my hot tub and immediately had a vision of the man I was talking to in it. “And who would the right person be?”

Dylan sighed into my ear, and the sound sent a delicious thrill straight to my balls, and then he added to that with the words that came out of his mouth. “Oh, I don’t know. He’d have buzzed hair,
big
muscles, and kind of a jackass attitude. Oh! And he’d be tall—”

“How tall?” I interrupted.