“I’m not doing it. No way in hell.”
I was so angry, I wanted to throw something. I reached for my phone and swore when I realized I didn’t have it. Then I eyed up Lyric’s but was pretty sure she would wrestle me for it, and even on her worst day, she could take me.
Hands empty, I clenched them and gritted my teeth so hard, pain radiated up my jaw. This was a nightmare. All week, my people had been on damage control. Team Echo said there was nothing going on between me and Boyd. Our cabin stay was a coincidence and nothing more. But now? A million dollars? Really? How were we going to spin this?
I wanted to move on and forget about Boyd Appleton. Write him off as a weak moment. And now it would be in my face twenty-four seven.
Just fucking great.
We were backstage, and I’d nearly burned a hole in the floor from pacing back and forth. I saw Jessica Dubrosky watching a few feet away, her perfectly shaped eyebrows arched in glee. I resisted the urge to flip the bird. Barely. She was a snobby trust fund bitch from the Upper West Side and had a nasty habit of trolling my Insta pics, leaving negative comments via a barrage of emojis. I wanted to ask her if she could spell. Seriously, if you want to throw shade, use your damn words.
Instead, I gave her a pointed glare, and eventually, she left with a sly smile and a shrug that told me she’d be posting something later. Just my luck she’d be the one to witness my backstage meltdown. Whatever. I had more to worry about than the emoji queen of New York.
“This is a disaster.” I threw my hands up and began to pace again.
“You’re scared.” Lyric shrugged. “I get it.”
I rounded on her, outraged at her cavalier response. “Are you kidding me? That’s what you’ve got? That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
A weekend alone with Boyd in Louisiana? What the hell could go wrong?
“Echo,” she began, but I cut her off. I was so not in the mood for her side of things.
“I’m not scared, Lyric. I’m angry for being put on the spot. Angry that I’ll be front page news again. I haven’t been able to leave my apartment because the paparazzi are as thick as the crap smoothie I force down every morning. Mother of God, but Hollywood Tattler is going to have a field day.”
“First of all, Echo, the paparazzi are always in your face. That’s nothing new. And it’s never made you angry before.”
“Before doesn’t count,” I snapped. “You’re my sister, and you should be on my side.”
Ali retreated because she knew me well enough to know an epic tantrum was on the horizon. “I’ll just…” Her voice faded to nothing as I shot my eyes her way.
Poor thing. It wasn’t her fault. I took a moment. Pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose and counted to ten just like my therapist had taught me.
“It’s okay, Ali. You can go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I watched her leave and finally was alone with my sister. I turned back to Lyric, who held my gaze until I looked away. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Can we just be honest, Echo? Boyd pushes your buttons. There’s no way around that. But the real problem is that you can’t control him. And you’re a control freak. You hate not being in control.”
“I am not…” But my words died at the look on her face. She was right but still I wouldn’t give in. I was stubborn that way.
She arched an eyebrow and shook her head. “You broke out in hives two years ago because the family voted to go to Live Oaks instead of staying in the city for Christmas.”
“I’d just got my new apartment and wanted to host.”
“And when the menu you gave to Marta wasn’t used, you made your own food and ate in the kitchen.”
“I wanted duck and carb free, not turkey, mashed potatoes, and biscuits.”
“That’s so mature.” But she wasn’t finished. “When Dad was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, you nearly had a meltdown because the seating wasn’t the way you wanted it to be.”
“I didn’t want to sit beside Daddy’s new ho.”
“You acted like a child.”
If looks could kill, Lyric would be faceup on the floor, her damn four-inch spikes nailed through her cold-blooded heart. She was right, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Jesus, Lyric would never let me hear the end of that.
“I just…I like knowing what’s up. That way, I can prepare.”
“Prepare for what? Doesn’t that get exhausting? Can’t you just live in the moment? Can’t you just let life hit you in the chest and react?”
“Spontaneity is overrated.”
She laughed at that. “Says the girl who threw away the rule book when she was ten.” Her grin widened. “And then there’s the sexual tension.”
I glared at her. She was gloating. I hated when she gloated because it usually meant she was right.
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw you guys upstairs. Boyd looked like he wanted to eat you, and I’ve never seen you so damn rattled. A blind man would have picked up on those vibes.” Her forehead got all scrunched—the way it did when she was thinking real hard. “Why are you so against exploring whatever it is between you? Like, what do you have to lose?”
“Everything.” I swore. “Nothing.” I sighed and shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me.”
I opened my mouth, reaching for that smartass comment that would put her in her place, but I had nothing. Me. Echo Mansfield. Miss Motormouth of eighth grade. Miss Queen of the Comeback. Miss My Words Can Cut You Like a Blade.
I had not a damn thing.
“Echo, look.” Lyric sighed and took a step toward me. “I’m not exactly sure what happened between you guys at the cabin, but it’s obvious something did. You’re different. And I think that’s a good thing. Why don’t you try something new for a change? Let things happen organically. I mean, hello, the guy just plunked down one million dollars to spend the weekend with you. That has to say something.”
“It says he has a big bank account.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“It says he’s trying to prove a point.”
“What point would that be?” she asked.
“That he’s an arrogant dick.”
“So are you sometimes.”
“I’m not having sex with him,” I shot back.
“I didn’t say anything about sex, but now I know where your head is at.”
My cheeks blazed red. I could feel it, and pressed cold palms against them as I slammed my eyes shut.
Wrong thing to do. An image of his mouth on mine, his tongue tasting, his lips tugging and sucking me into oblivion, flashed through my mind, and I groaned. How the hell did I end up in this mess? We could never be a thing because the past was so damn messy, and that was on me. I’d been immature and nasty and done things I wasn’t proud of. Things Boyd would never understand.
Which was the center of my very big problem. There was something between us. I’d be a fool not to acknowledge it. But I knew that if I crossed that line again, my heart wouldn’t survive, because Boyd would dump me like a hot potato and never look back. Sex would make me want more, and more would be the end of me.
“Sex with Boyd can never happen.” I shook my head. “Like ever.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The voice came from nowhere.
I whipped my head around so fast, I saw stars. Boyd stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe. His dark eyes glittered in that way that told me he was thinking things. Things that would probably send me over the edge.
God, I wished he’d say something. But he remained silent, and that made my already tight body freeze up even more. I’d rather he pick a fight than stare at me in silence.
His presence was like a physical touch. A slam dunk of masculinity that filled up the space and sucked out all the air. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Couldn’t talk.
He pushed off from the wall. “I’ll have my people talk to your people, and we’ll set this up.”
“You’re really going to go through with this?” I found my voice, but barely got out the words.
Something flashed across his face. Something hot. And wild. And freaking dangerous. It set off a reaction inside me that ramped up my fears. I was scared and angry and confused. And, no lie, my lady parts were singing, oh happy day. They were chanting, I want more.
I fought the urge to cross my legs and alleviate the ache, and hoped my sister wasn’t choking on whatever the hell it was that permeated the air.
I know I was.
He winked, a sarcastic salute that made my jaw clench harder. “Yeah. I am.”
“I don’t want this.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’re such a dick,” I hissed.
“That’s Mister Dick to you.”
He turned to Lyric and gave her a hug and a quick peck on the cheek before turning tail and leaving without another word. Not. One. Word.
Mister Dick? He was the king of dicks.
That was nearly a month ago, and I’d shot down every weekend he’d proposed to come to Louisiana. I had a million excuses. A spa weekend with the girls. Business meetings on the West Coast. A New York Rangers game I couldn’t get out of. Conference in Canada. Pink eye. Okay, that was desperation, but shit, I didn’t have much else.
In the end, I ran out of excuses and told him I’d be at Live Oakes the second weekend in February. It was up to him whether he came or not. I wasn’t his travel agent. He could make his own damn arrangements.
Which he did.
And here I was.
I’d arrived the day before and, for the first time in weeks, slept like a baby, in spite of the knots in my stomach and the stress headache that had dogged me for days. I suppose there was something about this place that calmed me and made things better.
At least until Boyd showed up and ruined everything, which would be in a couple of hours.
I sighed and let the front door slam shut behind me. It was cool for this time of year, a balmy fifty-five degrees as I looked down the wide driveway lined on either side by the live oaks the plantation was named after. Mist hung low to the ground, lazy snakes that slithered along the grass, and I shivered, pulling my dark gray Prada cardigan tighter.
Marta stepped out onto the wide veranda, wiping her hands down the front of her apron. It was covered in giant watermelons, and she’d had it since I was a little kid. I smiled at her, more than a little concerned to see how much she’d aged in the last year or so since I’d been here. Her hair was tied back as usual, but the blonde strands were now silver. There were more lines etched onto her face, and her cheeks were hollowed, though that might have been because she’d lost some weight. She’d always been so soft and round and ready with a hug. When I was little, I used to pretend she was my mother.
“Morning, Sunshine.”
I smiled at the nickname she’d given me ages ago. As a kid, I’d been pretty much the opposite of sunshine. In fact, most of the time, I’d been sullen, spoiled, and plain nasty. But Marta always managed to get a smile out of me, and her warm hugs were reward enough.
“You’re up early,” she said, coming to stand beside me.
“I slept like the dead.”
“That’s the fresh air, I’m guessing.”
“Could be the Xanax,” I quipped.
“Don’t be cheeky,” she murmured, giving me a quick hug. “Is there anything in particular you want for dinner? I’ll be sending Mr. Bill to town for some things in a few hours.”
Mr. Bill was the caretaker of the property. Again, he’d been around for as long as I could remember. And we’d always called him Mr. Bill. Honestly? I had no clue what his last name was.
“No,” I replied quickly. “I’m good.” I hoped she wasn’t remembering how awful I’d been over the holidays a few years back. Nothing says a girl has grown up more than the level of embarrassment she feels when thinking back to how rotten she’d been.
“Did I tell you Georgia is coming for a few days?”
It took everything in me to keep my cool. Georgia? One guess as to why she’d decided to pay her mother a visit. She must have found out Mister Dick was coming to town. She’d had the hots for him ever since that summer he first came here and ruined me for anyone else.
“That’s nice,” I managed to say. She was Marta’s daughter, which meant she’d been a part of my life as long as I could remember. We’d never been close. I was big enough to admit that it was partly because I was jealous of her relationship with her mother. I used to pretend Marta was my mom on account of the fact that my own mother was a flake. She was a flake with zero maternal skills and at the moment was in some wellness center in the Swiss Alps. Honestly, between her and Axel for parents, it was a damn miracle we three girls weren’t more screwed up than we were.
As for Georgia, she thought I was spoiled and bitchy—which I could handle, because sometimes I was spoiled and bitchy. It was the dumb thing that pissed me off. She told me to my face the last time I was here that I was dumb as dirt. Right before I accidentally on purpose spilled an entire bottle of red wine in her lap.
“She still pre-med?” I asked, not because I cared, but because I didn’t want Marta to know I didn’t care. Funny how that worked.
“She’s taking a break. Trying to decide if she wants to continue with her courses or move to a different college and become a veterinarian.”
I rolled my eyes. Internally, of course. I didn’t want to make Marta uncomfortable.
“When is Boyd coming?” Marta’s tone was light, but I felt her eyes on me, and I shifted my feet nervously. That summer, he’d managed to worm his way into her heart, and she’d always had a soft spot for him. He was kind of a superhero that way.
“Soon,” I replied, eyes on the driveway.
“Okay, then. We’ve got a couple of hours at least.”
I yanked my head back just in time to see the soft smile that touched her pale lips.
“Until what?”
Marta laughed softly and stepped back, her hands on the screen door. “Until things get interesting.”