Starfire (Peaches Monroe #3)(25)
Author: Mimi Strong

“Dalton, who was on the phone and what the hell’s going on?”

“An executive on the TV show. Most everyone thinks this whole  p**n o scandal will blow over, but this one executive is like a dog with a bone. Jamie’s the top dog, too, which is why I have a favor to ask you.”

“Like my mother always says, asking is free. Ask away.”

He dropped down on one knee.

“Peaches Monroe, will you marry me?”

CHAPTER 11

Dalton Deangelo had just asked me to marry him. He was on the ground in front of me, still on bended knee.

I could have said no, or asked if he was crazy.

Instead, I said, “Where’s the ring?”

“Put your hand in the jacket pocket.”

Slowly, without taking my eyes off Dalton, I patted the pocket area of the red flannel jacket he’d loaned me. Sure enough, there was a lump the size and shape of a ring box.

I kept staring down at Dalton’s gorgeous face, his green eyes full of so many different emotions at once. I’d seen him like this before, proposing to one of his lovers, only he was offering to make her a vampire. My whole body felt like it disappeared, and I was nothing but eyes and a bit of face, floating in the air.

He got up and brushed the dirt off his knee. “Not ready to give me an answer? Okay, let’s start with some easier questions. How do you like your burger? Medium? Well done?”

My voice came out like stinging nettles. “Burger.”

He grinned, that chin dimple increasing the net value of his famous smile. “Burger? I’ll take that as medium-well, the same as mine.”

“You want us to get married for publicity?”

“Not exactly.” He opened the hot grill and gently put the patties on with a sizzle. “I want to have a wedding for publicity, and I want to get married for love. Preferably to the same girl.”

“Dalton Deangelo, you are one crazy son of a bitch, and it’s extremely difficult to say no to you.”

“About that. You’ll find a copy of the Non-Disclosure Agreement inside the Airstream. I suggest you give it a read this time.”

I stroked the square ring box through the thick flannel, curious about the contents, but my arms too limp to do much of anything.

He nodded toward the door of the silver trailer. “The table’s all set up, and I’ll bring the patties in shortly.”

Oh. He wanted me to read the document now. Fine.

Mutely, I walked to the trailer and pulled open the aluminum-framed door. The stupid thing rocked and groaned as I walked up the steps and into the small interior. The only thing I really hated about the trailer was how I imagined it rocking around under my heavy footsteps, but I knew most of that was in my imagination and I shouldn’t hold it against the trailer.

I stepped lightly over to the half-circle banquette seat at the nose of the trailer and sat down to read the multi-page document set out for me.

Without boring your pants off with all the legalese, the gist of it was that I had unwittingly agreed to do ANYTHING within my power to help mitigate any damages caused by my blabbing of Dalton’s secrets, be it malicious or accidental or a weird drunken combination of both. (Which it was.)

ANYTHING.*

*That word, ANYTHING, was in all-caps throughout the document. I’m not sure how I hadn’t noticed, back on that day in the bookstore when Dalton’s lawyer made me sign the papers. Before you judge me too harshly, I’d like to ask if you read all those software license agreements you get on your computer. How about the fine print on your credit card applications? What’s that? You do? Well, good for you. Have a cupcake, smarty pants.

The trailer shook as Dalton tromped up the steps in his steel-toed boots. He set the burgers on the nearby kitchenette’s counter and bent over to pull off the boots.

Without looking at me, he said, “I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask you, but my life is in danger.” He flashed his devilish green eyes my way. “Grave danger.”

“Sure, it is.”

“Drake Cheshire’s life, to be more specific. My character could be murdered mid-season. Very dramatic.”

“They’ll cancel the show?”

“No. Not immediately. It could limp along for decades, because it’s cheap to shoot in all those interiors and dark locations, and the fans will hang in through the thinnest, most ludicrous… well, you’ve seen the show.” He took a seat next to me, his presence radiating into my space and touching me without touching me.

“And I love the show.” I looked down at the table and shifted around my utensils. “You’re a great actor, Dalton. Not just a good one, but a great one. You have this magic that nobody else can touch. When I’m watching you, the whole world disappears.”

After a pause, he said, “Thanks.”

I looked over and nearly drowned in his gorgeous green eyes. “I’m serious,” I whispered. “There’s no One Vamp to Love without Drake.”

“They’ll test some side characters and promote a fan-favorite to co-star with Connor.”

“Ugh, he’s the worst.”

“My whole life would change. Instead of getting paid well and doing these great indie projects during the summer, I’d have to scramble and take what I could get.”

“You could be a big movie star.”

“Or I could drop to B-List and go on one of those dancing shows.” He fanned his hand through the air between us, as though clearing away bad karma. “I’ll be fine, Peaches. Whatever happens is going to happen. Why don’t you and I get married just because it’s fun?” He slid along the seat to be right next to me, his arm loosely around my back.

“Fun like trespassing on private property?”

He raised his dark eyebrows and pouted his lips for effect. “I’m not the one who slept on a sheik’s pool lounger in Malibu.”

I giggled at the memory. My life had gotten way more interesting since meeting Dalton.

He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead, right over the eyebrow.

I closed my eyes and savored his lips on my skin. When had we last kissed? Once, in LA, for the cameras, and before that, our last kiss was on the morning he left my bedroom. That had been before everything went sideways, and I got so angry… over a few mistakes that seemed so small now… especially with his hand on my leg.

He pulled away from the kiss and turned to look at the set table before us. “Burger?”

“I don’t know if I can eat, but put one on my plate and we’ll see what happens.”