The Redhead Plays Her Hand (Redhead #3)(25)
Author: Alice Clayton

“I know you’re not quiet over there because you’re surprised by this, are you?”

“I just didn’t expect it last night is all. How did they know we were there?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Adam?”

“Adam,” she replied.

“You’re sure?”

“Not completely, but it makes the most sense. Although honestly, it could have been anyone. There’s no real rhyme or reason. You two could go parade down Sunset in front of Grauman’s Chinese right now and no one would notice, but you buy one box of condoms at the grocery store, and it’ll be front-page news. Don’t buy your own condoms, by the way. I’ll get someone to get you some when you need them.”

“Oh, please, we haven’t used condoms since we first were together.”

“You’re being careful, though, right? Although Hollywood babies are a great accessory . . .”

I laughed. “Ha! And yes, we’re being careful. Would your rule also apply to purchasing multiple containers of whipped cream at a time?”

“Yeah, don’t do that. Oatmeal is safe, though. No one cares if you’re buying oatmeal.”

“Does Michael like oatmeal?”

“Nah, he’s a Cheerios guy. He— Dammit. Well played.”

“Spill it!” I screamed into the phone, thrilled that she had given up the dirt so easily.

“There’s nothing to spill, actually.”

“Bullshit, spill it.” I giggled, pushing her. It was nice to be the pushy one.

“There’s nothing really to tell. It just, sort of, happened.”

“Exactly what happened?”

“It’s just, it’s good. Really good, okay?” she replied, a smile evident in her voice.

“What about Lane?”

“I adore Lane. He’s a great guy, but that was never going to be anything beyond what it was.”

“Amazing sex?”

“Amazing sex, yes.”

“How’s the sex with Michael?” I asked, knowing full well how good it was from our one-night stand back in college. This wasn’t weird for me, and I hoped it wasn’t going to be weird for them.

“Um, well, the thing is . . .”

“You haven’t f**ked him yet?” I shrieked.

Jack padded down the hall from the bedroom, towel around his waist, still dripping. “What are you yelling about?” he asked.

“Tell you later,” I mouthed, and he went back into the bedroom.

“Weren’t you the one who told me you couldn’t believe it when I said Jack and I hadn’t had sex yet?”

“Grace, let me just—”

“Get on that stick I think were the actual words you yelled at me in front of a shocked Starbucks, in fact,” I teased, loving every second of this.

“Oh, suck it, asshead.” I could tell she was still smiling.

“But you like him?” I asked, thinking back on how long we had all been friends. I never would have put those two together, but in my mind, he was always in my past, not hers as much. Yet there was something to be said for being friends as long as they had.

“I really think I do.”

We both sighed.

“If you haven’t slept with him, how do you know he takes Cheerios?”

“He fell asleep here one night a few weeks ago when we were watching a movie. That’s all. I may have slept on the couch next to him.”

“How cute! Anything else happen?”

“Not really. We’ve kissed, but that’s about all.”

Holly never took this long to pounce on anyone. This was different.

“So are you officially an item?” I asked, trying to get more juice. She wasn’t having it.

“Okay, back to business. Just have Jack call me as soon as he’s out of the shower?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I fibbed. I’d let him at least put pants on before he had to face another firing squad.

“And heads-up, I’ve got a call with the producers tomorrow about your paparazzi session last night. I’m sure they’ve got some thoughts.”

“Great.”

“That’s my job. You let me worry about it.”

After we hung up, I sat on the couch for a bit, coffee now cold.

What would the producers want to talk about with Holly?

That your personal life is exploding all over the Internet?

Oh yeah . . .

That day started tense and ended lovely. Jack and I lazed around the house all day, watching TV, drinking coffee, doing laundry, just having a day where we didn’t have to do a thing. It was nice. Toward the end, we talked about going out for dinner but realized that eating somewhere in public was not the kind of thing we were up for, not after last night. We ordered in Chinese, ate it at the dining room table off my new dishes (a splurge after I saw what Holly had negotiated for me), and then decided to take a drive. Bryan had already brought my car back from the parking garage.

It was risky, heading out in a car we knew was easily recognized, but I didn’t want to be trapped in the house, and I could tell Jack was getting antsy. At night, it wouldn’t be as obvious who was in the car, and if we kept the top up during most of the trip, we decided it was worth that very risk.

Jack drove our favorite drive, Topanga Canyon all the way to PCH, pulling over at a little canyon store for hot chocolates and to drop the top. With the tunes on, the night breeze in my hair, and Jack’s hand on my knee, I could finally relax in my favorite city in the world. As we turned right onto the coastal highway, the ocean scented the air. The moon hung low in the sky, and while the stars twinkled over the water, my star relaxed as well. He squeezed my knee as the music switched to an old favorite, “Into the Mystic.” I smiled to myself as I thought of the first time we’d taken a drive like this, this song and this man next to me making for a very sweet memory. I chuckled, letting my hand drift out of the car and into the night, rolling it along imaginary hills and valleys. I sang softly along with Van Morrison, Jack’s voice joining in on the chorus. My left hand dropped down to his on my knee, and I nestled my fingers in his.

In this moment, in this car, on this stretch of highway, we were a couple in love. We were not an older woman and a younger man, Jack wasn’t the Sexiest Man Alive, but he was the sexiest man in my world. I wasn’t an up-and-coming actress who’d been asked about the size of her boyfriend’s dick the night before by a total stranger, I was a girl in a convertible in my pajamas, holding hands with the man I was in love with.