Chapter 3

He knew the instant Paige had completely written him off. She had a very expressive face, and she didn’t even try to hide the disdain she was feeling toward him. Well, he had a surprise for her—he wasn’t feeling too kindly toward her either. It was one thing to judge a person when you had all the facts, but it was another to do it when you knew nothing!

Why he was surprised, he couldn’t say. After all, he was used to people judging him, but usually they had good reason to. One flippant comment from her sister, and all of a sudden the camaraderie they had established this afternoon was gone? What did that say for the kind of person she was?

And why should he care? From the beginning, he hadn’t been interested in doing this. He’d told Mick so. The best thing for him to do would be to move on.

It probably wouldn’t be hard to find a way to get his hours in without being made to feel worse about himself than he already did. Hell, if he looked hard enough, Dylan had no doubt he could find a place or a cause that would love to have him—even be grateful for him—and then he’d be able to tell Miss Paige Walters to kiss his ass and good luck with her boring campaign.

That had him laughing a little—imagining the look on her face if he said that to her. It would be the most satisfying thing to happen to him in months.

“Thank you so much,” Paige was saying to the AAA driver. “I appreciate your help. I had no idea how to go about finding the leak.”

“You need to take the car in and get the tire replaced. The patch is all fine and good as a temporary fix, but it’s not a long-term solution.”

“I’ll take it in on Monday,” she replied. “And again, thank you.”

Dylan watched as she signed some paperwork and then took out some cash to tip the man. With a word of thanks, the AAA representative turned and seemed to notice Dylan.

And then he noticed Dylan.

Great.

“Oh, man! You’re Dylan Anders, right?”

It would be pointless to play dumb, and the man had Paige blocked in, so the longer Dylan stood here and talked to the guy, the longer she’d have to stand there and stew.

“Yes, I am!” he said with a full-blown grin. He held out his hand and gave the guy a hearty handshake and then proceeded to talk to him about everything from his favorite Shaughnessy song to his taste in other music.

Paige cleared her throat. Loudly. But Dylan ignored it.

“Would you mind signing something for me?” the guy asked.

“Not at all! I’ll sign as much as you’d like. Take something to the guys at the garage too!”

“Um…excuse me,” Paige said with a hint of annoyance, “but I need to get going. Could you move the truck?”

Dylan looked at her and grinned. “We’ll be done in a minute. Maybe you should go inside and see about calling the Toyota dealer about that new tire.”

Her dark eyes narrowed at him. “I don’t want to go inside.”

“And we’re not ready to move the truck yet,” he countered.

“Oh, we’re not ready?” she mocked. “Seriously?”

“What can I say? I can’t disappoint a fan.” Turning his back on her, he walked over to the driver’s side of the truck and then spent another five minutes signing papers, flyers, hats, whatever the guy could get his hands on. When he was done, he looked at Paige, who was fuming, and felt like poking her some more. “Is that it? I’ve got time.”

“You know, my girlfriend would go crazy if you spoke to her,” the man said hopefully. “Would you…I mean…would you mind if I called her and you could get on the phone and say hi? I swear it won’t take long and you’ll really make her day!”

“I would love to! Go for it!”

Paige looked like her head was about to explode.

Was it wrong that he was having so much fun?

Before he knew it, a phone was thrust into his hands, and he was saying hello to a shrieking female. Dylan did his best not to wince at the high-pitched squeal and forced himself to smile at the AAA guy. As he listened to the squeals turn to excited chatter, he noticed an older gentleman walk toward Paige.

He also noticed her stiffen.

Was this guy someone she worked with? Someone she had a problem with? Her body language told him she wasn’t comfortable and yet…she smiled at the man. Curiosity got the better of him and he had a gut feeling that this was a man he needed to meet.

“Well, I need to go, sweetheart,” Dylan said cheerfully into the phone. “I hope you have a great night so…take care!” Handing the phone to the driver, he wished him a good night as well and then walked to where Paige and the older guy were talking.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he heard her saying. “The tire’s repaired, and I’ll take it into the dealer Monday and get the tire replaced.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to drive? Maybe you should have it towed and I’ll drive you home.”

“That’s not necessary, Dad. But I appreciate the offer.”

Dad? So this was Robert Walters, the head of the firm. Interesting. Dylan straightened a bit as he strolled over, smiling. Paige glanced at him and frowned, and Dylan noticed how her father caught on to her instant change in demeanor as well.

“Paige?” her father asked. “Is…everything all right? Do you know this man?”

Still smiling, Dylan walked up and extended his hand. “Dylan Anders. I’m hoping to be working on Paige’s literacy campaign.”

Robert Walters shook his hand and visibly relaxed. “Splendid! Are you an author?”

Paige coughed and turned away to hide what was—no doubt—a snort of disgust.

“No, sir. I’m a musician. Your daughter Ariel reached out to me about the campaign and I came by today to talk to Paige about my participation.”

“Nothing’s confirmed yet,” Paige interrupted, shooting him a warning glare. “I’m still not convinced Ariel’s suggestion is how I want to go.”

Robert studied Dylan for a moment and then turned to his daughter. “I looked over her proposal—she gave me a copy after the meeting the other day—and I have to admit that it does sound intriguing. Getting members of various arts could extend our reach with the campaign, Paige. It’s not an uncommon approach, and it’s proven to be successful in the past. I know you wanted this to be your baby, but that shouldn’t mean you automatically disqualify suggestions just because they’re not your own.”

For a minute, Dylan felt bad for her—she was getting reprimanded by her father in front of him. That had to be embarrassing.

“Well, to be fair,” Dylan began, having a sudden urge to clarify, “I don’t think she’s against all non-authors, just me.”

“Wait…now I remember. I read your bio,” Robert replied. “You’re with a band, you play the bass, and you’re fresh out of rehab for your drinking, correct?”

Okay, right to the point. Dylan nodded. “Yes, sir.” Then he braced himself for the condescension and disapproval.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Robert gave him a hard look before turning to his daughter. “And you have a problem with this? With him?”

Her cheeks turned a light shade of crimson as she studied the pavement. “It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Paige,” her father began sternly, “it’s not like you to be so judgmental. Personal feelings should not play into what’s going to help your cause. I think you’d be doing the campaign a disservice if you eliminate willing volunteers based on your own bias.” He paused. “You should reconsider.” Turning to Dylan, Robert extended his hand. “I’m looking forward to seeing you on this project. I’m sure my daughter will do the right thing.”

And then he bade them both a good evening, walked over to his car, and swiftly drove away.

Leaving the two of them standing in awkward silence.

Just when Dylan thought he’d go mad, Paige spoke.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, not quite meeting his gaze, and he knew she was uncomfortable.

A few minutes ago, it would have been fun to make her work for his forgiveness, but now it seemed mean.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice equally quiet. “I get it, you know. I know you had envisioned someone completely different for this project and then I walk in and ruin it.”

This time her eyes did meet his and what he saw there was gratitude, plain and simple.

“It isn’t personal…”

He laughed softly. “I think it’s a little bit personal.”

That had her laughing with him. “For the sake of total honesty, fine. I do have an issue with your…past. I can’t help it. I lost a friend to a drunk driver so…”

Dylan held up a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry. Truly.” Then he stopped and raked a hand through his hair. What was he supposed to say to her admission? “I’m sorry for your loss. I am. But you have to know that I am trying to get my life straightened out. I hate how I let it spiral so far out of control, and I’m thankful I didn’t kill anyone in the accident. I’ve worked hard to clean up my act and become a better person. Every day is a struggle, Paige, and it continues to be a struggle when people want to pass judgment.”

She sighed. “I’m sure, and I hate how I added to that. I’m normally not like that…I don’t usually act that way.”

Somehow he had a feeling she didn’t realize how transparent she was. And while he had her pegged as the kind of woman who would be a total pain in the ass to work with, there was also something about her that he found…appealing.

“I’m not saying you have to like me,” he said. “Most of the time I don’t particularly like myself. I’m still trying to figure out who I am now that I’m not wasted all the damn time. All I’m asking is for you to give me a chance. In the grand scheme of things, I’m going to be a tiny part of this project. You’ll probably only have to spend like fifteen minutes with me.”

With another soft laugh, she shook her head. “It would probably be more than that.”

“Just…just promise me you’ll think about it. Don’t write me off because of something I did in the past. I’m trying hard to stay positive and look to the future, but I can’t if people keep forcing me to relive the past.”

She pointedly looked at his arm—where his new tat was—and he knew the instant she made the connection.

“I need to keep looking forward,” he said gruffly.

Paige’s expression turned serious. “The past isn’t going to change, Dylan. I’ll admit I don’t know the specifics about what you did or about you in general, but your actions had a definite effect on people. You can’t erase that because you’re ready to move on.”

“I get that, I really do, but I’m not going to let it define me for the rest of my life either. I have to live with what I did every day. Trust me when I tell you it doesn’t just go away. But I think I deserve a chance to prove to the world that there’s more to me.”

His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for her to respond.

“Why this?” she asked, her voice so soft Dylan almost wasn’t certain he’d heard her.

And her eyes.

Damn.

They looked up at him with so much emotion and conflict that he almost didn’t know what to say.

“Honestly? I don’t know. When my manager first presented me with it, I thought, No way.” And when he paused, he knew exactly what he needed to say—to share. And not because he was using it as an angle to win her over, but because she deserved the truth.

“When the band first got signed by Mick, our manager, I could barely read. I struggled with it all through school, but I was too embarrassed to tell anyone and I sort of…I don’t know…fell through the cracks, so to speak. I dropped out of high school at sixteen.” He shrugged. “Mick hired tutors and helped me pass the GED, but it took a couple of years for me to realize what a gift it was.”

“Dylan, I…I had no idea.”

He shrugged again. “I don’t talk about it. Ever. I don’t think the guys in the band know about it. I was embarrassed. Ashamed. Up until then, it didn’t matter to me, but when we had to sign contracts, and there was so much to read and learn, Mick figured it out. He never made me feel bad about it. He simply stepped in and offered to help. I owe him a lot for that.”

“He sounds like a good person.”

That had Dylan laughing out loud. “Sorry. It’s just…Mick’s…Mick. He can be a complete asshole most of the time and he’s a hard-ass about a lot of things, but deep down? Yeah. He’s a good person. But he doesn’t want anyone to know.”

Paige smiled. “Then I won’t be the one to tell them.”

All the tension started to ease away. “I’m not saying I want to put that information out there—about my learning struggles—but let’s say I understand now why reading is so important.”

She nodded. “And if I said I wanted to use it for the campaign, what would you do?”

Dylan’s first instinct was to get defensive, to get mad, but he squashed it immediately. “I’d probably say I’m not comfortable with it, but if you thought it would help, then I’d agree to it.”

“Wow.”

“Exactly.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I wish you had been honest with me earlier.”

Dylan took a moment to let that sink in before responding. “Would it have made any difference? You still would have been disgusted. You took one look at me—the leather jacket, the tattoos, the whole image—and you formed an opinion. Nothing I said was going to change that. The only difference is that we wouldn’t have gone and had coffee and cake pops,” he said solemnly before adding with a sheepish grin, “or gone food shopping together.”

The sound of pure feminine laughter echoed around the parking garage, and Dylan’s grin grew.

“You’re crazy, you know that, right?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Part of my charm.”

She sighed. “Oh, Dylan—”

He knew that tone, knew where it was leading, and he had to stop her. “Don’t!” he quickly, but lightly, interrupted. “Don’t make any decisions yet. Please. Take the weekend to think about it.”

When she didn’t immediately respond, he began to feel desperation clawing at him. Reaching for her hand, he clasped it in his. “I promise you, Paige, from now on, I will be one hundred percent honest.”

“But you—”

“I know I should have been that way from the moment we met, but…can you blame me? You know how you reacted to the news, and you’re not the first one to respond like that, so I’m a little cautious about putting it out there. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry. Please. Give me a chance to prove to you that I’m not a bad guy.”

“You don’t understand.” She carefully removed her hand from his. “This project…I had it all mapped out. I wanted authors and only authors.”

“But from what your father and your sister said earlier, you need to consider some other options. Let me be one of those options!”

“I don’t think—”

“What about the clients?” he asked, almost frantic now. “Don’t your clients deserve to have a say in this?” Wait, did she have clients for this campaign, or was it well and truly hers to do with as she wanted? Why hadn’t he thought of that?

But by the look on her face, he knew he had her.

There was hope.

For him, at least.

“I…I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted slowly.

“Look, I’m sure you’d like nothing more than for me to leave and let you get on with your weekend.”

“Well—”

“But,” he quickly interjected, “promise me, Paige, that you’ll think about this. Okay?” He paused and then almost sagged with relief when she nodded. “And would it be all right with you if I came by on Monday? I do have an AA meeting at noon, so maybe I can come by in the afternoon, like I did today?”

“I think Daisy would faint at your feet,” she said with a smile.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. I want you to know I’m serious. I’m willing to do whatever it is you need from me—even let you go home and have brownies and wine for dinner when I’d like to keep talking to you and pleading my case.”

And he realized that was only partially true. He enjoyed talking to her. He had a feeling if they didn’t have this conflict over the campaign between them, they’d be able to talk about any number of things at length.

Paige looked at him as if she was trying to figure out if he was serious or not. It was enough to make him squirm. “Why don’t you come in around four on Monday?” she said finally. “I’m not making any promises though, Dylan. I am going to talk to my friends over at Literacy Now, and if they’re not okay with the changes Ariel and my dad want, then I have to honor their wishes.”

He nodded. “Okay, but you need to promise me you’re not going to try to sway them to your way of thinking,” he countered. “I mean, I know where you stand on this, and I can respect that. But like you don’t know me, I don’t know you. For all I know, you’re going to get on the phone with them and paint them a picture of a guy out of rehab who’s a hot mess.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said stiffly.

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, don’t I?”

Paige at least had the decency to look contrite. “Point taken.”

“Okay then. As long as we understand each other.”

She nodded. “I am sorry, Dylan. That was crappy on my part to…to jump to conclusions. It’s a sore subject with me…the whole drinking thing.”

“I get it. And I am sorry about your friend.”

“It was a long time ago. High school. But it still…it still hurts. She barely had a chance to live, to experience anything, before it was all taken away,” she said sadly. “It doesn’t take much to bring me there, to that place where it breaks my heart to think about all Marni missed.”

There wasn’t anything he could say. For months, Dylan had been telling himself he was thankful he hadn’t seriously hurt or killed anyone with his drunk driving, but he knew he could have. And standing here now and hearing Paige put it so simply—how those actions affected others—it was powerful.

Unable to help himself, he reached out and took one of her hands in his again and gently squeezed. “It’s not fair,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine what that kind of loss is like.”

“You’re lucky. It was hell. In some ways it still is for me. I keep in touch with Marni’s parents. I go to the cemetery with them every year on her birthday and the anniversary of her death. And when I’m with them, I can’t help but notice how ten years later, it’s still heartbreaking for them.”

With her hand still in his, he nodded. “That’s very nice of you to go with them. I’m sure they appreciate it.”

“They seem to, and honestly, it means a lot to me to spend time with them. Marni was their only child, and I was in the car with her that night. Part of me feels guilty that I’m here and she’s not.”

“You can’t think like that, Paige,” he said earnestly. “You know they can’t possibly think that.”

“No, I don’t think they do. It’s just how I feel. Marni was… Gosh…she was so amazing. She was student body president, captain of the tennis team, and had been accepted to UCLA and had this incredible future ahead of her! She had so much more going for her than—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he said fiercely. For the life of him, Dylan had no idea why this bothered him so much, but it did. How could she possibly think her life wasn’t worth as much as her friend’s?

Those big, dark eyes looked up at him, and she gave him a sad smile. “You’re right. I know I shouldn’t think like that but…I do. Like I said, this is a sensitive subject for me. So while it’s personal, it’s not about you. Not really.”

They stood there in silence for a time, and Dylan realized he was still holding her hand and was reluctant to let it go. But he needed to. He needed to let her go and have her weekend, and he needed to… Well, there was nothing he needed to do. Again.

Earlier, he had envisioned going out later that night and finding someone to hook up with, but now? Now it didn’t seem nearly as urgent. So he’d go home, eat one of the meals he’d purchased, and…read. Or watch TV. Or…stare at the walls.

Slowly, he let go of her hand and took a step back. “So…I should go.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Monday though, right? Four?”

Paige nodded. “Monday at four. Yes.” She smiled.

He smiled.

Funny thing was how she seemed as reluctant as he was to walk away. Was it possible her night wasn’t looking any more promising than his? Should he ask her to dinner? To a movie? Or maybe—?

“Have a good weekend, Dylan. And…thanks. For listening.”

“Oh…um…yeah. No problem. Anytime.”

With a small smile and wave, Paige turned and walked over to her car. Dylan watched as she climbed in and stood back and waited for her to pull out and drive away.

With nothing left to do, he got into his car and made his way home.

To his personal prison.

* * *

It was as if the entire world was against her.

By three o’clock on Monday, Paige was fairly certain she was the only person alive who understood what had made her concept for this campaign so perfect. Now, as she made her way to her office, she felt completely defeated.

And more than a little pissed off.

After lunch, she had been summoned to her father’s office, which was never a good thing. He’d sat her down and explained, in his gentle yet condescending manner, how he had gone and talked to the Literacy Now people and they were thrilled with Ariel’s revisions.

Revisions? Ha! More like sabotage!

She had meant to call them earlier, but the morning had gotten away from her after going and getting her tire replaced. By the time she’d arrived at the office, it was time for a meeting with another potential client for a new restaurant opening in Hollywood. Paige wasn’t going to be in charge of the campaign, but her coworker, Xander, asked her to sit in with him.

Either way, she hadn’t made the call and what it all meant was that she was no longer heading up the project. Ariel was. Not that they were cutting her out completely. Oh no. That would have been too kind. No, now she had the task of playing a supporting role in babysitting the talent.

Namely, Dylan Anders.

As she turned the corner and strode past Daisy’s desk, all she could think of was how badly she wanted to punch something.

Or someone.

“Hey, Paige!” Daisy called out as she walked by. “You have a couple of messages from—”

“I’ll call them tomorrow,” Paige said firmly as she crossed into her office and slammed the door.

It wasn’t until she was alone in the silence of her office that she realized her heart was ready to pound right out of her chest and she was trembling.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit,” she murmured as she began to pace. This was supposed to be her chance—her turn to head up a project and stop being the gofer! Literacy Now was her baby—those contacts were her friends—and as usual, she had been tossed aside while being patted on the head.

“I know you’re disappointed,” her father had said, “but you’re an important part of the team.”

Yeah right, she thought miserably.

Babysitter. She was relegated to playing babysitter to a rock star who had a reputation for being hard to handle. Paige had argued how Dylan wasn’t that guy anymore—and it had come as a bit of a shock to her as the words poured out of her mouth!—but no one was ready to believe it. His past was in the tabloids and no one was ready to take him without a handler.

“Paige seemed to hit it off with him,” Ariel had said when their father had called her in to join their meeting. And when Paige had argued her point, her sister had pulled the pregnancy card and claimed she felt queasy and made a run for the bathroom.

And never came back.

That had led to her father gushing over how excited he was about becoming a grandfather and how they needed to not upset Ariel in her delicate condition. Then he added how this sort of project would be perfect for Ariel because she could delegate so many of the tasks because of all the groundwork Paige had already done.

Even now it still made Paige roll her eyes.

She stalked over to her desk, sat, and face-planted on the paperwork.

If this were a job where she wasn’t working with her family, she’d quit. She’d seriously be packing up her office right now and storming out the door.

And while quitting seemed like a good plan, Paige knew she’d never go through with it. Some way or another she’d be guilted into coming back—because her father was all about appearances, and having a daughter leave the firm looked bad—and then everyone would think she was a sore loser.

There was no way she was going to let that happen.

No matter who she had to babysit.

So unfortunately, quitting wasn’t an option, and she was stuck. Again. Doing a job she hated. Again. And what was worse was how no one seemed to notice or care. She thought about her conversation with Dylan on Friday and realized that now it was personal. Her resentment toward him went up several notches.

Then she closed her eyes. All weekend, he had been on her mind. She’d done her research, and even though he had a colorful reputation, he wasn’t a bad person. She almost wished he were; it would have made things so much easier right now. But no, Dylan Anders was sexy and charismatic, and she’d been darn mesmerized by watching video clips of him all weekend long.

Not something she would be willing to admit aloud.

He was a talented musician, he was incredibly sexy, and he had the perfect amount of swagger that she discovered she found attractive too.

It was like the tattoos all over again.

“God, what is happening to me?” she murmured. Four days ago, she was completely content listening to John Legend or Ed Sheeran, and now? Now she had all of Shaughnessy’s music on her iPod and had it on a continual loop.

There was a light knock on her door, and Paige lifted her head as Daisy peeked in.

“Sorry to bother you, Paige,” she said softly. “I heard about Literacy Now. I’m so sorry.”

Straightening, she asked, “Who told you?”

“Ariel stopped by with her revisions for the schedule and wanted me to give you a copy.” Placing the folder on Paige’s desk, Daisy gave her a sympathetic smile. “You could look at this as a good thing, you know.”

“Really? How?” Paige asked sarcastically and didn’t even feel bad about it.

“For starters, there’s less pressure on you. It’s all on Ariel now.”

“True but…I’ve already done all the hard work—the research, the recruiting, booking photographers and banquet spaces. I mean, all she’s doing is stepping in and taking the spotlight!”

“Okay, there is that,” Daisy said, frowning. “But, between you and me, with her pregnancy announcement, I’m sure she’s going to need a lot of help. I’ll bet you anything you’ll be in charge in no time.”

“And by then, she will have made a mess of everything, and I’ll have to clean it up,” Paige said with a sigh. It was a scenario that had played out more times than she cared to count. “It’s so typical of her. Why am I the only one who sees it?”

Daisy pulled up a chair and sat. “Trust me. You’re not the only one who sees it. There are a lot of us here who do. I don’t get why your father doesn’t see it.”

“He’s always been blind to Ariel’s doings. And whenever I try to point them out, I get accused of being jealous.” She sighed again. “And it’s not that. I swear it’s not. It’s just that somehow, I always end up getting screwed and I’m so tired of it!”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to do what I always do. My job,” Paige said after a moment. “We’re a team and I have to remember that just because I’m not the captain, it doesn’t make my job any less important.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. We all want to be the captain, the head cheerleader, the star of the show. There’s no crime in that, Paige. You need to take a stand, and when Ariel crashes and burns on this, you need to put your foot down and tell them you’re not taking over. Let her deal with the mess she makes for once.”

“I would love to, but she’s pregnant and said she was sick and—”

“Right. Sick,” Daisy said with a snort of disgust. “I saw her run from your father’s office earlier, and as soon as she turned the corner and thought she was out of sight, her pace slowed to her usual superior glide and she went to her office, grabbed her purse, and left, cool as a cucumber.”

The curse that flew out of Paige’s mouth was more colorful than her usual vocabulary, and her hand instantly flew to her mouth.

Daisy, however, laughed uproariously. “Yes! Exactly! That is exactly what I thought! I was tempted to follow her and see if she went to Starbucks or to get a pedicure. Maybe I should keep a trench coat, hat, and dark glasses here, so she won’t know it’s me following her. What do you think?”

“I think you’d stick out like a sore thumb wearing that around town. Please don’t.”

“Fine. But I’m telling you, I’m going to catch her in the act and then maybe if someone else went to your father with how Ariel is manipulating everyone, he’ll have to believe it.”

“I’m not holding my breath. He’s so over the top about having a grandchild that he’ll probably forgive anything. Ariel could probably bankrupt the company and he’d forgive her.”

“Paige…”

“I’m serious! You’d think she was giving birth to the king or something!”

“First grandchildren tend to bring that out in people.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t make it any easier for the rest of us,” Paige said miserably. “Oh God. Maybe I am jealous! I sound jealous, don’t I? Ugh. Why?”

“You’re not jealous. You’re tired of being taken for granted,” Daisy said reassuringly. “You know what you need to do?”

“Quit and work on the other side of the country?”

Daisy considered that for a moment. “Let’s say that’s option number two. No, what you need to do is complete whatever task they’ve given you like a total professional. But only that task. Don’t involve yourself in anything else that’s going on—just focus on the job at hand. They did give you something specific, didn’t they?”

Paige nodded but was almost afraid to admit what it was. She had gotten a glimpse of Daisy’s crush on Dylan, and she had a feeling that once she said what her job was for the campaign, she was going to need a tranquilizer gun to calm her assistant down.

“So what is it? Are you in charge of the catering hall for the launch? Oh, did she assign you to solicitation calls for donations? No, no…I bet she has you working on ordering promotional materials, right? And probably with her face on it next to Literacy Now’s logo!” Cracking herself up, Daisy took a minute to laugh. “Okay, come on. Out with it. What ridiculous task did they assign you? Name-tag maker? Celebrity dog walker? Come on…you have to tell me.”

Bracing herself for what she was sure was going to be a full-on meltdown, she said, “I’m babysitting Dylan Anders.”

Then she froze and waited for Daisy’s response.

And waited.

And waited.

“Oh…my…GOD!” Daisy screeched. “Are you kidding me? Like…like…you get to hang out with him for like…the entire length of the campaign? That’s three months! Three months! Do you realize how long that is?”

“Um…three months? Approximately ninety days?”

Daisy jumped up and paced a few steps away from the desk and then back again, slamming her hands on the surface. “You get ninety days with Dylan Anders to yourself! Can I help? Please, Paige! Let me help!”

If it were up to Paige, she’d let Daisy do it all, but that wasn’t the way this worked. “I’m sure once we figure out how all this is going to go, I’ll need your help, but as of right now, I’m still feeling a little clueless about what everyone thinks I’m supposed to do with him.”

“I can think of a few things,” Daisy murmured with a grin.

“Okay, let’s just…get through the next week and figure out what the heck I’m supposed to do with Dylan, and then I promise to let you have some time to work with him. How does that sound?”

Rather than speak, Daisy squealed and then ran to hug Paige.

Yes, Daisy was a hugger.

There was a loud knock on her office door, and they both turned to see Dylan standing in the doorway.

A very angry looking Dylan.

Luckily Daisy chose to stay silent as she looked at Paige.

“Dylan,” Paige said, forcing a smile on her face, “it’s good to see you. Is it four o’clock already?”

He said nothing, but his eyes conveyed that he was as unhappy as she was. Maybe even more.

“Daisy? Could you get us some coffee, please?”

With a nod, Daisy quickly made her way out of the office—giving Dylan only a brief glance and a nervous smile.

Once she was gone, Dylan sauntered into the room, his eyes never leaving Paige’s. When he stopped in front of her desk, she braced herself for what he had to say.

“You got assigned to be my handler,” he spat. “Whose idea was it? Yours? Afraid I’m going to screw up your precious campaign?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him how he was the one who came to her, not the other way around, but she didn’t. That wasn’t her style. She believed in being professional—no matter what.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Paige motioned for him to sit down, but he didn’t budge. She, however, definitely needed to sit down. After a moment, she decided to try to calm him down. “I can’t say whose idea it was. It came as a bit of a shock to me as well. However, I don’t see it as a bad thing. I believe with me acting as your…guide…this whole thing will be relatively quick and painless for you.”

Dylan raked a hand through his hair and moved a few steps away before sitting down, his elbows resting on his knees. “Look, I don’t need a damn guide. Or a babysitter. Or an assistant. This isn’t brain surgery! I need to film some promos, get some pictures taken, and speak at a couple of events. It’s not a big deal, Paige.”

She slouched a little in her seat, praying for patience. “I realize that. I honestly do. But the whole thing—the campaign and your part in it—is out of my hands.” She held up her hands helplessly and realized how much it hurt to admit that. Especially to him.

He sat up straighter and looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

With a sigh, she told him how her entire day had gone and how her father and Ariel had broken the news to her. “So you see, this isn’t exactly how I envisioned things going either.”

“But…I thought this was your campaign, your clients.”

She nodded. “It was. Was being the operative word here.”

He muttered a curse and then relaxed in his chair. “So now what?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I just found out about it when Ariel dropped off her revised schedule. Daisy brought it to me a few minutes before you arrived, so I haven’t looked at it yet.”

“Care to look at it together?” he asked. “Seems to me it’s going to affect us both.”

He was right. It was. “Sure. Why not?” And before she could say another word, Dylan stood, picked up his chair, and came around to her side of the desk.

Not quite what I was expecting, she thought.

He sat close to her—almost too close—and once she opened the file, he leaned in closer.

Clearly, he has no concept of personal space, she mused. But then she caught a hint of his cologne again and had to fight the urge to move closer and inhale.

“What does this mean?” Dylan asked, and Paige realized she hadn’t been paying attention to the schedule, whereas Dylan was already reading it.

A quick first glance showed that, for the most part, nothing about the campaign’s timeline had changed and Paige breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, so far nothing has changed,” she said to him.

“That’s good, I guess. Although being how I had no idea of the schedule, it doesn’t mean a whole lot to me. I need to know what my schedule is going to look like with this and where I’ll need to be and what I’ll need to know,” he explained, his eyes still scanning the paper in Paige’s hand.

She was about to tell him when he would be starting when a side note caught her eye: “Have Paige write scripts for all participants.” Unable to help herself, she muttered a curse and flung the paper aside.

“Problem?” Dylan asked with mild amusement.

Earlier, she had felt comfortable unleashing while Daisy was here—and for some reason, she felt that same ease with Dylan. Jumping up from her chair, Paige let loose.

“Like it’s not enough that I did all the groundwork for this project, but I then get pushed aside for my sister, so she can take over, and then she still won’t do any of the work! Now I have to write all the scripts for the people she chose! I had all of that done for the people—the authors—I wanted to have participate. Now I have to find out who else she went and contacted and figure out how to write up what they need to say! And that’s on top of babysitting you!”

“Hey!” he cried, coming to his feet.

“Oh, knock it off,” she snapped. “You were the one who wanted in on this so flipping bad. You thought you’d be cute and poke at me on Friday to get a place in this whole thing. Well, now you do! And this is what goes with it! So if you want to bail, there’s the door!”

Wow, did it feel good to get that off her chest.

Her breath was ragged and her heart was hammering in her chest, and when she looked at the shocked expression on Dylan’s face, she smiled.

Then started to laugh.

His expression went from shocked to annoyed in the blink of an eye. “You think this is funny?”

That made her laugh harder.

“There is nothing funny about this,” he said firmly. “I think you’ve gone completely mental.” He waved her off and started to walk around the desk, but Paige called out to him. Dylan turned and looked at her.

“I’m sorry, but… Oh God! You have no idea how much I needed to do that,” she said, with a sigh of relief. “A while ago, I wanted to punch something, but I think this was just as effective.”

“Yeah, you’ve gone mental,” he said, shaking his head. “This isn’t going to work.” With a determined stride, he made his way to the door.

“Wait!” Paige called out, racing around the desk to block him from leaving. “Don’t… You can’t leave.”

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said, but it was in the heat of the moment.” When she saw she had his full attention, she went on. “I want you to be a part of this project, Dylan.”

“Why? So you can have a part in it that isn’t fetching coffee? Because from the way this whole thing sounds, it would be the next step down for you.” With another rake through his hair, he let out a frustrated huff. “Look, it was obvious from the get-go you didn’t want me for this, so I’m giving you an out. Who knows? With me gone, maybe your sister will do right by you. Or maybe you’ll get to take on some different campaign. I think it’s for the best if we let this go.”

“No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Excuse me?” he asked with a slight smirk.

“You heard me. No,” she repeated. Paige realized how ridiculous she must have looked. Dylan was almost a foot taller than her, and here she was attempting not only to block his path, but to stand up to him as well.

His only response was to arch a dark brow at her.

“I know it seems crazy that I’m suddenly asking you to stay, but I think we can help each other.”

No response.

“You’ll get to take care of your…community service.”

“It’s not only about that!” he snapped irritably.

“No, no…I know. I know. Sorry,” she said quickly. “But it is a contributing factor that we can’t simply ignore, correct?”

He gave a curt nod.

“Okay. So we’ll deal with it and you’ll also get a chance to show everyone how you don’t need a handler.” She was careful not to use the term babysitter again. “By the time this is done, you’ll be well on your way to showing the world that you’re a changed man.”

Dylan studied her intently for a moment. “And what do you get out of this? I mean, you’re seriously pissed about how this has all turned out and the role you’ve been relegated to. So what’s in it for you?”

Good question.

“The people at Literacy Now are friends of mine.” Or at least Paige had thought they were. “And no matter what, I want this campaign to be a success. And though my role has been…diminished, it doesn’t mean I’m not going to work hard to see that everything runs smoothly and to help out wherever I can.”

For a long moment, Dylan said nothing. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned down toward her. “I’ll agree under one condition.”

Anything—at that moment, she would have agreed to anything but didn’t want to come off as desperate. “Okay,” she said with a calmness she wasn’t quite feeling.

“I want you to admit—right here, right now—that you’re pissed, and if given a chance, the person you’d punch is your sister.”

Paige took a step back as her eyes went wide. “I don’t see where that has anything to do with…well…anything!”

He shrugged.

“Why? Why would you want me to say that?”

“Because it’s the truth. You know it. I know it. And I need to know that you’re going to be honest with me and not blow smoke up my ass because you think it’s your job to play nice all the time.”

“I can assure you I’ve never blown smoke up anyone’s…well…you know.”

“Say ass.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Seriously? This is getting ridiculous.”

He shrugged again.

When she realized he wasn’t going to budge on this, her shoulders sagged with defeat. “Fine. I’m pissed. I’m beyond pissed. And if she were here right now, even though I wouldn’t do it, I would fantasize about punching Ariel for taking this campaign away from me.” Straightening, she did her best to strike a defiant pose. “Happy?”

“Almost. You missed one.”

It was the smirk that got her—got her riled up and had her refusing to step away from the challenge.

“Ass,” she said, doing her best not to smirk at him. “I’ve never blown smoke up anyone’s ass. There. Can we move on now?”

His smirk grew into a full-blown smile and Paige had to stop herself from swooning.

The man had a killer smile—dimples and everything.

Dylan held out a hand to hers to seal the deal. “I believe we can.”

* * *

“Seriously? You’re going with the Sicilian defense?” Mick asked.

Dylan didn’t even look up. “Yup.”

“Can’t we have a friendly game? Play for enjoyment?”

This time Dylan did look up from the chessboard. “This is enjoyment. The point of the game is to win and to use the proper strategy to do so. I know you don’t like the Sicilian defense, and therefore, it gives me the advantage.” He grinned. “And I’m enjoying it.”

Mick laughed and studied the board. “Yeah, well…I think we need a new game to play. This is getting too predictable for you.”

“Nonsense,” Dylan countered. “Every game of chess is different. And what would we play instead of this?”

“Scrabble.”

Dylan burst out laughing. “Not a chance, buddy. I can do this, I can play cards, I can even hold my own in Dungeons and Dragons, but don’t make me spell. It’s too much. And boring as hell.”

“Not to someone who enjoys working with words,” Mick said, reaching out and making his move.

“See? You never made that move before. Every time, it’s different. And I’m perfectly happy with it.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to branch out and maybe play something someone else enjoys,” Mick grumbled.

Looking up, Dylan studied his friend. “You don’t enjoy this?”

“I do, I do…but you take this stuff way too seriously. I’m here to hang out and relax. There are times when a game of chess has you out for blood.”

“And that’s wrong why?”

“Um…because it’s a game?”

Dylan rolled his eyes and then sat back and studied the board again. “Chutes and Ladders is a game. Chess is not.”

Rather than continue to argue, Mick got up and walked to the wall of windows in Dylan’s study. “So what’s going on with the house? Did my Realtor call you?”

“He did,” Dylan said distractedly. “We have multiple offers and haven’t had even one showing.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I told him I don’t want gawkers. He can show it after I’m out.”

Mick walked over. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not going to move out until the house is sold sooo…”

Dylan shook his head. “I’m planning on being out at the end of the month.”

“Why? What in the world are you thinking?” Mick asked as he sat down. “What’s the rush?”

He shrugged. “I’m ready to be done with it. This place is way too big, and it doesn’t hold any good memories for me.”

“That’s a bunch of bull. This place was your dream house when you bought it,” Mick snapped. “Stop being so dramatic, Dylan. You don’t need to go to such extremes.”

“I think I do,” Dylan replied mildly. “This house reminds me of how much of my life I wasted. Any place I find now will hold more significance for me.” He paused. “Your move.”

Mick sighed loudly and moved his pawn without looking. “Have you started looking?”

“Nope.”

Another sigh. “Then how are you going to be out of here by the end of the month? Which, by the way, is only two weeks away.”

“I know. I’m selling the place furnished and only taking the personal items. For now, they’ll all go in storage. I’m moving into the Beverly. I’ve got a suite for a month.”

“The Beverly? Why would you do that? The place is swarming with paparazzi!”

Dylan shrugged again. “I have nothing to hide, Mick, and honestly, I’m tired of avoiding them. I’ve lived like a choirboy since I got out of rehab so I’m yesterday’s news. Trust me. It’s not going to be an issue.”

Mick didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want anyone hassling you. But that’s not my real concern.”

Looking up, Dylan waited for what Mick had to say. After a long minute, he sighed. “Get to the point, Mick. What’s your concern?”

“The bar.”

It would be pointless to look surprised. “And?”

“And…are you sure you’re in a good enough place in your head where you can deal with having the temptation so close by?”

“Dude, I’m good. It doesn’t matter where I live. If I wanted to drink, I could get a drink. I’m not chained to the furniture here. I still had bottles stashed around here that you never found.”

Mick’s face registered his surprise. And though they were normally brutally honest with one another, Dylan still wasn’t ready to admit the one time he’d gone off the wagon after his stint in rehab.

“I appreciate your concern—I do. But I’m good. And if I get to a place where I’m not, then I promise to call you. Deal?”

Mick’s response wasn’t immediate, but when he did reply, it was with a nod and a shrug. “Yeah. Sure. Deal.”

They played the next few moves in silence.

“So what’s going on with this literacy thing? I saw you’re going to start filming some PSAs this week. You ready for it?”

Dylan thought of the script Paige had written for him and how she had coached him through how she wanted it read. He chuckled at the memory.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Paige Walters.”

“The chick who’s working with you?”

Dylan nodded. “Yeah. She’s a bit uptight about this whole thing. Not just with me it seems, but with everyone. She’s got a script for each participant, and as if that isn’t enough, she has very specific ideas on how she wants us to read them—inflection and whatnot. It’s wild.”

“That’s enough to get on your nerves, huh?”

He nodded again, but he didn’t really agree. If he were honest, he’d admit that it was cute as hell. She was this tiny, little thing walking around in big boots and big glasses, and it seemed like she could do a dozen things at once. Everyone listened to her and wanted to please her—including himself—and she moved with all the confidence in the world—until her family showed up. Then it was like someone flipped a switch and she became this meek, quiet, and insecure girl.

It was both fascinating and frustrating to watch.

There had been quite a few times when he’d been tempted to ask Paige what her deal was—why she didn’t think she was good enough for her family—but by the time they were alone again, he found he didn’t want to upset her.

It was irritating to be so aware of other people’s feelings.

“So what’s your script?” Mick asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“I’m talking about how reading helped with life on the road. You know, because with all the traveling and going to other countries, I had to know where I was going. She asked for a couple of stories where it was important for me to be able to read and navigate through the business aspect of the music business and not just play the bass, stuff like that.”

Mick headed to refill their drinks and Dylan walked over to the French doors that led out to his yard. There was the pool, the hot tub, the deck—it was beautiful, but it left him feeling…nothing. He wasn’t going to miss this place, no matter what Mick thought. The memory of drunken parties, of passing out on the lawn, of people vomiting all over the bushes… Yeah, he wasn’t going to miss this place at all. It was time to start fresh and that meant a new house with new memories.

He thought of Riley and made a mental note to call him later. Riley Shaughnessy—the lead singer of their band Shaughnessy—had managed to avoid all of the pitfalls of the rock-and-roll lifestyle. He wasn’t a drinker, he wasn’t a partier, and he never did any drugs. And now he was married with a daughter and another baby on the way and still living in the house he had first purchased when they signed their second major record deal. Yeah, Riley was someone who had it all together, and Dylan should make an effort to get together with him and maybe get some advice on what he should be doing now.

If he asked Mick, Mick would say he should be careful, cautious, and take things one day at a time. Well, he was sick of that. It was what he’d been doing ever since he got out of rehab. It was time to start figuring out how to live now—clean and sober. Millions of people did it every day, so why was he so afraid of it?

“I always loved this yard,” Mick said as he came out and handed Dylan his water. “This layout is a thing of beauty.”

“Yeah, until there’s a hundred people drinking, smoking, throwing up, and having sex all over it. Then it’s a wasteland,” Dylan murmured, looking around and still envisioning those days. He shuddered.

“It wasn’t all bad, you know,” Mick reminded him. “Not every party was a drunken orgy.”

“Most of them were.”

Mick shrugged. “Come on. We gonna finish this game or what?”

Dylan thought about it for a minute and then shook his head. “Nah. You weren’t all that into it and my concentration is shot. We’ll pick it up next time.”

“Uh-uh. Fresh game next time. I know I was playing like crap. If you’re going to subject me to another game, I should at least get the chance to play it without all the careless mistakes.”

“Whatever,” Dylan said with a chuckle.

“You know, you could always find someone else to play chess with,” Mick said, feigning offense.

“Nah. I like how you pretend you’re trying. It’s fun to watch.”

“Yeah. I’m a riot. But seriously, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you found someone else to torture with this game for a while. Maybe one of those literacy people wouldn’t mind a game or two while you’re in between scripts,” Mick said with a laugh.

And for some reason, Paige’s face instantly came to mind. What types of games did she like to play? Strategy games like chess? Word games? Number games? He figured her to be more of that variety rather than something silly like Pictionary. He planned to ask her when he next saw her. He’d been learning a lot about her, mostly by observing her, but he had a feeling if he simply forced her to sit still once in a while, they could have a really good conversation.

The kind like they’d had that first day over coffee.

And suddenly, the thought of not playing chess with Mick again wasn’t unappealing at all.