“Do you have anything to say about what I said to you earlier?” I asked a bit later as we packed up our backpacks for the trip back down the mountain. I tried to keep my voice light, but I was hurting.
He paused, a muscle working in his cheek, as if what he was about to say was difficult. “No.”
And I saw that we were done. Our night was over.
WE RODE BACK down the canyon the next day, a more subdued bunch than the day before. Spider and Mila seemed out of sorts, and Sebastian was unusually quiet. Both he and Spider had ridden off ahead of us to get back to the stables—something about calling Harry to check on the latest. It hurt to see him so distant. My body still vibrated at the memory of how he’d taken me.
No regrets, I told myself.
Mila rode up next to me, her glare on Spider’s horse as it turned the bend ahead of us.
Ouch. Someone else was in the doghouse this morning. “Everything okay between you and Spider?”
She squirmed in her saddle. “We had this huge argument last night about Dovey—that’s his first love from BA.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“It’s funny, I knew him in high school, but was never attracted to him. Mostly because I was intimidated by his bleached-out hair and tats. He even dressed all Goth with chains and piercings. But the one person he loved was Dovey Beckham, and she broke him.”
“Yikes, she sounds like a bitch. Will I get to meet her at the reunion?”
Mila nodded. “She isn’t, though. She’s sweet and worked hard to hang in there with all the rich girls at BA. Anyway, in the end, when her adoptive mother got sick, she chose Cuba to be with—the guy who’d broken her heart the year before. Spider was left out.” Her shoulders drooped. “It’s just, we’re complete opposites. His tattoos alone should scare me, but I want him. Am I crazy?”
“Something in you is drawn to him … you can’t control that. Maybe you’d like Geoff? I can always set you up?”
She let out a squeak. “Oh God, Spider hates him.” Her eyes flicked to me. “Oops, sorry. He was your fiancé at one time, so he must have some good points.”
“He’s a good guy. I think Spider and Sebastian brought out the worst in him.”
She studied me. “Getting off the subject of me, either wildcats were mating last night outside the cabin, or you got lucky.”
I gripped the reins. “I told him I loved him, and he—he just clammed up.”
Her eyes hardened. “Tate men are notoriously pig-headed. I suggest you play dirty if you want him, V. Of course, I gladly volunteer my services to make him jealous or pick you out a sexy outfit …” She snapped her fingers. “Wait, there’s this butt model you should meet. He was an extra on the set when we filmed one of the music videos. Anyway, his name is Baxter, and he’s likely gay—aren’t all the hot ones?—but who really cares about that when his bum is tight enough to bounce a quarter off of? He’s an ex-football player from Iowa and as country as a Blake Shelton song. He’d make some great eye candy. Want me to call him?” She fished out her phone from her saddlebag and wiggled her eyebrows at me.
“Does he like to dance?” I hadn’t danced since my prep school dances.
Her eyes glowed. “Can he dance? Can he dance? Hello? He was in a video. He’s got moves like Jagger.”
“I don’t know. It seems childish to flaunt a guy in front of Sebastian.”
She flicked her reins at me. “Shut the feck up. Hasn’t he rubbed your nose in his and Blair’s affair? Make him pay, V, make him pay. For all womankind. Plus, you need the cheering up—and maybe I do too. We’ll show those two pinheads that rode off and left us that all we need is each other. Girl Power.” She clapped, and even though my heart ached, I laughed. Mila might look as prim as a schoolgirl out on a field trip, but inside she had the heart of a beast.
“For two thousand dollars, I could get a sex-swing installed. But V was the only one I wanted to use it with.”
—Sebastian Tate
“THAT’S AWESOME, LEO. I can’t wait to see the new digs when I get to Dallas in September,” I said to my cell as I strolled with Spider and Vilma Lopez, a journalist from Rock Indie Today. We just finished the photo shoot and were headed to Rio’s in Beverly Hills for our lunch interview.
Leo chuckled. “Yeah, it’s bigger than the Taj Mahal. Nora’s got a giant office for her clothing line business, and I ended up with the smaller one—of course. We’ve got a huge theatre room, an Olypmic-sized pool—even Gabby’s room is unbelievable.” He paused. “This is probably boring as shit to you. You’re the one with all the excitement … gearing up for a movie role, working on the new album—”
“No, I do want to hear about it.” Plus, I didn’t want to tell him that I didn’t get the part.
“Yeah?”
He loved talking about his family, and I grinned even though he couldn’t see me. “Spill the beans, man. Tell it all.”
He settled in, his deep voice describing life at Chez Tate. “Nora went over the top with the nursery. She had this artist come out and paint these constellations and unicorns on the wall—it’s fairytale land in her room. I’ll be upfront with you—Gabby is spoiled rotten. She gets whatever she wants between me and Nora and Aunt Portia. I mean, she’s one, but she runs the house.”