He catches the muddy animal, while I make a funny eeep sound and try to stop my forward momentum, in vain.
I come to a crashing halt, dazed, in the stranger’s arms.
He manages to keep ahold of Archie while he catches me so I don’t fall back and crack my head on the marble floor.
I stare at the man’s now-muddy cotton shirt stretched over a wide chest. Archie is still between us. He enthusiastically licks my face, so excited he’s trembling all over.
“Am I interrupting something?” His deep voice rumbles from a height above me. Because he is far, far taller than my minuscule five-foot-three.
“What the fuck?” His words filter through my brain. I know that voice.
Oh, I know it.
It’s been in my dreams for more nights than I care to admit. I’m obsessed with it. I’ve been falling asleep listening to the rugged rasp since I was a teen.
And I’ve cried way more tears over the owner of that voice than I’d like to admit.
My head whips up until my neck cricks. And there he is, standing in the entryway of this grand old house, with me in his arms.
A man whose face is in magazines. And whose name is on solid gold records.
And in my heart for the last ten damn years.
CHAPTER 5
Daisy
(TEN YEARS AGO)
Dear Diary,
So to continue my story of the most upsetting, scary, wonderful day of my life…
When Ryder Black stormed out of the house and saw me fighting his security guard, instead of getting mad at me, he yelled at the guard to let me go. I think I might have whimpered. And not because of the dickhead guard. It was because of the pop star before me. Whatever the “it” factor was, he had it. He could command a stage. Even in a boy band with four other handsome, talented guys, it was always about Ryder. He was the most popular, the one with the fanatical fans and the famous girlfriends. Tall, with a rangy build, golden-brown eyes and flawless bone structure, if a man could ever be called beautiful, it would be him.
He must have thought I was frozen in fear because he said that no one would hurt me. He looked at me—really looked—and I felt seen as I hadn’t for years.
His eyes didn’t rake over my body in a way that made my skin crawl like the men who visited my apartment. He didn’t look away as if I didn’t exist. Or watch me in pity like the teachers did.
No, he stared at me in concern as if I was an actual person. Then he led me to a couch on the patio and asked me who I was. He asked me to tell him my story. I told him everything. It all came tumbling out.
My alcoholic and drug-addicted mother. Her new boyfriend. My father who was in jail again. My former foster brother, Chase. I was a strange girl who had broken into his house with a crazy story. But instead of leaving me in disgust, he just…listened.
And when my story ended, he got up and made a phone call. He brought me a glass of water and an assortment of cookies on a tray. For some reason, the cookies made me cry.
A short time later, Chase arrived. And that’s when I knew everything was finally going to be okay.
Until it wasn’t.
(NOW)
“You!” I yelp, still in shock.
“Shit, Daisy!” Ryder lets me go as if my touch scalds him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I take a step back, trying to keep upright at the sudden loss of his hold. “I’m pet-sitting,” I manage. “What areyoudoing here?”
“I own this house.”
