“One drink first?” Irina asked, using her best impression of a sad basset hound.
“I really can’t.” But man, she wanted to.
Irina thought on that for two beats. “Half a drink?”
Courtney went in for asorry I have to leave, best friendhug and squeezed before Irina could make it to the tequila shot suggestion that would be coming next. “Rain check. Tell the girls?”
Resignation etched on her face, Irina nodded. “This sucks.”
Yes, indeed it did.
The grudge against Bax built with each footstep as Courtney hoofed it to the Beverly Hills Hotel.Click. Tap.Why couldn’t he have picked a location closer to Hans?Click. Tap.Why did he always ruin things for her?Click. Tap.This didn’t need to be her problem.Click. Tap.She had a life. A life where she made plans.Click. Tap.To finally embrace being single again and maybe bring a guy home.Click. Tap.A guy who wasn’t looking to insert himself into her forever and ever.
She and the last guy, Levar, lasted about six months before it became clear he wanted more, while she wanted less. That got sticky quick, and she ended things with Levar. Then she took a break to think about what it was she wanted out of life.
Fun was what she wanted out of life. Nothing serious so she could embrace her free spirit and run with it.
Striding to stand near the valet, she did a quick check to see if Hans had sent any other details other than his request that she ensure Bax not check into the hotel, where he was sure to be seen.
Courtney’s job was simply to ensure he wasnotseen.
Hans worked to make other arrangements at another hotel where Bax could enter through the back, and they would book the room under a pseudonym. Courtney just needed to get him there, and then she could (maybe) get back to her night.
Maybe get back to having that fun she’d been searching for.
Depending on how long this took.
And how intense the Bax-induced headache was at the end.
Her cell chimed with an incoming message.
Hans: Bax ETA 3 Minutes
Courtney leaned against a pillar to fiddle with her phone. She texted her mom, then her brother.
This was literally the antithesis of having a good time.
Just then, Bax’s Aston Martin slid into the pristine circular asphalt drive, heading for the valet stand.
Courtney stepped away from the pillar, shifted the thin strap of the Gucci purse on her shoulder, and placed her hand on the passenger door handle before Mr. Valet could even consider coming to check Bax in.
She pulled open the door. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked. She slipped inside, right onto the leather, letting her skirt ride up just a touch on her legs. Not so much that it was indecent, just enough to make her point that she did not give two fucks what Bax thought of her or her clothing choices. Also, she’d gotten a spray tan earlier, since her skin was way pale and she had spent no time at the beach lately. Might as well show off that spray tan.
Bax had dirty-blond hair—some might call it brown. Really, it depended on the lighting. Gorgeous blue eyes that he did not deserve, and either he’d gotten a spray tan, too, or he’d hit the beach. Because he was also rocking a California tan. He’d probably hit the beach, knowing Bax.
He didn’t even flick a look at her legs as he growled, “Fucking Hans.”
Why did all the excessively hot guys have to be assholes?
“I believe the words you are searching for are ‘Hey, Courtney!’” She settled into the leather, pulling the seat belt across her lap. “‘Thanks for saving my ass.’”
Bax gripped the steering wheel and didn’t move forward.
“I believe the words I am looking for are ‘I need a hotel room for the night.’” This he said with a teensy bit of sadness that actually tugged on the little strings around her heart because he sounded like his old self. Brennan. The guy who grew up on the same street. The guy who started a band with her big brother.
The guy who eventually morphed into the asshole who was Bax.
“Hans has me on damage control.” She balanced her purse on her knees and aimed for chipper. “Which means no one will see you going into this hotel the day before the tabloids trash your engagement.”
