Celeb Crush (15 page)

Talon suddenly sticks his wet finger in my ear, giggling like a madman.

Yeah, this is gonna be a real good time.

I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I actually am looking forward to this.  It’s a forty-five minute drive to the campgrounds, and I spend the majority of it teaching the boys the most obnoxious songs I can remember from my glorious prepubescent days.  Weirdly, Luke doesn’t recognize any of them.  He’s having his own fun, though.  Dalton’s dog is curled up in his lap, and refuses to move.  Devo is a fat black pug that looks like a cushion with feet.  I like most dogs—but not pugs. It’s those eyes, I think, that freak me out so bad.  I think of pugs as humans who have been cursed into dog form.  They always seem so depressed to me, and why are they always sighing?  When Devo looks at me with his moist human eyes, I feel like he’s pleading with me to turn him back to his original bipedal form.  Thank goodness he chose Luke’s lap ‘cause I probably would have thrown him out a window if he had climbed onto mine.

The campgrounds are state funded, which means they’re fairly well-kept.  It’s also crowded as shit.  Each spot is separated by a couple of big bushes on both sides in a lame attempt at privacy.  Not to mention we’re located right next to the bathrooms and showers, so we’ll have a steady stream of traffic passing by.  Oh, well.  If Luke doesn’t care, then I don’t either.

The boys want to go exploring immediately, but Luke reminds them that we have to set up the tents first.  To make it fun for them, we make it a contest—who can set up their tent the fastest.  It’s me and Dalton against Luke and Talon, The Lords of Darkness against the Power of White (I secretly call us that because it sounds racist to say it out loud).  The Lords win, mostly because I had the foresight to steal the poles from the other tent.  Cheaters
do
prosper.  Except not really, because there’s no prize for being first.  The boys help me unload the lighter items from the truck while Luke chops up kindling for the fire.

I knew Devo had it out for me.  I duck inside my tent to put my bag away, and I find the demon dog crouched on my sleeping bag.  While staring at me with its sad pug eyes, it deliberately takes a huge steaming dump right where it’s squatting.

It’s sad that I’m the only one who doesn’t find this hysterically funny.  I take my soiled sleeping bag into the showers to wash it—but even though I do a very thorough job, I’m not sure if I can stand the thought of using it tonight when I know what’s been done to it.  I guess I won’t have a choice since it’s the only sleeping bag I have.  Unless I switch it with one of the boys.  Hm.

I hang the wet sleeping bag over the back of the truck, and we go on quick hike.  Luke is great with the boys.  He points out the plants that would be of use in an emergency situation, the best way to climb down a steep hill, how to tell which direction you're going—and how to live undetected off the land with a shoelace,  a bag of corn chips, and a dirty magazine.  I’m joking about that last bit.  Nature boy.

   It’s a fun day.  After our walk through the woods, we head to the beach to cool off.   We climb rocks, chase each other through the surf, and study tide pools.  I half-expect Luke to ditch us in favor of more exciting pursuits—but he seems content to wrestle with the boys in the sand and splash water at me.  If anyone recognizes him, they keep their distance.  I’m not too worried about it, and neither is Luke.

The boys want to have lunch at Palooza’s—a family restaurant with video games and laser tag. I put my foot down on this one, and I’m met with three of the most effective puppy dog faces I’ve ever seen.  But I stand firm.  With all the teenagers in there, Luke’s presence is likely to cause another stampede.  I point this out to him, and he reluctantly agrees.  I’m not sure why it still hasn’t sunk in for him that he has to take precautions wherever he goes; he’s been in the public spotlight for years.  The boys seem pretty bummed about it, until I point out that we have Devo with us and can’t very well leave him in the hot truck.

Luke comes up with the idea to rent a boat and have lunch on Silver Lake.  We grab some Poppy’s Chicken, and we are set.  Luke lets Talon and Dalton take turns helping him steer the little boat and they are in heaven.  I don’t know how to feel about being replaced as the coolest person of their acquaintance.  Yes, I do.  I’m not happy about it. 

“Should have brought the fishing poles,” Luke remarks, looking at all the blobs on the fish finder’s screen. 

“Can we go back and get them?  Please?  Please?” Dalton peers excitedly over Luke’s shoulder. He’s never been fishing before, and is just enchanted with the romance of it. 

“You can’t, Dalton,” Talon says authoritatively, having been fishing all two times in his life.  “Uh, I hate to tell you this—but you need a license to fish.”

“Yeah, right!” Dalton says derisively.

I sense a little fight about to start.  “I took care of all that online,” I tell them.  “But I left the papers back at camp.”

“It’s cool; we’ll go fishing later,” Luke adds quickly.  “I’ll even teach you guys my secret tricks to catching the most fish.”

Just like that both boys are pestering him to divulge his secrets.  Their shouting hurts my head, and I move over to the stern of the boat.  I lean over to peer into the murky greenish lake, and my sunglasses slip off from the collar of my shirt where I had it hooked.  It lands in the water with a slight plop.  Stupid me. 

I reach down to grab it, one knee perched precariously on the railing—and that’s when it happens.  I feel a slight push on my back, just enough to cause me to lose my balance.  I pinwheel my arms, trying to pull back—but I already feel myself tipping forward and…

Splash.  Big splash.

Gross.  Brackish nasty lake water…in my mouth.  I immediately surface, sputtering and treading water.  What’s the first thing I see?  Devo, up on his paws, staring down at me with the moist eyes.

“You,” I growl.

Before I can grab onto the boat, Luke is already there, easily hauling me up and back aboard.  “Are you okay?” he asks, holding onto my arm as I reclaim my bearings.  “What the hell happened?”

Talon and Dalton are already laughing their asses off at me.  Thanks, guys.  I push my wet hair out of my eyes and glare at Devo.  That dumb dog is about to become fish food!  Of course, Luke blocks my way.  Stupid animal lover.

No one believes that the dog pushed me.  I spend the rest of the ride back huddled into a stinky ball away from everyone else.  I feel like this is an omen, and worse things are coming.

Luke buys us ice cream on the way back to camp.  I get my usual cookie dough in a waffle cone—and even though he orders the same thing, he steals licks from mine! 

“Luke!”

In retaliation, I reach over and plant my thumb in his ice cream.  Laughing, he transfers his cone to the hand guiding the steering wheel.  He grabs my hand with his free one—and then he takes my thumb into his mouth to suck off the ice cream.

And it feels…oh, my god.  Like he’s got his mouth on something else. 

I stare at him with shocked eyes.  He holds my gaze with his, challenging and intense.  I can’t believe it.  He just threw down the sexual gauntlet.  And I want to lick it.

I feel that deep liquid pull, low in my stomach, and I know that I’m in big trouble.  I snatch my hand back, breaking eye contact.  Cradling the hand with the sucked-upon thumb to my side, I glance behind me to see if the boys happened to witness that blatant display of…foreplay.  Thankfully, they’re both glued to their tablets, playing some kind of game.  I sink down in my seat, trying to regain control of my neurological functions.

“You okay there, Andi?”  Luke’s voice is absolutely wicked.  The fucker.  He knows exactly how he’s affecting me.

“I hope I taste like lake water,” I growl.

He laughs, flicking a glance over at me.  “You taste like my favorite kind of candy.”

God damn.

Chapter 13

Luke takes the boys fishing while I stay back at camp to shower and start the fire.  They take the devil dog with them.  It’s almost like they don’t trust me with it. 

I’m glad to have the time to myself to reflect on recent events.  I’m going to go out on a limb here and conclude that Luke wants to hook up with me.  Maybe it’s the two week dry spell—or maybe he got too into his character as my fake boyfriend.  Who knows for sure?  I guess I should do something before it gets complicated.  Damn it, I should have just slammed the door in Luke’s face when I saw him standing there that first day in Sea Horse.  Wind.

I briefly consider having a one night stand with him.  I know I said I’d never do it, but hear me out.  It might be the fastest and easiest way to get rid of the tension between us.  I can admit that I’m somewhat attracted to Luke.  But since the day I started working for him, he’s been off limits to me.  I never before let myself imagine what it would be like to venture out of the platonic zone with him.  Lately I kind of can’t stop thinking about it.

I’ve heard intriguing things about Luke’s sexual skill from many knowledgeable sources.  Said sources claim that he’s a total beast in bed.  Judging by the state of the bedroom, and the very satisfied faces of his chosen partners (lucky me, I’ve seen both in the aftermath), I’m inclined to believe the legend.

I can’t believe I’m actually contemplating this.  Yeah, Luke is gorgeous, sexy, and fun—but would one night of hot sex be worth messing up our working relationship?  I really don’t know.  Maybe I can defuse the situation by finding a way to turn him off somehow.  I could not shave and rub my prickly self all over him.  I run a hand down my leg, testing for stubble, but no.  I’m as smooth as a baby’s bottom, having had everything waxed not too long ago.  Not that I have anyone to be smooth for.  Just me.  I don’t mean that like how it sounds.

Ugh.  Screw Luke for sucking on my thumb like that, pushing all my buttons, and ringing every damn bell.

I’m still on the fence about what I should do when Luke and the boys get back.  I’m not surprised to hear that they caught a bunch of fish—but decided to give their catch away because Talon and Dalton detest eating fish.  I’m sure that Luke would have liked to been informed of that little detail before he spent two hours fishing for what he thought would be tonight’s dinner.  He doesn’t seem to mind, though.  Maybe because I have hamburgers, hot dogs, and a pot full of Ranch style beans ready and waiting for them.

We sit around the fire, stuffing our faces while I dutifully listen to tales of their fishing adventure. I have to keep an eagle eye on Devo, having already caught Dalton sneaking him some beans from his plate.  As if that dog wasn’t stinky enough.

We’re roasting marshmallows over the fire when I spot the ominous clouds in the dark night sky.  Huh.  So much for that weather forecast.  It’s sometime after nine, and the kids are starting to get a little punchy.  Luke tells them that if you say the phrase, “I hate rabbits,” the smoke from the campfire will change direction and blow away from their faces.  So of course they have to test this theory, and at the top of their lungs.  And I thought Luke’s screaming fangirls were the loudest things I’ve ever heard.

Talon and Dalton are adamantly opposed to taking showers—until Luke decides he’s going to take one.  Then it’s a brilliant idea, of course.  I remember when the boys would do anything I asked.  Oh, well, I guess I have to give them a few years to they get to that age.  Unless I’ve peaked by then.

When they get back, I announce that it’s bedtime.  Surprisingly, neither of them put up a fuss.  They eagerly crawl into their tent with their flashlights and Devo.  I suspect they think they’re going to stay up all night talking.  I give them fifteen minutes to pass out from sheer exhaustion.  It’s actually closer to ten when the muffled chatter stops and, all is quiet on the frontier.

So that leaves me and Luke.  He looks particularly gorgeous and rugged sitting near the fire with the flames casting flickering shadows across his sculpted cheekbones and firm unshaven jaw, and illuminating his green dragon eyes.

“Are you tired?” he asks in a soft voice while studying my face over the dancing flames.

I shoot a nervous glance over at our shared tent.  It seems smaller than I remember.  I shake my head vigorously.  “I’m fine.  You?”

“Nah.”  He stretches his back and rotates his neck from side to side.  “Those kids, though.  I could barely keep up with them.  I feel like I’m eighty.”

I raise my eyebrows at that.  “Decrepit at twenty-three, that’s so sad.  You once went through a ten day boot camp with Marines—and you can’t keep up with two nine year olds?”

“Hey, don’t laugh; they were brutal.  You think they’re available to help me train for my next movie?”

“Sure, if your next movie is a romantic comedy.”  I toss another stick in the fire.   “What was that thing you were saying that’s supposed to keep the smoke from blowing in your face?”

“What?  ‘I hate rabbits’?  You never heard me say that before?”  Luke leans forward, closer to the warmth of the flames.  He shoulders move in a quick shrug.  “I don’t know.  It’s something I picked up from my dad, I guess.  We used to go camping all the time.  I don’t know where he got it from, though.”

My ears immediately prick up.  He rarely talks about his dad who died of a heart attack when Luke was seventeen.  I know he was some crazy survivalist nut who used to beat his only child with anything handy in an effort to “toughen him up.”  Luke never sounds bitter or traumatized when the subject comes up, though.  Just matter-of-fact, and sometimes laughing when recounting tales of being abused.  “One time my dad hit me so hard in the head with a can of Spam that I couldn’t even remember my own name when I woke up, ha ha.”  Because head injuries inflicted by your own father are so hilarious.