Starfire (Erotic Romance) (Peaches Monroe) (12 page)

“We’re just having burgers tonight, but they’re excellent, and I got buns for you because… I want to show you I’m a thoughtful guy.”

I rubbed my cheek against the collar of the flannel jacket, pretending I had an itch, but really just taking in the smell of Dalton’s skin on the warm fabric.

Finally, I couldn’t take the curiosity anymore.

“Dalton, who was on the phone and what the hell’s going on?”

“An executive on the TV show. Most everyone thinks this whole porno scandal will blow over, but this one executive is like a dog with a bone. Jamie’s the top dog, too, which is why I have a favor to ask you.”

“Like my mother always says,
asking is free
. Ask away.”

He dropped down on one knee.

“Peaches Monroe, will you marry me?”

CHAPTER 11

Dalton Deangelo had just asked me to marry him. He was on the ground in front of me, still on bended knee.

I could have said no, or asked if he was crazy.

Instead, I said, “Where’s the ring?”

“Put your hand in the jacket pocket.”

Slowly, without taking my eyes off Dalton, I patted the pocket area of the red flannel jacket he’d loaned me. Sure enough, there was a lump the size and shape of a ring box.

I kept staring down at Dalton’s gorgeous face, his green eyes full of so many different emotions at once. I’d seen him like this before, proposing to one of his lovers, only he was offering to make her a vampire. My whole body felt like it disappeared, and I was nothing but eyes and a bit of face, floating in the air.

He got up and brushed the dirt off his knee. “Not ready to give me an answer? Okay, let’s start with some easier questions. How do you like your burger? Medium? Well done?”

My voice came out like stinging nettles. “Burger.”

He grinned, that chin dimple increasing the net value of his famous smile. “Burger? I’ll take that as medium-well, the same as mine.”

“You want us to get married for publicity?”

“Not exactly.” He opened the hot grill and gently put the patties on with a sizzle. “I want to have a wedding for publicity, and I want to get married for love. Preferably to the same girl.”

“Dalton Deangelo, you are one crazy son of a bitch, and it’s extremely difficult to say no to you.”

“About that. You’ll find a copy of the Non-Disclosure Agreement inside the Airstream. I suggest you give it a read this time.”

I stroked the square ring box through the thick flannel, curious about the contents, but my arms too limp to do much of anything.

He nodded toward the door of the silver trailer. “The table’s all set up, and I’ll bring the patties in shortly.”

Oh. He wanted me to read the document now. Fine.

Mutely, I walked to the trailer and pulled open the aluminum-framed door. The stupid thing rocked and groaned as I walked up the steps and into the small interior. The only thing I really hated about the trailer was how I imagined it rocking around under my heavy footsteps, but I knew most of that was in my imagination and I shouldn’t hold it against the trailer.

I stepped lightly over to the half-circle banquette seat at the nose of the trailer and sat down to read the multi-page document set out for me.

Without boring your pants off with all the legalese, the gist of it was that I had unwittingly agreed to do ANYTHING within my power to help mitigate any damages caused by my blabbing of Dalton’s secrets, be it malicious or accidental or a weird drunken combination of both. (Which it was.)

ANYTHING.*

*That word, ANYTHING, was in all-caps throughout the document. I’m not sure how I hadn’t noticed, back on that day in the bookstore when Dalton’s lawyer made me sign the papers. Before you judge me too harshly, I’d like to ask if
you
read all those software license agreements you get on your computer. How about the fine print on your credit card applications? What’s that? You do? Well, good for you. Have a cupcake, smarty pants.

The trailer shook as Dalton tromped up the steps in his steel-toed boots. He set the burgers on the nearby kitchenette’s counter and bent over to pull off the boots.

Without looking at me, he said, “I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask you, but my life is in danger.” He flashed his devilish green eyes my way. “Grave danger.”

“Sure, it is.”

“Drake Cheshire’s life, to be more specific. My character could be murdered mid-season. Very dramatic.”

“They’ll cancel the show?”

“No. Not immediately. It could limp along for decades, because it’s cheap to shoot in all those interiors and dark locations, and the fans will hang in through the thinnest, most ludicrous… well, you’ve seen the show.” He took a seat next to me, his presence radiating into my space and touching me without touching me.

“And I love the show.” I looked down at the table and shifted around my utensils. “You’re a great actor, Dalton. Not just a good one, but a great one. You have this magic that nobody else can touch. When I’m watching you, the whole world disappears.”

After a pause, he said, “Thanks.”

I looked over and nearly drowned in his gorgeous green eyes. “I’m serious,” I whispered. “There’s no
One Vamp to Love
without Drake.”

“They’ll test some side characters and promote a fan-favorite to co-star with Connor.”

“Ugh, he’s the worst.”

“My whole life would change. Instead of getting paid well and doing these great indie projects during the summer, I’d have to scramble and take what I could get.”

“You could be a big movie star.”

“Or I could drop to B-List and go on one of those dancing shows.” He fanned his hand through the air between us, as though clearing away bad karma. “I’ll be fine, Peaches. Whatever happens is going to happen. Why don’t you and I get married just because it’s fun?” He slid along the seat to be right next to me, his arm loosely around my back.

“Fun like trespassing on private property?”

He raised his dark eyebrows and pouted his lips for effect. “I’m not the one who slept on a sheik’s pool lounger in Malibu.”

I giggled at the memory. My life had gotten way more interesting since meeting Dalton.

He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead, right over the eyebrow.

I closed my eyes and savored his lips on my skin. When had we last kissed? Once, in LA, for the cameras, and before that, our last kiss was on the morning he left my bedroom. That had been before everything went sideways, and I got so angry… over a few mistakes that seemed so small now… especially with his hand on my leg.

He pulled away from the kiss and turned to look at the set table before us. “Burger?”

“I don’t know if I can eat, but put one on my plate and we’ll see what happens.”

Grinning, he passed me some condiments. “Yes, let’s put everything on your plate and see what happens.”

The construction noises continuing outside seemed louder now.

“What exactly are you doing to that poor, little innocent cabin? Don’t tell me you’re putting those ridiculous airplane parts in as fans.”

“No, but good idea.” He took a bite and chewed slowly. “I’m just doing a full seismic upgrade and bringing the cabin into this century.”

“Why buy a cabin here in Beaverdale?”

“It’s a great cabin. And after the careful removal of just a few trees, it’ll be waterfront.”

“How many trees? Did you get permission?”

He insisted he did, and that he had permits, but I didn’t know whether to believe him or call bullshit and walk out the door.

I stayed, though, and we talked about his renovation plans as we ate dinner. He asked about the bookstore, and I brought him up to speed on the move and expansion. I paused at one point, teetering on the edge of telling him about Adrian, but the right words wouldn’t get in order and march out of my mouth. That always happens when I think about what I’m going to say. (In other words, infrequently.)

After dinner, we had strawberry cheesecake for dessert, and Earl Grey tea.

I stole a few glances across the small trailer toward the sleeping loft. The last time I’d been there, I’d given him something enjoyable, then snuck off when he fell asleep. Would that ploy work a second time? My inner thighs tingled at the imagined scenario.

We’d been quiet for a few minutes, sipping our tea with a gap of air between us on the banquette seat.

He cleared his throat and looked over at me, almost shyly. “When can I expect an answer to my proposal?”

CHAPTER 12

“I’m dating someone.”

That was my response to Dalton's sudden proposal.

“But he’s in Italy,” Dalton said.

I grimaced, which was not my most dainty expression. “Not Keith. Someone else. Don’t look at me like that. He’s someone I’ve known for a long time. We had a thing back in high school.” I grimaced again, embarrassed at the lie.

Dalton cracked the tiniest smile, and I wanted to kiss him so bad, to smother that smile under my lips and eat him up.

“What’s his name?”

“Adrian.”

“Do you think Adrian would mind if you married me?”

“Yes.”

“Not if he’s… disappeared.”

I stood and grabbed my purse. “Is it late? It feels late. I don’t hear any more construction going on out there. Should we go out and check?”

“Peaches, sit down. I’m just joking. I’ve made a few major purchases lately, and I wouldn’t even have the funds available to make someone
disappear
.”

“Not funny.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer right away, but I’ve tentatively scheduled an appearance together for this coming weekend. If things go well, and the tide of my PR problem turns, it could be the end of your obligation to me.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know what happens next. Just because I have a plan doesn’t mean I can see the future. All I know is how I feel.” He held his hand over his heart. “I can feel you in my future.”

“As more than an old friend?”

“Yes.”

I stood with my back to the door, my fingertips grazing the cool, metal surface.

“Dalton do you know what I feel in my heart? Blood squishing back and forth, taking oxygen from my lungs and bringing it to my legs, which are going to walk out of here. Blood is still servicing my brain, which is in agreement.”

“Don’t get yourself lost in the forest.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a call to Vern, telling him to come pick me up.

“I am sorry about blabbing your secret,” I said. “Which is why I’ll make an appearance with you this weekend. If you think it will help, it’s the least I could do.”

“What about the other thing?”

“Other thing? You mean the pr—” My throat closed off. I couldn’t even say the word.

The proposal.

The ring.

A wedding.

Commitment.

Love.

Love?

It hit me in wave after dizzying wave, so I yanked open the door and took off down the steps. The sun had disappeared, and the woods were tall and foreboding in the dark. I started walking quickly in the direction of the lake.

A few minutes in the cool night air was exactly what I needed to clear my head.

I got to the lake’s edge and thought about walking further, turning right or left, but that would mean making a decision, and my brain wasn’t in a decision-making mood.

An owl hooted, breaking the static of anxiety playing on repeat in my head. The sound of the lake at night rose up around me in the moonlight.

I sat down on the gravel shore, unconcerned about getting my dress dirty.

The owl called to me, a three-hoot call. Another owl, closer to me, answered. Who-who-who.

PLUNK.

Something dropped in the water—something bigger than the first raindrop of a shower. The air was dewy, but the sky was dark and cloudless.

PLUNK.

I squinted at the shimmering surface of the lake. Was that sound made by frogs jumping into the water? Or by ducks submerging?

The owls were answered by other owls, further off in the distance, just barely audible to my human ears.

RIBBIT.

“Holy fuck!” I held my hand over my heart, then laughed at myself for being scared by a frog.

Footfalls sounded behind me, and I took a deep breath of the lakeside air, trying to become one with the serenity.

Dalton sat down a few feet off to the side of me, where he began digging around, clinking pebbles. I knew even before he tossed the first one that he was searching for flat stones, perfect for skipping.

I felt around next to me, located a flat rock, and whipped it out onto the water. My rock made a satisfying smack as it hit the water with torque and then smacked a second time as it sunk.

Dalton tossed his rock, which smacked the water four times before disappearing.

I peeked over to see his teeth glinting in the moonlight, and him looking proud of his stone-skipping.

Searching more carefully this time, I found a bigger, flatter stone, and tossed it out. The stone skipped at least eight times before falling in, its final splashes soft and rapid, blending with the sound of the whatever else was out there, breaking the surface of the water just enough to make me curious.

Dalton tossed the next stone, and then another, not waiting for me to take a turn. He threw the stones harder and harder, grunting with effort, but he couldn’t beat my record of eight.

A vehicle approached on the road behind us, tires crunching on the gravel road. The brief spotlight of the headlights as Vern turned the car around momentarily blinded me, taking my night vision. In the darkness, I got to my feet and started moving toward the waiting car.

Dalton got to his feet and carefully swiped the rocks and dirt from his pants. I could hear his hands swooshing on the fabric. Still, he hadn’t said anything to me.

And what was there to say?
Marry me for good publicity?
Because you stupidly signed a contract agreeing to do ANYTHING if you blurted out my secrets?

I walked up to the car in silence. Dalton jogged up ahead of me and stood in front of the car door.

“You’ll think about my offer?” he asked.