Chapter 3 - Brooke

I couldn’t believe how much fun I was having. This day was like a dream, but one I never dared to have. Max was outrageous and flirty, and it would have been easy to take him way too seriously and fall head over heels for his charm. I had to keep reminding myself that this was just the way he was, and while he made me feel so special that I might have been the only woman in the city as far as he was concerned, it just wasn’t that deep, and I shouldn’t get caught up in it.

It was enough to wind down and enjoy the first vacation I ever had in my life. I couldn’t believe I actually dozed off on the beach with Max sitting beside me. A whole hour of a refreshing snooze and I was ready to get the fun started back up again.

He’d finally admitted the real reason he’d rushed me away from Katie’s place, and when I woke up, I didn’t want him to call and see if it was safe to go back yet, desperate to keep the most exciting day of my life going as long as possible.

Max swore he wasn’t bored when I took my impromptu nap, and I believed him when he said he was having a great time, too. Or, I wanted to believe someone like Max could be having a great time with someone like me. He was so handsome, so over the top, and larger than life. I was like a little burr that got stuck to him and was clinging on for dear life to keep experiencing everything he had to offer.

I kept teasing him about his diner that he was so obviously proud of, thinking it was going to be a typical 1950s style burger joint that showed up in so many movie scenes. Sure, he had a right to be proud of owning any kind of successful business, but his cockiness about the Hollywood Hustle Grill was just like everything else about him—over the top.

Which is why I was so stunned when we drove past it. The large, low building took up almost an entire city block, with bright aqua and pink neon signs decorating the pristine white stucco. Palm trees swathed in fairy lights lined the sidewalk, along with a glamorous red carpet packed with people waiting their turn to get in. The valet line was just as packed, with cars snaking around the corner.

I sensed his eyes on me, and I slowly closed my mouth, which dropped open in surprise at how amazing the place looked just from the outside. Turning, I saw his face was quietly smug, as if he tried to hide how proud he was now that I was actually seeing it.

“Okay, it’s pretty cool,” I said, pleased at his grunt of dissatisfaction.

“Just wait until we’re inside,” he said. “I’ll get a compliment out of you yet.”

We slowly rolled past the long line of people who were eager to get in, and I noticed they were all dressed like they were going to a movie premiere. Or at least a fancy nightclub, not a diner. I looked down at my own simple summer sweater and jeans, a bit worse for wear after sleeping on the beach. Sand still clung to my sneakers, which were dingy despite all the buffing and scrubbing I did to keep them looking clean. Max noticed my gaze dropping.

“You look fine,” he said. “Look at me.”

I had been, all day. While he also wore jeans and a t-shirt, he somehow still looked like he belonged with all those glittering people, with his expensive watch and limited-edition sneakers. Not to mention the fact he was the owner and could have shown up in his bathrobe and been given a king’s welcome.

For the first time, I felt my heart sinking. This definitely wasn’t going to be the end of a perfect day. It was silly and a bit vain, but I enjoyed fashion and tried to be as stylish as I could on a non-existent clothing budget. I knew how to mend and alter clothes so I could buy second-hand, and had learned all the cleaning tips that existed to get out stains to make my things last as long as I could.

Going to a Hollywood hotspot with the actual owner of said hotspot would be tainted by looking like a person who literally slept on the beach. All eyes would be on Max, and, therefore, on me.

I tilted my chin, refusing to be so childish, and forced a smile that surely didn’t fool him a bit. But instead of making a fuss, he rolled right down the street and pulled up in front of a posh boutique. He rushed around before the valet got to us and opened my door for me, sweeping toward the shop entrance.

“Come on, have at it,” he said, leading me in.

It was about a thousand times more upscale than where I worked, and I could barely afford anything there, even with employee discounts and sales.

“Oh, no, I can’t,” I stammered. I really, really couldn’t. One pair of socks from that place would have cleared my savings account.

“You’re going to,” Max said smoothly and with such force that I shivered.

He had such an aura about him that I would have loved to see the person who dared to deny him anything. Well, that person was going to have to be me.

“No, I mean, I really can’t—”

“I supply catering for the owner,” he interrupted. “She’ll be delighted to hook you up with whatever you want for tonight.”

And indeed, the owner herself came swanning out from the back room, her world-famous smile almost blinding me and making my jaw drop once again. Oriana Alonso was a retired supermodel on every magazine cover in my middle school days and was still a wildly popular style influencer on social media.

Coming around the glass display counter that was laden with jewelry, she hugged Max for a bit longer than was strictly necessary. “Darling, what a wonderful surprise,” she oozed in her elegant accent. Looking me up and down, she nodded briskly. “I have the perfect thing. Many perfect things. Come along.”

I followed in her wake as she plucked things from the racks and showed me to a dressing room. While I tried on the beautiful clothes, I strained to listen to them carrying on in the front of the shop. The sound of her laughter was grating as I imagined her putting her perfectly manicured hand on his arm, and the sound of his laughter made my heart squeeze. Did they have something going on between them?

Why did I care, and why did it make me feel a bit off just to speculate?

I came out in the first outfit, which was my favorite. Despite feeling slightly touchy about Oriana, she picked exactly what would look good on me. I stepped out in the slim-fitting, midnight blue dress that seemed to pick up the faint natural reddish highlights in my hair and made my eyes much more blue than gray.

Max’s eyes widened as he swept me up and down and his wolfish grin had me starting to heat up in the thin, silky fabric.

“You look amazing,” he said, gaze still traveling up and down my body. “Perfection.”

“Oh, not yet,” Oriana said, holding out a pair of spindly, strappy, high-heeled sandals. They were supple leather and really did seem like they were made to go with the dress. “Now she’s perfect. Unless you want jewelry, too?”

She looked at Max expectantly, rubbing her hand up his arm. She’s just trying to pad the sale; there’s nothing going on with them.

Again, why did I care? But of course, Max was all in on the jewelry idea, and like I was trapped in the whirlwind they both created, I was soon decked out in a thin gold necklace with a star charm, and an arm of delicate bangles that were studded with small, sparkling stones.

“Put it on my tab, Ori,” Max said, taking my arm to guide me out.

She winked at him infuriatingly from her side of the counter, gushing about how much she owed him. Oh my God, was I really jealous of an ex-supermodel? There was no way. Max was basically nothing more than a tour guide and a coerced one at that. I was about to make one last ditch effort to refuse the outfit and demand we go back to Katie’s for dinner, but Max hauled me out of there with the damn outfit on, my old clothes tucked into one of the shop’s signature bags looped over his wrist.

We bypassed the line outside the diner and went in through a back entrance. Max was warmly greeted by staff, and he called and waved at the cooks as we went by the huge, bustling kitchen. A hostess intercepted us and led us to a special table with a bit of privacy from the rest of the crowd, and I slid into my seat, barely able to catch my breath.

The place was half restaurant, decked out like the 1950s diner I imagined, but as if that diner had inherited a fortune and also taken steroids. Just pure fun and flash. The other half had a dance floor, a long, neon-lit bar that took up one whole wall of the massive place, and a low stage. The bar side was already jam-packed with people having a great time dancing and laughing and jostling for a spot at the bar, and the restaurant side was already filled to capacity with hungry diners.

I recognized more famous people, my eyes darting back and forth between a television actress from a teen show, another influencer, and a pop star who’d just gone through a terrible breakup if my coworker’s gossip was to be believed.

“So, are you finally impressed?” Max laughed.

I was getting used to his teasing bravado and found I liked giving it back. As grateful as I was for the new dress and this experience, I already knew he wouldn’t want me to carry on about the generous gift.

“I’m getting there,” I said, faking a begrudging tone. “I feel like I’m in a fantasy world,” I admitted when a server came with colorful drinks and the biggest, juiciest burgers I ever saw. “Oh my God, how can I get this in my mouth?”

He gave me a wolfish smile that had me shivering again, and wanting to be a bit naughty. “Do your best, and enjoy,” he said, grabbing a fry off my plate and holding it up for me.

I snapped it up and grinned, then let myself drift into the background while I tackled the giant burger. A constant stream of people came over to greet Max and schmooze, including so many of the ones I recognized. A couple of the women actually gave me glares, as if they were jealous of me. It was blowing my mind, and, in all honesty, I loved every minute of it. All my real- life worries and stresses had all fallen away in this wonderful fantasy world Max had introduced me to.

We finally got a few minutes of calm when there was a hubbub by the entrance. Looking up from my fresh peach ice cream, my worn-out jaw once again almost hit the table.

“That’s Luca Ross,” I hissed, half standing to get a better look at him surrounded by his entourage. “I’ve seen all his movies.” A dozen times or more, but I didn’t tell Max that.

He got an odd look on his face but waved Luca over. “I’ll introduce you to him since you’re such a fan,” he said, his voice a bit flat all of a sudden.

Okay, I did get a bit fangirly, just about jumping out of my seat when Luca arrived, but he was the biggest action star in the world. Gorgeous, charismatic, he did all his own stunts, and had been a shining light in my pitiful childhood. There were always dollar matinees or reruns on TV, which meant a chance to escape to a better place for a few hours, and Luca had been a big part of many of those escapist hours.

I couldn’t believe it when Luca easily slid into the booth beside me for a picture, almost getting dizzy by his familiar, yet surreal smile. He was as friendly and casual as he always was in interviews. After listening to me gabble on about which of his movies were my favorites—all of them—he struck up a conversation with Max. I would have thought by the way they chatted that they were old friends if it weren’t for the strange tension on Max’s face the entire time.

The look disappeared when Luca returned to his entourage and I got the lightning bolt realization that Max might have been jealous. Ha, that was ridiculous and wishful thinking, since I’d been quietly stewing every time a new model or starlet came over to kiss-kiss with him. Still, I was in fantasyland at the moment, so what was wrong with believing Max was a little jealous about me being such a fan of one of his friends?

With our meal finished, I was afraid it was time to go, but Max turned to me with a smile that quickened my already fast-beating heart. “Shall we head to the bar?”

“Definitely,” I said, already on my way to being tipsy from the delicious signature drink we’d had with dinner.

“We’ve got live music tonight,” he said, his hand lightly resting on my lower back as he guided me through the crowd. “I hope you like the band that’s playing.”

“Oh, no way,” I squealed as the band was announced. I jumped up and down with everyone else, holding tight to Max’s hand so I didn’t get swept away. For about the tenth time today, I was like a kid in a candy store. “They’re my favorite indie group,” I told him.

“I called them in just for you,” he joked, pulling me out of the crowd to a cordoned-off area near the bar where I wouldn’t get jostled so much while we had a perfect view of the band.

There was no way he could have known to do that, but the way he’d been making this the best day of my life, I could have believed it. We laughed and danced to the rollicking beats, and I was disappointed when one of the staff members called him away. At first, he refused to go, but I insisted I was fine, had a fresh drink in hand, and the band was just getting to their best songs.

“You’re sure?” he said with a furrowed brow.

“Go,” I told him, all but shoving him away to set him free of his responsibility. “You have a business to run.”

I had to admit I liked that Max was so attentive, not wanting to leave me alone for a second, but I was confident in the VIP area in my new, stunning dress that made me feel like I belonged, and yes, I was on the way to being a little bit drunk.

I wasn’t alone for long, because as soon as Max disappeared into the back, Luca Ross sidled up to the velvet rope, deftly unhooking it and coming into my space. He sat beside me on the barstool, leaning close to ask how I knew Max.

I tried to explain the somewhat convoluted relationship, shouting over the music to be heard. With an eye roll, Luca took my arm and led me over to the restaurant side, where it was much more conducive to talking.

“Now tell me everything,” he said, looking at me with those eyes that stared out at me from so many screens throughout my life.

Stunned that he was interested in whatever I had to say, reeling from the potent drinks, I simply couldn’t believe my favorite action star was paying so much attention to me even when his buddy Max wasn’t around.

Wait a minute. Was he flirting with me now? It really sounded like he complimented my eyes, but everything since the band started playing was a bit of a blur.

“I think I need some water,” I said, making him laugh, like I’d told a hilarious joke.

“Anything you want,” he purred.

I pinched my leg under the table to prove I was awake. “I think I want to dance,” I said.

“Then let’s dance.”

I bobbed along giddily behind him as he led me back toward the dancefloor, which was bursting with sweaty bodies. This was the life, and any thought of my jobs or my studies had long since flown from my head. I was in Hollywood, the guest of the owner, and dancing with my childhood hero. I didn’t even feel self-conscious or like a flopping fish because my favorite band was playing live, and the new shoes must have had magic sewn into their fine leather soles.

After a fast song, the band started one of their ballads and I looked all around for Max, almost wishing he’d cut in so I’d have that memory with him. The requisite awkwardness washed over me as everyone else on the floor started coupling up and I started to retreat back to my spot by the bar.

Luca took my hand and leaned close. “I can tell how much you love this song,” he said, his breath warm next to my ear. “We have to keep dancing.”

Well, okay, if we had to. It was one of my favorite songs, and having Luca Ross’s arms around my waist was surreal. This wasn’t quite the memory I wanted to make, but it was going to be really something to tell my future grandkids when we watched his movies together that I’d actually danced with the man on the screen.

It was only a few seconds into the song when Luca suddenly was dragged backward by a big hand on his shoulder. It was like he was flung away like a rag doll, all the way off the dancefloor. I stumbled and regained my balance, blinking through the dim, strobing lights.

What the heck was going on, and who would dare to do such a thing?

It was Max, now standing between Luca and me, and he looked like he was about to breathe fire.