Page 46

“We’re going to go call the girls. Promised them an update and best to give you two some privacy.” Kathy rummages in her purse, coming up with a purple cell phone outside Dalton’s closed door.

“More coffee?” Mike asks, thumbing in the direction I assume the cafeteria must be.

“Always. Thank you.” I reach for my purse, but they wave me off.

“Nope, on us. And take your time. We will.” Kathy winks, still dewy-eyed. “I think he wants to talk to you without two old farts watching.”

There’s only one nurse in the room when I enter.

The kind-eyed woman who led us up from the waiting room runs a pen along the soles of Dalton’s feet, giving a triumphant grin when his toes curl in reflex.

My legs threaten to give out at the sight, and I clutch the phone to my chest. Dalton’s good eye shifts from his nurse to me at the movement.

What looks like an attempted smile dissolves into a wince.

I rush forward, hesitating for a moment before taking his hand with an encouraging nod from the caregiver.

“I’ll be back soon to check your vitals again.” She says before leaving us alone.

“You yelled at a nurse for me.” Dalton’s voice is quiet, gravel strained through the sieve of his neck brace. “And we got engaged.”

“Yeah… well, Kathy made me your temporary fiancé. I just didn’t correct her. You were unconscious. Someone had to advocate for you.” Perching on the edge of the bed, I lean in closer so he doesn’t have to strain to speak.

“I was just resting my good eye.” He tries to smile, then winces again. “We should plan a fall wedding.”

“Dalton.” I roll my eyes, but can’t ignore the pang in my heart at the idea of marrying this man some day.

His fingers squeeze mine, good eye shutting in what I think is meant to be a wink. “I thought it was a dream when I first heard your voice. But even my best imitation of you couldn’t muster that level of feisty passion.”

“I do feel a little bad, but she deserved it.”

“I would assume so. You don’t have a habit of snapping at kind people. Just the assholes. My knight in shining armor.”

“Speaking of shiny knights, you’ve been helping my dad find grants?”

Dalton’s eye slides shut, then refocuses on me with an intensity that’s impressive considering the amount of pain meds he’s on.

“I didn’t want to tell you in case it fell through.

There are financial aid programs involving health care for low offending ex-cons, but so many of those grants get rejected. Kathy and Mike helped with a lot.”

Hugs are totally in order when they get back.

I place a tender kiss on Dalton’s unbruised cheek, forcing as much feeling into the inadequate words as possible. “Thank you, Dalton.”

“Soooo, sexier than stuffing my boxers in your pocket?”

“Extremely.” I laugh.

“I’ve missed that sound.”

“Too bad you’re out of commission for any strenuous activities, or I’d thank you properly.”

“The doctors didn’t say no sex.”

“Pretty sure that’s implied, Romeo.” The playful tone slides back down to the pit of my stomach. “What did the doctors say?”

Dalton lets out a hissing sound that must be a sigh.

“They’re keeping me here for a few days to be safe.

They don’t mess around with spinal stuff.

” Dalton admits, and despite his bravado, there’s fear in the tightness of his mouth, in the clench of his fingers.

Injuries like this are an athlete’s nightmare.

His throat bobs in the window of the neck brace.

“I’m going to talk to a PT specialist tomorrow, but reality is I’m likely out for the season—three months minimum. ”

His eye droops, then refocuses with a wicked glint. “You could talk dirty to me again like you did on that skyscraper walk.” His fingers give a little wave. “Distract me from all this with dirty words.”

“So you can be in pain and have a raging boner with blue balls?”

“Mmm, when you put it that way. Maybe not.” His nose wrinkles.

I rub the same soothing circles on his hand that he’s traced on my skin so many times before.

“I didn’t know if you’d come.” He admits. “If Ellie…”

I press a hand to his chest, silencing him with a quick head shake. “She won’t be a problem. Or Trent, for that matter.

“Trent?”

I settle into the bed. “How high are you right now? A lot’s happened while you were out.”

Dalton takes the news of the restraining orders and Trent’s public explosion with an impressive stoic grace. The urge to scream in celebration that Dalton finally has some protection is counterbalanced by the rage that we’re even in this situation.

In reality, the restraining order does little to stop her from showing up, but there’s peace of mind that there are serious legal repercussions if she does.

Peter, at least, has the wherewithal to station a private security guard outside Dalton’s room.

There aren’t formal charges yet, but the guard told us Trent was taken for questioning after the video went live.

It also doesn’t hurt that Ramona reminded Peter that Dalton has every right to sue the designer pants off him for gross negligence.

Metaphorical Christmas arrives on Dalton’s third day in the hospital when Lacey sends the latest TMZ scandal, announcing Ellie is also in police custody.

After being served, she went off like a blonde atomic bomb.

Thank the Sweet Baby J, Ramona didn’t sign any official contracts before this shit show went down.

Since Trent’s drunken rant, Ellie’s current PR firm has been scrambling to distance her from his allegations of planning Dalton’s murder, but every effort to keep her clean goes up in smoke when someone leaks several damning security videos of America’s not-so-sweet-heart going ballistic on set.

I hope it’s her assistant, and that the woman got an obscene amount of money for the footage.

Poor thing deserves the payout for dealing with all of Ellie’s crap.

The first video is of Ellie getting served on set.

Mid makeup and a hot tea in hand, Ellie skims the first page before slapping her makeup artist away and throwing the mug at her assistant’s head.

The following footage is various stages of her tearing apart her trailer like a bear on meth, every ugly second caught on camera.

Eventually, security escorts her off the movie set and into the back of a waiting cop car.

The final and juiciest cherry on top of the starlet’s downfall is a sex tape Trent’s lawyers release to prove he was coerced by Ellie in the throes of passion.

It’s straight up damning.

She fucking winks at the camera when he agrees to plan Dalton’s murder mid orgasm while she rides Trent. Why the hell they recorded it is beyond me. And unlike my photos with Dalton, Trent clearly didn’t delete any of their scandalous proof.

By Sunday morning, Ellie has three counts of aggravated assault charges, two against the movie staff she injured, and one for a cop whose hand she bit as he put her in the back of the car.

One charge of conspiracy to commit murder and one for property damage of the trailer she totaled.

By the end of the week, Hollywood has slammed its door and locked her out.

Every movie dropping the woman like a hot turd while the Oscars have pulled both nominations.

Karma is officially my favorite deity.

Turns out the video she had of us at the auction had no sound. So when she tries to push it as evidence that there is a conspiracy against her, the allegations come out like the rantings of a lunatic. Not a single press station will cover it, and Ellie’s hold over us is broken.

“Charles can get me to the penthouse. You don’t have to take more time off work,” Dalton says. Damn, it’s good to see him in regular clothes again. Hell to see a glimpse of both his beautiful green eyes again. There are some things more important than work.

“I’m not letting you go back to that enormous apartment alone.” I toss a nonslip sock in Dalton’s bag, shooting him a scolding side-eye before shaking my head. “I still can’t believe Peter gave you that place.”

“Me either. Part of his ‘please don’t sue me or the team for not taking your concerns about Ellie seriously’ ploy.

He worked that into the contract, you know?

I also can’t go public about his lack of action either.

Some defamation clause to keep him tidy with the team’s board.

” Dalton rolls his eyes. “Would have cost him less to just file the restraining order when I first asked.”

“He owes you more, the arrogant asshole. Should have given you the team too and fucked right off.” I throw in another sock harder than it deserves.

Dalton’s hands snag my waist from his perch on the edge of the hospital bed, pulling me between his legs. The brace he has now is far less scary, but a somber reminder to take it easy. I give him a gentle kiss on the lips, his hands dipping to cup my butt.

“God, I miss this ass.” His fingers flex on the soft skin, pulling me closer.

I swat him on the chest. “You’re going to miss it for a little while longer until the doc clears you. He mentioned a pamphlet of approved positions, though?—”

“Move in with me.”

“Dalton…” I stutter in shock.

“Sublet your place. Keep it as a backup if that makes you feel better. Work all the long hours you want. But move in with me. Life’s too damn short, Jenna. I have no idea what the hell my life is going to look like for the next year, but I know I want you there for it.”

“Okay.” The word is a mere whisper.

“I know you want to put your career first and then—wait, did you just say okay?” Dalton’s face scrunches like he’s staring at a puzzle that just put itself together.

“I did.” A laugh bubbles out as his eyes go round, a smile slowly spreading. Dalton presses his lips to mine so fiercely it has to hurt, but he doesn’t pull away until we’re both breathless.

“Did I hear you mention doctor-approved Kama Sutra?”

I roll my eyes, placing a kiss on his nose as the orderly arrives with a transport wheelchair. “Let’s go home, Dalton.”

“Damn, I like the sound of that.”