The Redhead Revealed (2) (14 page)

As Jack geared up for the biggest night of his life, Leslie and I shopped for a dress worthy of a red carpet premiere, and—although I don’t know if it was him or me—Michael and I spent no time alone together all week.

Finally, it was the day of my flight back to L.A. I was packed and ready to go. I took a cab to the airport, with my dress folded carefully away.

I was going home.

The Redhead Revealed

Chapter 10

My flight landed around three p.m. on Thursday, otherwise known as the day before the premiere. I was practically jumping out of my seat by the time we neared LAX, energized by the nap I’d managed to catch on the plane.

I looked out my window, watching as the desert gave way to that decidedly Southern Californian terrain. When I glimpsed the ocean, I knew I was home.

Jack wanted so badly to pick me up at the airport, but he couldn’t for two reasons: One, he was booked solid with interviews and promotion, and two, there was no way he’d be able to dodge the paparazzi at the airport. There was always someone at the airport waiting to catch a star looking terrible after a transcontinental flight, and they’d be ecstatic to catch Jack picking up his unidentified redhead, whose legs would be locked firmly around his waist as he kissed her as only he could. Welcome home, indeed.

Since Holly was also occupied with all things premiere, I’d planned to catch a cab and head straight to my house. Jack had agreed to meet me there after his last interview, and after he’d said good night to his father. His dad had flown in for the premiere, and while I was looking forward to meeting him, I was also severely nervous about such a big event. I’d be meeting him tomorrow night, but tonight Jack had gotten the night off from most of his “familial obligations,” as he called them, to “welcome me home in style.” Who was I to argue with that?

As I walked through baggage on my way to the line of cabs parked outside, I was pleasantly surprised to hear my name, then see my car! Leaning on it, sunglasses firmly planted on face and wearing a huge grin, was the cutest thing I’d ever seen: Nick. One of the sweetest guys Holly and I had ever known, he was a screenwriter with an even bigger crush on Jack than mine.

“Hey, bitch. I heard you needed a ride,” he deadpanned.

“I really just do.” I laughed, running over and hugging him fiercely. I’d missed my little buddy.

We laughed as we hugged, then he threw my bag in the backseat. He was headed to the driver’s side when I held my hand out.

“No way, ass. I’ve been riding on a subway and in cabs for weeks now. I need to drive my motherfucking car. Keys, please,” I instructed.

He handed them over. “I figured as much. Sunglasses?” he asked as I settled in.

“Sunglasses, check. Let’s go home.”

We drove the long way, avoiding the highways so I could soak up as much Cali weather as I could. With top down, in true Southern California style, we got caught up on everything as we drove PCH north, then turned east on Sunset for one of my favorite drives—the one Jack and I took months ago. I could feel the sun on my face, smell the tangy sea air, and I knew I’d never want to live anywhere else for the rest of my life. I really did like New York, but I loved L.A.

We finally made it to Laurel Canyon, and just as I turned into my driveway and glimpsed my beautiful little bungalow, my phone rang. It was Jack. Nick kissed me on the cheek and hopped out as I answered the phone.

“Hey, love, hang on a second,” I said, and I waved Nick back over to the car. “Thanks for coming to get me. It’s so good to be back! Will I see you tomorrow?” I called after him.

“Oh, please, girl. I’m your date! I’m the beard who’s escorting you to the premiere, and here’s hoping I can get close to that co-star, Lane. Have you seen the body on that guy?” He muttered incoherently to himself as he trotted back to his car, settled in, and sped out of the driveway.

I knew all eyes would be on Jack at the premiere, and with Holly managing every aspect of his career, I’d be more likely to sew my head to that red carpet than walk it with him. But I still wished I could walk with the man I loved on his special night.

“Who’s that you’re talking to, Grace?” Jack’s voice asked in my ear. “Back in town less than an hour and you’re picking up guys?” He laughed, and I smiled. Just the thought that Jack and I were back in the same city made my head swim.

“Ha-ha, that was Nick. He picked me up at the airport. Where are you?” I asked, schlepping my stuff toward the house.

Mmm, the lemon trees by my front door smelled intoxicating. I’d had a gardening service come by periodically to do some basic maintenance while I was away, and I was glad I had stood the expense—everything looked green, green, green.

“I’m just finishing up my last interview of the day, and you’ll be interested to know that Teen Beat has analyzed a sample of my handwriting. They’ve deduced from it that I’m artistic, highly motivated, and loyal.” He chuckled.

I turned the key, unlocking my home. “All true. Once you decided to woo me, you didn’t stop until you had me. Pretty motivated, as I recall.” I pushed through the door and walked inside. The smell of still-new construction, Pine Sol, and my favorite white tea candles greeted me.

“Me woo you? I think you have that backward, Nuts Girl. You were clearly throwing yourself at me from the moment I met you. You with your boobies talk and your saltines. You were on the prowl.”

“Yes, saltine spit-up is definitely a wooing trick I’ve been using for years and years.” I laughed as I set my bag down and began opening windows. The light poured in, and I could feel the late-afternoon sun on my skin. I didn’t even realize how much I’d missed it until I sighed out loud.

“Glad to be home?” he asked.

“You have no idea, George. When are you coming over?” I sank into one of my fluffy couches in the living room.

“As soon as I have an early dinner with my dad. I’m not planning on eating much, so I’ll have a late dinner with you, if you like,” he said.

“Mmm, that sounds good. I may just catch a quick nap while I wait for you,” I said, stretching my arms over my head and hugging my couch pillow. I felt a flash of nerves at the mention of his father, but I pushed it back down. I could deal with this. What was I so afraid of?

“Did you check out the fridge yet?” he asked.

“No, I just got here. Why? I didn’t leave anything in there.” Puzzled, I got up and headed into the kitchen.

On the fridge, right under the Post-it note I’d left myself, was a picture of me and Jack. It was from Santa Barbara, taken by the photographer who’d done the InStyle shoot. I sat on Jack’s lap, looking at him with an intensity I’d not seen on my face before. He smiled sheepishly at the camera.

We looked crazy in love. And since I was sitting on his lap, there was no need to worry about the way my ass looked…

“Oh,” I said, my hands coming to my face. It was the only picture I had of the two of us, as I’d refused to print any of the ones from TMZ.

“Like it?” he asked.

“I love it. Thank you.” I smiled from ear to ear.

“I thought you might.” He chuckled, and I could hear someone talking in the background.

“Hey, I need to get going, but I’ll come by later, yes?”

“Come by later. God, yes. And Jack?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“Have I told you I loved you today?”

“Not yet you haven’t.” I could hear the grin on his face.

“I love you so much. Truly I do.” My fingers touched his face in the picture.

“I love you too, Grace. I’ll see you tonight. Bye!”

I clicked off my phone and walked back through my house. I unpacked quickly and hung my dress for tomorrow night in the guest room closet so Jack wouldn’t see it. Leslie and I had finally found the perfect dress, and I couldn’t wait to wear it for him.

I was hungry, as it was dinner time in New York. I looked out at the backyard and saw that my avocado trees were full of fruit. In pure Southern California fashion, that afternoon for a snack I had an avocado, dressed simply with salt, pepper, and fresh lemon juice from my own trees. It was accompanied by a dirty martini, which Jack had thoughtfully purchased the ingredients for. He’d even put the vodka in the freezer. I truly did not deserve this man.

After checking in with Holly and inviting her to breakfast the next morning, I made my way to my bedroom, thinking of the one and only night I’d slept here.

I lay down on my bed, crawled under the soft sheets, and let myself take a blessed nap. It was good to be home, even for only one weekend.

***

“Hey, sweet girl. Wake up.”

I sighed into my pillow, my dream of Jack spilling over as I swear I heard his voice right next to me. I waited for horns honking and the hustle and bustle of the city to remind me where I was.

Instead I heard birds and wind chimes. I smelled—wait, S’mores? I cautiously opened one eye, not able to believe I was really home. My one eye took in a beautiful sight: Jack perched next to me on the bed. White waffle-weave long-sleeve T-shirt, shredded black jeans. He looked exhausted but happy as he leaned down to kiss my forehead.

“Hey yourself,” I muttered, opening both eyes and stretching my arms over my head. I’d slept hard and fast, and I was sure there were pillow wrinkles on my face.

“You have pillow wrinkles on your face,” he said, his fingers tracing along my cheek.

“Can’t you let one slip by? We’re not all one of People’s Most Beautiful,” I teased, rolling over on my back and curling my legs beneath me.

“What are you prattling on about? I’m not on that list.” He frowned, swinging his own legs up onto the bed after kicking off his shoes. He laid down next to me, on top of the covers, leaning his head on his elbow.

“Not yet, maybe, but you will be. Mark my words, people will be lining up to market the pretty. Make sure no one steals my Hamilton Brand though. That’s mine alone.” I laughed, and he looked confused.

“What the hell is a Hamilton Brand? Holly was talking about branding the other day in a meeting with a PR rep. Why the hell do I need a brand?”

“Actually, I was thinking of a brand of a different kind, and I’ll tell you about it at just the right time.” I smirked, scooting closer to him and snuggling into his warm body. He was always tall and lean, but I could tell he’d not been eating well on the road. He’d been losing weight steadily since I left him in September. I’d have to start cooking for him again once my show and his film schedule settled down. I looked up at him, and he smiled at me.

“Lips, please,” he said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Lips, please. You haven’t properly kissed your man yet,” he said, and I leaned in to comply. I kissed him softly and sighed as I felt his warm mouth. I kissed him again more firmly, and then snuggled into the Hamilton Nook.

We lay in silence for a few minutes, and he stroked my hair and shoulders. It was so comfortable and peaceful, I was reluctant to ever get up. But my tummy decided for us, and when it began to rumble so loud it was impossible to ignore, I giggled.

“Well, I guess we should decide what we’re doing for dinner. Did you eat?” I asked, sitting up and stretching.

“I was waiting for you, love. What are you hungry for?”

“It might sound stupid, but I’ve been craving Gladstone’s since I passed so close to it today on my way back from the airport. Too public?” I asked, wondering about the brilliance of us eating somewhere so touristy the night before his premiere.

“Oh, fuck it, Nuts Girl. Let’s just go. They have great fish and chips, and we can take a drive up the coast.” He rubbed my back as I peered back across my shoulder at him. He looked so tired, I thought he could fall asleep right there.

“Are you sure? We can stay in and order something. You look tired.”

“That’s a nice way of saying I look like shit, Grace,” he answered, smiling a rueful smile.

“Not possible. You’re too pretty.” I laughed, giving him a light slap on the cheek.

He mimed outrage and was about to pounce when his phone rang. “Sorry, love, it’s Holly. I need to take this.”

“It’s cool. I need to run through the shower real quick, and then we can go,”

“Damn. I hate the idea of you showering alone when I’m so close.” He looked at me, then the phone, then back at me again, confused.

I laughed and opened the phone for him, putting it in his hand and kissing him on the cheek. I gathered what I needed quickly and stepped into the bathroom. I was washing my hair when I heard him open the door, still on the phone.

“Gracie, can I use your computer?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s in my bag in the front hallway.”

“Thanks,” he said, and I heard the door close.

I finished up, stomach growling loudly now, and began toweling off. I couldn’t wait until the day we could shower together all the time again. I pulled on my jeans and was buttoning my shirt when I heard him coming down the hall.

“Gra-ace,” he sang, and my skin grew hot at the sound of his voice.

I might as well stop buttoning right now. I knew that tone.

***

He’d attacked me in the bathroom, and I quickly gave myself over to our impromptu sexing. It was hot.

Once I untangled myself, the Brit grinned at me sheepishly while I tried to make my shirt button again. But as he’d removed most of the buttons when he ripped it off, no such luck. I scrambled in my bag for something else to wear, and he laughed when I asked him if he found what he needed on the computer.

“Yes, Gracie. I sure did. And thanks,” he said in a low voice, thick with sex. I could feel myself getting worked up again, and I made a mad dash for the front door, pulling him along with me.

“Come on, love. The crab cakes are calling,” I quipped, locking the door and then tossing him the keys.

We drove back the way I’d come this afternoon. The sun had almost set and cast a silvery light along the cliffs as we drove toward Malibu. The radio was loud, the top was down, his hand was on my leg, and I was smiling big.

When we got there, it was crowded, and I felt a little panicked. I suggested we just hit a drive thru, but he insisted it would be okay. He tried to take my hand, but on this one I did stand firm. He frowned, and I tried to gently assure him.