I turn back to Aiden. He’s at the front of the line, posing for a picture next to the person he cut right in front of. Must be nice. I run my hands through my hair and find two more pieces of hay that I quickly pull out and hide in my purse.

I’m composed once again by the time Aiden sits back across from me. He slides a drink across the table.

“Thank you,” I say and wrap my fingers around the white cardboard cup. “What is it?”

“Coffee with a couple of shots of Bailey’s. You look like you could use it.”

I push my eyebrows together. “Thanks?” I bring the cup to my lips and take a sip. Damn. There is no liquor in my coffee. Just French vanilla creamer. “Liar.”

He smiles. “I know.”

I find myself smiling too. “Is it sad I was hoping there was really booze in this?”

“Well, according to my therapist…” he starts and laughs as he rakes his fingers through his hair. He has another scar on the inside of his arm along his wrist. In the show, he got that scar from a knife fight. There is no way it’s a real scar too. “Really, though,” he continues, and his eyes drop to my cleavage. In his defense, I had put on my most padded push-up bra and tightened the straps to give the girls the best lift. They were popped up high, saying hello to the world. “You do look like you could use a drink. Go out with me tonight.”

It wasn’t a question. He didn’t ask me to go out with him. He was telling me that I was. Our gazes lock, and he gives that smug half smile that gets his character in Shadowland out of trouble. I almost fall for it. Almost.

“I can’t,” I say and take a drink of coffee. A night out drinking would be wonderful, and a night out drinking with Aiden would be amazing. Well, I assume so at least. But a night out drinking meant staying out late and possibly not at my house. It meant not being home in the early morning to feed the horses, and it meant not working with Sundance and not using the rest of tonight and not being there to tend to Phoenix’s wounds and give her medication.

He leans back. “You’re joking, right?”

“I wish I was,” I say. My eyelashes come together in a long blink. “The horses…I…I have to take care of them.”

He doesn’t look angry or even hurt, just confused. Genuinely confused. I’m guessing no one ever turns him down. “Do you have a boyfriend or something? It’s just drinks.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Are you into women?” he asks bluntly.

I gape at him, mouth opening in shock. Did he seriously just ask that? He’s so full of himself he thinks someone has to be a lesbian to turn him down. “No, I’m not. Are you?”

He laughs. “Very much so.” He gives me his trademark smile again. “Maybe you didn’t hear. Come out with me. It’s boring as hell here. I could use some fun. I’m taking you out tonight.”

Thank you, Aiden. You just made this much easier. “I’m sorry, but no, I can’t,” I say again, as I watch the confusion come back to his handsome face.

“Your loss,” he says under his breath, and I am so glad I’m not going out with him.

Chapter 6

I cannot stop thinking about her, cannot get her out of my mind. From the moment our eyes met, I knew she was different. I was told I was being interviewed by someone named Parker, and I assumed it was a man. When the annoying bell chimed for the millionth time and I looked up, I wasn’t expecting to see her come through.

She is beautiful in an unconventional way, so unlike the women I’ve surrounded myself with the last few years. She’s tall and fit without being overly thin. I knew right way her supple breasts were real. There was pain behind her green eyes—eyes that I didn’t want to stop looking into, eyes that showed all the emotion she was holding back.

What happened to her?

I finish my drink and flop back onto the hotel bed. Why the fuck am I so interested in her? She’s a journalist. Some aren’t much better than paparazzi. But she wasn’t like them. The things she said…the depths of her words…no, Haley is different.

And she turned me down. She fucking turned me down. That never happens.

I considered getting some cast mates to go to the bar with me instead, and finding some random chick to take back to my room and fuck, pounding her until Haley was just a memory. I could have easily, but I didn’t. I came back to my room alone and am now drinking in the dark, thinking about second chances.

You don’t get a second chance. Life fucks you up, and you have to move on and make your new destiny. There are no do-overs. Because if there were, I’d have found mine.

I’m tired, and my body wants to sleep. I close my eyes and see her face. I roll over and grab my phone, swiping the screen and tapping in my password. I open the Internet and stare at the blank screen. What do I expect to find? Even Google can’t help me figure out why Haley got under my skin so much.

Regardless, I type in her name and add “horse rescue” to the search. What comes up horrifies me. The first hit isn’t a website for her barn. It’s a news article from April. I want to stop reading. I don’t want to know these horrible things. I’ve shut them out for the last four years, surrounded myself with fame and the finer things in life for a reason.

I’m pissed at her now for bringing darkness.  I’m pissed at her because now I care, and now I feel like an arse for asking about her burns.

And I’m fucking pissed I want to make it up to her.

I let the phone fall onto the mattress. Images of fire flash before me. I wasn’t even there and it terrifies me. My eyes open and I sit up, clutching my chest. I’m not drunk enough to pass out, but I have enough alcohol in me to shut off my mental filters.

Nope, not doing this. I get up and weave my way into the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face, get dressed, and get the hell out of this room.

In just two hours, I’ve successfully obliterated myself. I bring a woman back with me to my hotel room. She’s tall and blonde with a big arse. I think we have sex. Maybe. I’m too drunk to remember anything.

When I come to that next morning, I’m naked at the foot of the bed, tangled up in sheets. I have a condom on—thank God—and the girl I banged is sprawled out on the floor. Fuck. I have no idea what her name is.

She’s not as attractive as I thought she was last night. I hadn’t noticed the layers of makeup or the clip-in extensions. Whatever. It’s what I needed. Right? A fun night. No-strings-attached sex. Well, that’s what I assumed happened. For all I knew, she passed out and I jacked myself off before I passed the fuck out.

I text Claire, my PA, and tell her to bring me clothes and something to eat…and to deal with that chick who’s naked and lying spread eagle on the floor of my suite. Then I plan to pass out so I can get up and repeat the same thing tonight.

“Aiden.”

I groan and feebly raise my arm in the air, swatting away whoever is standing next to my bed.

“Aiden, you have to get up.”

It’s Claire. What the fuck is she doing here? She knows not to wake me up. “Go away,” I mumble. The blankets get yanked back. I open my eyes and feel nausea twist in my gut. Why are the curtains open?

“Get up,” she says sternly. “You’re already late.” Late? Late for what? Ah, fuck. Work. I was supposed to get up and get to the set around sunrise. Well, that’s not happening. “The director called.”

“No, he didn’t. Stop lying.” My face is pressed into the pillow. I don’t think she can understand anything I’m saying. She says I sound ‘too British’ when I’m hung over and makes me repeat everything. I don’t care. All I care about is going back to sleep.

“Fine, his assistant called. It doesn’t matter who called, Aiden. You have to get up and get your ass to the set.”