She’s the most beautiful smart-girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. And I hate it when she’s all logical and shit.
Fuck.
Delores smacks my arm. “Well, that would’ve made things too easy, wouldn’t it, Buck? We like to do things the hard way; shows how talented we are.”
Lou’s smirk fades as her gaze bounces from Joe to Rick to Landry, each with their camera pointed at her.
She frowns. “What’s all this?”
Trudi steps around Landry and shoves her hand toward Lou. “I’m Trudi Parks, field producer of Celebrity Homecoming. We’re here with Buck. And you are?”
Lou stares at Trudi’s hand as though it’s a five foot cottonmouth snake. “I’m Lou. Hey, you’re not filming, are you?”
Trudi giggles. “No, of course not. These guys just carry those around to get laid.”
Lou does a perfect about-face and walks out.
Trudi follows, waving a release form. “Wait, Ms. Lou—or whatever your name is—I need you to sign this.”
Ten seconds later, Lou’s voice carries, “Hell no!”
I pull my shirt from where it hangs on a nail by the door as I head out of the musty room. From the yard, Delores glances up to the deck, where Trudi tries to convince Lou to sign the paper.
“Your girl’s tenacious, I’ll give her that.”
I shrug. “Not really my girl.”
“Well, Lou’s not like she was before, when she was your girl. She might just lay that little girly out.”
“Lay her out? As in punch her?” No fucking way.
Delores looks to the heavens. Then she shoots a glare at me. “Only the good Lord knows what happened to her, but she’s changed. She’s not the same sweet girl you chased around all those years ago.”
A frustrated growl comes from above, and Lou leans over the rail. “Buck, call off your fucking terrier before I hurt her!”
Trudi gasps. She stomps down the stairs, jaw set, eyes narrowed. “She threatened me. I’m done here. I’ll meet you at your grandparents’, Buck. Thank you, Mrs. Dubois, we appreciate your hospitality. Good day.”
“Well, her panties crawled up her crack, didn’t they?” Delores winks.
“Apparently.”
Three seconds later, Lou rushes down the steps, not slowing until she’s two feet from me. Close enough to stir my cock. Close enough to grab, but I don’t.
“You make sure they trash any film they have me on. I don’t have any desire to show up on television. You got me?”
I draw a deep breath, taking in her scent. Magnolias and—vanilla? Whatever it is, it’s beautiful. I cross my arms over my bare chest, studying her. She’s not changed much. Her body is more defined, maybe, but not unrecognizable. My body sure enough recognizes her.
Her eyebrows arch. “You got me, Wylder?”
“Not yet. But soon.”
Her mouth drops open a fraction of an inch. She snaps her jaw closed, and her eyes narrow.
I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but I might like it. “I’ll see you around, Lou.”
I toss her a wink and throw my wet shirt over my shoulder, sauntering off, formulating a plan.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket.
Shit. Arianne.
I’ve got more pussy than I can shake my dick at. Why the fuck did I bother banging this one more than once? Because, it was slim pickings on location in remote parts of Italy. Turned out to be nothing but trouble. And, it’s a pot of trouble I can’t seem to un-brew.
I swipe my finger over the screen. “What do you want?”
“God, Buck. Don’t you ever call?” Her voice grates on my eardrum.
“We’re not an actual couple, Arianne. I thought we established that.”
“Your pool guy didn’t show up yesterday. There’s all this stuff floating on the water. I can’t even get in. And Gretchen didn’t fold my laundry the way I showed her. I swear that girl is dense. The worst domestic help I’ve ever encountered. And—”
What the hell? “Hold the fuck up. You were supposed to be gone by last Sunday. What the hell are you still doing at my place?”
“Things came up. I haven’t found an apartment yet.”
I close my eyes, massaging the crease forming between my brows. “Arianne, I’ve been gone for the last eight fucking weeks. Enough is enough.”
“Now, Bucky, you know you miss me. I’d hate to have to tell Daddy you were ugly to me.”
She tires me. No piece of ass is worth this shit.
“Look, Arianne, I have to go. Find another place to crash, would ya?”
I slide my finger across the screen. End call.
I only wish it meant it was the last I’d hear from Arianne McDowell, though I have my doubts.