After too short of a time passes, Vaughn pushes away and sits up, swiping her face with the backs of her hands. “I look terrible.”
She always looks beautiful. I drag my thumbs across her cheekbones, wishing I could kiss her tears away. “I can get my makeup artist here,” I offer.
“You have a makeup artist? I thought that was just for the photo shoot.”
“You think I apply that concert eyeliner myself?”
She lets out a watery laugh.
“That’s my girl.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders. She snuggles into my side and I swear, my damn heart flips over because I want her to be my girl. For real. “Can I sing to you?”
“Yes, please.”
“Do you have a request?”
She thinks about it. “You pick.”
I start humming, and she tucks her head into the hollow of my shoulder while I sing Jason Mraz’s “A Beautiful Mess” and the words that turn to knives and wound so deep.
I sing until her raspy breaths even out and she falls asleep, exhausted from her storm of tears and emotion. Gently, I ease away from her and throw a discarded sweatshirt over her bare legs.
Out in the hall I find the guys quietly shooting the shit. “We’re done for the day,” I inform them.
“You should take her out tonight,” Rocco suggests.
Even Luke nods. “Yeah, night on the town. Get her mind off things.”
If it had been Luke’s recommendation, I’d have ignored it, but Rocco’s been married for nearly a decade, which, in LA terms, is like three lifetimes. So I nod back and say, “I guess we’re going out tonight.”
*
“You having a good time?” I ask Vaughn later that night.
She nods and shoots me a foggy smile. My girl’s been downing glasses of champagne like they’re water. I wonder if I should cut her off, but the past three hours have been the first sustained period of time that she hasn’t been crying so... I’ll take it.
It took a bit of persuasion to get her out to the club, but I guess I don’t blame her for hesitating. Our track record with clubs isn’t all that great. The first time, I ignored her the whole night. The second time, I bullied her into kissing me.
I’m not about to repeat those mistakes tonight. I’ve been glued to her side since we got here, and I won’t kiss her unless she asks me to.
Man, I hope she asks me to.
“You can ease up on the champagne. There’ll still be bottles available tomorrow,” I joke.
“Not if I have anything to say about it!” She throws back her head and drains another glass.
Crap. If she’s determined to get completely wasted, maybe we should take off so she can do it somewhere private. I feel a little like I’m corrupting an innocent. But...Vaughn is having fun. I like Fun Vaughn.
At the same time, I find that I also kind of miss the straight-laced, I-don’t-drink Vaughn.
Figure that out.
“Want to go home?” I suggest. When her pretty face creases with dismay, I hasten to add, “For an after-party. Want to take the party home?”
“Yes! That sounds awesome.”
So I signal for Ty to get the car. He looks relieved.
I draw Vaughn’s hand in mine and go find Luke. If we’re going to have a party, he’s the go-to guy.
“After-party at my place,” I shout at him over the heads of about three chicks. Clearly he’s enjoying himself tonight.
“Party at Ford’s!” he yells, and half the people in the VIP room raise their hands in the air.
Good Christ. The things I do for you, Vaughn.
She looks a little dazed by the response. “You sure you want all these people at your house?”
Her head bobbles shakily. She’s so drunk. Poor girl.
Guilt swirls in my stomach. Maybe we should have gone to the beach instead of a club.
“Yeah, party at Ford’s. Woo.” It’s the weakest woo in the history of woos. I pull her into my arms and press her head against my shoulder. “Stay close to me. These after-parties can get wild.”
She pulls back far enough to pin me with her first clear stare of the night. “I want wild.”
“Then you’ll get it.”
If that’s what she needs tonight, I want to give it to her. And somehow Luke knows that the reins are loose, because thirty minutes later clothes come off before I can even get my front door closed.
“Everyone needs to be legal,” I remind him as he arrows straight for the pool. I should’ve turned off the heat to that thing so it would shrivel his balls when he jumps in.
“Have Ty card people.” Luke shrugs off my hand. “I’m not the fuzz.”
No, you’re an asshole.
I drag Vaughn into the kitchen and lift her up onto the counter so she can lean against one of the cabinets. In the fridge, I find a bottle of Perrier. I twist the cap off and curl her fingers around it. “Drink this. I need to talk to with Ty about something, ’kay?”
“’Kay!” She swings her legs. She’s still on the upward trajectory of drunkenness, which is good. At some point, though, I fear that all the feelings she’s been keeping at bay with the boatload of booze are going to come crashing down. I’ve tried drinking my sorrows away, and it never works. She’s going to learn that the hard way.
For now, I’m hoping she can sit tight for five minutes until I can see how Ty’s doing and whether he’s going to need help.
“I’ll be right back.”
She toes me in the thigh with one gold-sandaled foot. “I’ll be fine. Go. Do your business.”
I don’t want to leave her. I place my hands on either side of her hips and lean in. “I’m going to take care of you.”
“Tonight?” She quirks an eyebrow.
“For starters.” I give in to the temptation I’ve been fighting all night and press a kiss against her temple. “For starters,” I repeat against her sweat-damp skin.
I hustle out to find Ty in the front room on the phone. “You calling in reinforcements?” I ask.
“Yup.”
“Sorry.”
His eyes widen. I’m not known to apologize for the extra workload I place on him. “It’s my job,” he says easily.
“Yeah, but I’m still sorry. Your job sucks sometimes.”
He laughs. “It pays well, and the guy I work for is generally pretty decent.”
That faint praise makes me want to bust out in song, but since I have a little pride left, I allow myself only a big-ass smile.
“I’ll be with Vaughn if you need me.”
“You take care of her. I got the rest of this mess.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.”
Back in the kitchen, I find Vaughn chatting merrily with Paxton Hayes, an actor from a very popular vampire television show. Uh-uh. Paxton has to find his own girl. Vaughn’s mine. I don’t know when that happened, but somewhere along the line Vaughn went from the girl I was forced to have on my arm to the girl I want to have in my life.
“Pax, when’d you get here?” I put a foot of space between him and Vaughn under the pretext of slapping his fist in greeting.
“I was coming into the bar when your party was leaving. Thought I’d tag along.”