They made it to the hospital in record time, probably breaking a few laws along the way.
Kris hadn’t asked questions. Hadn’t given Nate the sad pity eyes he hated—the kind he couldn’t escape after his mom died. Instead, she’d marched them straight to her car after his announcement and driven like the devil to Los Angeles County hospital.
All the tension from their stupid argument had disappeared, replaced by fraught worry.
They found Skylar in the waiting room, shaken but holding it together, all things considered. Based on what she’d told Nate when she called, she’d gone straight home from the pier and discovered their father passed out at the bottom of the stairs. At first, she’d thought he was unconscious after drinking too much—a common occurrence—until she’d noticed his blue-tinged skin and weak, irregular breathing. That was when she’d freaked out and called 911 and Nate.
A quick check-in with the doctor revealed Michael contracted alcohol poisoning after, yep, drinking too much. It was a new low, and Nate was torn between fury and panic over his father’s situation. Luckily, Skylar had found Michael in time—if she’d come home even an hour later, the elder Reynolds might’ve already choked to death on his vomit.
Michael was in stable condition after the doctor gave him intravenous fluids with vitamin and glucose to stop the dehydration and increase his blood sugar, but the hospital was keeping him overnight for monitoring and evaluation.
Kris drove Skylar home while Nate filled out paperwork, much to Skylar’s consternation. She’d wanted to stay, but Nate had insisted she get some rest since she had soccer camp tomorrow. Their dad was fine—he was asleep, and the nurses would take care of him.
Nate sat in front of his father’s room after he finished the paperwork, too exhausted to move. He was pissed at his old man for putting himself in danger like that—for drinking so much he’d planted himself at death’s door. But Michael was still his father. He was still the man who’d taught Nate how to swim and let him win at arm-wrestling. Seven-year-old Nate had thought he was the strongest kid in the world because he’d beat his dad—his superhero dad—at arm-wrestling.
What Nate wouldn’t give to get those days and his dad back.
He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, tempted to pass out right there in the hospital hallway.
Maybe he did pass out, he didn’t know. But after an indeterminate amount of time, a whiff of amber and florals edged out the omnipresent antiseptic in the air and caused him to crack open his eyes.
He raised his head and blinked once. Twice.
“What are you doing here?” His voice came out scratchy and tired.
“I brought you food.” Kris handed him a soda and an In-N-Out bag. “You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat.” Her tone brooked no opposition, and Nate was too exhausted to argue.
The minute he opened the bag, the smell of burger and fries slammed into his nostrils and woke the monster. His stomach had been asleep all this time, playing second fiddle to his nerves and overworked brain, but now it roared to life, demanding attention.
Five minutes later, he’d demolished all the food.
Nate finished the last fry and looked up to find Kris staring at him with wide eyes.
“Sorry.” Guilt crawled into his now-satiated stomach. “I should’ve offered you some before I went all Conan the Barbarian on the food.”
“No, I already ate with Skylar.” Kris’s mouth twitched. “You eat like a starved bear.”
A laugh rumbled in Nate’s chest, catching him by surprise. It felt damn good, though. “Guess I was hungry after all.” He crumpled the bag into a ball and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “You didn’t have to come back. You could’ve—should’ve—gone home after dropping Skylar off.”
Kris lifted her shoulder. “It’s not like I had anything else to do. Besides, I wanted to make sure—” She hesitated. “Skylar’s fine, by the way. She passed out right after she got home.”
She’d known what Nate was going to ask before he asked it.
“Thanks for driving her,” he said softly. “And for staying.”
He hadn’t expected her to be so…nice, especially not after he’d been such a dick to her at the pier. He hadn’t meant to go so hard on her, but he’d been all wound up from their Ferris wheel ride—the sexiest, most frustrating Ferris wheel ride of his life—and the way she’d repeated, We aren’t actually dating, like she’d never dream of being with someone like him.
Fuck. It had driven him crazy and straight into Assholeville.
Yet here she was, keeping him company in front of his alcoholic father’s hospital room after driving him here, driving his sister home, and feeding him.
Gratitude, regret, and embarrassment sloshed in his stomach.
“About earlier, at the pier.” Nate grimaced. “I was a dick. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I don’t think you’re that…”
“Snobby? Vapid? Stuck-up?” Kris shrugged. Her dress was wrinkled from sitting too long, and her normally perfect hair fell in messy waves around her face. She’d never looked more beautiful. “It’s water under the bridge. Besides, I am snobby and stuck-up, though I’d like to think I’m not that vapid. And I don’t choose who I hang out with based on the size of their bank accounts.”
“You’re not stuck-up,” he said automatically.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “But I am snobby?”
“Shit, no. I mean—”
“It’s fine.” She laughed. “I appreciate the apology, and I know what you meant. It’s been a long day.” Kris’s gaze drifted toward Michael’s room. “How’s your dad doing?”
“He’s fine. Stable.” Nate rubbed a hand over his face. “You really don’t have to stay. You’ve done more than enough.”
“I don’t have to, but I want to.”
Something reached inside Nate’s chest and squeezed. Hard.
He let out a sharp exhale and averted his gaze. “You wanna get out of here?” He couldn’t bear to look at the white walls and listen to the faint, incessant beeping of monitors any longer. “There’s a place I wanna show you—if you’re not too tired.”
Kris hesitated, and he suppressed a flinch at his idiotic question.
Of course she’s tired, asshole. It’s past midnight.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
Relief and a strange, warm feeling he couldn’t identify fizzled through him. Nate cast one last look at his father’s room before leaving.
They entered the elevator and rode it to the garage in silence.
Shit, he couldn’t believe Kris had witnessed all the drama with his father. He never let anyone outside his family in on how bad things were, not even Elijah. It was none of their business, and the last thing Nate wanted was anyone feeling sorry for him.
Fortunately, Kris hadn’t thrown him a pity party. She was sympathetic, but she didn’t look at him like he was some sad sack charity case whom she wanted to “help.”
Nate was more grateful for that than anything else she’d done that night.
Their footsteps echoed in the garage on their way to her Mercedes. Once they reached the gleaming silver convertible, Kris unlocked the car and tossed him the keys. “You drive.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding.”
“I don’t kid.” She slid into the passenger seat, and Nate had no choice but to take the driver’s seat.
His heart rate kicked up as he surveyed the shiny, high-tech dashboard and sleek black leather interior. This was hands down the most expensive car he’d ever been in, and as much as he loved his loyal Honda Civic, it would be nice to drive something that didn’t have a fifty-fifty chance of dying on him in the middle of the freeway.
Let’s test this baby out—niiiiice.
A Mercedes wasn’t a Mustang or a Corvette, but the smooth, powerful purr of the engine was still music to his ears.
“Buckle up,” Nate said with a grin. “Warning: you might regret giving me the keys when this is all over.”
He was careful getting out of the garage and on the side streets, but once they were on the freeway? He put the top down and let it rip.
Holy. Shit.
If Nate weren’t so dedicated to acting, he would’ve seriously considered a career in racing or something similar. The wind on his skin, the ability to control all that speed and power with a tap of his foot and a turn of the wheel…this must be what freedom felt like.
During the ride, he checked on Kris to make sure she was doing okay. He shouldn’t have worried—her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled like she was enjoying their wild ride through L.A. as much as he was. She’d even put her hair up in a bun—so it wouldn’t get messed up by the wind, he assumed.
He found that oddly charming.
By the time they arrived at their destination, Nate’s heart pumped with adrenaline, and exhilaration sang through his veins. When he cut the engine, the pounding in his ears intensified, prolonging his rush.
“So?” He draped an arm over his headrest and twisted his body to face Kris. “You regret giving me the keys or what?”
“Hardly.” Kris smiled, smug as a cat that got the cream. “I enjoy being chauffeured.”
Nate’s laugh rang loud and clear in the still night air. “You’re something else, princess.”
“I know.” She smoothed her hands primly over her dress. “Good thing you didn’t nick the car or I would’ve had to kill you.”
“You could’ve tried.”
Her smile turned feral. “There are ways to kill a man that don’t involve brute strength.”
Nate narrowed his eyes, examining her words and expression the way a detective might. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
Another smug expression before she swept her gaze over their surroundings. “This view is amazing.”
They’d parked on a hill overlooking the city, and the view was pretty damn spectacular. Not many people knew about the spot, though—it wasn’t clearly marked, hence why they were the only ones here. Nate stumbled upon it by accident one day when he’d gotten lost after a disastrous audition. He’d been so in his head about what he could’ve, should’ve done at casting that he’d taken a wrong turn, and boom, Lostville.
He had figured it out in the end—thank you, Google Maps, even though it liked to spaz out and fuck with him sometimes—and snagged himself a secret hideout in the process.
Not bad for what had been a shitty day.
Today was also a shitty day, but he was with Kris, so it wasn’t all bad. Her presence…soothed him.
She was the only other person he’d brought here. This was his getaway. The place he went when he needed to escape other people and think. But it felt right, having her beside him as they gazed out over the glittering sprawl of the city.
“A lot of people hate L.A.,” Kris said, propping her elbow on the top of the car door and resting her chin in her hand. “They say it’s fake and plastic. Materialistic. Coincidentally, they say that about me too.”
She didn’t sound too bothered by that fact.
Nate ran his gaze over Kris’s profile. The stubborn tilt of her jaw, the sensual curve of her mouth. Illuminated by nothing other than moonlight, she resembled an ethereal goddess come to earth. “That’s not true. You’re the realest person I’ve ever met.”
He meant it.
Kris was prickly and a little spoiled, but she never pretended to be someone she wasn’t. That was more than Nate could say for most people in this town—including himself.
Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “But I’m materialistic.”
“We all are, in our own ways.” Nate ran his hand over the polished wood of the dashboard. “Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy comfort. Peace of mind. Freedom from the stress of worrying about whether you can pay next month’s rent.”
The people who said money didn’t matter were probably rich hippies who didn’t have to worry about it. Money might not be everything, but it meant a helluva lot to those who were struggling to keep their heads above water.
Nate knew that better than anyone.
“You forgot one thing,” Kris said.
He cocked a questioning eyebrow.
“Money buys…” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “Loyalty, I guess, in its most fucked-up form. If you buy something, it’s yours, and people who are there for money will stay for the money. They’re predictable that way, and it’s less fickle than relying on love or innate decency. I guess that’s why I like L.A. Because it’s all so predictable. No offense,” she added.
“None taken. It’s true.” Nate chuckled. “God, we’re cynical.”
“But realistic.”
“Yeah.” Nate sometimes wished he could be as optimistic as Skylar—it seemed like a happier way to live life—but optimism didn’t pay the bills. Which reminded him, he needed to check whether their health insurance covered the total cost of Michael’s hospital stay and treatment. If not…
I have the money from my arrangement with Kris. That should cover it.
Nate exhaled. He’d wanted to save the money for rent and a small emergency fund, but he supposed unexpected medical expenses fell under “emergency.”
“Speaking of realistic…”
“Yeah?”
“Be honest,” Kris said. “Is this a make-out spot?”
The question was so unexpected it took a few seconds for it to sink in. Once it did, Nate barked out a laugh, grateful for the spark of levity.
Plus, the dark hilltop did resemble one of those make-out spots you saw in teen movies.
He flashed Kris a roguish smile. “It could be.”
He had no qualms about turning his hideout into a make-out spot. His father’s trip to the hospital had killed the lingering arousal from the Ferris wheel ride, but now that he knew his family was safe, and he was alone with Kris…well, let’s just say, Nate Jr. was up and about again. Literally.
“All you have to do is ask,” he added.
He wasn’t kidding about making her beg. He’d kind of been joking at first, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of Kris coming to him. He wanted her to kiss him because she wanted to—not because she had to.
Though judging by her reaction on the Ferris wheel, she already wanted to. She just wouldn’t admit it.
“Is that so?”
Kris appeared to be thinking it over, which surprised the hell out of him. He’d expected her to put up another fight.
His cock was on board, though. Life vest on, head poking over the railing, all ready to go on this particular version of The Love Boat. It was so eager you’d think she’d offered him a BJ instead of contemplating a simple lip-to-lip. Though there would be nothing “simple” about it once they reached that point.
Chaste pecks were for visiting your great-aunt, not for beautiful girls with a body made for sin and a mouth made for—
“Kiss me,” Kris said.
Nate narrowed his eyes, sure he’d heard wrong.
“Kiss me,” she repeated. “Right now.”
Cool. Detached. Not what he’d had in mind when he said “beg.”
“Just like that?” Suspicion bled into his voice.
“Sure.” Kris hitched a shoulder. “Look, it’s part of our contract and it’s just a kiss. I’ve kissed plenty of guys before.”
Nate’s lip curled up into an involuntary snarl.
“You said all I have to do is ask, and I’m asking,” she continued. Damn. He should’ve been more specific in his language. “So, let’s get this over with.”
Oh, hell no. She was not going to get away with treating this like a doctor’s appointment or a chore on her to-do list.
Just like that, his plans changed.
Kris shifted like she sensed the change in the atmosphere—or spotted the sinister gleam in his eyes.
“Since you asked so nicely—” Nate’s teeth flashed white in the darkness. “Who am I to say no?”
He leaned forward, enjoying the small hitch in her breath as he got closer…closer…
And then his lips were on hers, and fuck, she tasted like rich wine and honey and heaven. Nate hadn’t touched alcohol in years, but he was getting drunk off the taste of her. His head swam, his cock and his heart pounding in unison as he devoured her.
Kris was stiff at first, like she didn’t quite trust what was happening, but after he nudged her lips open with his tongue and deepened the kiss, she melted into him.
Pure male satisfaction swirled inside him at her unspoken surrender.
Mine.
Nate angled Kris’s head back so he could explore her mouth, his fingers gripping her hair so tight she gasped. She didn’t flinch at his punishing hold—in fact, her hands clawed his shoulders and her breath came out in shallow, needy pants. She swiped her tongue across his bottom lip, and he growled, tugging her hair harder while his free hand caressed all that smooth, soft skin on her thigh.
But the damn center console kept getting in the way, and he couldn’t press his body against hers like he wanted to.
Impatient and aroused beyond belief, Nate broke the kiss, lifted Kris out of her seat, and planted her on his lap so she straddled him. It took some creative maneuvering, but the convertible’s open top helped.
“What—” Kris’s question or whatever she’d been about to say broke off into a soft moan when he scraped his teeth down the delicate length of her throat.
He had to hand it to her, though—she bounced back quick.
“This is a second kiss.” Another moan when he licked the hollow of her throat and gripped her hips, thrusting his throbbing erection against her core. He’d never hated jeans or underwear—the only barriers separating them—more than in that moment. “That wasn’t…in the…”
She trailed off, her eyes fluttering closed when Nate swept a hand beneath her dress.
“Technically, we’re not kissing,” he said in a reasonable, if husky, tone. “We’re…getting to know each other.”
Kris’s eyes opened at that, and her soft laugh shot straight to his cock, which didn’t need any additional encouragement. “Is that what this is?”
“Yep.” Nate’s hand edged toward her core while he kept his eyes on her face, searching for any sign that she wanted him to stop.
Nope. She was all in.
Her nipples were so hard he could see them poking through the thin material of her bra and dress, and her skin was flushed and hot beneath his.
She was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
Nate clenched his jaw, running through baseball rosters and the fucking food pyramid in his mind to keep from coming.
Bread, pasta, fruit—oh, who the hell cares?
“How well do you think we should get to know each other?” he murmured.
Silence—except for their heavy breathing, that was.
“Should we call it a night?” Nate maneuvered her backward, so she no longer sat directly on him. He brushed his fingers over her core, unsurprised but still pleased to discover she was soaking wet. “It’s getting late.”
Kris’s eyes flared with both arousal and warning. “I hadn’t noticed,” she said through gritted teeth.
“No?” He increased the pressure and smiled at her small whimper. She was getting close—he could tell by the way her breathing changed and the way she ground against his hand. She clutched his arms, her pants growing heavier by the second.
Almost there…just a bit more…
Right before Kris tumbled over the edge, Nate pulled his hand away.
Her eyes flew open again, and he would’ve laughed at her stunned indignation if his balls hadn’t been bluer than a Smurf.
“Long day. I’m tired.” Nate feigned a yawn. “Think we should call it a night, but thank you for the kiss.” The yawn morphed into a mischievous smile. “It was nice getting to know you better.”
This time he did laugh as Kris scrambled back in fury—but since she was still straddling him, she hit the car horn, which blared through the still night air at the same time as her curse.
“You bastard!”
Nate’s smile widened. “Let’s get this over with,” huh? Try forgetting our first kiss now, he thought smugly.
