Her bush, p.9
Her Bush, page 9
“You’ve got to decide how you want to tackle this,” Damian said. “It’s your choice, at the end of the day. But I will tell you this much: if success were easy, everybody would do it. You’re at the beginning of a new chapter in your life. The only thing I can guarantee you is that the fastest path to failure is choosing the path of least resistance. Easy doesn’t make winners, Nell. Winners do what it takes, especially when it’s hard.”
I stared at the ground, feeling my nostrils flare as I thought his words over. I’d tried failing. I’d tried it way more than I liked to admit, and I was ready to win for once. If it meant telling some white lies about myself and dying my hair again, was that really such a big deal?
“Oh, and there’s a party tonight that I really think you should come to. I can have your bush brought there. What?” Damian asked suddenly. “What’s so funny?”
“Sorry. It’s just the whole bush thing. It…” I trailed off when I saw he had no idea why I thought it would be remotely funny. Harry would’ve laughed with me. That thought bubbled up like an unwelcome burp—not that somebody with my ladylike tendencies personally understood what it was like to burp, that was. Stop it, Nell. Even if I was wrong about Harry, this whole ridiculous bush thing was my shot at changing my life for the better. I needed to stay focused if I didn’t want to screw it up. All I had to do was remember that I had two choices. On the one hand, I could worry about chasing some chemistry I’d felt with Harry Barnidge. On the other hand, I could stay focused on this art thing for a couple weeks and end up earning enough money to change my life.
“Anyway,” Damian said. “I’ll send a stylist to your place in a couple hours if that works. We can meet for a late lunch, and I’ll give you a game plan for what to say at the party.”
“O-okay.”
“Great. Oh,” he said, standing up suddenly and reaching for his wallet. “Here’s some cash to get you started.”
“Started on what?” I asked. My eyes widened when he fished out a handful of hundred-dollar bills and extended them toward me.
“Looking like you’re worth the kind of money we’re going to be asking for that piece.”
I flinched back from the money. “I can’t take that.”
“Lesson one,” he said seriously. “If you want to demand serious money for your work, the first step is believing you deserve every penny of it. Take the money.”
I hesitated. “Maybe that can wait until we figure out if somebody is actually going to buy the piece.”
“Seriously? Nell. It’s just money. Take it.”
I wanted to say no. My gut was telling me to say no. Instead, I reached out and took the money before slowly sliding it into my purse, as if moving slowly could somehow reduce the effects of the guilt. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.
I tried to tell myself it was for Ashley’s college, but that didn’t help either. I still felt like crap.
I stood up, then paused, reaching in my wallet for the money. Damian put his hand on mine and shook his head.
“Keep it. I’ll be offended if you don’t, okay? Think of it as an advance on the money you’re going to make because trust me, you’re going to make money off that sculpture. Maya North’s personal invitation to the gala automatically gives your piece value. My job is to crank that value up to the absolute limit.” He smiled. “Now, go relax a little. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”
I grudgingly walked to the door of his office and yanked hard a few times, made a frustrated noise, then turned to face him. “Why is this locked?”
Damian was smirking. “Did you try pushing?”
I indignantly turned back and realized that, sure enough, the door opened easily when I pushed. Of course, it did.
In an instant, it felt like everything that happened since meeting Harry crashed down on me at once. I was so far in over my head that I’d popped out on the other side. I needed a long bath and some mindless TV show time, and I needed it bad.
One thing was for sure. I needed to be extremely careful around Damian Cross. I only wished I knew if he wanted to exploit me for money, fame, or something far worse.
10
Harry
I practically jumped out of my car when I saw Nell leaving Damian’s building. She was wide-eyed and walking like she was in a daze. I jogged across an intersection and got honked at a few times before I caught up with her on the sidewalk.
“Nell.”
“Harry? What are you—wait, did you follow me?”
“No. No, of course not. I just knew where you’d be and waited… Damn. That actually doesn’t sound a whole lot better when I hear it out loud.”
For a moment, I thought she was going to be pissed, but she let out a sigh and a smile. “Do I want to know why you’re stalking me now?”
“Aside from the obvious reasons? To apologize, for starters.” I desperately wanted to tell her everything I knew about Damian Cross right then and there—that he had a reputation in the business for hiring young, attractive women just to sleep with them. Moreover, I wanted to explain that Damian had about a thousand reasons to want something to use against me as leverage. Granted, he hadn’t exactly hired Nell, but I seriously doubted he cared if the pretty young woman was a client or an employee. Damian was a dog, and Nell deserved better. Maybe if I’d managed to keep my cool at the party, I could’ve told her as much. Now I’d just look like a jealous lunatic if I pushed the issue any more, so I made a promise to myself to shut my mouth about it, despite what William seemed to think I should do.
“Wait,” I said quickly. I thought I could sense that she was about to make an excuse and leave me standing there. New plan. “Just come grab a coffee with me. You can still be irritated with me, but you’ll get a free drink and food out of it.”
Nell tilted her head. “I do like free things, but I’m not a fan of coffee.”
“Okay. What do you like?”
“Don’t judge me, but I’m kind of obsessed with doughnuts.”
Ten minutes later, we were sitting across from each other in a family owned doughnut shop. It was an awkward time of day to go for doughnuts—a little too far past morning but not quite lunchtime yet—which meant we mostly had the place to ourselves. Some sixties music played softly over the radio.
“So, how’d things with Damian go?”
Nell gave me a sharp look.
I chuckled and held up my hands in innocence. “I’m not asking because I’m jealous. I know it’s a big opportunity for you, and I was curious. That’s all.” I felt guilty for lying. I was absolutely asking because I was jealous. Yeah, I wanted what was best for Nell. I just also happened to believe being as far away from that douchebag was best for her. It was just some more of William’s raw chicken that I was burying for later.
She relaxed, took a bite of her doughnut, and shrugged. “It went weird, I guess? I’m actually supposed to get back to my place in a couple hours to meet with a stylist. He says I should dye my hair again and work on my image. After that, he wanted to meet for lunch to talk over some more stuff about the gala.”
Weird? What the hell did that mean? I clenched my fists under the table. The idea that Damian had the nerve to tell Nell to change her hair or anything else about herself pissed me off. I had to remember that it wasn't entirely outside the norm for an agent. I didn't worry about that sort of thing for my authors, but I could imagine how it would matter to an artist. I could see the logic if I really thought about it. Just calm down, Harry. Stop being jealous of a woman you only met two days ago, and don’t ruin this opportunity for her.
I even had to admit that Damian meeting her for lunch later wouldn’t have made me raise an eyebrow if I didn’t think he wanted to sleep with her. For all I knew, Damian was playing it straight this time. I just needed to force myself to stop jumping to the worst possible conclusions. More than that, I needed to trust that I liked Nell because she was strong, and she wasn’t like the woman Damian had tried to sink his claws into before.
Strong or not, my growing feelings for Nell were going to be a massive complication. Damian was the beloved son of one of the biggest names in publishing. If he even suspected I was trying to sabotage what he was doing with Nell, one call to his father could get me blacklisted by more than half of the publishers in the country. That also meant screwing my brother over. I needed to seriously consider what I was willing to do for a woman I’d just met, no matter how much I already liked her. Liking her wasn’t dangerous on its own, but I’d have to be extremely careful about how I handled the Damian situation going forward.
“I guess that gives me a couple hours with you, then.” I hoped the smile I wore wasn’t too obviously forced.
“I know this is direct, but what’s going on between us? I mean, I never really got a solid sense of what the invitation to the party was. Then the next minute, you were practically ready to punch Damian in the face for offering to represent me.” Nell said.
I found myself studying her. She was wearing a sleeveless, silky blouse and tight, khaki slacks. It was a simple outfit, but her olive skin and bright orange hair made it all seem more eye-catching than it should’ve been. “You’re right. That is direct, but I happen to like direct. It beats watered down small talk, at least.”
“Then you won’t mind me pointing out that you’re not answering my direct question.”
I couldn’t help smiling. She was right, of course. “Force of habit, I think. I guess the only way to answer is to be equally direct. I’ve had bad luck with women, and I tried to convince myself staying away would be simpler at first. But I came back and invited you to the party because I decided you were worth a few complications.”
She looked thoughtful as she sipped at her soda. She swallowed, then a slow smile spread across her full lips. “While we’re telling the truth. Why don’t you tell me this… Would you like me if it wasn’t for my bush?”
I laughed. “I’m not going to pretend that I have no interest in your… bush.” I paused because I couldn’t stop from picturing what it’d look like to unzip her pants—to pull down the elastic of her underwear and… I pushed the thought from my mind. “But I was hoping to get to know more about the rest of you.”
She raised a playful eyebrow. “What, like whether I prefer fluffy beds or hard beds?”
Excitement pulsed through me. I was starting to feel that same easiness in her that had attracted me in the gardens. "Well," I said carefully. I knew flirting was a risk, but I also couldn't help myself. "That depends. Do you want me to learn from what you say, or what you imply?"
Nell furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“People say the most interesting things between the lines. For instance, you asked me if I was interested in more than your bush. Your next question was about your preference of bed types. Somebody could be forgiven if they assumed your thoughts were coming from a dark and dirty place.”
Nell’s cheeks reddened. “Or it could be a coincidence.”
“Just like the coincidence where you accidentally turned my bush into a giant penis right after having a conversation with me?”
“What are you implying?”
“That you had something other than work on your mind.”
She cleared her throat. “I don’t want this to come out wrong, but I can’t do this.”
I inwardly cringed but made sure to keep my face neutral. “Do what?”
She waved her finger between the two of us. “This thing. Whatever it is. Maybe if I’d met you a year ago or two years ago, it would be different. But I’m out of time for screwing up. I can’t just keep plowing forward and saying ‘oh, well’ when things don’t work out. So I just…” She stood, shouldered her purse, and shook her head. “I’m sorry. But I really should go.”
Part of me almost let it happen. She was halfway across the little doughnut shop, and she'd be outside in a few seconds. All I had to do to secure my career was to stay right the hell where I was. It was that simple. A couple days ago, I didn't even know if I'd ever bother dating again. I only needed to wait a few minutes, and everything could go back to how it was.
I gripped the handle of my coffee cup and watched as she tried to hail a cab.
All I needed to do was wait. Let her go. Just let her walk away. It would probably be better for both of us.
I put my hand on Nell’s shoulder.
She swung around and blasted me with a right hook that would’ve made Mike Tyson jealous. I blinked through watering eyes and worked the blazing pain out of my jaw with a few careful movements as I took a step backward. Jesus Christ.
“Oh my God,” she said, clapping her hands to her cheeks.
“Self-defense classes? And steroids?” I asked.
Nell looked like she was torn between horror and amusement. She bit her lip as she reached to touch the spot where she’d hit me.
I clearly had misunderstood what the phrase “hitting like a girl” meant for my entire life. Apparently, it meant you hit so hard that you could knock the paint off a firetruck.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” Nell said. She was holding back laughter now.
“Yeah, especially not when that somebody is secretly a professional boxer.”
She flashed that crooked smile of hers. “Did it occur to you that you might just not be able to take a punch?” Nell’s eyes widened slightly, and she delicately touched the throbbing spot on my cheek. “Actually, that’s already swelling and turning blue. Maybe I really did hit you that hard.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well, I was coming out here to try to change your mind. Now I can play the pity card to make you let me give you a ride home.”
“You sure you’re not scared to be alone with me after that?” She made a fist and mockingly put her hands up like she might take another shot at me.
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. What do you say?”
Nell’s place was half an hour outside the city, which gave us plenty of time to awkwardly not talk about much of anything. Nell occasionally pointed towards an exit or a street for me to turn off on.
The uncomfortable silence gave me plenty of time to think. Mostly, I thought about what was holding Nell back. Most women made no secret that they wanted to date me. I wasn’t bad looking, I had a successful career, and I was loaded. For everybody I’d ever met since making my fortune, that had been enough. It never mattered if I misspoke or if I made a mistake. They were always willing to forgive me because they thought I was a catch. It was a big reason I’d become so bitter about dating.
Part of what intrigued me with Nell was how hard she was trying to keep me at arm’s length. I knew from the looks in her eyes that it wasn’t an easy battle. Part of her wanted to like me. So why was she fighting so hard to hold her feelings back? I didn’t want her to care about my money, but I also wanted to know why she seemed to be the only woman I’d met who didn’t.
My own thoughts were a mess. Half of me was ready to pull over and order her to jump out of the car. I was risking my career, and everyone’s I cared about by going up against Damian and his father—and I had no doubt about that anymore, continuing to pursue Nell, let alone talk to her, was going to piss off Damian.
The other half of me relished the idea of the fight. Fuck Damian Cross and his powerful daddy. I was one of the best literary agents in the country, and even if I were blacklisted by all the top publishers, I’d find a way.
“You okay?” Nell asked.
Her question startled me. “Do I look like I’m not?”
“You look like you’re trying to choke the life out of your steering wheel.”
I forced myself to relax my grip a little. “I’m fine. I just get nervous around pretty women.” I inwardly cringed. I just get nervous around pretty women? Was that really what I was going with?
Nell looked away.
I wanted to kick myself in the balls. I wasn’t used to playing from behind, and apparently, my lack of practice was showing. “So,” I said. “Are you planning to keep working for the Gardening Gnome?”
She nodded. “I got my boss to give me a week off. I didn’t want to officially quit until I knew if somebody was actually going to buy the bush like Maya thinks.”
“Maya North is a big name in the art world. Based on her reaction, I’d say it’s a safe bet. Not that I’m voting for you to quit the gardening gig, that is. It sounds like you’re pretty passionate about it.”
Nell looked over at me, and I couldn't say for sure, but I thought she was holding something back. She chewed her lip, then looked down at her lap. "Yeah," she said. "I actually used to think I wanted to be a sculptor when I was a kid, but my high school art teacher practically begged me to give that up, so…"
“Wait, really?” I asked. “What kind of art teacher tells kids to give up?”
“A realistic one? I think her exact words were ‘you couldn’t properly sculpt the broad side of a barn if I gave you a mold for it.’”
I squinted. “What?”
“Like… Never mind,” Nell shook her head and studied her lap. “What about you? When you’re not throwing fancy parties, what do you do for fun?”
“Hunting, sports, pretty much anything outdoors.”
She tilted her head like she was trying to imagine that side of me. I couldn’t blame her. She had seen me buttoned up and proper. In a lot of ways, she didn’t even know the real me.
“My uncle used to take me fishing,” she said. “It was always kind of nice, but I felt bad when we actually caught fish. So I just dangled a line with no hook in the water.”
I laughed. “You might like hunting, too. We could just use paintball guns or something if you didn’t want to kill the animals.”
