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Authors: Marni Bates

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BOOK: Decked with Holly
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Chapter 22
Dominic
 
C
abo San Lucas in real life looks like a page from a brochure.
White sandy beaches, clear blue skies, palm trees, and street vendors who are ready to sell tourists cheap souvenirs, like the plastic hula girl I planned to bring back for Chris and Tim. Maybe I'd get them each a shark tooth necklace,too.
However, since they were stuck doing charity work during our vacation, joke gifts might not elicit the right reaction from them. Especially if it was another reminder that I was enjoying beach life while they were dishing out heaps of steaming mashed potatoes at a homeless shelter.
Not that going out with Holly was easy. She had agreed to use a few of the makeup products before we left the suite . . . and whined about it the whole time.
But when she emerged from the bathroom she definitely looked . . . better. It helped that she was back to wearing her own clothes: a plain white shirt and a pair of denim shorts that emphasized her long legs. In fact, she looked almost . . . hot. Definitely not a thought I wanted to have about Holly Disaster.
I needed to focus on the mission: playing tourists.
“So what do you want to do today?”
The two of us were standing on the beach in a postcard-perfect setting, but Holly barely stopped craning her neck behind her long enough to answer my question.
“Um, what have you got in mind?”
Something fast and exciting that would get my heart rate up. “What about parasailing?”
“Well, see, I would . . . except I don't have a death wish.”
I pointed at a speedboat racing across the horizon well beyond the hulking cruise ship. “That's not going to kill you. It's perfectly safe.”
Holly shook her head. “Even if getting dragged across the ocean didn't kill me, my stress-induced heart attack would land me in the morgue.”
I grinned. “So I'm guessing that's a no to parachuting too.”
She shuddered. “Definitely.”
Well, we couldn't just stand around on the beach looking like indecisive idiots all day.
“What about scuba diving?”
Holly nervously scooped her hair into an unruly ponytail so that it would stay out of her face. “I'm not sure. I've never done it before.”
So maybe I would be able to go diving in Mexico after all.
“It's one of my favorite things, actually. When you're underwater, it's . . . spectacular.”
If my enthusiasm surprised her, Holly didn't let on. “So how long have you been diving?”
“A few years now. You know, we should go together!”
She laughed. “Real subtle, Nick.”
“You'd love it.”
“Since I'm still literally sick of the ocean, I'm going to pass for today.”
I wasn't about to give up now that I had sensed some curiosity on her part. “Our next port then. Trust me, you won't want to miss this.”
“We'll see. In the meantime . . .” She glanced over her shoulder again and pasted on a wide smile when she spotted a photographer behind us. “Why don't we start with a walk?”
Yeah, that sounded thrilling. Nothing like a nice walk for excitement after being confined to a room for the majority of the past two days.
“That's what we're supposed to do, right?” Holly whispered. “Holding hands at Lover's Beach? Stuff like that?”
She was right. Maybe it was less exciting, but a stroll would look sexier in a celebrity magazine than the two of us wearing enormous wetsuits.
But the idea of showing Holly what she was missing appealed to me. Given the amount of chaos I had inadvertently added to her life, it seemed only right for me to add a bit of calm too. And something happens when you're defying the natural rules of human capability by breathing underwater that's . . . magic.
Still, I looped my arm into hers as we moved down the shore until we were skirting the water.
“Land!” she crowed happily, kicking sand into the water with a satisfying plop. “God, it feels good to be off the ship!”
“I can't imagine why you would feel that way. I've enjoyed the ship immensely.”
She nearly stuck her tongue out at me—I'm almost sure of it—but she spotted the photographers lining the beach, documenting our every move, and decided against it.
“
You
are not going to annoy me. Because today I get to be a princess.”
Then she threw herself at me, her arms wrapping around my neck as if we were advertising a honeymoon getaway.
“Can't. Breathe,” I wheezed, straining not to dump her ass in the sand. That wouldn't look too romantic.
She released her death grip and sort of slithered down my chest until her feet connected with the beach again. Judging by the persistent clicking of the photographers, Holly's impulsive display of affection was definitely going to be plastered all over the ReadySet fan site soon.
“Loosen up,” she muttered. “We're supposed to be having fun. In fact . . . I'll race you down the beach!”
And with that, Holly shoved me back and took off running.
To think that I'd been worrying that she'd be unable to play the part of the carefree girlfriend on vacation.
Holly might have had a head start on me, but she made the critical mistake of looking back to see if I was gaining on her . . . and nearly crashed into a happy couple in her rush.
Even on land, Holly Disaster was still a mess.
And since it was up to me to slow the maniac down—I tackled her.
Sort of.
I scooped one arm around her torso and pulled her down with me, dumping her in the sand. It felt great. The heat of the Mexican sun beat down on the pair of us as we simultaneously laughed and rolled around in the sand like a pair of lovesick fools.
Holly's legs tangled with mine as she grinned, then slowly shook her head in disbelief. “I knew you were competitive, but this is ridiculous.”
I looked Holly straight in the eyes and lied. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
She rolled her eyes and then stood up, shaking off some of the sand from her shirt. “Sure, you don't.”
“Not a clue.”
Standing up myself, I lazily tossed an arm over her shoulder, just in case she wanted a rematch. I didn't mind the idea of chasing her across the sand again, but I didn't want to be caught at a disadvantage. Holly examined me thoughtfully. “I bet you cheat at cards when you're losing. Am I right?”
Only sometimes.
“Chris and Tim can't play poker worth a damn. Cheating would make it too easy.”
She nodded as we made our way down the beach. “Still, I can't picture you ever settling for second best in anything.”
“That's true for most people in Hollywood. If you want to make it in the business then you keep auditioning until you get the part. Settling means you're never going to get anywhere.”
Holly paused, nearly running into a mother-daughter pair who were holding hands and appeared to be searching for shells. “Maybe that's my problem. When I don't think I can change things . . . I settle.”
Well, so much for lighthearted fooling around.
“Yeah? What would you want to change?”
“Time,” Holly replied simply. “I'll never get enough of that with my grandpa.”
Considering that she didn't have parents, I could see why the old man would mean the world to her. My grandparents had died when I was young so it never occurred to me that I might have missed out on an important bond there. I had my parents. But for Holly . . . it sounded like he was all the family she had.
Unless she also counted her cousins, but I seriously doubted she did.
I didn't want her to dwell on it, though. Judging from her worried expression I was willing to bet she spent too much time trying to calculate the number of good years they might have left together. Definitely time to change the subject.
“Everybody wants more time.” I made a big show of rolling my eyes. “What else?”
“I'd love to have that . . .” Words appeared to fail her and she gestured with her hands. “You know,
spark
.”
“Spark?”
“
You
walk into a room and everyone knows it. I walk into a room and get mistaken for a zombie.”
“That only happened once.” I couldn't contain my grin.
“It's never happened to you!”
“Well, no. But I don't usually break into other people's suites either.”
She squinted at me. “I don't think that's it. No matter what you do, it'll be cool. Guys will want to be you, girls will want to date you, and
People
magazine will want to feature you. Even when you're suspected of being an abusive boyfriend, people flock to you. And I just don't . . . get it.”
That last part didn't sound flattering.
“People want to hang out with me because they think I'm living the dream,” I explained carefully. “And sometimes I am. I mean, here I am strolling along a beach in Cabo with a girl on my arm and a suite booked under my name. People are going to wonder what it would be like to be us, even if it was just for a day. And a lot of them will say that they would use their fame wisely and volunteer all the time and donate all their old clothes to charities and stuff like that. Who knows? Maybe some of them would. But that's not the point.”
“Really? You have a point? Here I thought you just liked the sound of your own voice.”
Smart-ass.
“My point is that they aren't interested in me. Not really. What they want to know is what
their
lives would be like if they were in my shoes. People notice me when I walk into a room because they wonder if I will be anything like the image of me that they invented.”
“My cousins didn't notice your celebrity status in the dining room. They noticed your body.”
“Well, uh, that's different.”
Her grin widened. “Are you uncomfortable with girls checking you out,
Dominic?
”
My full name rolled off her tongue suggestively. Considering that's what my parents have always called me, I shouldn't have picked up on anything even slightly sexy about it.
“How would you like guys checking you out and then
discussing
it with you?”
Holly's arm wrapped around my waist as we continued our stroll. “Are you kidding? That'd be great!”
“You would want some guy to walk up and say what, exactly?” I deepened my voice. “Nice shorts, Holly. Damn, you got legs, girl.”
“Well, no. But you sound like an eighty-year-old thug on his deathbed so . . . that's disturbing.”
I tugged lightly on her ponytail so that even the most observant photographer would think I was merely pulling out her hair-tie.
“Hair-pulling? Wow, so much for an age gap. Are you going to scream that I have cooties next?”
“Too much effort.” With Holly tucked against me it wasn't exactly a hardship to relax and enjoy a leisurely stroll. “I've got a better idea. We'll check out the rock arch, pick up some souvenirs, get a bite to eat, and just . . . pretend to be crazy about each other.”
Holly rose up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. Then she whispered, “Deal.”
Except I had a feeling I was in for more than I had bargained.
Chapter 23
Holly
 
I
played my role to perfection.
I ooh-ed and ahh-ed at all the right moments when we reached the spiky crags of rock that appeared to jut out of nowhere forming one stunning arch. Then again, I wasn't faking anything. It was a gorgeous day and the gray rock face only made the transition of the water from sea green to royal blue even more spectacular. The whole view was breathtaking.
Then I went into tourist mode when Nick pulled out a camera and started snapping photos of me. Not that he needed to bring a camera, considering the number of photographers trailing behind us.
But it was surprisingly fun having Nick standing next to me, trying to take a picture of the two of us without cutting off half a face. Had we been a real couple, one of those photos, probably the one where I pretended to kiss his cheek, would have ended up as a Facebook profile. Then our friends would have posted comments like
Aww, cute! Love this! Adorable!
while wishing there was a way to secretly delete the image and return our dignity.
Still, I had fun with it. And even knowing that our every souvenir purchase would be reported didn't make it any less enjoyable. I had a feeling that Jen would love her “My friend went to Mexico and all I got was this stupid shirt” T-shirt . . . especially since it would be signed by Dominic Wyatt.
He paid for it too, but I didn't plan on mentioning that part of the story when I gave it to her.
Between the shopping, the sightseeing, and the endless little displays of affection, including Nick's not-so-brilliant idea of sliding his hand into the back pocket of my jeans, which surprised me into jostling a grouchy Mexican woman, I found myself looking forward to collapsing in our suite.
I had spent the past two days longing for dry land, only to find myself missing the privacy of the ship after one day in Cabo San Lucas. For the first time I could see why celebrities would go to great lengths to hide their identities: When you know the cameras are on you, even hanging out becomes a job.
So when we finally did return to the suite, the first thing I did was toss my shopping bag in the general direction of the dresser and sprawl out on the bed.
“Now this is more like it.”
Nick only looked pointedly at the clock. “Aren't we having dinner with your grandpa soon?”
I had completely forgotten about that, which wasn't like me at all. Ordinarily, I have each one of his doctor visits memorized and I know exactly what each medication does and how often he has to take it. Something my grandpa enjoys complaining about on a regular basis.
I buried my head in a pillow for a moment. “Nick, you need to be on your best behavior, all right? Because if you do anything to upset my grandpa, I
will
call you Mr. Sugarpie Honey-poo in public.”
He looked appropriately disgusted by my threat. “Unnecessary. I'll be fine.”
“Promise?”
“Sure.”
But I wasn't feeling confident when we entered the dining room together—and I should have been reveling in it! Last time I had looked like death nuked in a microwave and now Hot Guy was escorting me to the table.
I should have been thrilled instead of nervous. After all, the main reason I had agreed to our charade was to mess with my relatives. Make them stop counting the calories on my plate. Time to see if my plan would work.
“Hey, Gramps,” I said casually, as if everyone wasn't staring at me. To be fair, Allison and Claire only had eyes for Nick. I really hoped they hadn't already told my grandpa about him . . . or our new rooming situation. “I'd like you to meet someone.”
He eyed the two of us suspiciously as if he expected to see
debauched
written on my forehead and
vile seducer
on Nick's. “What
exactly
have we here?”
Nick didn't so much as flinch. “I'm Dominic Wyatt. It's nice to meet you, sir.”
Grandpa looked him up and down, then grunted.
“I hope you don't mind if I join you for dinner.”
“Well, it doesn't look like I have much say in the matter, now does it.”
Oh, yeah. This was going really well. I always wanted to put on a show for everyone in the dining room. There's nothing like having a grumpy grandfather glaring at your new rock star boyfriend to set the mood for dinner.
“Uh, everyone. This is Ni . . . Dominic,” I belatedly remembered to say. “Dominic, my uncle Matt, aunt Jessica, and my cousins Andrew and Jacob. You've already met Allison and Claire.”
Nick nodded in greeting and pulled a chair over from a nearby table. But apparently that didn't sit too well with my grandpa.
“Just what the hell is going on here?” he blustered. “You tell me that right now!”
“Grandpa—”
But Nick cut me off as if I had never attempted to intercede.
“I'm dating Holly. And I have a number of intentions toward your granddaughter, most of which are honorable.”
“Nick!” I wanted to punch him. That was his idea of getting along with my grandpa? Seriously?
Apparently, rock stars don't have to use common sense, unlike the rest of us mere mortals.
Then again, my grandpa seemed to be taking Nick's statement in stride.
“
Nick,
eh?” He let out a mild
humph
.
“Yes, sir.”
“You hurt my girl and I'll be on top of you like a ton of bricks. We clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Well, that was kind of sweet.
My grandpa turned back to me. “How long did you say this,” he flapped his hand vaguely at Nick, “has been going on?”
“I didn't.”
“Holly Rachel Dayton—”
It's never a good sign when he uses my middle name.
“Uh, not real long, Grandpa. But it feels like it's been forever.”
“And what is it you do,
Nick?
”
“I'm in the music business.”
“So you're not in school.” It was less a question than a hard-edged accusation.
“No, I got my high school diploma and stopped there.”
My grandpa scowled. “Didn't think you had anything left to learn?”
“Grandpa, you're being snide,” I told him, hoping that would put an end to the interrogation. The rest of my family seemed too stunned to do anything more than watch the verbal ping-pong match. Yet Allison and Claire still managed to smirk.
But that might just be their default facial expression. Hard to tell.
“I'm merely trying to get to know the boy,” Grandpa growled.
“I've got a steady career that I didn't want to jeopardize by taking time off for college. I can always go back later.” Nick shrugged. “Or not.”
Grandpa gave him another steely-eyed once-over. “Just how old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one,”
Grandpa blustered. “What are you doing with my granddaughter then? Couldn't convince anyone your own age to go out with you? Had to prey on young girls!”
“Hey! I'm right here!” I pointed out. “It's not like I can't hear you.”
But Nick just ignored my protest. “Holly isn't like most eighteen-year-olds.”
Only the two of us knew that he probably didn't mean that as a compliment.
My grandpa stiffened. “She's
seventeen!
”
Nick nodded agreeably. “I rounded up a few days. Speaking of which, do you have any plans for her birthday? Because I was thinking—”
“Nick has a surprise for me,” I cut him off. Okay, so I had sort of coerced him into doing something special for me . . . I still wanted it to be a secret. And I wanted to get the dinner back on track instead of continuing the full-on Spanish Inquisition.
“I can guess what surprise he's looking for,” my grandpa snarled. “Listen, here—”
“Nick is my boyfriend, Grandpa.”
The whole table lapsed into silence, not that the rest of my family had made noise to begin with . . . unless you count the clink of the ice cubes in my aunt's glass as she downed her water.
I felt like crap.
I don't lie to my grandpa. Okay, I might fib on occasion, like when I say I've finished my homework and I've only doodled in the margins.
But when it comes to the big stuff . . . never.
And claiming that a rock star is my boyfriend: That counts as big stuff.
Luckily, Allison diverted everyone's attention from me by leaning
way
over the table and shooting
my
boyfriend a dazzling smile. “Well, I can't wait to get to know you better, Dominic.”
Okay, maybe that wasn't luck after all.
Just typical.
Not that Nick seemed to mind. He merely smiled, leaned back in his chair, and ordered the risotto as if he met his fake girlfriend's relatives on a regular basis.
Well, I could play it cool too.
I was just handing my menu to the waiter when my aunt hissed, “You can't get the clam chowder bread bowl! That's at least five hundred calories, Holly! Are you
trying
to gain weight?”
Oh, yeah, nothing but good times ahead.
BOOK: Decked with Holly
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