Mr. April: A Celebrity Romance (Calendar Boys Book 4) Read online

  She scoffs. “You’re hardly a strange man.”

  “You didn’t know me when you offered me a ride.”

  “You’re Beckett Thorn. Plus, I’ve Googled the hell out of your name, so really, we’re like old friends.”

  I shake my head in amusement. “You realise half of what you’ve read about me isn’t true, right?”

  She glances at me out the corner of her eye. “I’m not going to say that you lying about your age didn’t hurt me,” she says dramatically.

  I chuckle. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-six, but we’re not talking about me. I want to know what else the internet has been lying about.”

  “Hit me with the hard questions,” I tell her, gesturing with my hands for her to bring it on.

  She doesn’t hesitate to launch right in.

  “I read that you got hit by a bus.”

  “Half true. I got kinda side swiped. Broke my wrist.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yip.”

  “There was a rumour that you were married once.”

  “Not true,” I tell her, and I don’t miss the smile that graces her lips. “I was seen looking at engagement rings and the rumours swirled from there.”

  “So, you were engaged then?”

  “Nah, I was helping a buddy pick out a ring for his girl.”

  “Aww,” she coos. “That’s really sweet.”

  “What can I say? I’m a big ole marshmallow.” I shrug.

  “So, did she say yes?”

  “She did. They’ve been married a couple years. They’ve got a baby on the way actually.”

  “So why haven’t you gone down that path? Afraid of getting a dad bod?” she teases.

  I’ve been asked questions just like these in countless interviews before, and my standard answer is a firm ‘no comment’, but here with Blaire, I want to give the real answers, not the media filtered ones.

  “Did you ever read the reports about me having a kid?” I ask.

  She shakes her head rapidly and I make a mental note to tell John that he’s done a decent job burying those particular rumours.

  “Yeah, it was about three years ago. The woman I was dating had a baby – we had a baby… or at least that’s what I thought.”

  “Why do I feel like this story is going nowhere good?” She grimaces.

  She pulls into a park on the main street of town, turns off the engine, and twists in her seat to face me.

  I’d normally be nervous about sitting here like this, with no tinted windows or anything to conceal me in a busy part of town, but I’m not bothered in the slightest. Blaire’s presence relaxes me.

  “Because it’s going nowhere good,” I confirm as I run my hand through my too long hair. “Long story short, it wasn’t my kid. She’d been sleeping with two other guys and it was one of theirs.”

  “Beck…” she whispers, sympathy thick in her voice, but I don’t focus on that; all I can think about is the fact that she finally stopped referring to me with my full name.

  “He was my son for twelve weeks before I found out that he actually wasn’t mine at all.”

  “Holy shit,” she breathes.

  “You say that a lot.”

  “You bring it out in me.”

  “So after that, she left – took him with her, and I’ve never seen either of them again.”

  “I can’t even imagine how much that must’ve hurt.”

  I wish I couldn’t imagine it either. They’re old wounds, but they’re deep. They still hurt to this day.

  “Did you love her?” she asks, and it shocks me just how easily I can answer that question.

  “No. I wanted to – I tried to – but I didn’t.”

  “You don’t get to choose who you love,” she tells me wisely.

  I want to ask her if she loves the man she married, but I don’t. I’ve already over-stepped the mark enough for one morning.

  “I guess it worked out for the best anyway. It just would have made it harder to lose them both if I really did love her... I loved him, though. I really did.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you, Beck.” She reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze.

  “You’re calling me Beck.”

  She giggles and pulls her hands away from mine and I miss the feel of them instantly.

  “I decided if I’m going to hang out with a super-famous actor all day, the least I could do is be on a first-name basis with him.” She winks at me.

  “I like your logic.”

  “We better go or we’ll miss our window.”

  “Our window for what?”

  “Less of the chit chat, superstar.” She claps her hands at me and jumps out of the car.

  I don’t know where the hell she’s going, but I do know one thing, if she’s going, I’m following.

  It’s not until we’ve walked inside the building and got halfway up the escalator that the smell of popcorn hits my nose and I figure out where it is we are.

  “Oh no,” I groan. “You didn’t buy us tickets to my movie, did you?”

  She bats her lashes at me innocently. “Nope. I can honestly say I didn’t buy tickets to your movie.”

  “Then whose movie are we seeing?”

  She shoots me a sheepish grin. “Yours…”

  “But you said…”

  “I said I didn’t buy tickets. We’re sneaking in.”

  I turn and attempt to go back down the escalator and escape.

  She giggles and grabs my arm. “Not so fast. You’re coming with me.”

  “I can’t sneak into my own movie,” I hiss at her under my breath, suddenly very aware of the possibility of being recognised.

  We arrive at the top and I look around frantically, but no one is even so much as glancing in my direction.

  She’s not paying the slightest bit of attention to my panic – in fact, she seems perfectly at ease.

  “Oh wow.” Blaire makes a snort-laugh noise and tugs on my arm. “Look.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” I mutter. “Please tell me I’m imagining that.”

  It’s a life-size cut-out of a shirtless me.

  She drags me all the way over to it and I watch as she ogles cardboard me.

  “Will you take a photo of me with it?”

  “You’re kidding?” I deadpan.

  She bites down on her lip and shakes her head at me. I can see she’s having to try incredibly hard not to laugh, and to her credit, she hasn’t yet.

  She slides in next to it and tosses me her cell phone. “Don’t be a spoil sport.”

  I catch it. God damn. I am so screwed.

  I slide open the camera app and focus it on her.

  She smiles and her whole face lights up. I swallow deeply to try and push down the lump that’s formed in my throat at the mere sight of her. I click a couple of pictures.

  “Oh c’mon, smile. It’s not that bad – you should be happy that I want a photo.”

  “I’m just quietly heartbroken that you’ve had the real thing right next to you all morning and you haven’t asked for a picture once. I’m starting to think you only like me with my shirt off.”

  “Oh you celebs, you really are a precious species, aren’t you?”

  “Take a picture with me,” I insist, ignoring her mockery.

  She looks at me in surprise. “You want to take a photo?”

  This is why I’m beginning to really like Blaire. I’ve never once told her that it would be a bad idea for me to be in photos, she’s just picked up on it – she’s figured it out herself and more than that, she’s respected it without question.

  I have a feeling she’s figured out a lot more than that about me already.

  I have to keep reminding myself that I only met her a few hours ago. In a world where months slip by in the blink of an eye, she’s made time slow down.

  It feels as though I’ve known her for a long, long time.

  “I want to take a photo with you.”

  She smiles shyly. “O
kay.”

  I wait for her to come over, but instead, I see her face morph into a sly grin. “I want him in it too.” She points to the cut out of me.

  I shake my head. “No deal.”

  “Oh c’mon,” she whines. “I wanna be the meat in a Beckett Thorn sandwich.”

  A woman walks past at that very moment, and I’m actually grateful for the stupid half-naked fake figure, because her eyes are on that instead of on me.

  “Mmm hmm, honey,” she says appreciatively. “You and me both.”

  Blaire tries to hold back her laughter and fails spectacularly.

  “Please?” she begs, setting her puppy-dog eyes on me.

  As much as it pains me, I can’t say no to her.

  I rake my hand over my face, disappointed in myself for my total lack of willpower. “Fine,” I grumble in resignation.

  She rewards me with a beaming smile, which I’ll admit, almost makes it worth it.

  I slide in next to her and wrap my arm around her to get in shot – maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  I flick the camera to forward facing and hold my arm out so that I can see me, Blaire and the far more respectable version of myself in the shot.

  It’s not until I see myself all scrubbed up that I acknowledge just how homeless I really do look.

  I push the button and it makes a small click.

  “Oh my god, let me see?” She holds her hand out for the phone excitedly, and I give it to her.

  John or Bridget would be going mental right now, if they saw what I’d just done – handed over a photo that could be sold for thousands, but I already know Blaire wouldn’t do that. I doubt if she’ll ever show anyone at all.

  “Oh this is the best day ever!” she squeaks as she looks at the image.

  I’ve still got my arm around her and I’ve got no desire to move it.

  I like being close to her. That same delicious smell from her car is stuck to her skin now.

  It must be the smell of her.

  That’s the moment I realise that I’ll go against my own better judgement and sneak into the movie I’m the star of – because I can’t damn well figure out how to do anything other than say yes to this woman.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Blaire

  “I think that was a bad idea after all,” I whisper to Beckett as we file out of the half-empty theatre, trying our best to keep a low profile.

  “And why might that be?” he stage whispers back, a huge, unsurprisingly smug grin on his face.

  I nudge him with my elbow. “You know exactly why.”

  He’s altogether too hot in that film. Like seriously, considering the collective gasp and cat calling that went around the theatre when he flashed that sexy-as-hell ass of his on the big screen, I’m obviously not the only one that thinks so.

  “I have to admit, I think I earned my spot as your hall pass after seeing that for myself.”

  He looks so pleased with himself – maybe a little cocky even, but hell, if I looked like that, I’d be cocky too.

  “It’s actually not a bad movie,” he says as we ride down the escalator and away from the scene of the crime. “It might even be good.”

  I huff out a laugh. “You say that like you haven’t seen it.”

  He shrugs and I catch the action out the corner of my eye. “I haven’t.”

  We step off the bottom of the escalator and I grab him on the arm before he can walk away from me.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  He looks at me in confusion.

  “You haven’t seen the movie you starred in?” I demand, entirely too loud.

  “Shhh,” he hushes me as he looks around to check we haven’t been heard.

  “But that’s outrageous,” I insist, not lowering my voice at all.

  He shakes off my arm and leads me by the elbow out in the direction of the car.

  “I went into hiding before the official premiere. And I fled the country a few days later. So I’ve seen bits and pieces from on set, I’ve seen the trailer and some edited clips, but the whole thing in its entirety? Not until just now.”

  “Why would you not stick around to see your own movie?” I demand.

  “It was too much… Just the trailer alone gained me over three million new followers on Instagram,” he says by way of explanation.

  “Ah.” I nod my head in understanding and sympathy. It’s the limelight he’s not so fond of. He’s a spotlight-shy celebrity.

  “I haven’t even looked again since the movie came out. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful for the support, but there’s a price for this kind of fame, and I’m not sure I’m ready to pay it just yet.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  He eyes me sceptically.”

  “In theory,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “I can sympathise.”

  “The whole thing is a joke,” he blurts out, and it’s the first time I’ve heard a hint of anger in his voice. “Thirty million people are hanging on my every word – every post – and it isn’t even me posting. It’s my social media manager. Isn’t that just the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?”

  “So do it yourself if you feel that way,” I tell him as I hit the unlock button on my car key. “You’ve got thirty million people listening. Maybe it’s time you found something to say.”

  He’s quiet as he climbs into the car.

  “Seatbelt,” I prompt.

  He salutes me as he does what I say.

  Then he just sits there, looking the deepest in thought I’ve seen him look all day.

  “You hungry?” I ask him gently.

  He turns to me and flashes me a heart stopping smile. “Starved.”

  ***

  “I’ll take the fish of the day special, a side of squid rings and a chocolate thick shake please.”

  The waiter writes down my order, nodding to himself the entire time, before looking cautiously at Beckett.

  I think he’s under the impression I’ve brought a street stray in here with me.

  That beard and long hair has seriously got to go. I understand why he’s wearing the hat, but it’s not helping the overall look in the slightest.

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” he tells him. “It’s quite the order.”

  The waiter disappears and leaves us alone again.

  “You know, if you’re going to insist on keeping that long hair, I might have to introduce you to the concept of washing it.”

  “I know how to wash it.” He takes a pull of the beer he’s ordered, and I can’t help but watch his throat move as he swallows the mouthful.

  I don’t know what it is about a guy drinking a beer, but it really does it for me.

  His Adam’s apple bobs up and down in a delicious way.

  Shit.

  Sitting at the table opposite from him might be a worse idea than seeing his naked ass on a huge screen again was.

  “I’m quite happy looking like a homeless dude with the dirty old baseball cap on.”

  Never mind the fact that the rest of his outfit probably cost more than half my wardrobe combined, and that the big, brown leather duffle bag he carries around is designer, I just can’t get past the overall look.

  “You’re a strange creature,” I tell him.

  “Thanks… I think.” He smirks. “I guess no one is going to accuse me of being boring at least.”

  “I’ve got another question.”

  He leans back in his chair and slings his arm over the spare chair next to him. “Have at it.”

  I wonder absently if he’d answer anything I asked him. I got him to sneak into a movie theatre after all, so I have a feeling he just might.

  “What do you do… when it all gets too much?”

  “Aside from getting on a plane and bailing from the country, you mean?” He chuckles softly.

  “Yeah, something slightly less dramatic maybe?” I suggest with a smile.

  “There is one place I go where no one bothers me.”

 
“Yeah?” I ask.

  “Yeah. It’s about a half hour drive from where I live. It’s a park with a lake. I just like to sit there and watch the ducks and the birds and stuff… There’s hardly anyone around, and I can just breathe and get my head on straight. There’s a big white bridge that stretches over part of the lake… I don’t know what it is about that place, it just feels like you’re in a postcard, if that makes sense?”

  “It makes sense to me.”

  “I love being in films and on screens – I really do – but it’s another world… and I need a break from it sometimes.”

  I understand that. Everyone needs a break sometimes.

  “Did you always want to act?”

  He thinks for a moment. “I think maybe I did. I enjoy acting. I always did the school plays when I was younger. I liked pretending I was someone else. I liked being on stage, but I always thought I’d grow up to be a singer, not an actor.”

  “You sing?”

  This is totally new information to me, and I’ve done more than a few internet searches for this man, so that surprises me. I thought I knew everything about him – but every minute I spend with him just proves me wrong.

  He chuckles, and the deep sound vibrates through my whole body.

  “I do. I did. I dunno… I’m not sure I was ever very good.”

  “What kind of music did you sing?”

  “Country mostly.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathe. Just the very thought of him singing has my heart thumping in my chest. I love country music.

  I can picture it; I can almost hear his deep voice floating a melody through the room.

  “You said that already,” he jokes as he sips on his beer again.

  “Will you sing for me?” The words are out of my mouth before I’ve even thought about the implications of them.

  I’m undeniably attracted to him, and seeing him sing isn’t likely to decrease that attraction, so it’s probably a really, really bad idea.

  I feel guilty for even being here, but shit, it’s Beckett fucking Thorn – I doubt there’s anyone in the world that could blame me for spending the day with him.

  I’m pretty sure if anyone from Harvey’s ‘list’ ran into him on the street and flirted with him the way Beckett has with me, he would have booked a hotel room and done the deed by now.