Her Bush (Objects of Attraction), page 11
Damian nodded, but his furrowed eyebrows said he was already suspicious of me.
I caught Nell coming back toward him from the other side of the room. She must’ve gone to the restroom. She hadn’t seen me yet, either. That was the precise moment it dawned on me that I was being an idiot. I needed to get out of here before she caught me and realized she’d been right not to trust me.
“Well,” I said, reaching out and patting his shoulder. “Gotta go.”
I was turning to leave when Grammy joined us. “Hold on,” she said. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Harry? He’s kind of serial killer cute.”
I caught a glimpse of William, who was wide-eyed and smiling from a few feet away. Bastard.
“Harry?” Nell asked. “What are you doing here?”
Just tell the truth. No more lies. “I was…”
As if I needed help screwing things up more, William slid himself into our quickly growing group. “Sorry. I dragged him along. I was thinking of buying something vaginal. I hear that’s really in right now. Vaginas. Breasts. You know, that window nipple thing was pretty nice. It, uh, what was it you said, Harry? It lets you really get inside the mind of a woman and see through her nipples.”
“That’s not what I said.” My voice sounded weak and unconvincing. I could’ve strangled him.
“I didn’t realize you’d tried to get into the art world, Harry,” Damian said.
The look on Nell’s face was riddled with suspicion. I could practically see how close she was to writing me out of her life for good. Damn it. I knew I was only digging myself deeper in the hole, but I also knew I could fix this. I just needed some more time to figure out the right way to come clean about everything.
“A little,” I said.
William and Grammy shared a gleeful look. The assholes were obviously demented, and they knew exactly what was happening and were relishing in it.
“Were you going to ignore me all night?” Nell asked.
“I didn’t want to get in your way. I know this is a big night for you. I was actually kind of hoping you wouldn’t notice me.”
“Oh,” she said. From the look on her face, I saw that she had completely bought my story, and I almost wished she hadn’t.
“Well, William and I were just going to go check out those testicles,” I said. “He was really hoping to get a pair. It’d be a new experience for him.”
William waggled his finger at me. “I see what you did there. Well played.”
“Okay,” Nell said. “Are we still on for tomorrow?”
I cringed a little, especially when I watched Damian’s expression go from distrustful to outright hostile.
“What’s tomorrow?” Damian asked before I could answer.
“Harry was just offering to help me. Not officially, or anything,” she added. She was clearly misunderstanding Damian’s anger. Maybe she thought he was just worried about me taking a cut of the profits. “But I mentioned how it was all really overwhelming, and Harry said he could help talk me through some of it.”
Damian subtly repositioned himself until it was like he'd cut the rest of us out of the conversation by putting his shoulder between Nell and us. He lowered his voice until I could barely hear him. "Nell. I'm your agent, okay? You don't need to look for help outside our business relationship. My job is to support you in any way you need."
“Yeah,” I said loudly. “Except I already made arrangements for tomorrow. So it’d be a little bit of a problem if she canceled.”
Nell shot me a look that told me I was skirting the jealous and obnoxious line again.
Damian said nothing, but I could see his jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth.
“We’re still good for tomorrow,” Nell said.
I nodded. She hadn’t said as much, but there was a hint of something in her tone. We’re good for tomorrow, but after that, all bets are off.
I could’ve punched a lot of people right then. Damian. William. Maybe even Grammy, if punching old ladies wasn’t frowned upon, at least. Unfortunately, I knew the only person I could really blame was myself. I was the idiot who kept avoiding the full truth and managing to make things worse at every turn. I needed to make sure I didn’t blow it tomorrow, because I was fairly sure I’d run out of second chances when it came to Nell.
“So,” Grammy said. “Are we all going to pretend there’s not a giant bush penis and balls over there? Because I’m dying to touch it. It’d be the second biggest penis I’ve ever had my hands on, and God knows I want to strip Fred Billington of that title.”
13
NELL
I listened to the sound of the water lapping against Harry’s boat. It was a pleasant sound, and it instantly brought me back to all those years ago when my uncle would bring me out to fish. Sometimes, Ashley would even come along. I had a little moment of shock when my dark, purple hair blew across my face. I was just barely getting used to the orange, as it was.
I watched Harry at the wheel on the boat and thought how at home he looked there. He wasn’t dressed in the classic, rich guy yacht casual gear. His outfit was just some jeans, boots, and one of those weird fishing shirts that had an extra flap of fabric on the back. He was also wearing a beat-up hat and sunglasses. If it wasn’t for his proud, angular nose and the clear genetic lottery he’d won with his facial structure, you could almost mistake him for a normal, average guy out for a fishing trip.
But I knew the truth about him. Harry was a big shot agent, and Damian had taken the liberty of telling me that he’d also been a notorious playboy a few years back. I tried to stop myself from holding that against him, but I couldn’t help wondering if he’d put the past behind him.
Harry caught me watching him. I did my patented move when I got caught staring. I blinked, shifted my gaze before my eyes opened, and then hoped he believed he’d just imagined me staring.
“I’d ask if you want to take a picture, but it looks more like you wanted to take a bite,” Harry said casually.
My cheeks burned.
He smirked. “I’m just screwing with you. So stop looking like you’re going to knife me as soon as I turn my back.”
Don’t mention the playboy thing, Nell. Don’t even think about it. “So, is that a common problem for guys like you?”
I wanted to hang my head in shame. Really? I couldn’t even hold it back for at least a few minutes?
“Guys like me?” he asked.
“It’s just that I heard you have a little bit of a reputation when it comes to dating.”
Harry stiffened. “And who told you that, exactly?”
“Damian, but it wasn’t like he brought it up just to bring it up. It kind of came up in conversation. I forget how.”
“Right,” Harry said. He stared ahead as he took us farther offshore, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Well, Damian didn’t give you the whole story. I wanted to find somebody to share my life with. I know everybody probably thought I just wanted a few nights of fun, but that was never my goal. So every time a girl turned out to be shallow or a gold digger or just not a match, I got more and more impatient. One day, I decided I was done wasting my time. Women were just complications and the right one wasn’t out there. So I swore it all off.”
“I see,” I said. “So our strictly business fishing trip doesn’t violate your oath, I guess?”
“No. But me asking you to come to my party did. And I’m not sorry about it, either.”
I was sitting on a soft bench on the side of the small boat and felt suddenly exposed. There was nowhere to hide out here. How many times had I run from Harry now? How many times had I decided it was easier to walk away than to face reality? Out here, I was stuck. “I thought you promised I wouldn’t enjoy this?”
“I could splash you with some water if you’re having too much fun.”
I laughed. "It's hot enough that getting splashed might only make me enjoy myself more. I have to be honest. Being out here like this… It's nice. The last few days have been absolute insanity. All this art stuff has me feeling pretty conflicted. And then there's the image issue," I said, holding up a lock of my hair as if Harry hadn't already noticed.
"Conflicted, how?" he asked.
It was a simple question, but somehow, he managed to inject so much genuine compassion into it that I felt oddly touched. Maybe I was deluding myself because he looked like he’d been ripped straight out of some renaissance master’s painting—if renaissance masters had known what sunglasses and baseball caps were, at least.
“Uh,” I said, searching for the right words. “Conflicted because I feel like a fraud, I guess? You and I both know I was trying to turn that bush into something else. All this attention is only because I made a mistake. If I do end up getting some huge payout because of it, how can I justify that?”
Harry nodded thoughtfully. “You’re not a fraud. If you were, you wouldn’t be having those doubts. And you can justify it because people make their own value. It’s the same in the literary world. A bad book can ride a hot trend to become a bestseller. People are paying to be part of that trend. They want to be able to talk about the ‘in’ book, even if it’s to say how bad it was. That’s what they’re paying for. As the creator, your job isn’t to feel guilty because somebody paid for your work, it’s to do everything in your power to make your work have value.”
“Even if it means lying?”
“You’re selling a story. I don’t really see how that’s different than writing a book.”
I pursed my lips and sighed. “Because I’m selling a story about myself. One that isn’t necessarily true.”
Harry frowned. “I think you’re worrying too much about the rich bastards who might buy this thing, Nell. The kind of people who go to Maya North’s gala are the kind of people who could spend millions on a painting and forget to move it from storage to their house for a few years.”
“That works for you? When you’re doing whatever it takes to make a deal, I mean? It doesn’t eat away at you?”
Harry pulled the throttle back and killed the engine on the boat. He stood there for a few moments, just gripping the throttle and looking down. “It does,” he said. “So maybe you shouldn’t take my advice, because I clearly haven’t really figured out how to do this and still stay happy.”
“Hey,” I said, standing and putting my hand on his shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to imply—”
Harry looked at my hand. His attention made me realize how smooth and warm the muscle of his shoulder felt under my hand. I’d meant it as a platonic gesture—just a natural reaction to seeing somebody who looked upset—but it felt like much more than that.
I shakily pulled my hand away.
Harry licked his lips. “Look. Nell. There’s something I need to tell you.”
"You were at the party last night to keep an eye on me, and that story you guys told was bullshit?" I asked.
Harry flinched back. "Uh… Yeah. That's right. And I'm sorry I lied to you. I was an idiot. Again.”
“Honestly, I didn’t mind that you were keeping an eye on me. The part that bothers me is I believed you. It was only after you left when Damian told me your friend hadn’t been to an art show in years that it clicked. I’m afraid to get close to you because I don’t know if I’ve ever really talked to the real you.” I tried not to visibly pant for breath when I was finished. I hadn’t planned to bear my soul, but the words had come pouring out before my mind even had time to catch up. Once I heard it all out loud, I knew it was true.
On paper, there was no reason for me to even be a little reluctant about Harry. I should’ve wanted his attention so desperately it hurt. Yet I’d been resistant at every step of the way. I’d made him feel like he had to chase me, even though I’d never been that type of woman. Now I saw that I just didn’t want to be the fool again. I didn’t want to look back and realize I’d been played all along—that everybody was watching my downward spiral and shaking their heads, wondering how I could possibly be so blind.
Harry sank down into the seat behind him. He slid off his hat and sunglasses, letting them fall into his lap. When his eyes rose up to meet mine, I saw raw determination in them. “I’m going to air it all out,” he said. “No more lies and half-truths. Because you’re right. I’ve given you no reason to trust me.”
I mentally braced myself. I ran through a list of worst-case confessions in my head at light speed. I decided the worst possible thing he could say was that he was a serial killer who liked to take people out to the middle of the ocean before murdering them. Maybe he’d say he had no interest in a relationship and had only been trying to sleep with me. Or—
"There was a reason I got so protective when Damian offered to let you work with him. And it wasn't jealousy." Harry started to say more, then stopped himself. "Okay. It was jealousy, too. But I didn't want you to work with Damian Cross because he's the one with the reputation. He sleeps with every woman he works with. And last year, I had to peel him off his girlfriend at the time when he was plastered drunk, and she was asking him to stop. I kind of punched him in the face, and he got his father, Nathaniel Cross, involved."
I felt my eyebrows drawing together. Part of me was angry that Harry hadn’t just lied about being at the party. He’d been holding something this big back. But the information also made everything else click more firmly into place. He wasn’t just like Chuck. Trying to butt his way between Damian and me had genuinely been because he was trying to protect me. Except I stormed off before he had a chance to explain. After that, he probably assumed I'd accuse him of making everything up if he came clean.
“Nathaniel Cross?” I asked. I shelved my thoughts on Harry and his secrecy for the moment. I could deal with that later.
"He's sort of like a loan shark who masquerades as a businessman. A lot of the major publishers in the country got funding from him. Most didn't know what he really was, but by the time it became public knowledge, almost everybody was tied up with Cross and his dirty contracts. He has the industry by the balls, and he made sure to let me know that when I punched out his son."
“Wait. So were you hiding all of this from me because you were afraid of losing your job, or because you were afraid of how I’d react?”
"Both. But if my job were the most important thing to me, I'd stay as far away from you as humanly possible. At least until Damian had a chance to…"
I shivered, suddenly feeling sick. I stared out at the water and tried to fight back tears. I wasn’t an easy crier. I cried when sad things happened to animals and at those YouTube videos of soldiers being reunited with their families. Sometimes I cried when I cut onions, but only if I forgot the trick about leaving the root intact.
Harry sat beside me and leaned in, concern plain on his face. “I’m so sorry, Nell. I didn’t want to have this conversation when you were stuck on a boat with me. I can start taking us back to shore if you want.”
“No. I’m not crying because—” I wiped at my eyes and cleared my throat. “I’m not crying at all, because I’m not that emotional. But if I was crying a little, it would only be because I thought I was doing the smart thing by keeping you at arm’s length. I didn’t want to look back and realize I’d been getting played the whole time. And now it turns out that I’m just as stupid as I always was. I’ve been playing right into what Damian would want this whole time, and in the process, I’ve been pushing away the one person who actually cares about me in this.”
Harry gave a slight shrug and brushed my cheek with his thumb. “You might have been pushing a little, but I’m no saint here. Yes, I care about you—more than it makes sense for me to care about you when we only just met. But I’ve also been dishonest. Maybe you’d be right to keep pushing me away.”
“Is that what you want?” I asked. “Because if I push you away, you won’t risk pissing off Damian and his dad?”
Harry chuckled. “The thought crossed my mind. But it didn’t last long. I’ve already found success. I’ve made money and seen what that does for me. I’m still not happy, though. When I’m with you, it feels like I get a glimpse of something better. And I want to chase that, no matter what the cost is.”
I bit my lip and noticed that he was suddenly very close to me, close enough that I could’ve counted each of his thick, dark eyelashes. “I want to chase it too,” I said. It had sounded like the romantic, proper thing to say in the moment, but once I heard it out loud, I worried it was a little too vague. “That thing you were talking about, I mean. The happiness.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “I knew what you meant.”
I saw him leaning in to kiss me like it was slow motion. I ran through all the ways this could go wrong, how it could be a significant complication with Damian and his willingness to help me sell the bush. I thought about how I might be getting in way over my head with a guy like Harry. Most of all, I thought about how selfish I was being for risking my sister's future because I had the hots for a guy.
I closed my eyes and felt my lips parting. I made a silent promise to myself that I'd figure out a way to get through this and still help Ashley. If I was honest with myself, I knew my little sister would care more about my happiness than her college fund, but that didn't erase the guilt.
Harry’s lips met mine. For a fraction of a second, it was a soft, polite kiss—almost as if he was trying to give me as much time as he could bear to back out if I was having second thoughts. As soon as I took his lower lip between mine and kissed him back, he slid his big, strong hand up my neck and gripped me by the hair.
My skin exploded in waves of prickling, scorching heat. In the span of a few seconds, I knew I’d never kissed a guy like this. Never.
Harry’s kisses kept crashing into me like a bombardment of waves, each one stronger and more devastating than the last. I imagined a sand castle on the beach with “self-control” carved into the front wall. From up close, it had seemed like a massive, nearly impenetrable fortress. But I saw now that kissing Harry had brought in the tide—it had brought massive, powerful waves that were going to wash away every last hint of my resistance. The scariest part was that I welcomed it.
