Page 9 of Love JD

I drank more from my sports drink and forced my mind to go to the beach while they bickered about their options. Calm waves. Sand between my toes. I hate sand. Actually, I hate the beach. I don’t know why I’m picturing this. I think because the meditations say to do it. The ocean burns my nose and there’s probably worms from dog poop in those beaches…

“… could always just take the illicit part out,” Azura was suggesting. “Don’t deny it.”

“Excuse me?” Zev asked, affronted. “You want me to admit to having sex with Goody Two-Shoes over there? No one would believe that.”

“You know what, I’m trying to be nice because you’re Azura’s brother, but if you don’t watch your mouth,” Tristan threatened, “I’m going to introduce it to the carpet.”

“Try it, Power Ranger,” Zev threw back.

“I don’t mean sex,” Azura ground out, ignoring their squabbling. “I mean, admit to dating. It’ll take the heat out of the articles. If Zev and Isla are just dating, then it becomes cute. Sweet. It’ll be less scandalous that way.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Zev groused.

“I hate that idea,” Tristan said. Although, after a beat of silence, he added, “But Azura might be right.”

I opened my eyes, squinting at them. “I would rather not.”

They stared at me in surprise. A slow smile crept up Zev’s face, like he hadn’t expected me to fight back. “Oh?”

“I think I’ll take my chances with the paparazzi,” I tacked on firmly.

Tristan cackled, and Zev looked amused himself. “How very dare you, Ms. Valehart. Do you know how many women would kill just to fake date me?”

Azura rolled her eyes. “Do you two want to avoid weeks of slavering reporters, or not? They’ll be intrigued for a little while, but if you’re just ‘dating,’ they’ll get bored. I promise you.”

She would know. I’d seen Azura in the tabloids a lot, and at first, they had been obsessed with her and Tristan when their relationship had been made public, but they’d cooled down considerably in the last few months. She probably had a decent point, logically.

But pretend to date the yeti? Ick. I turned to Azura. “Will we have to actually be seen together?”

“Not necessarily,” she shrugged. “He lives in Denver anyway. We’ll say it’s long-distance.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. I guess that’s… not terrible.”

“Whatever moves this entire operation along,” Zev intoned, motioning toward me in a sweeping motion. “That works for me. Put out a press release or whatever.”

“Your litany of side chicks won’t mind?” Tristan asked acerbically.

I turned round eyes on Zev. So, he was a fuck boy? Zev looked bored. “I wouldn’t worry.”

Tristan looked like he wanted to say something else, but he held himself back. His light brown hair had gotten disheveled, and he ran his fingers through it. “Fine. Lover boy, how do you feel about taking your girlfriend to the doctor, then?”

Zev’s dark gaze met mine, and he gave me a lazy blink. “I guess it’s a date.”

Chapter three

Zev

I held Isla against my side as we both stared at the stairwell in front of us. Of course, she didn’t live in an apartment complex with an elevator. Why would she? She only had millions to her name and a shiny new inheritance that made her disgustingly wealthy. So, naturally, she lived in a sixty-year-old building with rusted metal stairs and beat-up siding. Totally logical.

I glared down at the slight girl as she hung on my arm. She slowly rotated a guilty look up to me. Right. Bastard though I was, I wasn’t about to make the injured chick climb three flights of stairs to her apartment. “You’re a millionaire. You can’t splurge for an apartment with an elevator?” I griped.

We started up the stairs, and Isla limped gingerly on her booted foot. She hadn’t broken it, it turned out. Sprained, yes. But she’d gotten away with a boot and instructions to rest, and I thought for the dozenth time that she was goddamn lucky she’d escaped with only that.

“Sorry. I just got my trust fund money last month,” she admitted, as if confessing her sins. “When I turned twenty-one. But I feel weird using it, and I like this location.” She waved behind her, almost toppling us both.

I had to use two hands to steady her so we didn’t fall down the first flight of metal stairs. “God, woman,” I muttered. “Could you keep yourself upright for thirty seconds? Please. Thank you.”

“Sorry.”

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