Page 17 of Hot Mess

NICK

“Isaac!” Where the hell was that man when I needed him?

“What the hell Nick? Stop bellowing at me.” Isaac jogged down the hall.

I stood outside of my bedroom holding up two different shirts.

“Are you kidding me?” He flashed his bright eyes at me and glared. “I just had to postpone a conference call with your trainer and nutritionist because you were whining like a little boy. I work for you, let me work!”

“But which shirt?” I help up two dramatically different styles, one plaid button-down with western details, and the other a t-shirt. One would make me look wholesome and trustworthy, the other was to show off my muscles.

“You’re an adult, do the eenie-meenie thing. Play rock-paper-scissors. Close your eyes and throw a dart. I’m not your dresser.” He groused at me and then waved me off dismissively as he turned and headed back toward his office located downstairs next to the kitchen.

About halfway down the hall he stopped and turned around.

“Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute.” He strode back to me. “Show me.”

I held up the two shirts.

His gaze bounced back and forth between them before settling on my face. “Those are your first date shirts. What’s going on?”

“I met someone at that awful Halloween party.”

“Hardly awful if you met someone, you’re pulling the date shirts out for. Is this the woman who you gave your pants to?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I called her earlier asking her out for lunch—”

“Where are you going? Shit, I’m going to have to divert the paps, aren’t I? Didn’t you tell me she was famous? Who? I know it wasn’t Marci, she would have plastered that shit all over her socials.”

He continued talking, practically to himself as he turned and started to walk away again.

I had no idea where I was taking Kayla. Frankly, I didn’t know if I was taking her anywhere. I wanted to be prepared. She hadn’t returned my calls or my texts in days. But she was seeing them. My number wasn’t blocked.

Any other woman and I would have shrugged the lack of response off. But Kayla wasn’t any other woman. She had been uncomfortable at that party already, and I went and made it worse.

I wanted to tell her in person how sorry I was about everything that happened. I was supposed to be some super suave actor, but when her dress came off in my hands, I panicked. There was no other word for it. Sheer unadulterated panic.

Idiots, probably high on one substance or another, knocked me into her. Ripping her clothes off. I won’t deny that I certainly had thoughts of doing just that. But I had wanted to be in the privacy of my bedroom, not where any number of celeb wannabees and cameras were.

I remembered with perfect clarity how perfect her exposed breasts were. Ripe and plump with dark nipples calling out to me. I couldn’t get the image of her nude figure out of my head. I didn’t want to.

She was a Venus rising, all gorgeous curves, and flawless skin. Her image was burned into my memory. As was the sensation of touching her. A mistake I couldn’t help but not regret.

In my panic to shield her from prying eyes that did not deserve to witness her beauty, like some kind of moron, I had covered her nakedness with my hands. I never should have touched her. It was one hundred kinds of inappropriate.

But I could still remember how soft her skin was, and exactly how her nipples poked into my palms. It was a memory I should be ashamed to have. She hadn’t deserved that kind of treatment and I was an asshole to treasure that moment until I could touch her with consent.

I growled at my revelry and stormed back into my bedroom. I threw the shirts on the bed and continued into the bathroom to scrub my hands. It felt too right. But I knew it had been wrong.

After drying my hands, I picked up my phone and shot out another text message.

“Kayla, this is Nick. I wanted to see how you were doing. If you are still in LA, I’d like to take you out to lunch. I owe you a thousand apologies and would like to start making them in person.”

I pulled on a basic gray tee and headed downstairs to Isaac’s office.

“Here, I didn’t see you with anyone at the party. You’re going to have to tell me who she is.” He dropped a stack of what looked like printouts on the edge of his desk.

I picked up the images. “What are these?”

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