Page 71 of Let Me Love You

Lights flash, and I look around the bar, unsure if it’s from the strobe lights or a camera. The sinking feeling in my gut expands as I search the area.

“Fuck,” Colt grits out as he stares down at the woman on her ass in front of him. But he doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t help her up. Doesn’t do anything. He simply glares at her.

“Ya know, the articles and news people have you all wrong,” the woman spits. “You’re not some gentleman or golden boy. You’re an asshole who likes to push girls around, aren’t you?”

Colt storms off, disappearing through the exit without bothering to listen to her bullshit lies while the rest of us are left reeling.

“Whoa,” Blake murmurs.

“Yeah.” I grab her waist and pull her against me, leaving as much room between the stunned girl and us as possible. “Whoa.”

25

ASHLYN

The mattress dips beside me, and I wake with a start. The room is painted in darkness other than the moonlight streaming in from the window, and it takes me a second to recognize the shadow beside me.

“Colt?”

“Hey,” he rasps. His wavy dark hair is a mess, and his tie is loose around his neck. “We need to talk.”

My mind is still foggy from sleep, but I sit up, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand. As it flickers on, I flinch at the harsh light and take in Colt’s morose expression.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Shoving his hair away from his face, Colt sighs while unbuttoning the top button on his dress shirt. His suit jacket is gone, leaving him in a white button-up shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and showcase his tan forearms. The same forearms that caught my attention at the stoplight when we first laid eyes on each other. The memory makes my heart ache as I reach out and grab his hand, desperate to erase the frown marking his features.

“Colt, what’s wrong?” I repeat.

As if I’m a lifeline, he squeezes my hand, his normally bright eyes polluted with worry and stress and…defeat. “Some stuff went down at SeaBird. A few paparazzi were around and took some photos.”

The paparazzi.

I freakinghatethe paparazzi.

Of course, they’re involved.

I should be used to this by now. It isn’t the first time they’ve twisted a story to earn clicks online. But I’m still annoyed. Still frustrated.

Attempting to keep my emotions in check, I question him again. “What happened?”

“A girl wouldn’t leave me alone. I kept walking away. Kepting telling her I was taken. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not gonna lie. I’d had a few drinks, and even now, I’m not entirely sure what happened, but…” He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

“But what? Colt, tell me what happened,” I push.

“I don’t even know. She, uh, she grabbed my arm, and when I wrenched it away, she fell and caused a scene, saying I pushed her.”

Understanding washes over me. I lean my head against the headboard and stare up at the ceiling. This is bad. This is very bad. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I thought you should know what happened in case there’s an article about it in the morning.”

Frustrated, I shove my messy hair away from my face. “I freaking hate the articles they write.”

“Me too.”

“Why does this always happen to you? Why do they target you? I’m not saying it’s your fault, but…Why?Ya know? Why can’t they leave us alone? The paparazzi, the girls.” My voice cracks. “Why can’t we catch a break?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot right now,” he admits, letting my hand go and bending over, cradling his head in his hands. Like he’s as drained as I am. And I hate it. Seeing him this way. The way it’s killing him. You’d think the limelight would be more fun, but in my limited experience, all I’ve seen is it sucking the life out of the man I love more than anything else in the world.

---