Page 75 of #Moonstruck

I wondered what Ryan and I would do with all that time together. Fox didn’t really interact with us unless we stopped somewhere to get gas or grab something to eat. He pretty much stayed in his bunk.

Ryan and I played video games (where he got to experience repeated failure for the first time in his life), watched movies, and talked. A lot. About everything. Even though I kept telling myself we were from different worlds, we had more in common than we didn’t.

My favorite activity (besides kissing) was playing music. We wrote. We played all kinds of songs together. I’d never realized it was possible to connect with someone on so many levels.

When we finally arrived in Los Angeles, Vince took us directly to Ryan’s home. Ryan lived in an expensive, upscale gated community in Calabasas. As the bus driver unloaded our luggage, I realized it hadn’t occurred to me that I didn’t have anywhere to stay for the week we were here. For some reason I thought we’d stay on the bus, but that wasn’t a possibility, given that Vince was currently driving away.

I could have gone home, but there were four guys I didn’t know very well staying there. Fitz’s friend had invited some buddies to crash, which my brothers were fine with, but I didn’t feel comfortable staying there.

Angie would probably let me sleep on her couch. I tried texting her, but I didn’t get a response. I grumbled, frustrated.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked as we walked up the driveway to his ridiculous mansion.

“I just realized I didn’t make any arrangements for while we’re in LA. There’re strange guys at my house, and Angie’s not answering her phone.”

“Stay here.”

I desperately wanted to. My mouth even opened and started to say the wordyes.

Which probably meant it was a bad idea. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about what was going to happen between us. “I should go to a hotel.” I’d have to rent a car as well. Spending that kind of money wouldn’t make Fitz happy.

As if he understood my concern, he said, “Fox will be here, and so will my aunt Bibi. We will be well chaperoned, I promise. I have a lot of extra room in this house. You can choose whatever bedroom you want.”

“Okay.” The word came out involuntarily. I was only thinking of my brother. For Fitz’s financial peace of mind, I would stay at Ryan’s. To distract myself from the lie, I asked, “Your aunt Bibi?”

“My mother’s sister. She’s Diego’s mom. She took me in after my mom died and raised us together. Until my dad decided I should be a pop star. Now she handles my fan club and most of my social media.”

The front door opened, and a forty-something Hispanic woman with Diego’s features stepped out. She folded Ryan into a hug before he could even say hello. “Welcome home!” she exclaimed.

After she finished with her nephew, she turned her attention on me. “You must be Maisy.”

At first I was flattered, thinking Ryan must have talked about me, but if she was in charge of his social media, of course she would recognize me.

“Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand to her.

“We don’t shake hands in this house. We hug.” She pushed my arm aside and pulled me in tight. Her perfume reminded me of my mom’s, as did her embrace. It had been a long time since I’d had a motherly-type person hug me, and it was better than I remembered.

It made me want to cry.

“Much as I’d love to catch up, tonight is my book club. There is an enchilada casserole in the fridge. Give me a call if you need anything else.” Bibi kissed Ryan on the cheek and then headed out through the front door.

Leaving Ryan and me alone.

“I thought we were going to have chaperones.”

“In a sense. Bibi lives in the guesthouse, and Fox and the security team stay in the pool house. The bedrooms are upstairs. Come on.”

I finally got a good look at his place. The first thing that struck me was how much light there was. Everything felt bright and airy. The ceilings were high, the windows enormous. The walls were gleaming white with a dark-wood trim.

His home managed to be comfortable and cozy while still being big enough to host a Super Bowl. Not a Super Bowl viewing party, the actual game itself.

“So nobody sleeps in this house except you?” I clarified. Would he understand that I wasn’t ready to do anything beyond making out? Or that I was desperately afraid being alone together in his home might tempt me to change my mind? “This is not what I was led to believe about the sleeping situation.”

“I promise I can control myself,” Ryan said, dropping a brief kiss on my lips. “But just barely.”

Trying not to blush, I followed him into a frilly, feminine bedroom. I’d never considered myself to be a girlie girl, but there was something about the canopied bed, mauve pillows, and sparkly chandelier that spoke to my inner princess.

“I thought you might like this one.”

---