Page 22 of Paint the Town, Dove
“He’s a dick, obviously, but he gets the job done. I mean, you have to be cutthroat in this industry to make it, right?”
A second later she was applying red lipstick, the shade she always wore to events. I couldn’t help but watch, my gaze travelling to where she rolled it over her plump lips. I saw them moving, she was talking to me for sure. But her mouth looked like ripe berries. I couldn’t look away for shit.
“… So I said screw it, why not.”
I swallowed hard, shaking out of my head. The tap of the sink was still running. My mouth was dry.Get a fucking grip, man.
I cut the water and leaned against the counter, forcing a grin. “Why not what?”
“Are you drunk already?” She scoffed but she wasn’t mad. I know a mad dove when I see one, and so far I was in the clear.
“Why not what?” I repeated.
“Abe asked me to go to the V.I.P lounge with him tonight. Unlimited bottles, steam rooms, dancers –”
“I know what the lounge is, Scar, we all have access.” I wished I’d never asked.
Her hands flew up innocently. “Untwist those panties, Ry. I was just saying.”
“I’m commando.” I wasn’t, but she set me up for that one.
“Huh, in that case…” She took a sensual step forward, gave methoseeyes. “Lemme see.”
Fuck.
I nudged her on the shoulder, toeing carefully between our friendship and whatever circled beneath. There were feelings, I couldn’t deny that. But I’d supressed them for so long I couldn’t differentiate my love from mylike.
I fucking adored our banter. I fucking adoredus.
Even if it tortured me sometimes.
She smirked and returned to the mirror, running slender fingers over her silky black dress. “Are you bringing anyone?”
Well I’ll be damned, did we ever look like a staple Hollywood couple. Only we were still posted in South Carolina andnota pair.Unfortunately for me.
I wore a silver lined Valentino suit, all black from head totoe, while Scar matched me in the details.
My gaze trickled down her curvy physique once more; I couldn’t fucking help it. Thankfully I only had a couple drinks in me, otherwise I’d be vocal as hell about the fact I didn’t want her going to the V.I.P lounge with Abe Turner, that shithead.
“I was going to bring you.” I admitted, tearing my eyes away from her reflection. “Turner beat me to it.”
I wasn’t optionless. I definitely had the contacts, and a few flings of mine would’ve accompanied me in a heartbeat had I asked. But Yas was going to be there, and the only fucking person I trusted to calm my nerves was Scarlett.
“We’ll be in the same place, Ryden, it’s not like I won’t see you. I’m your manager.”
Manager. Manager. Manager. “When you talk like this, I sometimes forget you’ve been more for eighteen years.”
Her lips pressed into a fine line. “It’s still my title.”
“By industry standards,” I curled a lock of her hair around my finger, “not by mine.”
She peered up at me, doe-eyed and curious. “What would you call me then, Ry?”
Best friend. Soulmate. Anchor.
“Dove,” I whispered, placing a featherlight hand on her cheek. “But you already knew that.”
She swallowed, shutting her eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
