Starstruck - Book Two (2 page)

He flashed his famous smile and winked at me. He was
beginning to remind me of the Hudson I’d fallen hard for back in Iowa just one
week prior.

I blushed.

“Mr. Smith,” Flor said as she slid the door open. “I’m so
sorry to interrupt.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Ava Fox is here to see you,” she said. She bit her lip as
if the news was going to be terribly received. “She’s at the gate asking to
come in.”

Hudson sat up and his face twisted angrily. “Absolutely
not.”

“That’s what I thought,” Flor said. “I’ll tell her you’re
not home.”

“No need to lie,” he said. “Tell her she’s not welcome here.
Not anymore.”

Flor hesitated, and I could tell she didn’t want to say
those things. Not to Ava Fox. Ava was one of the most prominent and in demand
A-list actresses in Hollywood. I suspected no one ever told her “no”.

“I’m sorry,” Hudson said. “I don’t want you to get in the
middle of it. I’ll go handle it. Brynn, excuse me for a second.”

He followed Flor back inside and returned in less than two
minutes.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Some people just can’t take no
for an answer.”

I knew from reading the tabloids that Hudson Smith and Ava
Fox had a hot and heavy two year fling. Every other week the tabloids were
saying they were engaged or she was pregnant or they were breaking up or
something else sensational. It was good to know at least one of those headlines
were true.

I wanted to ask him what it was like dating someone like
Ava. She was gorgeous with her platinum blonde hair, smooth, tan skin, and ocean
blue eyes. Her legs were a mile long and her body was incredible. She starred
in mostly chick flicks, and on screen she seemed like a totally girl’s girl,
the kind of person I’d love to befriend in real life. She was known for her
infections laugh and her impeccable comedic timing. She seemed like such a
happy person, at least from the outside.

It was hard to swallow the fact that Hudson had gone from
dating someone like her to having any sort of interest in someone like me.

I glanced down into my lap at what Luke had always jokingly called
my “American thighs”. I was a healthy size six, small compared to most of the
people back home, but in L.A. I may as well have been on the heavier end of the
spectrum.

“What’s wrong?” Hudson asked, noting my silence.

“Nothing,” I said as I popped my head up and flashed a
smile. I didn’t want him to know I was feeling insecure all of a sudden.

“You have nothing to worry about with Ava and me,” he said.
“I swear to you.”

I smiled. I had a million questions, but I knew none of them
were any of my damn business.

“She’s crazy,” he said as his eyes grew big. “Complete and
utter crazy.”

I smiled and took a sip of lemonade. “I never would’ve
guessed that. She seems so sweet in her movies.”

“She’s got everyone fooled,” he snickered. “She had me
fooled for a long time.”

“I just can’t believe you’re going from someone like her to
someone like me,” I said.

He looked up at me and shook his head. “Brynn, you’re a
breath of fresh air compared to her. I love that you’re absolutely nothing like
her. That’s my favorite thing about you.”

He leaned over and kissed me, sealing his words with a
little bit more reassurance.

Our second night in L.A. began with Hudson treating me to a
fancy dinner at a local eatery. I tried to talk him out of it at first, as
fancy dinners have never been my thing, but he insisted. He said he wanted to
show me off and do something special to commemorate my first trip to L.A.

When I tried to tell him I didn’t have anything appropriate
to wear, he made a phone call and within a few hours, a dress, jewelry, and
high heels had arrived at his house. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

I’ll never forget opening that Saks Fifth Avenue box and
pulling out a slinky, black dress with just the right amount of shimmer. I’d
never worn red-bottomed shoes before, and I didn’t even know how to pronounce
the designer, but I knew they were a big deal. The diamond jewels around my
neck and dangling from my ears were, of course, on loan for the night, but they
made the outfit. I felt like a princess for the first time in my life.

I took my time getting ready and spritzed on a bit of my
perfume from home. It instantly comforted me. When Hudson emerged from the
shower and dressed up to the nines, I couldn’t help but get goose bumps.

Date nights with guys back home usually consisted of
streaming a movie online and curling up with some microwave popcorn in our
pajamas. Every once in a while we’d go to Des Moines and eat at a big-name
chain restaurant and go to the mall, but those trips were few and far between,
especially with the rising price of gas.

“I can’t wait to walk in there with you on my arm,” he said
as he leaned down and nibbled my ear. “And after dinner, I’ve got big plans for
us.”

My stomach did somersaults as his voice vibrated in my ear.
We had both been too jet lagged the night before to do anything beyond a
goodnight kiss, and I’d been dying to get my hands on him all day. Actually, I
was dying for him to put his hands all over me. I loved being taken by Hudson
Smith.

“Just a warning,” he said as we drove to the restaurant.
“There will be paparazzi here.”

“I thought people like you avoided paparazzi,” I said.

He laughed. “Pretty hard to avoid them in this town. Anyway,
the food is worth it. Trust me.”

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what I’d look like in
a tabloid magazine hanging on Hudson’s arm. Celebrities almost always looked
great, even when they were just coming or going from the gym. It had to be the
cameras, right? The angles? The lighting? Paparazzi were better off taking
flattering pictures they could sell, I assured myself.

“We’re here,” Hudson said a short while later as he pulled
into the valet of an Old Hollywood looking restaurant.

Just as he’d warned, there was a group of men and women with
cameras loitering up and down the sidewalk outside the restaurant.

“Hudson! Hudson!” I heard them yelling the second he stepped
out. “Is it true you and Ava are broken up for good? What happened? Can you
tell us what happened?”

I stepped out of the car reluctantly as he walked around and
extended his hand towards mine.

“Hudson! Who’s the new girl?” another paparazzo asked.
“What’s your name, girl?”

“Ignore them,” he said as he leaned down and whispered into
my ear. “Smile and keep walking.”

I thought I was doing great. I smiled. I ignored them. I did
my job as Hudson’s arm candy. I felt beautiful, truly beautiful, and everything
was going great. We were just a mere ten or fifteen feet from the entrance of
the restaurant.

And then I tripped.

The fancy, red-bottomed shoes were harder to walk in than I
ever could have imagined. Without any warning, my ankle rolled and I tumbled
down onto my knee, skinning it on the sidewalk below me.

“Brynn, oh, my God. Are you okay?” Hudson said as he rushed
down.

Flashes of light and camera clicks surrounded us. My tumble
from grace was had been officially documented.

He pulled me up and I brushed the tiny bits of sidewalk
gravel from my knees, inspecting the hem of my skirt for any tears.

“Are you okay?” Hudson asked again.

“Yeah,” I said with a flushed face. I brushed the hair from
my eyes and pulled my shoulders back. “Just extremely embarrassed.”

“The good thing is, no one knows who you are,” he said. “If
they knew your name, those pictures would be all over the internet by tomorrow
morning.”

“Are you sure they won’t sell them?” I asked once we were
finally safe inside the dark confines of the restaurant.

“Trust me,” he said. “They can’t sell pictures of someone no
one knows.”

“Not even if I’m with you?” I asked.

“Nah,” he said. “Just forget it happened. Let’s have a nice
dinner, okay?”

He leaned over and kissed my cheek before approaching the host.

“Yes, Mr. Smith,” the man said with a huge smile on his
face. “We’ve been expecting you. Right this way.”

Hudson grabbed my hand and led me to the back of the
restaurant to a cozy, circular booth in the corner.

Frank Sinatra music played lightly from the speakers above
us as little candles flickered in the middle of our table. The place was dark,
but I could see enough to appreciate Hudson’s dashing good looks from across
the way. His eyes sparkled against the candlelight, and I couldn’t help but
notice he couldn’t take them off of me.

“Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio used to eat here,” he said.
“At this very table.”

“Are you serious?” I asked. “Wow.”

Hudson ordered us a bottle of blush wine and some sort of
appetizer I’d never heard of before. I peered over the menu. Everything was so
fancy. Everything had pine nuts or capers or pesto or was something I’d heard
of but couldn’t pronounce.

I settled on a steak and house potatoes. It was the closest
thing to something I’d find back in Iowa. Hudson ordered roasted duck and
sautéed root vegetables.

“So what do you think?” he asked as I took my first bite of
my steak.

“Perfection,” I said once I finished chewing.

He smiled. “Great.”

I was enjoying our intimate little dinner in the corner, but
I could still feel eyes upon us. I tried to ignore it, but the voice in the
back of my head kept telling me that everyone was wondering why he was with
someone so ordinary like me.

“I feel like people are staring at us,” I whispered as we
were halfway through dinner.

“Get used to it,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “Welcome to
my world.”

“How do you get used to it?” I asked. Two days in and I was
already struggling with the loss of anonymity that came with being Hudson
Smith’s girl.

He shrugged as he continued to chew his food with his
gorgeous mouth. “You don’t really. You just learn to ignore it. Everyone wants
a reaction out of you. Just don’t give it to them.”

We finished our dinner with full bellies, and I had a
pleasant little buzz going on from the blush wine. I didn’t want to leave our
cozy little cocoon, but I knew we couldn’t stay there forever. Hudson had
plans. He had things he wanted to do to me that night, and I wasn’t going to
miss out on any of that.

“Get ready,” Hudson said the valet pulled his Range Rover up
and he opened the front door. The vultures were still there and in full force.

I lowered my eyes as the flashes nearly blinded me and we
ran to his car. They were still yelling things and taking pictures of us, but I
did what Hudson told me to and tuned them out.

He pulled out into the busy street and headed back to
Brentwood.

“Uh, oh,” he said.

“What?!” I asked. I felt around, fearing for a split second
that I’d left my purse back at the restaurant.

“I think we’re being followed,” he laughed. “This is going
to be fun. You buckled in?”

I nodded. Hudson clearly thought this was some sort of game,
but all I could think about were all the tabloid articles I’d seen about young
starlets getting into car accidents after being chased by paparazzi.

I gripped onto the side of the door as he gunned the gas
pedal. We went flying forward, weaving in and out of traffic.

“It’s that white Subaru,” he said. “They’re still on our
tail.”

“Hudson,” I said with a quiver in my voice. “Is this really
worth it?”

He said nothing as we continued to weave through traffic. I
squeezed my eyes tight as my stomach churned and I tried not to throw up.

“Ha! Caught at a red light, asshole!” he said with a
victorious tone. “And shit, he just blew through it. God damn it. I hate when
they do that.”

“Why are they so hell bent on chasing you?” I asked. “What
do you have that they want? Isn’t a picture of you driving pretty lame?”

He was quiet for a minute as his eyes checked the rear view.

“I think it’s you,” he said.

“What?” I asked. “But you said they couldn’t sell my
pictures because no one knows me.”

“Well, I’m guessing they want to know who you are,” he said.

“Why?” I asked, still confused.

“Because you’re gorgeous and you’re dating me,” he said as
his hands clenched the steering wheel and his eyes focused forward. “Hang on.”

He gunned it as we blew through a yellow light and took
three right turns. I glanced back every five seconds until the Subaru was long
out of sight. It must have gotten stuck behind turning traffic a few blocks
back.