Taming Hollywood's Baddest Boy - Max Monroe Page 0,32
with luck. Scratch-off lotto tickets, video poker, penny stocks—when it came to any and all gambling, she claimed you gotta be in it to win it.
In the end, though, the joke was on me.
On her deathbed, two breaths away from meeting Jesus, Granny let Birdie and me know the truth—all that gambling had led to something great. She’d won the lotto fifteen years earlier.
And I have to believe that, right now, out here in the wilderness fighting for my livelihood, Granny’s up above, telling me to keep rolling the dice.
You’ve gotta be in it to win it, and if I’m gonna win Luca Weaver, being in “it” means being in the wilderness, proving to myself, moment after moment, what I’m capable of.
C’mon, Billie. You can do this.
If I once found a way to get a snooty famous actress frozen yogurt in a Montana blizzard, surely, I can build a darn tent…
Luca
It’s nothing unique to have a dick and act like one too. But in the midst of suffering through this hike with a furry-boot-wearing, same-tune-humming, Hollywood fucking princess, there’s no reason to rebuild the wheel.
The happy-fucking-humming Billie I started out the day with is long gone, and all that’s left is a woman who doesn’t want to admit she doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing.
She groans for the hundredth time and tosses a pole to the ground, an all-out war over there by the neon-pink tent. I’ve watched her fight with that thing for the last hour, twisting and contorting her body into the weirdest positions as she struggles to follow the instructions.
I shake my head.
Tents aren’t rocket science, but right now, you’d think Billie is in the midst of developing the next high-tech space shuttle for Mars.
“For the love of God,” I say and stand to my feet. “I can’t take this anymore.”
In four long strides, I’m at her side and pulling the instructions and poles from her hands.
“Hey!” she shouts. “I can build my own tent! I don’t need your help!”
Her jaw is firm, her big green eyes narrowed in self-righteous indignation, and I have to bite my lip to fight my smile.
Stubborn fucking woman.
“Give that back,” she snaps and stomps one furry, garbage-bag-covered boot on the ground.
If I didn’t hate her so damn much, she might actually be adorable.
“Relax,” I respond, sliding the first pole into the flap. “I’m sure, if you had another twenty-four hours, you’d be able to get it done, princess, but we’re losing daylight.”
“It wouldn’t have taken me twenty-four hours, you jerk,” she huffs.
I lift a skeptical brow at her, and she flips me the bird.
“God, you’re annoying.”
“Annoying enough that you’re willing to admit this trip was a bad idea and you want to go back?”
She snorts at that. “Nice try, bucko. I’m here to stay, even if you’re a big enough dick that no one would dare send your ego any of those male-enhancement spam emails.”
It’s my turn to sigh.
How am I going to survive the rest of this trip with this woman prancing her way through slowing me down?
“Okay, fine.” She huffs again. “I will let you finish building my tent—”
I snort audibly, but she ignores it.
“But I refuse to just sit around and twiddle my thumbs while you act all caveman. So, what can I do?”
“You can go home,” I mutter, eyes focused on building my second tent of the day. The neon color is so bright, it’s nearly blinding. If it weren’t for Billie’s incessant babbling, it would probably make me pass out or seize or something. Kind of like an epileptic in a warehouse full of strobe lights.
“Be serious, Luca.”
“I am. Dead fucking serious.”
She ignores my words entirely and puts a hand to her hip. “What can I do? Whether you like it or not, we’re a team on this hiking trip, and I want to do my part.”
A team.
Jesus Christ.
This woman in the jean shorts and furry hiking boots and pink tent wants to do her part.
She barely finished the nine-mile hike, legs shaking and knees wobbling, can’t build a tent with the instructions in her hand, and yet, she thinks there’s something else she can help with?
Fine. She wants to help. I’ll let her help.
“We need a fire.”
She looks at me and then over her shoulder toward where I gathered kindling and logs and dug out a temporary pit in the center of camp.
Her nose crinkles up in confusion. “I need to light the fire?”