Taming Hollywood's Baddest Boy - Max Monroe Page 0,34
while Bailey chews on a stick he found from the forest.
Billie walks around in circles, phone held in her hand, and Bailey stops what he’s doing to watch her stomp her big boots around our campfire.
There’s nothing for me to stop doing, but I have to admit, I watch her too. Her hair flips and flutters in the breeze, and she bites into the flesh of her bottom lip as she concentrates.
She sighs, lifts her phone higher, and stomps some more.
Bailey watches her for a moment longer, but eventually grows bored and moves his attention back to the half-chewed stick between his big paws. I wish I could say I do the same, but despite how outrageously dramatic she’s being, I can’t seem to take my eyes off her.
Shit, I need to find something to keep me busy.
Billie groans. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some freaking cell service out here!” Her eyes move to me. “I haven’t had any since I got within an hour of your house, which means I haven’t been able to update anyone! Oh god, my sister is going to kill me if I don’t let her know what’s going on!” Her eyes go wide, and her mouth keeps moving. “And my boss isn’t going to be happy if I’m not keeping track of emails and shit!”
Eventually, she finishes her long-winded ramble long enough to shoot a ridiculous fucking question my way, “Do you have cell service?”
I want to laugh. “Wouldn’t know. Didn’t bring one with me.”
Her big green eyes grow wider, like a child who just found out Santa Claus isn’t real. “You didn’t bring a phone with you?”
I shake my head and toss another log on the fire.
“How in the hell are you planning on calling someone if there’s an emergency?”
“I’m not,” I reply. “Only way you’re making a call out here is with a satellite phone. And, no, before you ask, I don’t have mine with me.”
“I’m sorry…what?” she asks and puts her hand to one defiant hip. “Are you telling me I’m not going to be able to get any kind of service on this trip?”
“Pretty much.” I mean, Lou definitely has a sat phone at his place, but I’m praying, at some point in the very near future, she’s going to choose to bail out of this trip. No need to incentivize her to keep going.
“No cell service? No Wi-Fi? No hotspot? No nothing?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say nothing,” I respond with a little smirk. “I mean, we have this great fire and your pink tent.” I nod toward my dog. “And Bailey seems pretty content with that stick he found.”
“How in the hell am I supposed to let my sister know I’m okay? How am I supposed to check in with my boss?”
I shrug. “Telepathy? Or…and this is a new one…you could go home.”
“Funny ha-ha,” she snipes. “You don’t understand, I need to get some kind of service to check in with people back home.”
“Sorry to tell you, princess, but if you’re planning on sticking with this trip, you might as well toss that phone of yours into the fire. Kindling is about the only thing you can use it for now.”
“Ugh!” she groans and tosses both hands in the air. “And for the love of everything, stop calling me princess!”
I smirk. I guess it’s time to start using “princess” more.
“Is now the time for me to say ‘I told you so’? Because I’d really, really like to. It would give me great pleasure.”
Her glare could cut glass, and a laugh bubbles up from my lungs. She doesn’t appreciate it. “You didn’t tell me there wouldn’t be service.”
I nod. “You’re right. What do you think? Should I have told you when I was telling you that you weren’t invited on this trip or when you weren’t listening?”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“Beauty is only skin-deep, but ugly goes straight to the bone.”
I can’t not laugh at that. “You think I’m ugly?”
“I think your cocky, snide, jerk attitude is ugly right now.”
I smirk at the attraction she’s given away. “But I’m not ugly?”
“Oh, get over yourself,” she snaps back. “Like I’m going to sit here and give you compliments.”
“But isn’t that what you should be doing?” I ask. “Shouldn’t you be giving me compliments? Buttering me up so I agree to meet your producer about this big, lucrative movie opportunity you keep talking about?”
“I’m smart enough to know buttering up doesn’t work for someone like you,” she retorts with a quirk of her