Read Online The Reverse of Perfection (Bad Decisions Book 2) by Christi Barth - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christi Barth
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Dylan. You owned that stage tonight. But you know what else? The whole time you were singing, you owned the hearts of every woman in that audience. When you started the keyboard solo in Not Over You , I thought panties were going to fly onto the stage. You’ve got the dominoes lined up. Now you’ve got to knock some down.”
More than once, reviewers had called 4X4 bubble-gum pop. Dylan felt like he’d had bubble-gum relationships while in the band. Thin. Hollow. Sweet for about five minutes and then tasteless. He’d been more than ready for a change. For something adult and meaningful. Now he finally had his dream girl in his sights. No way in hell did he intend to date anyone else as long as he had a real shot at Ariel.
“I changed my hair. My clothes. Posed for all those new publicity shots.” He jabbed a finger against his open palm to emphasize each point. “I’m toeing the line. But you can’t make me fuck every woman who smiles at me.”
“No, but I can make it look like you do. As long as you’re willing to show them some semblance of a good time. Make them feel special. At least give them their fifty dollars’ worth for tonight.”
“Always interesting to hear what other people think I’m worth.” An idea shoved aside a good chunk of Dylan’s anger. A way to make her stupid scheme work for him. “I’ll play along. Give them their money’s worth.” He crowded into her. Barely grazed her cheek with his lips to whisper in her ear, “Bet you’ll watch and wonder what I’d do for a hundred-dollar ticket.”
Then he left to set his plan in motion.
CHAPTER SIX
Ariel’s feet hurt. Since it was the wrong side of one a.m., exhaustion dragged at every cell in her body. She’d gotten up crazy early to put in a full workday before hopping on a plane with Dylan to Colorado. But neither of those things was her chief complaint. No, the biggest problem in her life right now was her fresh-off-the-assembly-line rock god. Now she knew how Frankenstein felt. Because she’d gone and created a monster.
Dylan had been the perfect date for the three raffle winners…while still somehow convincing every woman in the room that she had a shot with him, too. He’d been a flirting machine . And watching Dylan drape himself—enthusiastically—all over women all night long had driven her absolutely crazy.
Which was ridiculous. Infuriating. Maddening. Dylan told her repeatedly that he didn’t want to fake-flirt. That he wanted only her. She’d browbeaten him into doing this. It was totally her idea. And thus it was totally her fault that she’d been so miserable all night. Jealousy wasn’t any fun. Self-induced jealousy was even less fun.
So she didn’t just knock on the top-floor room of the Hotel Boulderado. No, Ariel poured all of her pent-up aggression into her fist pounding. And she kept it up far longer than would be considered either necessary or polite. To heck with anyone unlucky enough to be within earshot.
Dylan opened the door a crack. Just enough to poke his head out sideways. “What’s up?”
No apology for being late. No apology for dragging her out in the middle of the night to fetch him like a recalcitrant teenager once she’d realized he was missing. “Seriously? That’s your opener?”
A bare elbow came through the crack, too, as he stroked his chin in thought. “I’d normally go with how’s it hanging , but that feels imprecise and, well, wrong.”
“Dylan.” Ariel ground her teeth together. Took a deep breath. And tried like heck not to fly off the handle. “Why aren’t you on one of the Riptide tour buses? They were scheduled to leave ten minutes ago for Denver. I’m not your babysitter. I shouldn’t have to use Twitter to track you down.”
He opened the door a little wider and leaned his upper body against the doorjamb. His completely bare upper body. Yes, she’d seen it before. But that
More than once, reviewers had called 4X4 bubble-gum pop. Dylan felt like he’d had bubble-gum relationships while in the band. Thin. Hollow. Sweet for about five minutes and then tasteless. He’d been more than ready for a change. For something adult and meaningful. Now he finally had his dream girl in his sights. No way in hell did he intend to date anyone else as long as he had a real shot at Ariel.
“I changed my hair. My clothes. Posed for all those new publicity shots.” He jabbed a finger against his open palm to emphasize each point. “I’m toeing the line. But you can’t make me fuck every woman who smiles at me.”
“No, but I can make it look like you do. As long as you’re willing to show them some semblance of a good time. Make them feel special. At least give them their fifty dollars’ worth for tonight.”
“Always interesting to hear what other people think I’m worth.” An idea shoved aside a good chunk of Dylan’s anger. A way to make her stupid scheme work for him. “I’ll play along. Give them their money’s worth.” He crowded into her. Barely grazed her cheek with his lips to whisper in her ear, “Bet you’ll watch and wonder what I’d do for a hundred-dollar ticket.”
Then he left to set his plan in motion.
CHAPTER SIX
Ariel’s feet hurt. Since it was the wrong side of one a.m., exhaustion dragged at every cell in her body. She’d gotten up crazy early to put in a full workday before hopping on a plane with Dylan to Colorado. But neither of those things was her chief complaint. No, the biggest problem in her life right now was her fresh-off-the-assembly-line rock god. Now she knew how Frankenstein felt. Because she’d gone and created a monster.
Dylan had been the perfect date for the three raffle winners…while still somehow convincing every woman in the room that she had a shot with him, too. He’d been a flirting machine . And watching Dylan drape himself—enthusiastically—all over women all night long had driven her absolutely crazy.
Which was ridiculous. Infuriating. Maddening. Dylan told her repeatedly that he didn’t want to fake-flirt. That he wanted only her. She’d browbeaten him into doing this. It was totally her idea. And thus it was totally her fault that she’d been so miserable all night. Jealousy wasn’t any fun. Self-induced jealousy was even less fun.
So she didn’t just knock on the top-floor room of the Hotel Boulderado. No, Ariel poured all of her pent-up aggression into her fist pounding. And she kept it up far longer than would be considered either necessary or polite. To heck with anyone unlucky enough to be within earshot.
Dylan opened the door a crack. Just enough to poke his head out sideways. “What’s up?”
No apology for being late. No apology for dragging her out in the middle of the night to fetch him like a recalcitrant teenager once she’d realized he was missing. “Seriously? That’s your opener?”
A bare elbow came through the crack, too, as he stroked his chin in thought. “I’d normally go with how’s it hanging , but that feels imprecise and, well, wrong.”
“Dylan.” Ariel ground her teeth together. Took a deep breath. And tried like heck not to fly off the handle. “Why aren’t you on one of the Riptide tour buses? They were scheduled to leave ten minutes ago for Denver. I’m not your babysitter. I shouldn’t have to use Twitter to track you down.”
He opened the door a little wider and leaned his upper body against the doorjamb. His completely bare upper body. Yes, she’d seen it before. But that
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