Page 1 of Hollywood

PROLOGUE

JUNE

Hollywood

Tex’s legs pumped,dragging him forward under the weight of three kids as dusk rolled over the little park behind his apartment complex.

I stood under the branches of a silver maple, resting an arm on the tire swing suspended there. The six-pack of Budweiser I’d brought over—Tex’s favorite, not mine—sat by my feet.

We’d planned to meet up at seven, and it was a quarter after, but I didn’t mind waiting. It was a hell of a view.

Not the park. There wasn’t much to that. Just a small patch of land sprinkled with dead grass.

But Tex? He moved like the high school football star he’d once been, strong and powerful.

He hauled a four-foot boy under one arm, drawing out a screech of laughter. He had a football under the other arm, so ostensibly they were playing the game. An older kid of about ten hung off his right arm while a smaller boy clung to one leg.

Tex would have played college ball, he’d told me, but he’dtorn his ACL and lost his scholarship. He was in perfect shape now, though. He’d once picked me up in a bear hug and spun me in a circle. We were about the same size—plus or minus some muscle mass—meaning he was strong as fuck.

A shiver went through me just as his eyes cut my way. A big smile spread across his face. Did he see my attraction and appreciate it—or was he just happy the cold beer had arrived?

I never knew how to read Tex. He loved to tease me about my pretty face and how I must have driven the desperate inmates wild in Business Jail. He called it that because it was a low-security prison with a lot more amenities than the state penitentiary where he and the other Redemption Road guys served time. His teasing skirted awfully close to flirting, and his eyes lingered on me in a way that suggested my attraction wasn’t one-sided. And yet, there was an uneasiness in him if I tried to nudge that innuendo toward its natural conclusion. He was evasive—distant, even—if I got too close.

The tension between us was more and more difficult to ignore, though. Eventually, like a rubber band stretched too far, it would snap. When it did, would Tex finally kiss me the way I wanted—or would he punch me in the face?

Metal screeched as the back door of the apartment complex opened. A woman stepped out. Her hair was a bottled shade of red—too crimson to be natural—and she was likely hiding a good amount of gray under that dye, too.

“Boys!” she called. “Dinner!”

“Aw!” The oldest of the three broke away from Tex, jogging a couple of steps toward the building. “Ten more minutes?”

“You get three.”

“But—”

“Nah, listen to your mom,” Tex said, deep voice cutting through the complaint. “Go eat. It’s getting late.”

“Not that late,” the kid grumbled.

Tex tousled his hair. “Eat some extra veggies for me.”

“Ew!” the youngest one cried. “No veggies!”

Their laughter rang out as the boys ran inside.

Did Ruby like veggies? My daughter was over two years old now, and I didn’t even know her favorite foods. If Carrie had her way, I never would. I’d ruined my family before it even got started.

Tex came my way, eyebrow raised. “You going to give me one of those beers or you just practicing for your next modeling gig?”

I flipped him the bird. “Never should have told you about that.”

He laughed, reaching out to snag the six-pack. I took a step to the side, blocking him. “Nope. I don’t think you deserve it now, bringing up my misspent youth like that.”

I’d made the mistake of telling Tex that I’d posed in an Abercrombie & Fitch ad campaign when I was fifteen. It had been my mother’s idea. She’d been working with an executive connected to the company.

“It’s not like it’s surprising,” he said. “You’ve got the looks for it.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, I’m not just a pretty boy.”