Unfiltered by Payge Galvin & Lynne Jaymes

Author:Payge Galvin & Lynne Jaymes [Galvin, Payge & Jaymes, Lynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, musician, reality tv, new adult, romance contemporary, romance sexy
Publisher: Payge Galvin
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Dillon

“I don’t need someone to tell me what pants to put on,” I say as the stylist piles more jeans into my outstretched arms.

Jasmine looks around the stack of clothes in her hands. “Um, sweetie, I disagree. Your mom’s not here to dress you so I’ve been hired to take on the job.”

“My mom hasn’t dressed me since I was six,” I say before I can stop myself. That was the last time I lived with her in that trailer park outside of Yuma. But of course Jasmine doesn’t get my meaning.

“And it shows.”

“Suck it up, Varga,” Luke says from the other side of our shared dressing room. “Let Jasmine make us pretty.”

“That’s the spirit,” she says, tossing the rest on the chair in the corner. “And I want to see every outfit—none of this ‘it doesn’t fit’ crap until I say so.” She claps her hands like a tiny blond drill sergeant. “I’ll be out here waiting for my fashion show.”

I unbuckle my belt and wink at her. “Aw, you’re not staying?”

Jasmine just rolls her eyes and flips through the curtain that separates the dressing room from the rest of the store.

“Hardly the way for America’s Sweetheart to act,” Luke says. I’d get pissed at him, but he grins at me in that stupid way he has that makes it hard to stay mad.

“This half of America’s Sweethearts is getting pretty tired of this shit,” I say, yanking my old, worn jeans down and grabbing a pair of the fancy black ones that Jasmine left for me. After that embarrassing fashion show with Savannah in my hotel room that night I’ve wisely started wearing underwear, but I don’t miss Luke’s glance.

“Trouble in paradise?” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the large snake tattoo that curls over his brown skin.

“We’re not a couple,” I say, standing on one leg, trying to get the jeans on. They’re way too tight. “You know that.”

“Those photos in the tabloids say otherwise.”

I shake my head. Of course photos from some lurking paparazzi the other night at the club got into some cheap magazines and online blogs. What I didn’t want to admit is that I copied one of the two of us together and put it in my phone. I feel a pull in my chest whenever I look at it—Savannah’s eyes closed as our lips meet in that dark corner booth. Right before she put the brakes on everything. For one second, I thought it was all really going to happen, that Savannah wanted me like I want her. Have always wanted her. But as usual when it comes to all things Savannah, I was wrong.

“That was a mistake,” I say.

“How pissed was Rick?” Luke asks, buttoning up a shirt.

I can’t help smiling as I think about the executive producer’s reaction. “At first, really pissed. Probably more because we ditched his chaperones than anything. But once they figured out it was great for the show’s publicity, we haven’t heard another word about it.

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