Wild Zone (Rough Riders Hockey 4)

“I knew having the two of you together on the set would be like herding cats.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Dad.” Jax lifted his hands in innocence. For as much as Jax had worked with the man over the years and as good as the man had been to him, Russ had probably been more of a dad to Jax than his own father—who’d been too busy making movies and having affairs around the world to participate in his family. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Russ had always been a phone call away. He’d given Jax some of the best advice of his life. Russ’s mention had gotten Jax some of the biggest roles of his career. He’d been at every one of Jax’s award events, even if none of Russ’s own films had been nominated. Russ had been to the emergency room with Jax at least half a dozen times. Not one member of his family had ever been around to take Jax to the hospital. Even as a kid, the nanny had been the one to take him.

“Son,” Russ played along with the role, wiping sweat from his face with his forearm. “Go get your brother. I’ve got enough trouble with these damn cameras.”

“He’s such a pain in the ass,” Jax called as he turned the direction Ty had gone. “Why’d you and Mom have him when you already had perfection in me?”

Russ’s laughter followed Jax as he cantered into the trees. It didn’t take Jax long to find Ty. He just followed the high-pitched female squeals. Ty had ridden over to the fence line and was off his horse, signing autographs. Jax pulled up, still within the trees. He didn’t need to get any closer to that screeching than necessary.

Pulling his cell from the saddle, Jax checked for a text from Lexi first—nothing—then texted Ty.

JAX: Your fifteen minutes of fame are over, kid. Grab the phone numbers you really want and get your ass back to the set or Dad’s going to ground you.

Jax looked up from his phone, wondering why Lexi hadn’t texted him back. Then wondered why he cared. He’d gotten a killer blowjob out of the deal. She was the one shortchanged if she wouldn’t see him again.

But uncharacteristic doubts slid in. Had he been a disappointment? Not what she’d expected? Not rough enough? Not crude enough? Should he just have fucked her? Or maybe she’d been expecting more romance. Something slower, sweeter.

His phone chimed.

TY: Come out here. See if anyone remembers you.

JAX: Tainted cross section of the population. You’ve already told them I’m here. I don’t need an ego boost.

TY: I haven’t. I’ll prove it. Then you come out here and prove to yourself that chick is lying about not knowing who you are.

“I have a friend with me today,” Ty yelled to the crowd, “who I think will make the ladies happy.”

The women erupted in screams and cheers again. Despite Jax’s denial about the need for an ego boost, warmth and excitement spurted into his chest the way it used to at the sound of applause. That love of recognition sure as hell died hard. Especially since he’d lived with it his entire life—acting before he could walk. Theater until his late teens, when he’d transitioned to film. Just like Ty.

“Fucking idiot,” Jax muttered.

“But he thinks,” Ty yelled over the crowd, and they quieted to hear him, “I’ve told you who he is. So if anyone knows who’s here with me today, I want you to yell out his name.”

The names of a few of Ty’s costars floated out of the audience, but not Jax’s.

“Come on, ladies. I’m upping the ante. I will kiss any woman”—screams of excitement interrupted Ty—“on the mouth, with tongue”—more screaming, cheering, women jumping up and down— “who can tell me who’s hiding in those trees over there.”

When no one guessed correctly, he offered to have dinner with the woman who gave the right answer. When he had dozens, maybe hundreds, of women frothing at the mouth, Ty offered to sleep with the woman who knew.

“For God’s sake.” Jax rubbed sweat off his face and texted Ty.

JAX: You made your point. Get your ass back to the set now.

“Dude!” Ty yelled toward the trees. “Your fans await.”

Jax sighed, frustrated as his tired legs tried to control the antsy Friesian. “Guess it’s time for the kid to learn just how fast those fans forget you once you’ve left the box office,” he said to the stallion. “Let’s do this, buddy.”

Jax released the pressure of his legs on the horse’s sides, easing him into a canter toward the fence line.

His last big film had been over three years ago,

and Jax steeled himself to the disappointment of being unrecognized. He told himself he was simply acting. Just running a scene.

When he broke the tree line, riding into the open, the sun blinded him. Before his eyes adjusted, his name filled the air in a chorus of shrill screams.

“Oh my God, it’s Bentley Chamberlin! Bentley! Over here, Bentley!”