Page 3 of Chasing Christmas

"My world is faker than a can of spray tan," she mutters.

One dark brow rises, pulling the edges of my scar taut.

"You were injured in a stunt."

My face falls into a scowl. As far as the world knows, that's precisely what happened. That's the story we all told. We certainly didn't do it to protect Alastair McDonald, the director. His predatory ways were revealed long ago. He was one of the first to be tossed into a cell when women in Hollywood started speaking out. I popped a bottle of champagne that night. But Damen Montero and his little sister deserved protection. Had Marissya been my sister, I would have driven a truck through McDonald's fucking trailer too.

"Sorry." Laura grimaces. "I'm nosy. And nervous."

"I make you nervous."

"Yes," she admits, slipping her hands into her coat pockets to hide the way she fidgets with her fingers. "You're a legend. I've heard stories about you since I came to Hollywood. But no one told me that you're so…."

"Uncouth? Hideous?" The left corners of my lips turn up in a sardonic smile.

"Sexy," she blurts.

I throw my dark head back, a burst of rusty laughter escaping my lips.

"I don't appreciate being laughed at," she growls, scowling up at me.

I slowly tip my head down to look at her. "And I don't appreciate being played for a fool," I growl. "Whatever you want from me, you don't need to butter me up to get it."

"You think I'm lying to you to get my way?" She gapes at me, her plump lips parted in shock.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Indignation stiffens her spine. "You don't even know me."

"Like I said, most of you react the same."

Her face turns red with fury, her emerald eyes shooting sparks in my direction. She opens her mouth to issue a scathing retort and then bites it back before she can give it a voice. Something shifts through her eyes too quickly for me to read, but her expression falls. So do her shoulders. My little starlet deflates like a balloon.

Is she acting, or did I hurt her feelings?

When tears well in her eyes, I have my answer.

I rub one hand along my jaw and curse. "Are you crying?"

"No."

"You are, aren't you?"

Her withering glare confirms my suspicions. She is crying. And I'm an asshole.

She whirls around, giving me her back. I stare at her, not sure exactly how we ended up here. Or why she's here at all. Or how to fix it. But I'm all but positive that I fucked up.

"I don't know what's sadder, Kaiden," she finally says, speaking quietly. "The fact that you don't know how damn sexy you are, or that you've let this town reduce your sense of self-worth based on something that happenedto you. With or without that scar, you're still a legend. Anyone who treats you as anything less than that isn't worth your time."

"Don't pity me, Laura."

"Pity you? I'm mad at you," she sniffs, making me want to smile. "The Kaiden Huxley I heard so much about wouldn't give a damn what anyone thought about him. He certainly didn't when he was doing things everyone said couldn't be done."

"How do you know so much about me?"

She shrugs noncommittally. Interesting. Laura Groves is not like any starlet I've ever met. This one is…mine. Fuck, that's not what I meant. And yet, it'spreciselywhat I meant.

"What do you need my help with, princess?" I ask, my voice softer, gentler. It's still gruff and gritty, but there's nothing I can do about it.