It took two hours to finish getting ready, prep Chelsey when she arrived with her kids, and say goodbye to Gibson, who suddenly didn’t want us to leave and was sobbing as we walked out the door. Anna looked worried in the car, so when Chelsey called me and let me know that Gibson was fine and she was braiding her hair, I relayed the message to her.

“That’s good,” she murmured, not looking relieved.

“Something up?” I asked, putting my hand on her knee. The smooth skin made mine tingle. Maybe we should skip out on this and go find a hotel. Have a little private party of our own.

“I was just…” She hesitated, then turned to me in the backseat with her. “Why do you never talk to me like that?”

Since I’d been picturing her spread out on a sea of white sheets, I needed a little help connecting the dots. “Like what?”

“Like the way you did with Gibson. I mean, I can’t even remember the last time you told me you loved me. It might have only been that one time, before we got married…”

I tried to think through our past conversations, but I couldn’t remember either, so I quickly gave up. It didn’t matter anyway. It was just a word. “You know I don’t like being all plain and predictable. It’s overused anyway.”

She thought about that, then shrugged. “Yeah, I know, but it would be nice to know what I meant to you every once in a while. Sex is really the only time you’re vocal about what you like.” She grinned in a cocky, playful half smile.

I ran my hand higher, to her thigh. Maybe we could just do it back here. Wouldn’t be the first time. “There’s a lot to praise during sex, especially sex with you.”

Her smile turned full and wicked, then she frowned. “Well, it would be nice to hear some ‘praise’ during the off times too.”

Shifting my focus to the road, I considered my options. I spoke them while I thought. “Well, I’m not doing the I love you, you complete me crap like Kellan does. It’s nauseating. But…how about…whenever I say, ‘Baby, you’re the bee’s knees,’ you’ll know what I really mean.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Bee’s knees? Are you from the 1920s?”

Looking over at her, I wriggled my eyebrows. “Would you prefer something else? Tiger’s titties? Panda’s pussy? Beaver’s…beaver?”

Shaking her head, she laughed. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

Releasing her thigh, I grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “And you’re the gorilla’s grapes, sexy girl.”

By the time we got there, Anna seemed to be in a better mood, much more agreeable to the idea of spending the night out with me. Maybe I’d turned her on with my sweet speech. I should try that more often. They do say you catch more flies with honey. Or was it whiskey? Both were true, if you asked me.

The party was being held at a private residence of some guy in the industry who worked with everybody, so everybody showed up at his parties. From what Harold told me, several celebrities were going to be hanging around the shindig, and the more we mingled with them, the better.

Our driver stopped the car, then rushed around to Anna’s door and let us out. It made me smile that we were the only ones to arrive in a bright-ass yellow Hummer; I’d had my almost-tank driven down from Seattle. We could run over all these limos and sedans if we needed to.

I told the driver I’d text him when we were ready to leave, then I escorted Anna down a sidewalk covered with a red carpet. It was so Hollywood, I wanted to throw up a little, but I only rolled my eyes and cleaned the bottoms of my shoes as I walked. Hopefully I’d stepped in dog crap so I could add a little flavor to the cheesy roll of carpet.

When we got to the front door, a butler in a tuxedo was standing there. He had a tray of champagne in his hand, but as I reached to grab a couple, he pulled back and firmly stated, “Tickets, please.” Fuck…the tickets…They’d sent them in the mail, and Harold had warned me to grab them. They were printed on paper lined with gold foil…cheesier than the carpet. I had no idea where they were, probably in the garbage.

I was just about to tell the guy that Griffin Hancock didn’t need credentials to get into a party when Anna stuck her hand into her purse and pulled them out. She handed them to the butler with a charming smile that made me want to suck on her lip. He glanced down at them, then extended his tray of booze. “Help yourself, there’s more inside.”

I grabbed four, just because I could. As we were walking through the door, I handed Anna two of them. “Thanks, babe. I thought we were screwed. I’m glad you remember shit like that. I would lose my nutsack if it weren’t for you.”

Grabbing a fluted glass with each hand, Anna leaned up to kiss my cheek. “I know.” My girl didn’t meekly back away from a compliment when it was deserved. Yet another thing I dug about her.

Double-fisting it, we walked into the room packed with people. At least half of them I recognized from some TV show or movie. There were way more celebrities here than I’d anticipated, and I suddenly knew I was right where I belonged—with the stars.

Half a dozen drinks later, I was flying high and feeling no pain. Hollywood soirées were fucking awesome! Bring on the party! Cristal for everyone! Anna and I were dancing on the outside terrace, trying to get a picture of me grinding my ass against an actor from one of those crime shows, when Harold tapped me on the shoulder.