Bad Reputation Read online

  “Not quite but similar enough, I guess,” Peyton said as the pool boy went to lay his net by the poolside. Her eyes followed him as he bent down, accentuating the perfect V of his back. God, so she was really checking out the pool boy. That was such a Hamptons cougar thing to do. But she couldn’t help it. He was wearing the hell out of a plain white tee and blue jeans and it had been a very long time since she’d seen someone this ridiculously hot in person. And she was kind of drunk.

  “So I take it this guy’s an asshole?”

  “Yep,” Peyton said, watching with amusement as he picked up a bottle of beer from under the adjacent chaise. She watched as he brought it to his grinning lips.

  “Tell me about him,” he said before taking a long drink. She snorted.

  “Why do you care?”

  His wide shoulders stretched the cotton of his shirt as he shrugged. “I’ve been working for Russell Cohan for five years and I’m curious about what kind of guy he’s willing to set Kensie up with. He lost his shit on me the one time I breathed in her direction so I’m thinking this guy might be some kind of saint if Russ is willing to let him near his daughter.”

  “Uh, no,” Peyton laughed. “Unless by saint you mean completely self-absorbed with no compassion for other human beings, then yes, he’s a total saint.”

  “Damn.”

  “Sorry if that sounded harsh.”

  He laughed. “You’re not sorry.”

  “No, not really.”

  The pool boy cringed. It was only then that Peyton felt slightly remorseful. Maybe she was coming off a little bitchier than she was comfortable with.

  “Well, to explain, it’s only because Kensie’s like my sister, so I don’t want her to… I mean I just know that this guy has the power to...” She trailed off trying to find a good way to explain, but she eventually gave up, giving a sigh and a shrug. The end of that sentence was going to be “hurt her really badly,” but Peyton didn’t want to get into Kensie’s emotional issues with a stranger. Especially since it still reminded her of the drama that had gone down last month. Twiddling her empty champagne flute, Peyton stared at her feet in Kensie’s espadrilles, recalling the morning she’d woken up to find Kensie’s bedroom empty, her top drawer cleaned out and the front door unlocked. She had frozen in panic for so damned long that Russell had nearly killed her for waiting a full half-hour to tell him that his daughter was gone.

  “You alright?”

  Peyton stirred from her thoughts. She blinked up, realizing her hand was pressed against her tightening chest. Shit. She snatched it away, embarrassed. “Yeah. Sorry, just went into my dark place,” she joked, cringing at herself since she was really hardly joking.

  “Thinking about Kensie puts you in a dark place?”

  “No, no – ”

  “Does she know you feel this way about her?” the pool boy asked. Suddenly, Peyton wanted to smack the stupid, sexy smirk off his face. But before she could say anything, he relented. “It’s alright, I get it. My brother drives me insane, too. He’s in his twenties and I still have to go crazy looking out for his dumb ass. He’s just so damned naïve about some things.”

  Peyton chewed her lip. “Kensie too.”

  “I assume she’s a little sheltered and spoiled on top of that.”

  “What? No. I mean she’s – ”

  “A pain in the ass.”

  Peyton opened her mouth, trying to think of a reply. Say something. Something besides ‘she’s my pain in the ass.’ But after three seconds of silence, it was obvious that the answer was “yes.” Damnit. Looking up, Peyton prepared to make some sort of save but her mouth snapped shut when she caught the pool boy shaking his head to himself, a strange sneer curling his lips.

  “Surprise, surprise,” he muttered.

  Peyton frowned. “Excuse me?” she asked, unsure of why she felt so suddenly and deeply offended. But before she could demand he explain, someone approached the gate surrounding the pool.

  “Oh, hi. Sorry.”

  Peyton looked over to see one of Russell’s assistants, Nina. She patted her pixie cut as she gave the pool boy a strange look.

  “Um, sorry to interrupt, sir,” she said, flustered as she gazed at him. “But Mr. Cohan has been looking for you.”

  Peyton squinted, confused as the pool boy blatantly finished his beer in front of Nina, far less apologetic than Peyton felt he should look for someone caught drinking on the job.

  “Sorry about that. Let him know I’ll be there in a second,” he said with nonchalance before taking his cap off and tossing it onto the chaise next to Peyton.

  It was then that her heart stopped.

  Frozen in her seat, Peyton felt her stomach go cold and twist in a knot. No way. You’re drunk, she told herself. But as soon as she convinced herself she was, Nina gave the pool boy a weird, nervous little curtsy before heading back to the house.

  “Of course, Mr. Schaffer,” she said. “I’ll let Russell know immediately.”

  4

  Liam laughed as he took a break from sanding the oak floors. “I mean you have a pretty long history of dick moves, but this one might take the cake,” he said, brushing dust powder from his T-shirt.

  Connor gave a lazy laugh as he sat in one of the old booths at the tavern, feet up on the adjacent table as Liam did all the renovation work. Liam didn’t mind. Since his Oscar win two years ago, he was coasting. He picked scripts from only the most award-winning writers and every once in awhile, he shot something silly for the easy paycheck. In the action ensemble flick Minutemen, he’d uttered five lines for a half a million dollars. A hundred grand per line of dialogue. It was no wonder that he’d spent a quarter-million dollars on Amanda’s monstrous, six-carat engagement ring. His career was finally stable. He had the money to do whatever he wanted.

  Also, he’d gone completely soft.

  Connor was sure of it. And he was sorry for Liam and his love-struck oatmeal brain, but he also figured that worse things could happen to their friendship. The two still saw each other and they had the tavern to remodel together, so there was that. Connor had lost his best wingman but then again, he’d never actually needed one.

  “Well, if this is my biggest dick move then I must be a nicer person than I ever gave myself credit for.”

  “You made a girl trash Connor Schaffer to Connor Schaffer.”

  “Doesn’t that make me the victim here?”

  Liam snorted. “It would if you didn’t tell her that you were the pool boy. And that you’d worked for Russell Cohan for five years. And that you had a little brother.”

  “Alright. Fair enough,” Connor laughed, chewing on a toothpick as he recalled the events of Russell Cohan’s barbecue a couple days ago.

  He’d arrived at the party an hour in and had promptly felt suffocated by the air of what Liam’s fiancée would call “pungent douchebaggery.” He wasn’t deeply fond of Amanda but if she was good for anything, it was her many variations of the word “douche.” That day, it came in handy because everyone at Russell’s party was dressed in white and trying to emulate the 1950’s Kennedys at Hyannisport. It made Connor want to roll his eyes out of his head, so after grabbing a beer from the bar, he opted to sneak off to the most secluded area of the party to call Liam. He’d been the one to convince Connor that Russell’s offer was a good opportunity, so it was time to ask him if he was really damned sure about that.

  But just as Connor was about to hit his speed dial, he heard his own name escape someone else’s mouth. The mouth of a girl whom he was sure he’d never met before. He didn’t recognize that rasp - that effortlessly sultry sound. What he did recognize, however, was that the girl was talking to Kensie Cohan. About him. In a not-so-kind way. So before he knew it, he was wearing some pool cap he’d found nearby and was fishing for information from his own trash talker – that hot, deeply unfriendly brunette who’d called him both a “sexist dick” and “shallow asshat” in just a matter of seconds.

  So in the end, everything he did
felt kind of justified. Plus, the poor girl’s moment of realization was too priceless. The way her jaw dropped when she finally recognized Connor gave him a rush of satisfaction so good it might as well have been sexual. Hell, it was completely sexual. One look at her parted pink lips and his dick had jumped, ready for action.

  “You know you’re still grinning, right?”

  Connor blinked up at his friend. “Yeah?”

  Liam smirked as he shook his head. “She was hot, wasn’t she?”

  “I said she was.”

  “And what about Kensie?”

  “She was hot too,” Connor replied as Amanda walked into the room. “She looked as good as she did in the pictures we Googled,” he added. “Together. You and me. The bikini ones.”

  Amanda snorted, handing Liam a bottle of water before lobbing Connor’s into the air. “Super jealous right now, Connor. Oh God. Can’t even handle it.”

  Liam laughed, wiping the sweat from his brow and leaning over to kiss the top of Amanda’s head. Connor looked at the ceiling. “Did he tell you what he did to Russell Cohan’s niece on Memorial Day?”

  Amanda cocked her eyebrows at Liam before cocking her head slowly at Connor. “No, he didn’t. What did he do?”

  Connor rolled his eyes as his friend relayed the story, letting Amanda “ooh” and “ahh” as she dusted off the sides of his jeans. Christ. Being around those two was like having parents who found asshole bachelor tendencies cute and amusing. They were such a massive buzzkill. “So?” Connor lifted an eyebrow when Liam finished the story. Amanda shrugged.

  “Well, if that’s how it went, I’d say the girl got what was coming to her for talking so much shit.”

  “There. Even your fiancée agrees with me.”

  “But ‘sexist dickhead’ is also a shockingly accurate description of you, so maybe it all evens out.”

  “Thanks for contributing to the conversation, Amanda. Always a pleasure.”

  “Well, some people happen to like sexist dickheads,” Amanda offered. “In fact, I Googled Kensie Cohan – ”

  “Of course you did.”

  “ – and she has a history of dating lots of those types. So maybe you two will become a thing.”

  “Maybe we’ll all go on double dates,” Connor said before pulling an imaginary noose above his head.

  “It could happen.” Liam eyed Connor’s phone with amusement. “Because your phone’s blowing up with Kensie Cohan texts right now.”

  Connor cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah?” That wasn’t actually the biggest surprise. His meeting with Kensie a few days ago had been dominated mostly by Russell, but for the few minutes that Russell stepped away, Kensie was positively doting. She showered Connor with compliments and giggled furiously at everything he said.

  “Just to put it out there, I think Cohan might murder you if you sleep with his daughter,” Liam said as he handed over Connor’s phone.

  “Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Connor said, recalling each time Kensie had hugged his arm to her chest or found some way to press her body up against him. Russell had watched her like a hawk that night but he hadn’t said a word to either her or Connor about the constant contact. At one point, he’d even mentioned to Connor that Kensie could use “his good influence” and that she had dated only “idiots until now.” Since Russell was drunk at that point, Connor decided to ignore the words “until now.” He had no idea what they meant and he was sure that he didn’t want to know.

  “If Russell approves of anything, it’s probably a relationship, not a one-night stand. So, you know. Should probably still refrain from sleeping with her,” Liam laughed as Connor opened up his text messages from Kensie.

  KENSIE: Hey Connor! If you’re back in the city tonight you should give me a call, my friend’s having a pool party on the roof of The Victorian Hotel. Bring a swimsuit if you’re interested!

  KENSIE: But no worries if you don’t have one

  KENSIE: We’ll just have to skinnydip ;)

  Connor felt his eyebrows ascend halfway to his hairline. “Oh boy,” he heard Amanda say.

  “Interested?” Liam asked.

  “Not really,” Connor replied truthfully.

  But then he remembered that pissy brunette who got him unexpectedly and uncomfortably hard at a Russell Cohan party. She was clearly someone close to Kensie, so there had to be a fair to decent chance that she’d be there too.

  “Funny, for a guy who’s ‘not really’ interested, you just typed ‘see you there,’” Liam said wryly. Connor smirked.

  “Guess I did,” he said, hitting send before flashing his friend a grin. “Gotta go,” he said, remorseless as he grabbed his phone and called a car to take him downtown.

  Yeah. “Oh boy” was probably right.

  5

  Hailey opened Peyton’s closet door for about the tenth time, staring in blankly the way she did with the refrigerator when they hung out in the kitchen.

  “Why aren’t we out doing something?” she eventually whined. “See. You do have cute clothes, liar. Look at this cool little mini-dress. All you have to do is belt it.”

  Peyton looked up at the Blackberry Smoke shirt in Hailey’s hands. “That’s a men’s T-shirt.”

  Hailey chucked it back into the closet. “Peyton! God, you wear dude clothes way too much. See, this is why you only attract those girly-looking guys when we’re out. It’s ‘cause they see menswear on you and subconsciously, they know that you’ll balance them out.”

  “I think I attract girly-looking guys when we’re out because those are the only kinds at the bars you bring me to,” Peyton laughed before tossing her Blick catalogue aside. “Hailey. Woman. I can’t even look through this peacefully when you’re staring at me like that.”

  “Because I’m bored! I want to go out! It’s the summer and I lost weight and I want to wear shorts and get hit on. I mean it’s Fleet Week, for God’s sake, there are like, a thousand hot Marines walking around the city right now, just waiting to flirt with you but you’re too busy looking at a paintbrush catalogue and, like… punishing yourself for the whole Blake and Kensie thing.”

  Peyton shot Hailey a look. “I’m not punishing myself for the Blake and Kensie thing,” she said firmly, nearly convincing herself.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I have somewhere to be tomorrow.”

  “What time?”

  Peyton considered lying but failed last minute. “One.”

  “Oh my God, you have plenty of time to sleep in if your thing is at one. There has to be another reason,” Hailey challenged. “What, are you still embarrassed about what happened with Connor Schaffer?”

  Peyton cringed. “Oh God.” She hugged herself. “I told you not to mention that again.”

  Eyes brightening, Hailey squealed with delight. “Aha! I found your weakness! Now you have to drink all your memories away! All those… humiliating, traumatizing memories of calling Connor Schaffer a ‘dickhead’ to his face and, and basically telling him that Kensie’s gonna fall in love with him, and – “

  “Hailey! Enough!” Peyton curled into a ball on her floor. It had been two whole days since her little incident with Connor at the Memorial Day barbecue and she still wasn’t over it. She still couldn’t believe that it had happened – that a grown man like Connor Schaffer had carried on with a stupid charade for so incredibly long, just to humiliate her. Sure, she’d said a couple of rude things about him but hey, she hadn’t flat-out lied like he did.

  And God, the way he’d smirked at her when she finally saw him without his cap. Peyton had spent the past forty-eight hours trying to push the memory back but once she was reminded, it replayed on loop in her head till she was actually freezing from her own shudders of embarrassment. His damned mouth. It had curled with a satisfaction so smug that Peyton’s heart began to pound. He had been so pleased with himself that he had to actually bite down on his lip and control his giant grin before heading off to meet Russell.

  “Whatever, girl. At l
east you got to talk to him at all. He’s hot as fuck,” Hailey grumbled, checking out her side view in Peyton’s hideous full-length mirror. Once Kensie’s, it was a custom-made monstrosity lined with hot pink feathers and black rhinestones. After a trip to Bolivia one year, Kensie had decided that flamingos were her spirit animal, so she had Russell commission some Brooklyn artist to make her a “classy flamingo mirror.” To no one’s surprise, Kensie eventually grew sick of the thing and wanted to remodel her room to look strictly sophisticated, so the flamingo mirror went to Peyton, whose room already housed a mismatched array of Kensie’s old furniture from her phases past. Peyton’s favorite piece was the Victorian dome chair that was purchased during Kensie’s Downton Abbey obsession. It made her feel like she lived in a weird furniture museum, or in the dwelling of some time traveler with terrible taste.

  “So, what’s the deal?” Hailey gazed at her reflection, unsuccessfully teasing her straight blonde hair. “Is Kensie’s skinny ass hooking up with Connor Schaffer tonight or what?”

  “No, she said she’s boyfriend-hunting at Mila Milani’s pool party.”

  “Oh God, Mila Milani parties are probably like, full of the craziest drunks ever. Isn’t she the one who got Kensie permanently banned from Uber and Airbnb in the same night?” Hailey asked.

  “No, that was Poppy Somerville,” Peyton said dryly, remembering the disaster that was Kensie’s twenty-third birthday. “She has a tendency to damage property after three martinis.”

  “Fine. But omigod!” Hailey gasped. “Didn’t Kensie meet Blake at a Mila Milani party?”

  Peyton looked up with exasperation. “Hailey, can we not talk about Blake?”

  Hailey rolled her head back. “What am I allowed to talk about then? We can’t talk about Connor, we can’t talk about Blake, we can’t get drunk ‘cause you’re afraid Kensie will need you. You keep saying you’re not punishing yourself for the thing that happened last month but I’m not sure if I believe you because all you’re doing is sitting here on a Thursday night with a freakin’ Blick catalogue and a glass of wine and it honestly makes me wonder if you did do something with Blake to feel this extra guilty about – ”