Not this one, it seems.
I turn and offer him a polite smile. He’s doing his job, I get it. He probably has a wife and kids that he wants to put through college.
“Now I believe the hype over the coffee here, seeing you drinking it,” he says, looking between Zoey and I with an easy smile.
I glance down at the camera on a strap that’s slung over his arm. He makes no attempt to get it.
“It’s as good as they say it is,” I tell him.
“Listen.” He clears his throat. “I don’t want to disturb you any longer, but…”
I brace myself, waiting for it.
“… Can I have a quote?”
“Sure.” I brighten. “About the foundation?”
I’ve been getting questions about it since going public a couple of days ago, and it’s the one topic I’ll happily talk about for hours.
“Yeah.”
The reporter listens as I reel off some of the publicity spiel I prepared with the new publicist I’ve hired to help run it with me.
“Thanks,” he says, sounding genuinely grateful when I’ve finished. “No bodyguard anymore, then?” he adds casually as he hovers by our table.
“No. Not since…” I tip my head.
“Since Theodora Rielly was uncovered as the one leaving you anonymous threats.” He nods in understanding.
“That’s right.”
“Rumor has it Mr. Layne’s working for Jenessa Falcon in LA.”
I keep my lips pressed tightly together at the mention of LA’s latest sweetheart and Oscar winner. She’s twenty-nine and looks like a walking TikTok filter, one of the ones that makes you look stunningly, unrealistically hot. Only with her, she actually looks like that.Without makeup.
“Bet the guys over there won’t land a shot of her with him like this, though?” The reporter scrolls through the images on his camera and swivels the screen in my direction. Denver’s holding the door open for me, one hand resting on my lower back, his eyes on my face.
And I’m gazing up at him like he came up with the cure to end all childhood cancers.
“Thought I’d struck gold there.” The reporter chuckles and then clicks a button on the camera.Delete.
“Just a guy doing his job.” I offer him a polite smile before he leaves.
“Jenessa Falcon?” Zoey’s nose wrinkles in disgust.
But I know she’s only being a good friend. There’s nothing remotely concerning about Jenessa that’s ever been reported on. She’s Hollywood’s darling.
She’ll probably treat him better than I did.
But I still make a mental note not to watch her latest movie that just released. Every time I see her face now, I’ll be picturing Denver’s hand on her lower back, his eyes on her face as he opens the car door for her.
Her being the sole focus of his attention.
“I need another coffee,” I declare. “You want one?” I ask Zoey as I rise from my chair.
“Yeah.” She nods, her eyes softening with empathy as she stands with me. “But this time, I’ll get them.”
42
