“Excuse me.” I hear Cherilyn’s voice, but it’s not sweet like it was when she came to my table. She sounds like a stern schoolteacher. “Move it.”
I pull a fifty out of my wallet and hand it to her. I meet her eyes, and get a full view of the diner. It’s a madhouse. All the tables are full, the booths stuffed with people. And though some are pretending to look at menus, many are blatantly staring at me. Fear coils in my stomach. They don’t look particularly threatening, but I’ve seen how quickly crowds can go from passive to aggressive.
“I promise I did not tell a soul you were here,” Cherilyn says. “It was probably those teenage girls. They get on one of those social media sites and it’s like posting a billboard.”
And far more effective with far greater reach.
I smile tightly. “Do you have a back entrance?”
Cherilyn glances down a short hallway. “Past those bathrooms, but I honestly don’t think you should go that way. It’ll dump you out into a place that’s pretty secluded, and you’ll have to walk a ways to get to your car. Your best bet is to go through it.” She nods at the rest of the diner with her head. I look out again to assess the scene, and that’s when I hear it.
I can’t tell who, but someone says, “I bet it’s the old Stephens house by the river. Where else?”
I freeze. People know where I’m staying?Shit.
And then, by the grace of sweet Jesus, I see an angel in the crowd. He might as well have a halo. I raise a hand and shout, “Wyatt!”
Wyatt has just stepped into the diner and is looking around, bewildered, at the scene. He finds my waving hand in the crowd and I change the movement so that now I’m beckoning him. He comes forward, sidestepping tables. He looks a lot like Warner in his jeans and T-shirt with a ball cap, but he’s different too. I noticed it immediately when I met him earlier today that he has a restless energy.
Wyatt strides up to the booth and stands beside Cherilyn. “Ma’am.” He nods to her. “Tenley, what’s wrong?”
I tip my head slightly toward the rest of the room, giving him a silent answer.
He gets it. “Thought it looked a little busy. How can I help?”
“Maybe just walk me out of here? Be my bodyguard?” I laugh on the last part, trying to bring levity to the moment.
“You got it,” he says.
I get up from the booth and startle when Cherilyn pulls me into her generous, warm body for a hug. “Honey, I hug my friends, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re thick as thieves now.”
“I’ll be back,” I assure her. “Just maybe for takeout.”
Wyatt slings an arm around my shoulders, super casual like he’s a friend and we’re walking down the street. His posture is relaxed, but I get the feeling he could shift at a moment’s notice.
We’re almost to the front door when someone yells out, “Tenley, can I get a picture with you?”
I turn around. It’s a young girl, probably seventeen. She doesn’t look hopeful or sweet; she looks haughty and challenging.
I square my shoulders and look out at the sea of mostly young faces. “I appreciate you all coming out here to see me tonight.” I smile my famous smile, the one that makes people call me asweetheart. And I am mostly, but I’m also human.
“Just one selfie isn’t going to hurt,” the girl says again with a snotty look on her face. I remember what it was like to be her age, but I was damn sure never making public scenes like this girl. I left high school at fifteen and began homeschooling because I was working so much.
“Ella McFarland!” Cherilyn bellows, coming through the crowd. She levels a glare at the girl. “I am playing Bunco with your grandma tomorrow night and I will be telling her about you getting too big for your britches. You’ve been taught how to treat a guest in our town, so you should know better than to act like this.”
The girl shrinks. I turn away, hiding behind a curtain of hair, so she can’t see me smile.
Wyatt grabs a toothpick from the container on the counter and slides it between his lips. He tosses me a star mint and opens the door, waiting for me to step out first.
“Oh my gosh,” I exhale loudly and squeeze my eyes tight as soon as we’re on the sidewalk. It’s dark outside now and the streetlights have come on, casting a light and shadow pattern on the sidewalk every twenty feet. I look up at Wyatt. He’s using two fingers to roll the end of the toothpick that’s sticking out from his lips.
“Does that happen everywhere you go?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not in LA. People are so used to seeing industry people that they don’t bat an eye anymore. Depending on where I travel for filming, like a big city for instance, I take bodyguards. I’ve never had to show up before filming to learn about cattle ranching, and I didn’t think bodyguards were necessary.” I smile crookedly, and he chuckles.
“No? Weird.” Wyatt pulls his phone from his pocket like he’s checking it, then drops it back down.
I clap my hands once in front of my chest. “Okay, well, thank you for coming to my rescue. I’m just going to go home and—” I stop short, remembering the talk in the diner, them guessing where I’m staying.
