On my way to submit to my fate. See you in five.
I glare at the phone.
Not because I’m mad at Cooper. Any other minute the past two months, I’d probably smile.
But right now, I’m mad.
He gets to be a goofball, send ridiculously funny messages that won’t be construed wrong because he’sCooper Rockand everyone knows that’s how he is, then dash off into the night and hang out with whoever he wants with no judgment, no worries about anything other than possibly local gossip. The worst he gets is the occasional mention on the news if he happens to hook up with someone like me, and in those cases, he comes off looking like a stud.
Whereas I’m stuck in a hotel room waiting for my security lead to sneak him in here and then sneak him back out without anyone seeing to avoid my reputation beingtarnishedby proximity to aplayerand to keep the tabloids from going crazy trying to make me feel bad for looking like a woman who wants to have a fling with a guy who could be a lot of fun.
“I’m done talking about this tonight,” I tell Aunt Zinnia. Iwantto ask her what she told Cooper, but I don’t want her to know I’m thinking about him. I don’t want her to know I’m talking to him. I don’t want her to know that I remember he exists. Not tonight.
Tonight, I’m too angry with her and too overwhelmed at finding out she’s been using underhanded methods to make me famous. “I’m going to bed.”
“That’s a good idea,” she says. “You haven’t gotten enough sleep lately, and Hiramys tells me you’re going through Pepto like it’s candy.”
I shouldn’t be irritated that she knows my stomach’s been acting up, but I am. “Night,” I say shortly.
“Love you,” she replies.
I hang up, feeling like a complete disaster. When’s the last time I took a vacation in a small country where I’m not recognized? Or even spent two days by myself somewhere?
Is that why I’m irritated with my aunt? Because I need a break?
Or did she really cross a line?
She’s probably right. Everyone uses the paparazzi for publicity. It’s annoying, but it can be mutually beneficial.
Until it gets out of hand.
“Let it go,” I mutter while I shake one hand out. With the other, I text Cooper back.
See you soon.
He texts back a gif of himself in his baseball uniform, flashing a grin and a thumbs-up.
“Why does he have to be so freaking handsome?” I grumble to Hashtag.
My cat yowls his response. I make a face and head across the room to the champagne and shrimp I had sent up from room service.
Not to impress Cooper while we talk, but because it sounded good an hour ago. Now, I’m shoving the half-eaten tray out the door so that I don’t have to look at it anymore.
“You want a charcuterie board instead, hon?” Hiramys asks me.
Naturally, my suite doesn’t open into a hallway.
It opens into the antechamber of the entire top floor of the hotel where half my security team and my personal assistant are waiting to be at my beck and call.
And when Hiramys sayscharcuterie board, I know she meansa lot of crackers with a little bit of cheese and bananas if you’re up for it, and a side of ginger ale since that’s your favorite when your stomach acts up.
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
She rises from behind the small desk where she was madly typing on her laptop and moves to the phone. “You got it, sweetie.”
I disappear back into my suite and settle on the couch. Hashtag crawls onto my lap and meows at me.
“Iamtaking it easy,” I tell him.
