“What do you say, Riley?” I ask, folding my arms.
Derek frowns at me before turning to his bodyguard. “I’ll be fine, Hunter. Look after Janie and Chuck, and I’ll meet you back at the hotel. Promise.”
Hunter doesn’t seem fully convinced, but he takes the command with a nod and puts a hand on Janie’s shoulder. Janie looks even less inclined to do what she’s told, frowning in Derek’s direction and giving him a look that I can only describe as pleading, like she’s terrified for his safety. I’m still not sure what she is to him, but Derek certainly has the loyalty of his people.
Surprising.
“Let’s break some legs!” Chuck says and thrusts his fist into the air in what I think is an effort to pump himself up. Whatever works, I guess.
“I’m assuming he means ‘break a leg’?” Derek mutters as the three of them rush through the back door, sparking excited shouts of at least half a dozen people who must have been waiting outside. “I like his enthusiasm.”
Let’s hope that enthusiasm serves him well and I didn’t just push him into a terrible situation. “You’ll be paying for his enthusiasm,” I remind him, stepping behind the counter and waking up Chuck’s computer. “I’m guessing he would have made a couple thousand dollars if you hadn’t prematurely closed his store.” I’m highballing like crazy, but I figure this will turn into a negotiation, so I need to start strong. Chuck certainly won’t be reminding Derek about his promise to cover lost sales. “So five grand should do the trick.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to laugh, but Derek barely looks at me as he joins me, examining the poorly organized space. “I’ll send him ten,” he says, distracted by a little clay frog that I’m pretty sure Chuck made himself during the slow season.
I lift an eyebrow, debating the impertinent question on the tip of my tongue. I know what he means, but I’m curious how he’ll react if I say, “Dollars?”
Derek’s whole body tenses up before he looks at me, and the almost hurt expression he gives me makes me feel…slimy. “Thousand,” he says gruffly. Like I’m crazy for thinking he would give any less.
If I knew how to ring up an item for ten grand, I would do it right now and make him prove it. That won’t stop me from trying. “Sure,” I mutter as I type in Chuck’s password. “Ten thousand dollars for a few minutes of hiding.”
“He’s doing a lot more for me than that, Donovan.” He looks at the computer as the storefront software loads, and frowns. “Do you work here?”
Me? Cooped up in a building all day long? “Ha! No.”
“So you and Chuck are…”
I wait to see if he’ll finish that sentence, and when he doesn’t, I shake my head. “Friends, Riley. Believe it or not, men and women can be friends without forcing romance into it.” Chuck’s an incredibly sweet guy and has asked me out a few times, but I don’t trust myself with men, no matter how good they seem.
So far, it hasn’t worked out well for me.
“I know that,” Derek says. Again, he says it like it’s crazy for me to believe otherwise. “Two of my best friends are women.”
“You also dated one of them,” I mumble before I can remember to keep that little tidbit of knowledge to myself. No, I don’t like celebrity gossip, and I couldn’t care less about the lives of movie stars and musicians. But this isDerek Riley. I can’t step into McDonalds without one of his movie trailers popping up on the lobby TV or buy some groceries without seeing his face on a magazine in the checkout line. This guy is everywhere, and it drives me nuts.
Silence stretches between us for longer than I’d like, but I refuse to turn and meet Derek’s gaze. He’s either wondering if I’m secretly a fan or trying to decide how best to get himself out of this situation.
Apparently it’s the second option because he clears his throat and says, “I don’t have a card on me, but I’ll make sure Janie sends him the money as soon as she can.” He grabs a pad of sticky notes and a pen and starts writing something.
I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Ah, the classic ‘forgot my wallet’ dodge. I thought men only used that on bad dates.”
“You’re dating the wrong kind of men,” he mutters. Finished writing, he pulls the note from the pad and sticks it front and center on Chuck’s computer screen. It’s a phone number with the name Janie Young written beneath, along with Derek’s flashy signature.
He left Chuck an autograph. Chuck’s going to die when he sees it. Then he’ll either die again when he gets a ten-thousand-dollar tip or he’ll lose his faith in his apparent hero when he ends up with nothing for his trouble.
Honestly, I’m not sure which way things will go. Derek is harder to read than I thought he would be, and I’m usually pretty good at figuring people out. Then again, this man’s one of the best actors out there right now, so there’s a good chance nothing I’ve seen so far is indicative of the real Derek Riley.
“We should go.” I grab the key from the drawer under the register and head for the front door. If we wait too long, someone will figure out they’re not following Derek across town and come back to check the store again. I peek beneath the sleeve of the t-shirt taped to the top half of the door, checking for any straggling fans.
Chuck must have made a convincing body double; it looks like the coast is clear.
Right as I start turning the lock, Derek puts his hand over mine to stop me. “Are you sure this will work?” he asks. His soft words brush the hair by my ear and spur an involuntary shiver as I get a deep breath of his clean scent.
Instead of asking how much he paid for the tantalizing cologne he’s wearing, I spin to face him and give him my best deadpan expression. “Trust me or don’t, Riley, but I’m leaving this closet. It’s your choice if you come with me.” Pushing him back with a hand on his firm chest, I twist the lock and pull the door open.
I half expect him to stay behind, but he follows me out, head down and shoulders hunched as he waits for me to lock the door behind him. I’m actually impressed by how little he looks like himself as we start walking down a side street toward his hotel, but that only lasts as long as it takes him to reach full speed, which is far from the average walking pace. And he keeps his head low and his body stiff, so while I scramble to keep up with him, he looks like he’s in a desperate search for a toilet.
I hurry forward until I’m at his side. “Dude, relax. You look super sketch right now, and that’s only going to draw attention.”
