Once we arrived at the hotel, I walked Luna up to the room before doing a quick perimeter check. By that time, I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be dealing with any die-hard stalkers, but letting my guard down wasn’t an option.
I knew what that led to.
When I came back to the hotel room, Luna had kicked off her shoes and was sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop in front of her. Her eyes were wide rather than half asleep, and her cheeks had more color than they’d had in the truck.
“You okay?”
She turned her laptop to face me. It was an image on a social media post. Someone had posted a picture of me leading Luna through the crowd. I had her hand wrapped in mine, and both were pressed to my chest. The caption read:
When fantasy is anything but. #bookboyfriendbodyguard #forearmsfordays #abitofabeard #heisreal!
The event had ended barely an hour ago, and the post already had half a million shares.
I looked at Luna, who was watching me. “The internet thinks we’re dating.”
“Yeah, I caught that.” I ran a hand through my hair and sank down onto the side of the bed. “What do we do about it?”
She blew out a breath. “I’ll call my agent and see what she thinks. I’m sure my publisher will want to capitalize on the attention.”
“Capitalize? As in…”
“Keep the rumor train going, I guess.” Her face and neckwere flushed, but whether from exhaustion or something more interesting, I wasn’t sure.
Her cell started to ring on the nightstand, and she grabbed it. “Ah, that’s my agent, speak of the she-devil.”
She answered, and I stepped toward the door to give her some privacy. For just a moment, I looked back, catching myself wondering what it would be like to stop thinking of her as an assignment.
And that, more than any social media trend, was the problem.
Chapter Seven
Luna
“Girl, you slayed! From the videos I saw online, that crowd was feral,” Anastasia practically shouted through my phone.
“Yeah, well, my wrist may never recover. Do authors get workers’ comp for autograph-related injuries?”
She laughed. “Price of fame, babe. Now, let’s talk about the real headline, your bodyguard.”
I groaned and glanced at the hotel door to make sure it was shut. “Do we have to?”
“Do all the guys at Lone Star Security look like that? Because if so, I need to know where to submit my résumé.”
“They’re professionals, Ana. Their job isn’t to… look good.”
“Oh, so you do think he looks good.” Her tone was all smug satisfaction. “Perfect, because the internet agrees. He’s on every book influencer’s page, and it’s only been a few hours. #BookBoyfriendInTheFlesh istrending.”
I flopped onto the bed and groaned into a pillow. “It was a misunderstanding. There’s nothing between us.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m a virgin.” She scoffed.
“Ana!” I hissed.
“Relax! I’m not saying you have to actually sleep with the guy—though, if you did, I’d die happy and need all the details—but you might as well use the speculation. This is the best organic marketing you could ask for. Your cowboy bodyguard series will fly off the shelves.”
I glanced at the adjoining door. “What should I tell Hayes?”
“He already gives off the broody, mysterious vibe. The public is eating it up. He doesn’t need to change a thing. He’s basically a walking book ad.”
