“I know! But that’s my point. If you deny a rumor, you look like a couple that’s, well, trying to hide a relationship, so that makes the paparazzi even more hungry for a picture. It’s like feeding a troll.”
Ahh. I suppose that does make sense. Hollywood sense. “Got it.”
“Which is why it’s better to ignore it or not comment on it till it dies down,” she adds.
“So what does all this Hollywood logic mean?”
“Well, Chris travels with his own security and he’s arriving in Darling Springs today.”
“Why is he here earlier than you?”
“It’s part of his process,” she says.
“Method actor?”
“I guess.” She pauses, a weighty beat that’s a sign she’s about to tell me something I might not like. “They’ve always been planning on getting me a bodyguard for the shoot. Because of the book’s success and all.”
“And yours,” I point out. “Don’t forget you were on a very successful streaming show.”
I can hear her smile, then turn serious again. “I’ve never had a bodyguard before, but Ruby Horizons is a very cautious company, and they take safety seriously. They think it’s a wise idea.”
“But again, that’s not bad news. That’s good news,” I say.
She sighs happily. “I’m so glad you said that because?—”
There’s a siren on her end, and I can’t hear the next thing she says as I near the market, which has a line outside the door. Good for Salma. I’m glad her place is becoming more popular.
“Sorry, Haven. I didn’t hear you,” I say as I slow near the bike racks.
“I said I’m so glad you said that because now they’ve decided they’re sending one for you too.”
I always thought it was just a saying—I stop in my tracks. I thought it was along the lines of anI did a double takeorI spat out my drink.
But I literally stop in my bike tracks like I’ve hit an invisible wall. “Why the hell are they sending a bodyguard for me?”
Then I catch my reflection in the window of The Slippery Dipper, next to the market, and have my answer. Except for theink flying down my right arm—visible in my white tank top—I’m the spitting image of the woman rumored to be dating a bona fide known-around-the-world movie star.
Still. I don’t want or need a goon following me around my hometown all day.
“Because we look alike,” Haven says apologetically.
“Right, but a bodyguard is a hundred percent unnecessary. I know literally everyone in Darling Springs. And they know me. No one here confuses me for you.”
“But there are so many new people coming to town. Tourists, the crew, the press, and so on. It’ll only be for the next few days, and then for the shoot itself. It’s a good idea, like you said. Mace can only do so much,” she says, all upbeat as she sells me something I definitely don’t want.
I have enough happening in my life and business right now—managing the farm, the employees, and the deliveries, not to mention the freaking location shoot at my homeandplace of business.
“It sounds like a terrible idea,” I correct her. “I live a normal life in a small town. I’m not a celebrity. I’m a farmer, for bee’s sake.”
But Haven’s already making the case. “This firm is great though. It’s run by a couple former Marines and?—”
I lose the rest when a pale, stocky man in jeans, a backward baseball cap, and a black T-shirt appears out of nowhere. He trots beside the bike, gets in my face, a camera around his neck.
Holy shit. Haven was right. These guys are good at staying hidden. I didn’t even see him coming.
“How’s Chris?” the man barks. “Is he here yet? Is everything good with him?”
What?
