“Because I want to see her,” she says, like it’s obvious. Still, she adds, “She’s probably coming to see me and Grandma before she checks into her hotel.”
Oh. Right. “Of course,” I say, then turn the keys in the ignition.
Why was I ever arguing with her over seeing her sister? Maybe because her sister’s arrival is the reminder that I need to stay focused onwhyI was hired. Because paparazzi are in town. More have probably descended already. No doubt other photogs have figured out that the shot of the pretty blond dismounting a bicycle from two days ago was the twin, even thoughPage Sixdidn’t care. That means more are likely swarming the town. All with the same goal—to catch the big fish: a photo of Chris Carlisle and Haven. Which is whyI’mhere—to personally protect the woman who looks just like the rising star.
I can’t do that if I’m trying to tie her up and drive her to the edge of pleasure.
“Ripley,” I say, shoving my desire to the side. There’s no room for it. “That was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have done that.”
For a hot second, her eyes flash with something like hurt. Butmaybe I’m imagining it because a moment later, it’s gone. “Agreed,” she says, clipped.
I should drive to the farm. Deal with work. Greet the crew. But I failed that first night with Ripley, running off with barely a word.I could have gone to her hotel room. Said something then, like she pointed out in her kitchen the other day.
I can’t redo the night we met, but Icangive her the full truth now. She deserves it. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I say, a little desperate. “It’ll compromise my ability to do my job.”
Her lips are a ruler, but she nods. “Sure.”
Is that a doubtfulsureor a genuine one? “I need to protect you,” I add. “I can’t do that if I’m distracted.”
“And I’m a distraction?”
“Yes. A huge one,” I say.
She draws a sharp breath, nodding a few times. “I need to focus on the movie—it’s a big break for my sister. And it’s a huge opportunity for the farm. If it goes well, I can send my grandma to Paris to see her boyfriend. She deserves it. She’ll miss the bees, but I can take care of them.”
My heart warms, hearing her plans. Of course they involve others, even bees. “Lila definitely deserves it.”
“So, it’s fine,” she says, raising her chin, being all tough-girl.
“Good. Then, it won’t happen a second time,” I say, hating those words but needing to say them. Especially since I’m wrong. “A third time,” I correct.
She smiles mirthlessly, then it fades. “It definitely won’t,” she says as I start the truck.
“We were just getting it out of our systems.”
“Exactly,” she echoes as I drive toward the lavender fields, the golden glow of the late-afternoon sun making them shimmer.
“And it’s in the past,” I add, hammering home the point. “We won’t do it again.”
“We definitely won’t,” she says as we reach the farm.
Maybe because I need a final reminder I say, “Good. That’s good.”
She gives me a big smile, then waves her hand in front of her like she’s making it disappear. “I’ve already forgotten all about it.”
Then she jumps out of the car, rushes across the front lawn, and throws her arms around her sister.
Yup. She’s forgotten it all right.
I wish I could do the same.
23
JUST MATH
RIPLEY
It’s like a clown car.
