“But, Hunter, everyone wants to know why you disappeared from?—”
“Enough,” I say, running away from them. I hate this. I left New York City to get away from the constant interrogations into my personal life. I wonder how they found me. Will my life always be like this?
There used to be a time in my life when I didn’t mind the paparazzi so much. Back then, I was quite honored to be considered an eligible bachelor. But then, everything changed.
I run into a bodega, and I’m pleased to see that the paparazzi don’t follow me inside. Even they have some boundaries.
“Good afternoon. How can we help you today?” a teenage boy with eager eyes and spotty skin asks. This is most probably his first job, so I don’t want to snap at him.
“I just came to see if you had any ice cream,” I say quickly, though I don’t really eat ice cream. Perhaps my grandma or some of the members of the writing group will be interested in having some.
“We actually have homemade ice cream from Whisper Cove’s finest ice cream maker, Gelato Heaven.”
“Okay, great.” I look around.
“If you head to the back, you’ll see all the different flavors we have. Would you like me to escort you?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” I head to the back of the small store and wonder how long I’ll have to wait around. I see out of my peripheral vision that someone is heading toward me, and I snap my head, thinking it’s a photographer. However, it’s just an elderly woman with a large eggplant in her hands. My lips twitch at the sight. There's a funny joke inside of me that I’m not going to make. I look at the freezer with the different flavors of ice cream and have no idea what to get.
“Do you want some help, young man?” she asks, beaming up at me, her blue eyes light and vibrant.
“I don’t suppose you’ve tried this ice cream, have you? I’ve been told it’s the best in Whisper Cove. I just don’t know what flavors to get.”
“Oooh. I’m partial to vanilla myself, but my husband loves the lemon chiffon, and my grandkids love the mint chocolate chip." She smiles up at me and looks down at my hand. “Are you getting it for yourself or your wife?”
I stare at her and cock my head. “I’m not married,” I say.
She continues to look down at my ring finger. “Oh, I’m sure you won’t be single for long.” I just nod my head because, for all I know, she’s an undercover paparazzi trying to get information from me.
“Well, thank you for your help. I guess I’ll try the mint chocolate chip. Hard to go wrong with that.” I grab a pint of the ice cream and then head to the checkout. I’m pleased to see that the paparazzi are no longer standing outside when I exit. They must be following another lead. I know the island is full of rich and famous people. I had really hoped that I’d be able to have time to myself—away from the media, away from the press, away from everyone who wants my story or who wants to know about my life. There are big things that happened, but I’m not ready to share them yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to share them. But I know that the press is relentless.
I walk back into the house an hour later and notice that the living room is empty. The writers group has left for the day, which surprises me because sometimes it feels like they live here. I head toward the kitchen so I can put the ice cream in the freezer and grab a beer before heading back to my cabin. I need to make some calls and speak to my grandfather about theprivate investigator he's hired to figure out what happened to the necklace. As I take the beer out of the fridge, I see Gina walking in, holding an empty glass in her hand.
“Oh, hi,” she says, looking slightly nervous. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
“And if you did, would you still have come in?” I can't help but move closer to her. Her hair is wet, and she smells like fresh peaches. I just want to breathe her in, but I know how creepy that sounds.
“I’m literally just returning this glass." She heads toward the sink. "I had some orange juice earlier."
"Interesting conversation. Thank you for that information." She just snorts at my comment and rinses out the glass in the sink.
“I have a question for you, Gina.”
“Go ahead, Hunter.” She places the glass in the dishwasher, turns to me with folded arms, and raises her eyebrows at me. There's an air of defiance in her gaze, yet I can see the way her eyes keep darting at every inch of my body. She can't hide the fact that she is attracted to me, and I love that. "Go ahead,” she prods me again as I just watch her watching me.
“Did you steal the necklace?” I take two steps toward her and look her directly in the eyes. I want to see exactly how she reacts to my question. Her face goes a deep, dark red, and her eyes flash at me angrily.
“No, I did not steal the necklace, and frankly, I don’t appreciate the question.”
“Are you just saying that?”
“No, I’m not just saying that.” Her voice gets louder. “I can’t believe that you would think for one moment that I would steal.”
“Because I know you so well? You’re going to tell me that I know everything there is to know about you?”
"Obviously, I don’t think you know everything there is to know about me. But I would hope from the few interactions that we have had that you would think that I was a good person.” She licks her lips and lets out a low sigh.
“I never said that I didn't think that."
