“Nah. She’s okay. I need to give her space.”
Trevon was standing now, too. “You all good, man?”
“Yep.” He stretched and then said, “I need to get home and get some sleep so I can start back on this place nice and early in the morning. Thanks for inviting me. This was wonderful.”
He hugged Athena and then shook Trevon’s hand.
“You sure you’re good?” Trevon asked. “Need some company?”
“No. But thank you. You two are the best.”
They said goodbye and Briggs left while Athena stood on the porch and watched him walk to his car. He knew she was worried about him, but there wasn’t any reason to be.
Again, it wasn’t like he and Riley were together. They never would be. She dated movie stars like Rowan Keene. Not house painters like Briggs Mullaney.
Still, he cared about her, and hoped their friendship grew.
And he would drive through Beverly Hills, looking for her, but wouldn’t stop. He just needed to know she was okay.
For his own peace of mind.
Chapter Twelve
The morning sun seemed brutally harsh as it blasted in through Riley’s windows and attacked her eyes.
Grabbing a pillow, she groaned as she covered her face.
It felt sort of like it used to when she’d wake up hungover, but she wasn’t the one who’d had too much to drink last night.
This time, she’d been the one trying to help someone avoid a disaster—to only mild success.
Rowan wasn’t hurt or worse. Neither was anyone else. So, that was a win.
But she’d still been unable to stop him from leaving the party, and he’d crashed that monstrously expensive car right into a tree.
And then, of course, paparazzi showed up. As they always do.
Grabbing her phone from the nightstand, she checked the time, saw that it was nearly ten, and then noticed she had an unexpected message.
Harrison.
They’d exchanged numbers the other day at Auntie Athena’s but hadn’t communicated since then. Now, he was asking if they could meet up for a few minutes this morning.
Huh.
What was that about?
She fired off a response, he answered quickly, and they exchanged a few messages over the next several minutes.
An hour later, after she’d gotten ready for the day and looked presentable, Harrison was on her front porch.
“Come on in,” she said. “Care if I make myself a smoothie?”
“Please. Don’t let me hold you up from doing anything.”
She led the way to the back of her house where the kitchen was.
“Nice place,” he said behind her.
