Page 51 of Hats off to Love

“Hi,” I whisper back, grabbing his arm to steady us. “How’s it going?” I ask as his moss green gaze shines down at me. The color of this suit completely changes the look of his eyes.

“It’s been great. We’re almost done. I told them you were dropping in after work, and they want to get a few clips of us together if that’s all right.”

I wasn’t kidding when I told him everyone was to wear blue. Birdie really did pass that along, and just to be on the safe side, I did as well.

“Are you sure you want me in your film about the farm? About Ace? Everyone will see it.” I look down at the pale blue dress I chose, and my hand drifts to the fascinator I paired with it. Do I look okay? Am I presentable enough to stand next to him?

“Yes,” he says, with zero hesitation.

Taking me by the hand, he walks us over to the three people waiting quietly off to the side. Each is holding some sort of filming equipment, and all three smile.

“Hello,” I say to them collectively, and they return the greeting.

“This is Cameron.” Stokes points to the guy holding an iPad. “He’s the director for today.”

I smile at him and reach out to shake his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rosie,” he says, and a blush hits my cheeks. They talked about me, and I can only wonder what was said. “We did a lot of interviews earlier with the family, Grayson, and a few of the staff members, so I think we’re good with talking points. What we’d like from the two of you is just a few shots of normal interactions. Maybe walking, leaning over the fence, laughing, things like that. The clips won’t be long, but their intention is to show a little of the day-to-day life of the Whitlocks. Viewers like the glimpses into the families. The more connected they feel, the more they will be rooting for Ace to win.”

“Okay. Speaking of Ace, will we be with him or any of the other horses?” I ask nervously. I can’t imagine Stokes would put me in a situation where I was uncomfortable, but who knows.

“No, we’ve filmed enough of him. This is the human interest side of the farm. We also filmed Birdie with Molly while they baked Kentucky bourbon bars and drank mint juleps while rocking on the front porch.”

“Okay, I understand.” I glance at Stokes. He’s looking at me so fondly he makes me feel like this fake relationship is becoming real. Then again, maybe this is for show; maybe he’s looking at me this way for the film crew. “Should I take the fascinator off?” I ask him, and the double lines draw down.

“Why would you do that?” he asks.

I shrug one shoulder. “I don’t know, just thought I’d ask.”

“Rosie, you always have something on your head. It’s who you are, and I love that about you. I would be sad if you took it off. Besides, it’s like free publicity for your shop, right?” He winks at me.

Love.

He said the word love, and my insides have a visceral reaction to it in the best way.

Does he love that about me? Does he love the hats and fascinators, or is he just saying it in front of these people? And free publicity—is that him subtly reminding me of our deal? I help him and he helps me?

Everything is just so confusing.

I don’t know what to believe or what has a double meaning. I want to believe it all, I really do, but there is this little voice in the back of my head reminding me that this is Stokes, the same Stokes who’s made it his life’s mission to make me miserable.

“Okay,” I tell him, and then we spend the next hour feeling as if we are being filmed for a reality television show. I’m not sure how those people do it with the cameras always following them around and recording everything they say and do. It’s kind of unnerving.

Stokes and I walk hand in hand, and he quietly asks, “Are you okay?”

I look up at him as he looks down at me and rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. “Yes, I’m just tired.”

He gives me a sympathetic smile. “I understand, but we’re nearing the end. This will all be over soon, and then you can relax. I appreciate you coming out to be here with me.”

Nearing the end of us, or nearing the end of the season? I just don’t know. I’m overthinking this, but I’m at a point with him now where I don’t want this to be over in two weeks.

“Of course, whatever you need,” I tell him.

He pulls me close, wraps his arm around my shoulders, and kisses the side of my head.

He pushes me on an old swing, and I laugh as I try to hang on, hold my skirt down, and keep the fascinator from falling off. He leans up against one of the barns while twirling a piece of hay as we chat about our day. And to end our little film session, he calls for his mother to meet us out front, where she comes with big smiles and huge hugs.

It’s quite possible if we didn’t have an audience, I would have broken down and cried in her arms. I need to pull it together, remember what this is, and just live in the moment. Eventually the two weeks will come to an end. I just need to forget about that and leave the worrying for when I actually have something to worry about.