The Secret (Single in Seattle 1)

“Have you introduced her to your family?”

“Did you meet because of the movie you’re working on?”

“Are you engaged?”

“Did you know she’s also seeing Adam Carter?”

That last one fills my chest with a little rage, but I ignore them all and get Liv settled in the car, then walk around to the driver’s side and speed away from the mob.

“Shit,” Liv says on a sigh. “That was intense.”

“I should have realized they’d be there,” I mutter, irritated with myself for not thinking of it. “Sorry about that.”

“Why do they think I’m seeing Adam?”

I shake my head. “I have no idea. And, frankly, I don’t care.”

“I’m going to find out.” She picks up her phone and starts looking around in places I wish she’d just stay out of, and then she gasps. “Holy fucking shit! There are photos of Adam and me having lunch today. Or yesterday, I guess. What the hell?”

“Eyes everywhere,” I mutter and sneak a glance at her phone. Liv is touching Adam’s arm in the photo.

“Those slimy bastards,” Liv mutters. “It says we had a cozy, romantic lunch in a local restaurant. You idiots. It wasn’t romantic! I felt bad that his mom died a few years ago. You suck.”

She shoves her phone back into her bag.

“You’re really letting this get to you.”

“I don’t like liars,” she grumbles.

“You can’t let it get to you, Liv. Stop reading that shit. Like we said the other day, you and I know the truth, and that’s all that matters.”

“Is it?”

I glance her way and feel my chest tighten. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired and have a headache. And I probably drank too much. I want to flip those assholes off.”

“No reaction is the best reaction.”

“You’re too calm.”

“I think you’re upset enough for both of us.”

She huffs out a breath and watches the city go by as I drive back to her house.

“I had a good time tonight,” I say and reach over to take her hand. “We can’t let thirty seconds of stupidity ruin that. You can move that sexy body of yours, by the way.”

She rolls her head against the seat and sends me a soft smile.

“I have an aunt who used to be a famous ballerina.”

“Of course, you do.” I laugh and turn down her street. “You have a fascinating family, you know that?”

“Oh, I know. They’re pretty cool. Are you coming in to stay the night?”

“Yeah, I’d rather not sleep without you these days.”

I want to ask her to move in with me, but I don’t know what she’d think of that, and I’m too tired to have the conversation tonight.

“Good, because I prefer to sleep with you, too.”

“Good morning.”

I crack open one eye and see Liv grinning down at me, a mug of coffee gripped in her hand.

“I brought you caffeine.”

“Time is it?” I ask as I sit up and accept the mug, taking a long sip.

“Seven,” she replies and leans down to kiss me. “I have an early meeting at work.”

“You’re dressed and everything,” I point out, the sleep slowly clearing from my foggy brain.

“That happens when a person has an early meeting,” she says with a grin and kisses me again. Before I can tug her back down with me, her phone rings. “Hello?”

She scowls and stands to pace the room.

“What? How did you get my number? No, I won’t comment on that.”

She hangs up the phone and stares at me.

“Who was it?” I ask calmly and sip the coffee.

“Entertainment Weekly. They wanted a comment on my relationship with you.”

“You said exactly the right thing.”

“Yes, but how in the hell did they get my number?”

I shake my head and shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know. They seem to have ways.”

“It’s a pain in the ass to have to change my phone number. Damn it.”

Her phone rings again. She lets it go to voicemail, and her eyes fly to mine.

“I didn’t give out your number,” I remind her. “It’s not my fault.”

Except, it kind of is. They wouldn’t be hounding her if she weren’t with me. Her phone rings again, and she narrows her eyes at it and then presses her lips together.

She’s pissed off.

“Why would anyone put up with this crap?” she demands and looks back at me. “It’s invasive and disrespectful.”

“It’ll calm down,” I assure her and stand so I can walk to her and take her shoulders in my hands. “This will all blow over and quiet down. You’ll change your number, un-list it, and restrict who has it. For colleagues and people you don’t know well, just give them an email address to reach you so there’s no chance of that person passing your number along to the wrong people.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she stresses. “I should be able to give my number to whomever I choose without being worried that fucking People magazine or whoever will try to call me. My God, Vaughn, why would anyone want to live this way? Why would they put up with that?”