I set down the coffee in its recyclable cup on the counter. My hand only shook a little, thank goodness. “For you.”
Nothing from him.
“I’m your new neighbor.”
“You were the one watching last night.” His voice was deep, a little rough, and kind of accusing. “In that little cabin next door.”
“Yes.”
“You do that sort of thing often . . . spying on people?”
Ouch. Previous me was a dreadful snoop, and I was both embarrassed and appalled by her behavior. But I’d evolved in the last eight or so hours. While I’d hoped my apology could go unspoken, it clearly couldn’t. “It won’t happen again. Sorry.”
After a moment, he picked up the coffee and took a sip. All without meeting my gaze. Eye contact was apparently out of the question.
“Do you take cream or sugar?” I asked.
“No. This is fine. Thanks.” No wonder he was a singer. Even those clipped and cranky words could have charmed the birds down from the trees. His voice was low and smooth and just lovely.
Into a cardboard box went his loaf of bread, jars of peanut better and strawberry jelly, coffee, a six-pack of beer, and some ramen noodles. Hunger must have driven him out into the open. Guess he usually had someone cook for him. Live-in staff was likely standard for a Hollywood Hills mansion. The man was in for a change of pace.
“We stock all of your basics,” I said. “But if you ever want a bigger shop, there’s a good-size market in the town about half an hour down the road. You probably drove past it on your way here.”
He grunted.
I totaled his purchases and he paid with a black Amex. Something I’d heard about, but never actually seen.
As he was gathering his things, Linda floated in on a wave of rose-hip oil. It was her beauty secret. Great for keeping your skin hydrated. The medicinal marijuana she indulged in helped keep her calm and thus avoid wrinkles. And it worked. She really did look great for her age. Her red suede fringed bag bumped against her side with each step, her worn cowboy boots tapping against the wooden floor. I could never hope to be as cool and fun as Linda. This was a fact.
“Mercury is in retrograde again, Ani,” she exclaimed, brandishing her cell. “Everything is chaos.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m with a customer right now, but—”
“I accidentally deleted the most important email.”
“Did you look in the trash?”
Her brows went up.
“Remember how I showed you those other files on your phone where emails hide sometimes?”
Linda must have finally realized that a customer was present. Because she froze and pasted on a smile. “Oh, hello. Welcome to the Wildwood General Store.”
He tipped his chin. “Ma’am.”
“Are you new in town or just passing through?”
The man opened his mouth and then stalled. Nothing came out.
“Goodness,” she said, recognition lighting her gaze. “You look exactly like that singer from that rock band. You know the one I mean. What was his name?”
His jaw shifted nervously as he stared at the floor. Guess I was right about him wanting to hide. But given that his band had been topping the charts for the last decade, he really should be better at dealing with people recognizing him.
“Oh, you mean Garrett from The Dead Heart.” I fake smiled. “Yeah. He does look a little like him, doesn’t he?”
Linda snapped her fingers. “Yes. That’s who I mean. I should remember—you played that last album of theirs day and night for a while there.”
“I don’t recall that,” lied my lying tongue.
“Oh, good Lord. I was hearing those songs in my sleep.”
I wrinkled my nose. “They were probably playing it over at the bar and you heard it there. I wasn’t . . . I mean, it was a good album, but . . .”
“Didn’t you even have a picture of him on your phone?”
Heat crept up my neck. “No.”
Little wonder Garrett hadn’t gone into acting. Every thought he had seemed to cross his face. And amusement dominated. So not helpful. Could he not try to work with me here? Did he not see that I was trying to help him?
Linda was gossip central in Wildwood. She made it her business to know everything about everyone. She sat at her corner table and told everyone the latest news as they walked in the door. And if Linda believed the new man in town was a nobody, who only looked like a famous somebody, then his cover might not be blown for days or weeks.
“She’s right, though,” I said. “You could almost be a look-alike. Bet you’d win competitions and everything.”
Garrett just blinked.
“It’s amazing.” Linda shook her head. “He really is similar.”
“They say everyone has a doppelganger, right?” I asked. “That there’s someone out there who looks exactly the same as you.”
“That’s true.” Linda frowned. “It’s lucky you’re not him. The problems he’s had these last few years. Makes you just want to give him a big ol’ hug. Maybe I should give you one instead!”