Famous in a Small Town - Page 53

“Don’t call her ‘darling,’ either,” said Garrett. “Just use her name.”

“What are they going to say?” I asked.

Smith shrugged. “Lots of things. They might say you’re his rebound. That you’re only after him for his fame and money. And of course, they’ll point out that you’re the opposite of Grace.”

“Am I really, though?”

Neither male said anything.

“I mean, I get that she was a svelte and statuesque redhead who was rich and famous. An award-winning singer/songwriter with a designer wardrobe who traveled the world on her private jet. Who attended all of the top parties and lived in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills.” I paused. “Yeah. Okay. I think I just answered my own question. We’re complete and total opposites.”

Smith gave Garrett a pointed look.

Garrett sighed. “You’re two different people. And you’re different from each other in lots of ways. Grace always had to be doing something. She had all of this energy all of the time and always had a dozen projects on the go. Work and other stuff, like this house. It could be hard, trying to keep up with her. And she was a perfectionist, which could get damn old. Her parents pushed her, raised her to be a real overachiever. Started her out in the business early and everything.”

“Okay,” I said. “In comparison, I sound like a small-town, lazy loser.”

“Your ability to chill and compromise occasionally is not a bad thing.” Smith tied back his long blond hair. “Trust me. And I happen to like your small town, Mayor Bennet. What I’ve seen of it so far.”

“You’re not staying,” said Garrett. “We should have some help and supplies in an hour or two.”

“Right. I’ve been thinking I could call my cousin, Astrid, and ask her to bring me some of her clothes since we’re a similar size,” I said. “And I can go crash at her place. She has a solid fence around her yard. The sheriff always liked her, too; he’ll clear any lurkers out in no time. Because if I leave here and go straight next door to my house, they’re just going to follow me, right?”

“Most likely.” The little line appeared between his brows. “You want to leave?”

“You want me to stay?”

“Babe, I am the reason you’re in this mess.”

My heart skipped a beat. “I know you feel responsible for this situation. But as you said before, we both knew it was coming. They were going to find out where you were sooner or later. You and I have been dating for approximately five minutes. My cousin and I can work something out. I know you like your space, and you’re entitled to it.”

“You should stay here,” he said with a frown. “It’s not like there isn’t plenty of room. That way, keeping you safe and free from all of this will be easier.”

“But—”

“Babe,” he said. And that’s all he said. The cranky, determined expression on his face did the rest of the talking for him.

“Guess we can see how it goes,” I said. At least your house has functioning air con.”

“Yours isn’t working?”

“No.”

He rolled his thick shoulders and stared out the kitchen window. Then he asked, “Any chance I can convince you to take some time off work?”

“I’d rather not do that to Linda with no notice. They wouldn’t really hassle me at the store, would they?”

“Oh my sweet child. The paparazzi have got your scent now,” said Smith. “Or they will as soon as you stick your head out there. Is your cousin single?”

I poked a finger at him. “You stay away from my cousin, Smith. Her fiancé just dumped her in the middle of the apparently majestic Norwegian fjords. She doesn’t need your kind of trouble.”

“Harsh,” he mumbled. “I make a great rebound.”

“No.”

“That’s why you’re here.” Garrett shook his head. “Some girl you were seeing got too serious, so you decided it was time to get out of L.A. and go into hiding.”

“I could have just missed you.” Smith sniffed. “You were behaving like such a little bitch, you didn’t even show me the whole house the last time I was here. I didn’t even get to see the attic, and Grace assured me once that it was haunted. I might have just decided it was time for us to have a proper visit.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

Smith leaned across the table toward me and said, “Thank goodness you’re here, sweetheart. He has no manners. Whenever you’re ready to run away with me, you just give me the word.”

I smiled. “Duly noted. And stay away from my cousin.”

Dating a rock star was weird. If that was what we were still doing. Monday morning found me at work with not one, but two bodyguards. Riley stood at the front door, monitoring the customers coming and going. While Van sat at a table with Linda, having his tarot read. He’d held out against her for as long as he could, bless him. But she’d worn the ex–special forces dude down in the end. Both bodyguards wore black slacks and a matching polo shirt. And their general alertness and the way they carried themselves . . . you would not want to mess with either of these people.

Tags: Kylie Scott Romance
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