Runaway Groom (I Do, I Don't 2)

I lick my finger and swipe at the black smudge. When I made my list for Gage’s minions last night, I hadn’t thought it all the way through. I’d gotten clothes and shoes for the ride back to the villa, but not makeup.

Ordinarily I wouldn’t care. But considering it’s a reality TV show I’m heading back to? Yeah, I care. Go ahead, call me superficial. But first, just ponder this: high-definition TV. Now this: nearly-thirty-year-old skin on high-definition TV. There you go.

Gage and I stopped at a drugstore where I stocked up on enough basic cosmetics to make my face passable, and he got…snacks.

“Okay, so back to the important topic,” Gage says as I dot concealer on a red spot on my chin. “I have your word that the second you’re back on the mainland, you’ll watch all of the Godfather movies?”

“Why would you think you have my word on that?” I say, dabbing at the concealer to rub it in. “I distinctly remember saying that I had zero interest in seeing those movies. In fact, I think my exact words were ‘I promise never to watch them because they look boring.’?”

He lets out a pained groan. “Okay, how about a compromise? Just watch the first one.”

I swipe on the lip gloss, then scowl into the visor mirror, because the color’s all wrong. Way too coral.

“How bad is this? Be honest,” I say, turning toward Gage and puckering.

He glances over, using one finger to tilt his sunglasses down and inspect my hasty makeup job before pushing the shades back up and returning his attention to the road. “I like it. Reminds me of my grandma Anita.”

“Perfect. Grandma Anita is just what I was going for,” I grumble, rummaging around in the drugstore bag to find something to blot with. I settle for the cardboard backing of the foundation package. It doesn’t fully remove the color, but at least it tones down the brightness.

I sigh and fold the visor back up. “All right, that’s as good as this is gonna get.”

When I turn my attention to the road, I feel a little stab of panic when I realize I recognize some of the scenery. We’re close. Very close.

“You nervous?” he asks, his voice serious for the first time all morning.

“Absolutely.”

He surprises me by reaching across the car and linking his fingers with mine. “I’ll be right there with you. If they try to kill you with a pineapple and dump your body in the ocean, I’ll be sure Spielberg hears about it. He’ll make a movie out of the crime, and nobody will ever forget your name.”

“Would you be a part of the film?”

“The star, obviously. Who do you want to play you?”

“Well, considering you’ll have to make out with whoever plays me, we should definitely be sure it’s someone hot. What about Kara Fisher? She’s gorgeous.”

“Nah. She was just cast to play my love interest in the next Killboy movie. We can’t be love interests twice, it’ll confuse people.”

“Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks did it more than once. So did Julia Roberts and Richard Gere.”

Gage groans. “She refuses to watch The Godfather, but those movies she’s got at the ready.”

I look over. “Is Kara Fisher really your love interest in the next movie?”

He shrugs. “Just found out this morning. I believe she plays a seductive, modern-day pirate who sneaks into my hotel room to have her piratey way with me.”

I feel a pang of jealousy at the thought of Gage and the stunning actress filming love scenes. It’s a good reminder, though—a reminder of why this would never work. That’s his life, which would then be my life, and…

I’m distracted from the jealous track of my thoughts by an emotion so much worse: terror.

We’re here.

Neither of us says a word as Gage pulls up to the gate at the villa. Rolling down the window, he enters a code. I let out a shuddering breath as the car slowly pulls into the driveway.

Gage gives my fingers one last reassuring squeeze before pulling back.

At first I think we’re going to get lucky—there’s no sign of anyone out in the front yard. With any luck, they’re all at the pool, and maybe I can slip inside…

I hear a car door slam, and then a short blond man comes into view, freezing when he sees us. His eyes go wide, flicking between me and Gage before he sprints into the house like a startled rabbit.