Breaking Stars (The Celebrity 2)

His Holy Hotness looked around at the desolate landscape surrounding us before pinning me with an annoyed glare. “Looks pretty dangerous out here. Better lock it up after you get your things.”

I shook my head, feeling like an idiot. Reaching for my cell phone, I grabbed it and tucked it into my front pocket. Pulling my purse and duffel bag free from the front seat, I tossed my pepper spray in and gripped the handle of it tightly before locking the car doors and hopping into his truck where he waited.

“I’m Paige,” I said as I offered my hand.

He stared at it like it might bite him, as if my hand might literally jump right off of my arm and eat his face. Which was something my lips sort of wanted to do. Then his gaze flicked up to mine before he put the truck into gear and pulled out onto the highway.

“I know who you are. What I don’t know is why on earth you’re all the way out here alone. Are you filming a movie or something?” He chewed on his bottom lip, and I fought off the urge to run my thumb across it.

I shook my head to clear the inappropriate thoughts and wondered who had taken over my body. “No, not filming. I just needed to get away.”

“And you picked here? In the middle of nowhere to get away to?” His voice was thick with sarcasm and something else I couldn’t quite place, but it certainly wasn’t Southern hospitality.

Instantly I turned defensive, a side I rarely showed. “I didn’t pick here. My car got a flat tire, remember?” This guy irked me no end, and I’d known him for all of two seconds. “So do you have a name, or do I get to make one up for you?”

He grunted. “Tatum.”

“Like Channing?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“No,” he snapped back. “Like Montgomery.”

“Oh.” I frowned, unsure which name was his first and which was his last.

As if reading my mind, he said gruffly, “It’s Tatum Montgomery,” his tone beyond annoyed at this point.

I fumbled to recover, and tried to play nice. “I’ve never met anyone with the first name Tatum before.”

“Obviously.”

Wondering why he seemed so angry at me, I asked, “Did I do something wrong? Maybe you didn’t like my last movie or something?” I tried to lighten the mood by cracking a slight smile.

Keeping his focus intensely in front of him, he mumbled, “I don’t watch chick flicks. And I’m named after my grandfather, not that it’s any of your business.”

I sucked in a breath. “You can just let me out here. Give me directions to the bed and breakfast and I’ll walk there.” I didn’t care how good-looking this guy was, I refused to sit in a car with him any longer.

Tatum blew out a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m not the best at making small talk.”

“Obviously,” I said tartly, mimicking his earlier response, and he smirked before straightening his face again. “I saw that.”

“You saw nothing,” he replied, but his tone had softened and I relaxed slightly.

We drove in silence through what I assumed was the town. I smiled to myself as we neared a bowling alley with an attached café. The last time I’d been bowling was with my family a few years ago on Christmas Eve. We spent part of the evening competing with each other for top score, but my dad won, just like he always did.

Tatum slowed his truck to a stop, and I looked around to see a grocery mart, the post office, a church, and not much else. A gas station and a mechanic’s shop caught my eye across the street, and I assumed that was where Tatum’s dad worked. It was quite possibly the smallest town I’d ever seen, but it was also maybe the most charming, each building filled with more character than what I was used to.

He picked up speed once the town was behind us and turned right onto another road. As we passed a small school, I asked, “Does everyone go to school in one place?”

He glanced at me, his eyes barely visible beneath the bill of the ball cap. “Yeah. It’s three separate schools, but they’re housed in the same place.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“You mean you’ve never seen anything so small and boring?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” I didn’t know how to put my feelings into words, so I stayed silent, not wanting to upset him anymore.

Tatum pulled his beat-up truck to the right once more and turned onto a gravel road lined with green trees and land as far as the eye could see. His speed slowed until he stopped in front of the most charming ranch-style house I’d ever seen. Wooden rocking chairs lined the large porch on each side of the front door. The closest I’d ever seen to a house that looked like this was on a movie set.

There were no homes like this in LA, and I think the sight of it made me swoon. Out loud. Apparently I made a sound when the aged yellow house came into view, because Tatum shot a concerned glance my way.