“I guess this was a happy accident,” she added with a smile.
“A happy accident.” A slight grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I like the sound of that, Georgia Weber.”
“Me, too.”
She stared into his eyes, feeling her pulse quicken. This felt right. If someone had told her seven years ago she’d be sitting across the table from the gorgeous Alaric Hammond on a date, she would’ve told them they’d inhaled one too many pixie sticks. But here he was. In the flesh. And time had been good to him.
“Gigi Weber?”
A voice called from the other side of the room. Georgia turned toward it to get a face full of flashing lights. She gasped and threw her arm in front of her eyes, cursing her bad luck.
They’d found her.
“Gigi, who’s your date?” a man called. A few more flashes followed. “Does this mean you and Vance are officially over? Are the rumors true that you’re the new celebrity sponsor for the dating app, Spark?”
Alaric stood from the booth, placing his athletic body in front of hers and shielding her from the flashes. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Are you dating Gigi Weber?” the man asked, clicking a few more pictures.
By now, the few customers in the restaurant had all turned to watch them. The wait staff had paused in their duties and were staring with slack jaws at the confrontation.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Alaric answered. He clenched his fists at his side.
“Son, getting pictures of Gigi Weber is my business,” the paparazzo answered with a sneer. “The price of being a rock star, I’m afraid. Now, can I get your name for my paper, or do I have to hunt that down, too?”
“Rock star?” Alaric stared down at Georgia, who remained glued to the booth seat. Confusion and horror wracked his face. “What does he mean?”
She wanted to kick herself. She’d just gone through this two months ago with her ex. The paparazzi would never leave her alone. How could she have been so stupid as to think she could have a normal date for once? That life had sailed. And any chance she had of being with someone good like Alaric had gone with it.
“I’m so sorry. I have to go.”
She jumped from the table, shoving the sunglasses back over her eyes. Regret lanced through her chest. She shouldn’t have agreed to meet. They could’ve remained electronic pen pals and remained none-the-wiser. But now, she’d tainted that last bit of normalcy in her life.
“Georgia, wait,” he grabbed her wrist, but she pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled again. With the camera still clicking away, she flew from the restaurant, frustrated tears burning at the corners of her eyes.
She’d never get to find out if Alaric Hammond really was the man of her dreams. And from the way he was looking at her, she was probably more likely the woman of his nightmares. It was about time she accepted what the awful reporter had said.
That was the price she paid for being a rock star.