Chapter 9
Ismeralda
Bumping into Sofia helped all those memories of the dreadful woman at the hotel coffee bar fly right out of my head. The gorgeous shopkeeper and makeup enthusiast was such a delight, lifting my spirits and instantly turning this day around.
Apparently Gabe’s coffee worked because he perks right up and becomes chatty. Or maybe it was the delectable tamales that give him a full stomach and a loose tongue.
“Have you ever been to your uncle’s store in Pheonix?” he asks.
Glancing side-eye at my hunky companion, my heart does a Simone-worthy gymnastic move in my chest. The guy is positively swoony, and the way he protected me at the hotel was more breathtaking than any move Kevin Costner made in The Bodyguard .
“No, I’ve only been to the Reno store. Yesterday was my first time in San Diego.”
“So you don’t get out much?” Gabe teases.
Tucking my feet underneath me, I swivel in the luxurious seat so I’m facing my companion. “Daddy’s always been overprotective. My mother died when I was two, and he couldn’t take care of me by himself. I was raised by a series of nannies and then homeschooled by the best teachers money could buy.” My tone makes me sound like “poor me, the lonely little rich girl,” so I quickly tack on, “I can’t complain. One of my instructors introduced me to makeup and it led to a very profitable profession.”
His eyes widen. “Gosh, I wasn’t aware of your background, Izzie. This tour is your opportunity to visit some interesting places. We need to include some tourist time in our schedule,” Gabe says.
“What would we visit in Phoenix? Isn’t it just a big city?”
He shakes his head. “You leave the tourist guide role to me. We’ll fit in some interesting and exciting excursions along the way.”
“Right. Like the stop at that rundown gas station?” I joke.
“Hey, don’t complain. You met your new bestie there.”
True. Sofia and I have already exchanged several emails.
“Okay, fit in some tourist time tomorrow, but after we get to the hotel I’m going to chill until the book signing this evening.”
“What exactly does chill mean in Ismeralda’s vernacular?” Gabe jokes. “Let me guess,” he says, tapping his finger on the steering wheel. “Recording your next YouTube video... perfecting a makeup technique... Or snacking on Oreos with a glass of milk.”
Pouting, I say, “Do I only come across as a workaholic with a sweet tooth?”
Gabe roars. “Pretty much.”
I grin since he’s right. Our conversation lags when we arrive at the edge of Phoenix and Gabe focuses on traffic. Despite Arizona’s claim to fame as the Snowbird Capital, those old codgers don’t drive cautiously; they dart in and out of traffic with no regard for the speed limit.
By the time we get to the hotel, I’m exhausted. Gabe accompanies me to my room, makes sure I’m safely inside, then settles into the suite next to mine. Wonder if that in-room snack bar has any Oreos?
~*~
After a quick twenty-minute powernap, I’m restless and decide to check my email. Sofia might have another brilliant suggestion for a new makeup tip. Nibbling on an Oreo, I scroll through my inbox, then stop. Another email from an unknown source makes my heart rate skyrocket, and the subject line sets off alarm bells in my head.
TIME TO FEEL THE HEAT.
What does that mean?
Leaping out of my seat, I pound on the door to the adjoining suite. Knock! Knock! Knock!
Seconds later Gabe flings it open, looking sleep rumpled and so sexy. My already escalated heart rate elevates even further. He’s wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and shorts, has a bad case of bedhead, and his grumpy face tells me he isn’t happy about this interruption. There’s nothing more attractive than a disgruntled hunk. Swoon!
“This better be good, Ismeralda,” he grumbles in a raspy voice.
Pointing to my laptop, I say, “I got a new email.”
He instantly morphs from Grumpy Gus to Protector Pete, slipping around me and striding over to the desk where he plops into the chair I previously occupied. His eyes focus on the email while I hover behind him.
He emits a low (sexy) growl. “As we suspected, your stalker knows our every move.”
I nod while he taps his finger on his chin, deep in thought.
The text of the email stares back at me, again in bold upper-case letters.
PHOENIX IS HOTTER THAN TAMALES THIS TIME OF YEAR.
WILL IT BECOME TOO HOT TO CONTINUE THE TOUR?
Do they know about Sofia?
Gabe’s eyes lock with mine. “Izzie, this is starting to sound more like someone who’s trying to frighten you enough to abort the book tour. That reference to tamales has to be because of the stop at Roadrunner Junction. They want us to know they’re following us. But why? Is that unfavorable review of those Glam products in your book?”
Shaking my head in a negative fashion, I say, “No. I didn’t include any specific reviews in my book. But I do mention my review website.”
His eyes narrow. “Is there anything else in your book that would set off those Glam fanatics? Why would someone want you to cancel the tour?”
Slumping in the chair beside him, I say, “I honestly don’t know.” This cat-and-mouse game is becoming exhausting, sapping my energy and my desire to continue this tour. But if I cancel, the stalker will get exactly what they want. Shoring up my frazzled emotions, I say, “What do you think they mean by ‘too hot to continue the tour’? Are they going to set fire to the bookstore?”
“Who knows. I’ll alert the store manager to this new threat. Your stalker can’t seem to make up their mind. First, they hint that they’re targeting you, and now they’re hinting that they’re targeting the venue.”
Nervously playing with the Oreo wrapper, I say, “Does it bother you the stalker didn’t try anything at the first bookstore?”
Gabe looks thoughtful for a few moments, then says, “The stalker may have still been there, but when they saw the added security, they left and are regrouping.”
That thought causes my heart to take a nose-dive.
He picks up my remaining Oreo and eats it in one bite, then throws me a guilty look. “Stress snacking,” he says.
“Join the club,” I say as I jump to my feet. “Do you like M&M’s or Doritos?” I ask as I survey the remaining snacks.
“Bring ’em both over,” he grumbles.