Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Donovan
I shouldn’t have said it.
I’m not used to running into celebrities in my small town, and it’s been a while since I felt panicked like I did when I saw the hoard of rabid fans trying to knock down the shop’s door.
Even if Derek Riley represents so many things I hate, there is no circumstance in which telling him to take off his clothes is okay.
Who’d have thought my defense mechanism would be trying to knock him off balance? I’ve mostly just made myself look unhinged because my attempt didn’t work. Which I should have expected, given who he is.
While I don’t pretend to keep up with celebrity gossip, I’ve read enough to know this guy is virtually unflappable.
No matter what the internet throws at him, he handles it all with that perfect smile of his and rarely makes a misstep.
If he wasn’t standing right next to me, looking mildly uncomfortable in Chuck’s cargo shorts and sandals, I’d think the Inscrutable Derek Riley was nothing but a Hollywood myth created by visual effects.
But no. He’s very real. And way more handsome than I was expecting.
He’s pretty on the big screen, but so is everyone else in the movies. It’s the benefit of having a special effects team and millions of dollars to back you up. Somehow, Riley looks even better in person, and I hate him for it.
Not actual hate. Just…frustration. He already has money and job security and a good chunk of the world ready to do his bidding. Adding a pretty face and rock-hard abs on top of it all can only feed an ego that must be the size of Texas as it is.
“It’s not going to work,” Derek says, speaking for the first time since I told him to trade pants with Chuck.
His voice is stronger than a second ago, more like what I expected from him.
Before this, he sounded like a normal guy, but now he’s using that movie star voice that helped make him famous. “He looks nothing like me.”
Poor Chuck deflates. Literally. I think he was puffing out his chest to try to look bigger.
“Oh come on, you’re not that different,” I lie. Chuck is a sweetheart, the soul of an eighty-year-old woman in the body of a twenty-nine-year-old man. He has never felt the need to pump iron, but he does mountain bike. That’s not nothing.
But it’s not at all comparable to the mountain of a man next to me.
I’ve seen some of Derek’s movies. He’s not a small guy, but standing next to him makes me feel small, which doesn’t happen often.
It’s his six feet and three inches of bulk, yes, but there’s also something in his face.
In his dark hair, sexy scruff, impossibly blue eyes. He has a commanding presence.
Or he did before I opened my dumb mouth and accidentally turned him into a dress-up doll.
Might as well keep going. I toss Derek’s blue hat to Chuck, who looks like he might kiss the thing before he gently pulls it over his brown curls.
“I could call the police and ask them to escort us back to the hotel,” the gal next to him says, phone in hand and at the ready.
“Not necessary, Janie.” Derek gives her a sharp look.
Janie frowns. “But—”
“No. I don’t want to make things worse.”
“I think we should wait it out, Derek,” the bodyguard says. “They’ll give up eventually.” But then he looks through a crack in his makeshift t-shirt screen—now taped to the window—and grimaces at the squashed face he finds there. He plants his hand in front of the fan and grunts. “Or maybe not.”
Derek sighs, turning to look at me for the first time in minutes.
Under the brunt of his imposing stare, I feel a jolt of intimidation, which I immediately don’t like.
The same defense mechanism as before sparks back to life inside me, and I’ll have to watch my tongue to avoid any more psycho commands.
“Explain it one more time,” he practically orders.
The only reason I do what he tells me is because I want to escape as much as he does.
I came in here to leave some of Red Earth’s business cards with him in the hopes of drumming up more business for Spencer, and then the Riley fans descended, sparking to life a panic I haven’t felt in a long time.
I’m going to have to be careful about what I say, knowing how I tend to react in situations like this.
“Chuck is going to pretend to be you,” I tell Derek slowly. “He can grab a jacket and pull the collar over his head if he’s really worried about not looking like you, but I think the shirt and hat will be enough when he’s got Malibu Barbie and The Hulk with him.”
The bodyguard snorts, but it’s clear Janie doesn’t appreciate my assessment of her as she scowls at me.
“You and I are going to close up the shop after they leave through the back door. You’re going to buy the most expensive thing in here, and then we’re going to walk out the front door with no one the wiser.”
Derek clenches his jaw, glancing at the others in the room. “You’re underestimating my fans.”
“Or maybe you’re overestimating their interest.”
Though his eye twitches, he doesn’t have a response for that one.
“I’m not okay with this, D,” the bodyguard says. “There are too many variables, and Janie has the right idea.”
Personally, I’d be fine with the cops showing up to clear an escape path, and it would get me out of here sooner.
But one look at the flash of panic in Derek’s eyes tells me that’s the last thing he wants.
I get it. If I were in his position right now, I wouldn’t want to bring any more attention to myself than I already had.
“Your choice,” I tell him, suppressing a shudder at the thought of being in Derek’s shoes. “Leave with fanfare or slide under the radar.”
He doesn’t seem to like either option as he looks from me to the bodyguard, like he’s waiting for an alternative.
I’m happy to offer one. “Or we wait here for who knows how long and get extremely comfortable with one another. Could be days until people give up.”
With a sigh, Derek turns to his bodyguard. “She’s right, Hunter.” I wonder how hard it was for him to admit that.
The bodyguard—Hunter—shakes his head. “I don’t let you out of my sight,” he says gruffly.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll take care of him,” I offer with a bright smile that only partially masks the panic that starts rising again.
My plan is the best one we’ve got, but if it doesn’t work…
The last thing I need is to be chased down by movie lovers.
Derek Riley is in no way someone I want to be associated with, and the consequences if we’re caught…
Grunting, Hunter narrows his eyes at me. “Not good enough.”
“Chuck needs his store back,” I remind the room, Chuck included. He’s barely said a word since recognizing Derek, and he’s too nice to stand up for himself and his livelihood.
“We’re only two blocks from the hotel,” Derek adds.
“A lot can happen in two blocks,” Hunter argues.
“We’re doing it,” Derek says with finality, then turns to Chuck. “If you’re up for the challenge.”
Chuck straightens his spine. “Count on me, boss.”
I groan. “Don’t call him that,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s—”
“Just a regular guy.” Derek beats me to the punch. Surprising me, he adds, “Donovan’s the boss right now anyway.” He looks at me at the same time I look at him, one of his eyebrows dipping lower than the other. “Is Donovan your last name or your first name?”
Another rush of panic hits me, and my response comes out sharper than I’d like.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I stride forward and grab Chuck’s arm, pulling him to the back door so we can get this over with.
I don’t need someone like Derek trying to figure out who I am.
“Head around Old Man Clancy’s and toward the grocery store.
That should give me enough time to get Wonder Hair back to his hotel without anyone else recognizing him. ”
“Wonder Hair? Are you…” Derek trails off when I look at him. “…talking about me?” he finishes in a mumble. That one seems to have bothered him, even though I meant it as a backward compliment. He gestures to his outfit. “I don’t think this is enough to disguise me.”
He’s right, and I grab one of the wide-brimmed hats Chuck sells, stuffing it onto his head to cover his impressively luscious locks. I pull the drawstring tight under his chin and can’t hold back a smirk when he narrows his eyes, silently asking me if the chin strap is necessary.
Yes, I silently tell him in return, then realize how thoroughly I just invaded his personal space. What is wrong with me?
“I still don’t like leaving you here,” Hunter says as his eyes dart from me to his boss.
“What do you say, Riley?” I ask, folding my arms.
Derek frowns at me before turning to his bodyguard. “I’ll be fine, Hunter. Look after Janie and Chuck, and I’ll meet you back at the hotel. Promise.”
Hunter doesn’t seem fully convinced, but he takes the command with a nod and puts a hand on Janie’s shoulder.
Janie looks even less inclined to do what she’s told, frowning in Derek’s direction and giving him a look that I can only describe as pleading, like she’s terrified for his safety.
I’m still not sure what she is to him, but Derek certainly has the loyalty of his people.
Surprising.
“Let’s break some legs!” Chuck says and thrusts his fist into the air in what I think is an effort to pump himself up. Whatever works, I guess.
“I’m assuming he means ‘break a leg’?” Derek mutters as the three of them rush through the back door, sparking excited shouts of at least half a dozen people who must have been waiting outside. “I like his enthusiasm.”