Chapter 13
Aura
A month into my new ranch lifestyle, I’m getting way too used to this feeling of normal.
The blissful little bubble I’ve been living in with Quint since our dinner last week is bound to pop soon.
The daily routine of riding lessons, helping around the ranch, and eating with him or his family is so nice.
Such a departure from my usual life in LA that fluctuates between extremes of overstimulating and lonely with nothing in between.
With only a couple of weeks left until the rest of the cast and crew arrive, my time in his world is limited.
I’ve been working hard every day on my riding, and it feels like it’s paying off.
Even the constant dull ache in my legs from the new activity is starting to ease up a bit.
I thought I was in shape before, but nothing I did in the gym with my personal trainer prepared me for mornings spent in a saddle.
Which is why I’m outside right now, getting back into my regular yoga practice.
I stretch deeper into the downward dog pose, loosening all the tight muscles, and a sigh slips out.
The sky above me is an endless stretch of pale blue as I tilt my head up.
Yoga has always been a refuge for me, but here, outside in the fresh air and vast empty space, the calming effect is multiplied.
The gentle breeze on my skin, the rising sun on my face, and the fresh dew under my bare feet is perfection.
Until something bumps into me from behind. I teeter for a moment before toppling to the ground in an undignified heap. Then a couple of damp paws land on my bare midriff with a thump, and a wet nose nuzzles at my cheek.
“Blinkie, what are you doing? Silly girl.” I grab her face, planting a kiss on top of her head.
Footsteps come thudding up beside me and I catch sight of Quint’s worn brown boots.
“I’m so sorry. She was down at the barn doing turnout with me and I think she must have caught sight of you. Back off, Blink.” He tugs her off, then gives her scratch under her chin.
“It’s fine.” I jump to my feet, brushing the grass and dirt off my leggings. “I’m going to have a shower anyway.”
“Bad girl,” Quint says to the dog, but his tone is adoring, no heat to the words.
“I thought I’d make breakfast today?” I say as we stroll back into the house.
“Didn’t you say there should be a warning label attached to any meal you happen to make?”
I spin toward him, walking backward. “I can’t cook, but I can blend.”
“Blend?”
“I make a mean smoothie. My green goddess?” I kiss my fingers. “To die for.”
“Literally? Because you know I’ve got a lot of plans for this place, and I really can’t be leaving it in Caleb’s hands anymore. He’s got no imagination.”
My phone is buzzing on the coffee table as we walk inside. “No, you asshole. Not literally.”
His shoulders are shaking with laughter when I turn to level a glare at him.
I swipe the phone up, silencing it and sliding it into my pocket. It calms down for a moment while I’m pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Peanut butter, spinach. There’s an insistent buzzing against my thigh, but after I pull it out and silence it again, I notice something. Thirty missed calls.
That can’t be good.
I sigh, leaning back. The fridge is cool on my skin, and I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to psych myself up for whatever bad news is about to hit. I’ve been lying so low it’s got to be something about my ex or some other fake news story the paps have drummed up in my absence.
My agent, publicist, assistant, even Abby have all called me.
We’ve chatted a couple more times since my apology, so it’s not out of the blue, but paired with the others it feels like a warning.
Do I call her first? Nah. If there’s bad news to be had, I don’t want my friend to have to be the one to break it to me.
Instead, I dial Belinda’s number. She’ll give it to me straight but with a touch of kindness.
I don’t think I can handle my publicists’ catastrophizing right now.
Especially after I’ve been ghosting her these last couple of weeks.
I might be worried she’d drop me as a client, but I’m pretty sure my bank account paid for her new Mercedes last year, so I’m hoping she’s not going to take that hasty step.
Belinda picks up before the first ring is finished. “Aurelia, what is going on out there? And why haven’t you answered our calls? Janine is shitting bricks.”
“I was doing my yoga. No phones.” I sigh as my real life tightens its hold on me.
A heavy weight presses down on my chest, and I search for something to ground me before the panic rises.
Blink starts rubbing herself on my leg, softly whining as if she knows, and I reach down to run my hand through her silky curls.
“Well, you need to take a look at these pictures and explain what’s going on immediately.”
My stomach does a free fall, and I fumble with my phone, putting it on speaker. The photos aren’t hard to find. She sent them to me. As did, I’m pretty sure, everyone on my contact list.
No point in wasting any more time. I click on Belinda’s text string, but nothing could have prepared me for this.
Not my ex mouthing off. Not some director who’s in his father’s pocket talking shit about me.
Not some fan wishing for my death because I destroyed their favorite show.
No, it’s something much harder to take. Because I’m not the only one this is going to hurt.
And he didn’t invite this into his life.
I should have known it was a bad idea. That hiding out here wasn’t going to last. How could I have possibly thought this wouldn’t happen?
The pictures are like a punch in the chest. Quint and me in the parking lot of the skeezy hotel. Him guiding me with a hand on my lower back. Boosting me up into his rusty old truck. Leaning down to whisper in my ear.
Every picture is more damning than the last. The angles are designed to maximize that look on his face, the one that I know means he cares about his friends.
But that’s not how they’ve made it look.
It’s not the story the media is telling.
They’re saying we’re in love and speculating on what’s wrong with me to be dating a “nobody country boy.”
He’s not nobody. What a shitty thing to say about him. He’s smart and hardworking. He’s fun and charming and so many things. In love with me is just not one of them.
I’ve got no choices here. No good ones.
“You still there?” Belinda’s probing comment pulls me back into the moment.
“I am.”
“We need to get this under wraps as soon as possible. Luckily, no one has found out the real reason you’re in Balsam Grove early.
Yet. But now that your location is on blast, it’s not going to be easy to keep hidden.
I’m tempted to tell you to leave and find somewhere else to work on your skills, but there are only two weeks until filming starts.
I’m not sure it would be wise to start over.
Plus, that would leave you open to more leaks.
Could he have been the one who outed you? Or his family?”
Maybe… No. No way. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem interested at all in the fame.
He treats me like a normal person. His family, too.
” I put as much confidence into the statement as I can, because I don’t want her getting any ideas about him.
But a hint of doubt plants itself in my head.
It wouldn’t be the first time I thought I could trust someone only to be disappointed.
“Are you sure?” Her tone is heavy with skepticism.
“I’m sure. It wasn’t them. Maybe it was someone in town. It’s a small place. People talk.”
Blink bumps my hand with her head as if she’s the one who needs reassurance.
She sighs. “What were you doing in town?” She makes town sound like a dirty word.
“Well, Belinda, sometimes a girl needs to eat, you know. Shitty roadside hotels don’t exactly have room service.”
“What type of place are you staying at? No doorman, no security. Aurelia, you need to get out of there immediately. Anyone could just walk in and murder you—or worse, kidnap you for ransom.”
“Wait, kidnapping is worse than murder?”
“That’s not what I meant. We’ve got to get you out of there.”
I’m glad she cares about my safety. At least, I think she does. Or maybe she’s just worried she’ll be losing her cut of my earnings. Although, given the way my career has been going lately, it’s not like I’m her main source of income, so I’ll choose to believe she actually cares.
“It’s fine. I’m already out. I moved in with hi…his family.” Maybe not the best idea to tell her we’re sharing a tiny house. That would only fuel the speculation.
“Oh, good. Well, that’s a start. We’re going to have to loop Janine in though. Hold on, I’m adding her to the call.”
My empty stomach churns. I haven’t spoken to my publicist since I got here.
I’m sure Belinda gave her the heads-up that I was safe, but I appreciate her keeping the secret of what I’ve been up to and where I’ve been.
Otherwise, who knows what she might have already unleashed on Balsam Grove.
I dread thinking about what’s going to happen here once the rest of the cast arrives.
Some orchestrated relationship with a costar to boost publicity, or a new friendship with another cast member that’s only real on paper, probably.
As if the pictures aren’t bad enough, the articles I click on all have awesome headlines like:
“Missing Celeb Found Canoodling with Cowboy: Is This Character Research or Has the Jilted Star Found Love?”
“Aurelia Lane Spotted Getting Cozy with a Cowboy. Has the Heartbroken Star Found True Love?”
Fanfuckingtastic.
“Belinda, have you spoken to Aurelia?” Janine’s voice suddenly cuts through the phone like a knife. She’s a shark, which can be a benefit when the shark is on your side. I hope we can make that work in our favor.
“Of course. In fact, I’ve got her on the line here. Say hello, Aurelia.”