Get The Picture? #2
At the moment, she was content to stay at the farm and plan Halloween activities with him. That gave him a few weeks to get to know her, and let her get to know—and trust—him.
Wyatt was falling hard and fast. Which meant he wanted her to fall the same way. He didn’t want to be dealing with this shit alone.
After his experiences with Genn, he was shocked that not only was he willing to give another relationship a shot, but his heart was telling him Esme was the one. He wanted to make it permanent.
Look at him having all these sappy feelings. His parents had been great, but they’d never been demonstrative and never expressed sappy feelings.
He knew they’d loved him. They’d told him often how proud they were of him, but no one threw the Love word around.
It was weird having it bounce around in his head and his heart.
He’d have to ensure she felt the same.
Wyatt sipped his cider and pulled up a search engine. He typed in Esme Garcia. He realized he should probably have added model; Garcia was a pretty common surname.
Instead of having to retype his search, his phone nearly exploded with responses. All to the correct Esme.
He was sure that if he typed in his own name, he’d have to dig to the hundredth page of results to find himself, if he was even searchable.
Photos appeared at the top of the search results, and he clicked on Images to see more.
Holy shit.
Esme in silky dresses, jeans and cowboy hats, a tuxedo that nearly had him drooling. Lingerie. Barely-there lingerie showcasing that lithe body.
Her eyes stared directly into the camera in many of the shots, and he felt like she was staring into his soul.
He zipped through dozens of pages, hundreds of pictures. In all of them, she was stunning. Gorgeous.
But he preferred the Esme he knew, the one who didn’t bother with makeup, not even to hide her scar.
The Esme he knew was gorgeous without the trappings of makeup, lighting, clothes, and incredible scenic backdrops.
Esme wasn’t small-time famous. She was world-renowned, capital F famous.
Wyatt had to sit back and gulp down some cider.
Who did he think he was falling for a woman like that? A woman who probably got recognized in Paris. One who could have the world at her feet with a smile.
Then he remembered her joy in the Star Wars chickens. The tears she’d wiped away when he’d told her the story behind the names for Maki and her team of hens.
She’d been thrilled with the Worminator and wanted to dig in—literally and figuratively—with Thea for more information on compost.
At the No Fail Diner, Esme had showcased Manuel’s meal with complete joy.
The Esme he knew wasn’t in these pictures. These were the persona she put on for her job.
She was different from Genn. No way in hell would his ex post videos without her face in them. She’d pouted when Wyatt had refused to be in her selfies. Her need to be on show all the time had annoyed the hell out of him. His lack of understanding had pissed her off.
Even without the cheating, they wouldn’t have lasted much longer. They hadn’t been a good match.
And what made Wyatt believe he could be a better match with a woman like Esme? She had much better options than a man who planned to splice apple trees and grow cinnamon.
But that didn’t make him want her any less. Didn’t make him want them any less.
Shoving the doubts to the back of his mind, Wyatt went back to the web results. It didn’t take long to find her website, but he ignored that when he spotted the news links below about her attack.
Esme Slashed.
Career over for Esme Garcia.
Knife attack.
Who hates our Esme?
Not so pretty now.
Scarred.
The headlines ranged from sympathetic to attention-grabbing. He ignored the clickbait articles and clicked a news site he trusted for unbiased information.
The article didn’t tell him much more than what he already knew.
She’d been attacked on the street in LA at dusk.
Apparently, she’d been walking from a Moroccan restaurant to her hotel when a man had shoved her into an alley.
He’d slashed her face and taken a few pictures.
Witnesses said he was large and muscular, wearing all black, including a balaclava over his face.
Wyatt’s stomach tightened. It was an obvious attack to her face. The man hadn’t attempted to take her purse or touch her sexually. Witnesses said the entire attack took less than twenty seconds.
Her life had changed in the span of a few heartbeats.
In the military, part of their training was how to deal with the aftereffects of a personal attack. How to deal with the death or injuries of teammates and the people they fought.
Esme wouldn’t have been trained in any of that. She wouldn’t have expected to have to cope with that kind of viciousness.
But she’d not only survived, she’d also dealt with it well enough that she was enjoying a new career.
Without family around her, he hoped she’d had access to a good therapist. Even without experiencing major injuries of his own, Wyatt had leaned on his therapist when making the transition back to civilian life. Dealing with his dad’s death had added another layer, and his therapist had been great.
However Esme had arrived at her present mindset; she’d done an incredible job. She’d found a job that brought her joy and kept her interested in life around her.
Wyatt scrolled back to her website and found her social media links.
Soon, he was smiling at her videos. They were exactly like the ones he’d seen her take. Snapshots of small-town life that made her smile and evoked good memories of her Nans and Giblet.
She’d been doing this for months, showcasing small towns across the country.
Choosing a few at random, Wyatt scrolled through the comments, looking for angry replies or ones that would indicate an obsessed fan.
If jealous models had orchestrated the attack, he doubted they’d show up in the comments under their own names.
Most of the comments were positive. People loved her small-town snippets.
Comments from the townspeople proved that Esme hadn’t posted live videos even at the beginning. Grateful people thanked her for highlighting the towns they loved.
Others mentioned anonymous donations to their towns for libraries, schools, and community improvement projects. Many assumed the donations were from Esme, as they occurred shortly after she’d left the community.
Wyatt’s heart warmed. If he’d needed any more proof Esme was different from Genn, here it was. No way would Genn do anything good anonymously. She would have wanted a photo op with the town and one of those giant checks on display.
That wasn’t Esme’s style.
He kept scrolling, noting the names of potential suspects as he went.
The negative comments tended to be from people jealous of Esme’s fame or beauty, or from people who were pissed she hadn’t showcased them or their businesses.
From the tone of their comments, Wyatt knew exactly why they hadn’t been included.
Esme was all about sharing the fun and joy of small-town living, not about feeding greed or pompous egos.
Some comments made his heart freeze.
Ugly bitch.
You deserve that slashed face.
Glad you’ve been brought down to earth.
Time to find a real job.
Next time, maybe they’ll finish the job.
Worse, were the comments from people trying to find gossip.
Want to share the truth about Esme? Contact information is in my profile.
What really happened when Esme was in your town? Let us know, and we can make it worth your while.
Got any pics of Esme doing the deed?
Where’s she heading next? Will pay for details.
There were at least a dozen like that on every post Wyatt checked. Some used ordinary names like John, Ken, or Diane; others were phrases. RealMan456, ArmageddonNow, VengeanceIsMine, and AlphaControl. Names that showcased the person’s insecurities and nasty personalities.
John and RealMan456 were the most consistent negative commenters he spotted.
They repeatedly called Esme ugly, fake, and greedy.
They made disparaging remarks about her face, intelligence, and desperate need for attention.
The comments came across as personal. He wondered whether they attacked many famous people or if their vitriol was only directed at Esme.
Even though he was sure Marcus would do the same, he noted down the social media accounts. Maybe the police had an expert who could do more digging into the trolls.
What the hell was wrong with people?
From his past, he knew how to deal with a physical threat, how to handle himself against almost any kind of attack, and how to protect others.
How did he protect Esme from people like this? People who delighted in seeing someone hurt. People who didn’t believe in good and who enjoyed spreading pictures of people on their worst days.
Shaking his head, Wyatt closed the browser and poured himself another cup of cider. He wasn’t going to get much sleep anyway; he might as well try to come up with a plan.