Chapter 11 Hunter #2
I went back to my little porch, picked up my phone and called Seraphina. It went to voicemail. I texted her instead.
Hunter
Have you seen it?
Seraphina
Yes. I’m on the phone with my publisher. They’re not sure what to do.
She’d seen the photos and apparently so had her publisher.
Hunter
Okay if I come over?
Seraphina
Yes. We should talk.
I texted Ivy next.
Hunter
What should I do? Seraphina doesn’t need this kind of stuff in her life. I’m so angry I can’t see straight.
Ivy
I have some ideas about what to do. Tell Seraphina not to worry. This will all blow over. They always do. But we can control the narrative, too, so don’t fret.
Hunter
Okay. I’m headed to see Seraphina now. Please let me know when you know more.
Ivy
Will do.
Seraphina met me at her front door. She looked shaken and a little pale. We both glanced behind me before I slipped inside, already growing accustomed to the idea that a photographer could be lurking in a bush. Once inside, she wrapped her arms around me and I held her for a moment.
“I’m sorry this is happening,” I said. “I’m mortified. Dragging you into my messy life.”
Seraphina stepped back, taking my hand to lead me into the kitchen. “My publisher’s having a fit. They’re not used to their writers being anywhere near a scandal.”
“They’re not threatening to drop you, are they?”
“No, not yet. And honestly, I don’t think they will. If anything, their marketing department will figure out this is something they can use to drive interest toward my books and the Netflix series. Plus, I’m one of their best sellers.”
“And how are you feeling about it all?”
“I’m a little freaked out,” Seraphina said. “I’ve always kept my life so private. Seeing our photo like that—it was unsettling to say the least.”
“It was to me too. I mean, where was the photographer? I thought we were totally alone.”
“I’ve thought about that. I’m thinking on top of the cliff. He probably had a lens that could capture us from far away.”
“Ivy has some ideas about how we can control this,” I said. “Would you be open to that?”
“I can’t see how it would hurt.” Seraphina went to her fancy coffee machine that spit out lattes at the punch of a button. “You want a coffee?”
“That would be great. I didn’t finish the one I was working on when Ivy sent me the photos.”
“Tell me what you like and I’ll program it in here for you.”
She was remarkably calm. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“I like lattes, two shots of espresso,” I said.
I watched as she made me a profile on her espresso machine, then programmed it with my coffee preference. I was listed as a user. Did that mean she wasn’t about to kick me to the curb over all this?
“In the grand scheme of things, this isn’t that big of a deal.
But it feels like it is right now.” Seraphina grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set it on the machine.
A split second later, two streams of espresso shot into the cup, followed by steamed milk.
“But your ex is making this harder than it should be.” She handed me the drink, then turned to make something for herself.
“I don’t like the thought of you having any repercussions from this,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Will your readers be upset? I mean, I’m being painted as a callous cheater in Dana’s book.”
“Some might be. But some might love it.” She took down another mug and set it on the espresso machine. “You’re a sexy cowboy, just like some of my characters.”
I studied her for a moment. She presented as composed and unemotional. What was she really thinking?
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Truth.”
She pushed a button on the machine, her back to me.
When she turned to look at me, I could see the worry in her green eyes.
“This is my livelihood we’re talking about.
So yes, it makes me nervous. If my readership turned on me, I’d be totally screwed.
” She grabbed her coffee from the machine.
“But honestly, does anyone care about who I date? I really don’t know. This is all new territory for me.”
“You seem awfully self-possessed,” I said.
She laughed softly. “It’s my super power. ‘Never let them see you sweat.’ That’s what my dad used to tell me whenever I was nervous about something.”
“Are we okay?” I asked. “Do you want me to walk out of here and let you get back to your quiet, uncomplicated life?”
“Not that long ago, I would have known the answer to that. Walking away, keeping things simple for my sake as well as Tyler’s has been my way of making it through life.”
“And now I’ve made it complicated.”
A muscle in her cheek flexed. “A little, yes. But Hunter, I don’t want to let whatever this is between us be ruined because of a tabloid story. I haven’t felt like this … about someone … for a long time. Maybe forever. Are we really going to let a little bad press get in the way?”
“I just want you to feel safe. Otherwise I’m afraid you’ll put your boots back on and never take them off.”
“For any man but you, I would tug those suckers onto my feet over a double pair of socks. But I can’t.
Not with you. That doesn’t mean I’m not frightened.
Being exposed and vulnerable to scrutiny, especially in the public eye, is not in my comfort zone.
That’s what’s great about being a writer.
I can hide inside my books. Live through my characters.
But you have me all topsy-turvy. It might be foolish, but my feet love being in the sand next to yours. ”
“I like that too.” She was so pretty standing there in the morning light, still wearing leggings and a tank top from her morning Pilates class.
“Let’s see what Ivy’s come up with and go from there, okay?” Seraphina asked.
I set aside my coffee and then gently took her mug and placed it on the island next to mine so I could pull her close. “Thank you for being a grown up about this.” I gave her a quick peck on the mouth.
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “You better not break my heart, Hunter Sloan. If you do, I’ll have to develop a love of heavy metal or rap.”
“Are you saying I could ruin country music for you?” I asked, in a lighter tone than I currently felt.
“Just keep your boots by the door and not on the bed,” Seraphina said. “Then I’ll know it’s all going to be okay.”
“I think I just had an idea for a song.”
“Call Ivy and see if she’ll come by,” Seraphina said. “The sooner we have a plan for how to deal with all of this, the sooner we can both get back to writing.”
“I’m on it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ivy arrived at Seraphina’s. She bounced into the house, wearing a denim dress and red cowgirl boots.
“How are you two holding up?” Ivy asked, after saying yes to a latte.
“I’m okay,” Seraphina said. “But this has been very distracting. I’ve got everyone and their mother texting me about it. I haven’t written a single word today.”
“I’m sorry this is all happening,” Ivy said. “But I have a solution. I’ve called a publicist to help. Madeleine Price. She’s a pistol. Once she started working with Jack Wilder, his career took off. I called her this morning. She’s already on her way here.”
“I’ve heard of her,” I told Seraphina. “She’s well known in Nashville for being a hit maker.”
“She’s the best there is,” Ivy said. “But I should warn you. She’s intense. Very serious about her work. So just know that going in. She’ll be brutally blunt, most likely.”
“It’s fine as long as she helps,” Seraphina said.
Madeleine Price arrived an hour later in a rental car that she’d driven from San Francisco.
She knocked on Seraphina’s front door wearing a cream ribbed dress with a wide leather belt, tall brown cowboy boots, a coffee cup in one hand and a leather bag in the other.
Her long brown hair looked like it had been professionally styled.
Ivy introduced us.
Madeleine held out her hand to shake mine. “Good to see you. We’ve met before. Few years back at the CMAs. Not sure you remember me?”
“I think so. Those things are always a blur. Regardless, it’s nice to see you, and thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“I happened to be flying out to L.A. in a few days anyway so it was no problem to move my travel. I’ll drive down to L.A. from here. Once we get everything on the right track.”
“I called her yesterday to talk through what I should do about Dana and her pesky book,” Ivy said. “So she’s familiar with the situation.”
“That’s right,” Madeleine set her bag on the island. “At the moment, I don’t have anything troubling with Jack or any of his band members, so it was fortuitous timing. Last month, not so much. Knox Harley got into a bar fight. Tossed a chair. PR nightmare.”
“I think I read something about that,” Seraphina said.
“The man’s a mess and a menace but he can play a mean guitar and write a darn good song, so we have to deal with him.
Plus, he and Jack have known each other a long time.
Jack’s a real sweetheart, but Knox makes me want to pull my hair extensions out.
” She set her bag on the island. “Should we get started?”
“Yes, come sit at the table,” Seraphina said. “Can I make you a coffee?”
“No, thank you kindly. I’ve had enough.” Madeleine gestured toward the coffee she’d set next to her laptop. “I’ve been up since four a.m. Nashville time. Living on coffee and dark chocolate since 2009.”
We gathered at the kitchen table. Madeleine opened her laptop. “All right, let’s talk this through. First of all, this is not a code ten type of scandal. More like a two. You’ve done nothing wrong. Neither of you are married. You both live here in Willet Cove, where you met and started dating.”
“We met through mutual friends,” Hunter said. “Nothing untoward.”
“I did a little research on our friend Dana,” Madeleine said. “The book comes out tomorrow, so she’s been doing the interview circuit—television, podcasts, People magazine.”
“We’re aware,” I said drily.