Chapter 3
Someone was watching her. Not one person. A lot of people.
The sharp awareness clung to Emily’s skin. Over the years, she’d kind of gotten used to it. Not completely, but at least it didn’t make the hairs on her arms stand on end anymore.
Two young women across the street. They stared and whispered as if Emily couldn’t see them.
A teenage girl in the gazebo, who sat with her mother, eyes wide and solely on Emily.
What looked like a husband and wife. The husband didn’t seem to care, but the wife was hitting him in the shoulder and pointing right at her.
Oh, and Shaun across the street. The man who was basically a thorn in every Hollywood actor’s side.
He was a muckraking, bottom-feeding tabloid writer.
He liked to publish dirt on A-list celebrities, and he didn’t even care if it was true.
Why he thought he’d get that here, in Deep River, she had no idea.
He offered a sleazy smile from the back of his truck, camera in hand.
“I see Shaun’s close by, as per usual,” her mother said, almost sounding amused as they walked.
And fifty bucks says it was her mother who gave him their location.
Emily nodded and glanced over her shoulder at the security detail. Not her security. Her mother’s. Emily refused to be followed by a strange man unless they were somewhere busy, like New York or LA.
What had her mother said his name was? Darcy? He didn’t look like a Darcy. He looked like a Hank or a Gunner. Maybe even a Sledge. “Is he really necessary? We’re in a small town.”
“Bad things happen in small towns too. There was a string of murders here not too long ago. We’re only here because they found the psycho behind that.”
They were only here…like Emily’s career wasn’t actually her own. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe her mother, who was also her manager, and Roscoe and everyone else who played a part in her daily life assumed more ownership than she did.
But only because you let them. The words whispered through her head.
Why did she let them? Because sometimes she felt so detached from it all, she may as well be in someone else’s body? Walking in their shoes, wearing their clothes. Living their life.
Her mother stopped. “I guess this is it.” Her mom peered through the window with a grimace, like she was looking into a dumpster rather than a café.
“As long as they have coffee, I’m good.” Emily pushed inside, ignoring her mother’s huff behind her. A floral scent suddenly surrounded her. Not just the scent, the flowers themselves. Tulips and lilies. Lisianthus. They all sat on a table to the right of the door, and God, they were beautiful.
Her gaze slipped to the handwritten chalkboard above the wooden counter. Then to the wildflowers in Mason jars on the tables, and the mismatched mugs.
And the bookshelves at the back…
Like her feet had a mind of their own, she crossed the café. There were so many books! Some new. Some with worn spines from so many reads.
Her gaze lowered to a couch in front of the shelves. To the scattered books on the low tables. They’d clearly been read with a coffee, then left for the next person.
Something in her chest kicked. Something she hadn’t felt for years.
Longing.
For a quieter life. A world without cameras or media or people telling her what to do and say.
She could see it. A Saturday where she just walked into this café without security and no place to be. She’d sit on the old sofa with the smell of wildflowers and coffee surrounding her. And she’d just read.
“Emily Quinn Prior. How many times have I told you not to run off? For someone with your…notoriety, that can be dangerous.”
The spell snapped. Vanished. Disappeared in the span of a second as if it had never existed, and reality hit her like a freight train.
She turned to look into her mother’s hazel eyes. “I’m going to order a coffee.”
“Don’t be silly. Darcy—”
“Is a bodyguard, not a slave. Caramel cappuccino for you?”
Her mother huffed. “If they even have caramel.”
She barely held in the eye roll as she moved to the counter. “Hi.”
The woman on the other side smiled at her—a wide, genuine smile. “Hi. Emily, right?”
That was something she’d never get used to. Strangers knowing her name and using it like they were an old friend. “Yes.”
“I’m Polly. The owner of The Wandering Bloom. Although, we just call it Bloom. And we have the best coffee in town.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Don’t let Basil tell you otherwise.”
“Basil?”
“He runs The Pancake Bar. He has good pancakes. Coffee’s okay. Nothing like ours.”
“You have books too.” Her gaze drifted to the shelves.
“Yes. I’d tell you we sell them, but locals treat it more as a library. Which is fine, because they come back to finish and buy more coffee.”
Emily chuckled. A real chuckle, not that practiced one for the media that made her cheeks ache.
“What can I get you?” Polly asked.
“I would love an oat latte. And if you do caramel lattes, I’ll grab one of them for my mother. And an Americano for Darcy.” She had no idea what Darcy drank, but over the years, she’d learned most bodyguards just took their coffee black.
“Easy. Having it here or to go?”
“As much as I’d love to have it here, we have a safety briefing to attend from the local search and rescue guys.
” Her skin tightened at the thought of seeing Ryan again.
She’d successfully avoided him for the last three days, but that was because she’d had no scenes to shoot. Her reprieve had officially run out.
“I know.”
Emily’s brows rose. “You know?”
“Sorry, that sounded kind of creepy. I’m dating Joel, one of the guys on the team. He told me about it.”
“Oh. That’s great.” She’d only met the guys once in the five months she’d dated Ryan. It was at a bar, and they’d all been friendly enough. But Ryan had talked about them a lot. Had photos of each of them in his phone and in his apartment. From memory, Joel was the funny guy in the group.
“Sometimes he drives me nuts—okay, most of the time—but God, I love him.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. The mention of love should not feel like a fist around her heart. She was happy for the café owner. Just because Emily hadn’t gotten her love story didn’t mean others shouldn’t.
“It sounds like you have a great life here.” That was good. It hadn’t sounded jealous at all. But then, she was a good actress.
Polly laughed. “Says the woman who has everything.”
This time, it was definitely the practiced smile that curved her mouth. It was as fake as her mother’s lips.
What would Polly say if Emily told her the truth? That sometimes her life felt like a snow globe. Idyllic to anyone looking in. But also forever paused in a perfect moment. Frozen. Trapped. “Thank you, Polly.”
“You got it.”
Emily turned as the doors to Bloom opened and Preston and Faye stepped in. They’d also forgone the bodyguards in this town. It was only her mother who’d decided she needed one.
Was she surprised? No.
This was the third movie she and Preston had shot together.
He was okay. Kind of superficial. Carrying a bit of an inflated ego.
That wasn’t unusual in this industry though.
The media loved to snap them together and paint them as a real-life couple.
Something she hadn’t corrected, because what was the point?
The media said what they wanted to say, regardless of whether it was true or not.
Faye smiled. “Hey. This place is cute.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Preston’s nose wrinkled. “A bit too…weathered for me.”
A tap on her arm had her turning to see what looked like a young teenage girl with a high pony.
Darcy started toward her from where he stood with her mother, but she shook her head, a silent, It’s fine. She turned back to the girl, putting that picture-perfect smile back into place. “Hi.”
The girl’s cheeks turned pink. “Hi. I…oh…I’m so nervous. I was wondering if I could have a photo with you?”
“Of course.”
Preston stepped forward. “Hi, darlin’.”
The pink in the girl’s cheeks darkened. “Hi, Preston.”
“Would you like me in the photo?” His smile widened, his blindingly white teeth on full display.
The girl shuffled her feet. “Is that…I mean, if it’s okay.”
“I’m always happy to take a photo with a fan. It’s part of the job, honey.”
Cue internal eye roll.
Preston stood on one side of the girl while Emily stood on the other. He took the phone and snapped a selfie of the three of them, while Faye stood to the side.
The girl turned. “Could I get one of you two? You’re such a cute couple!”
Before Emily could answer, Preston’s arm curved around her waist, and he tugged her flush into his side. “Absolutely.”
Oh, brother.
As the girl snapped a photo, Preston kissed her cheek.
At that moment the door opened and Ryan stepped inside.
Fuck, Ryan was in a bad mood. And it had everything to do with that prick’s lips on Emily’s cheek an hour ago.
He stormed from his truck toward the trailers. He was late for the safety briefing. Would the director give him shit for that too? He’d already spent the last three days on Ryan’s case, complaining about the team “interfering” with production.
Why the guy had to be such a pain in Ryan’s ass, he had no clue.
Zac already stood in front of the cast and crew and had started the briefing.
“The trails in this forest look simple, but they aren’t,” Zac explained, as Ryan stopped beside him. “When you leave the marked paths, it’s easy to get turned around. We’ve had experienced hikers lose their bearings out here.”
“Is this really necessary?”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed on the guy who’d kissed Emily that morning. Preston. “The reason we’re doing this is because a crew member was sent out to scout a replacement location at your director’s request yesterday and didn’t come back for hours. Then my team had to find him.”
The asshole rolled his eyes, and Ryan’s feet twitched to cross the distance between them and wipe that arrogant expression right off his face.
Zac cleared his throat. “Next…”
As Zac continued, Ryan shifted his gaze to Emily.
Her hands were in the pockets of a large puffer jacket, and her gaze was on the ground in front of her.
Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a messy knot on top of her head and, of course, her mother stood at her side.
That woman had always been Emily’s shadow.
Even five years ago, the woman had called Emily every day and shown up at her apartment unannounced so frequently that you basically expected her.
When Emily shifted her weight, Ryan’s gaze lowered to her leg. Was it still hurting? He’d assumed she’d pulled a muscle after the chase scene through the woods. Maybe fell on it wrong. Was it still hurting four days later?
“Wildlife,” Zac said. “This isn’t New York. Montana has bears and moose and the occasional mountain lion.”
“I think we all know to run,” the director scoffed.
Ryan’s gaze shifted to the idiot. “Never run. That makes you prey.”
Ryan felt Emily’s eyes on him before he shifted his attention back to her. Their gazes met. A few visible breaths lifted her chest before she swallowed and looked back at the dirt.
“You all have radios,” Zac continued. “Channel three is for general crew. One is an emergency. If you get hurt or lost, you switch to one immediately.”
This time, the director blew out an exaggerated breath.
“You got a problem?” Ryan asked.
Roscoe straightened. “Yeah, actually, we have a scene to shoot in an hour. We have actual work to do.”
“And what happens when someone gets hurt and it screws up your filming schedule?”
“We’re shooting a movie, not stepping into a ring.”
“This forest will swallow your city ass whole. You understand?”
“It’s a controlled set,” the director countered.
“It’s a forest. Control is limited.”
There was a stretch of silence before the guy huffed again. “Fine. Just finish the lecture.”
Zac talked about emergency meeting points and discussed the river and weather.
Every so often, Ryan added something, but Zac pretty much ran the show.
The director rolled his eyes at least half a dozen more times, a bored expression on his face.
Preston spent most of his time talking to the short redhead beside him, the same one who’d been in Bloom this morning with him and Emily.
And every so often, Ryan felt Emily look at him. Her gaze was hot on his skin, and every time, he itched to look back. Meet her eyes. Feel that connection.
“Are we finally done?” This time it was Melanie, Emily’s mother, who called out. “We have a schedule to keep. My daughter has a schedule to keep.”
Ryan didn’t miss the small eye roll from Emily.
That was new. The Emily he remembered never would have disrespected her mother.
“We’re done,” Zac said, his smile tight now. Even he, a man who had the patience of a saint, had been pushed to his limit by these people.
The director threw up his hands. “Finally. Let’s go, team.”
Ryan watched as Emily took three steps, only to be cut off by the short redhead.
No limp. Because she was hiding it? Or was she actually okay?
“Watch out, two o’clock,” Zac said under his breath.
Ryan internally groaned at the sight of Melanie Prior marching toward him.
Great. Just what his bad fucking mood needed.
She stopped in front of him. “Ryan, I wasn’t expecting to see you in Deep River.”
“Life’s full of surprises.”
“Can we talk in private?”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed. She obviously wasn’t used to hearing that word.
She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “You stay away from her. She’s happy. She’s moved on from you and actually done something with her life.”
He lifted a brow. “You implying I haven’t?”
Did being a Navy SEAL, defending his country, and now working in search and rescue count as nothing to this woman because it didn’t come with big money and notoriety?
Melanie laughed, not a single wrinkle appearing on her face. “There’s no comparison between your life in this tiny town and everything Emily has. So don’t put her at risk.”
“Careful, Melanie…you almost sound worried.” From his peripheral vision, he saw Emily look their way, then hurry toward them.
There was the limp.
“Worried about what?” Melanie huffed.
“Is everything okay here?” Emily’s words were rushed. Anxious.
Melanie smiled, and it was the fakest thing he’d ever seen. “Of course. I was just saying hello to Ryan. Reacquainting. It’s been so long.”
Ignoring the lie that no one in their right mind would believe, he gave Emily his full attention. “Is your leg still hurting?”
Her eyes flared, a bit of color slipping from her cheeks.
What the hell was the deal with the limp?
Melanie linked her arm through her daughter’s. “We’re leaving now. It’ll be good to have your team keeping us safe…from a distance.”
Her mother pulled Emily away harshly, and when she did, Emily’s knee almost buckled.
He started to help her, but she pulled away.
“I’m fine.” She spared him one last glance before walking toward her trailer.
There was a story there. And the fact that she didn’t want him to know made Ryan absolutely determined to get to the bottom of it.