6. Avery
Thanksto the chocolate and erotic online shopping frenzy, I sleep in late the next morning. And when I finally roll out of bed around noon, there’s only one thing on my mind– and it’s not Duke’s kissable lips, and arms that look like they’re hewn from fine Italian marble…
Ahem.
Nope, I decide, as I pull on some shorts and a breezy blouse and set off towards town. All those… feelings floating around last night were just wayward hormones: my body’s attempt to blow off some steam after the stressful few months I’ve been having. But the attraction isn’t real. In fact, the only thing I need in my life to satisfy me is a massive plate of pancakes: fluffy, and towering, and drenched in maple syrup and butter.
And, hell, throw in a side of bacon, too.
Make it two sides.
It’s busy out on Main Street when I arrive, and I brace myself for a long line at the diner, but to my surprise and delight, the crowds part, and I get seated almost right away at a booth in the windows. “Coffee too, please,” I add, after placing my order. “Lots of it.”
“Coming right up.”
I sit back, taking in the morning scene. It’s a classic old-school vibe here, with red leather booths and chequerboard flooring, and no-nonsense waitresses dishing out pie and coffee behind the counter. Back in LA, a place like this would be packed with hipster types, all looking too cool for school and snapping photos of their food to post on social media. But here in Blackberry Cove, there’s just a steady hum of conversation from tables full of families, and kids hopped up on maple syrup, and a row of old timers in the back catching up over the local newspaper.
Then I catch sight of Tessa passing by outside the windows. My kitchen mishap comes rushing back to me– and the sight of all that antique glass, smashed on the floor. Dammit.
I scoot out of my booth, and hurry outside to intercept her.
“Avery, hi!” she smiles.
“I am so, so sorry about last night,” I tell her. “Just let me know the cost of replacing everything. Or where you got them from, I can special order it myself.”
“Whoa there,” she stops my apology. “It’s fine. Really. I get all my glassware at the thrift store. You’re not the first guest at the Sandpiper to have a little breakage, and you definitely won’t be the last.”
I exhale, relieved. I thought I might have destroyed some priceless family heirlooms, the way that tray hit the deck. “Still, I’m sorry I rushed out like that.”
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” Tessa insists, wide-eyed. “I had no idea Linette was going to act like a crazed fangirl. She’s fine around Jackson,” she adds. “She even refused to let him borrow her leaf blower when ours crapped out on us. She must really love you.”
“I feel so special,” I quip dryly, and Tessa laughs.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to hangout though. How about a do-over?” she suggests. “Jackson’s getting back tomorrow, so we’re going to host a little BBQ. Just close friends,” she adds. “No rabid fans. In fact, these folks probably wouldn’t cross the street to stop you from drowning.”
I have to smile at that. “That sounds great,” I agree. “The cookout, not the drowning part, at least.”
“Great! Wait, is that for you?” she asks, nodding behind me, to where my waitress is tapping on the window and gesturing for me to come inside.
“My pancakes!” I exclaim.
“Then don’t let me keep you.” Tessa grins. “Did you get the pecan whipped cream? It’s a must!”
I enjoymy breakfast in peace, browsing through news and emails on my phone. There are still no big offers coming in, but I’m determined to keep up with movie industry buzz, so I don’t lose touch. Still, it stings to read the casting announcements and see half-a-dozen projects I would kill to be a part of. Projects I would have had a real shot at winning, just a few months ago. But now it’s Sydney and Zoey and Halle landing all the big roles, and I’m out here with a busy day of… nothing much planned.
Laundry. A nap. Maybe another chapter of Captured by the Pirate King, if I really want to get wild.
It’s a long way from my packed social schedule of VIP events, that’s for sure, and even though I’m still adjusting to all this relaxing, I’m relieved to see that the Google alert I set up for my name is getting quieter by the day. With no big sightings or new stories to report, even the tabloids are losing interest in me. That’s one thing about Hollywood: the news cycle moves on fast. With any luck, by the end of summer I’ll be a distant gossip memory – and I’ll be able to plot my triumphant return.
I finish up, and head outside, strolling the quaint town square in the sunshine. There’s a farmers market set up on the main green, with some cute craft vendors selling their wares, so I decide to linger, but I’m just browsing a display of pottery when I feel the hair prickle on the back of my neck.
Somebody’s watching me.
I look around. The market is busy, some guy’s barking through a megaphone about protecting local wildlife, and there’s even a group of pensioners doing some kind of yoga on a line of matching mats on the green, but everyone seems occupied by their own business.
I turn back to the vases. “Do these come in any other colors?” I ask. For all Tessa’s reassurance about my trail of destruction back at the BB, I’d still like to bring her a gift to make up for it. Or three.
“Sure, there’s a blue glaze, and the more natural ones, too…” the woman points me over to the other side of her booth, and I check out some more designs, but even as we chat, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
It’s a sixth sense by now. Once you have paparazzi loitering outside the gym, and trailing you to get coffee, you get attuned to it.
I scan the crowd again from behind my sunglasses…
There.
There’s a group of teens loitering by the fruit stand, trading delighted giggles and whispers. As I watch, a couple of them pull out their camera phones, and oh-so-subtly point them in my direction, pretending to pose for pics with the fruit while they snap away at me.
But seriously, kids: pomegranates aren’t that interesting.
I turn my back on them, and quickly pick the rest of my hostess gifts. “Are you from around here?” I ask the potter, as she wraps them up in a plume of bright tissue paper. She nods.
“Born and raised.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know any good nature trails?” I ask, feeling an itch to get out of town– and away from prying eyes. “Something out of the way. Private. No tourists around.”
“Sure,” she smiles, “There’s actually a great little swimming hole in the woods. Locals only,” she adds. “I probably shouldn’t even mention it, but hey, I loved you in Nightfall.” She names one of my first jobs from years ago, a trashy teen vampire soap.
“Wow, deep cut,” I joke. “I haven’t thought about that show in years.”
She laughs. “What can I say? You really sold me that you were your own evil twin!”
The potter givesme directions to the pond – and makes me swear never to reveal the location to anyone who hasn’t spent at least a decade in Blackberry Cove – so I stop back at the cottage to drop off the vases and pack a beach bag, then set off on my big day out in nature.
It’s a fresh, blue-skied summer day, and as I stride across the open fields with the ocean glittering in the distance; I have to admit, this place is growing on me. Sure, I’m still pining for that perfect iced dirty chai, and missing the magic of my regular spa masseuse, but Brooke was right with all her teasing: if I’m going to be cast out of Hollywood in exile…
There are worse places to wind up than right here.
I snap a photo of woods and trees, then send it to her to post online for me.
“Hashtag, restore, revive, relax,’?”she replies, a moment later.
I snort. It’s vague, bland, and upbeat. Which makes it the perfect caption for a pic on my official social media account.
“You are getting way too good at this.”I text back.
“It’s a gift!”
I tuck my phone away, on the lookout for the sign that’s supposed to be posted, pointing me past the woods. Sure enough, there’s an old wooden marker that sends me through the trees, and out to another wide open field.
I keep hiking, feeling more upbeat than I have done in weeks. That caption isn’t all bullshit, I realize with a wry grin. Nature has its perks. The birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and there are no pesky photographers hiding out on the trail like back in LA – ready to capture you in all your sweaty, red-faced glory. I can’t ever get away from them in the city, but here?
Well, the only person I can’t escape in Blackberry Cove seems to be Duke Hendricks,
all six foot two of impatient frowning and questionable taste in backwards baseball caps.
Just my luck.
I walk a little faster, hot now in the midday sun. Of course, it’s just the sun making my temperature rise, and not the memories of last night: sitting there in the passenger seat with my heart racing, waiting for his kiss…
The kiss that didn’t come, because Duke has no interest in kissing me, I remind myself sternly. Just like I have zero real interest in locking lips with him. I mean, imagine it!
I do.
Vividly.
Duke’s strong arms pulling me closer… his stubbled jaw against my cheek… that flash of amusement in his blue eyes turning to something hotter. Hungrier…
I shake it off. That’s one black mark against Blackberry Cove at least: I haven’t been able to get away from the guy. In LA, I could break up with a man and literally never lay eyes on him again – especially if he lives on the West Side. But here? Duke’s everywhere. On the highway, driving by the Sandpiper, and?—
Striding out of the woods, right in front of me.
What the hell?
I stop dead in my tracks, gaping at him – and not even sure it really is him, or just some apparition my mind has conjured up to torment me.
A bare-chested apparition, wearing faded jeans and boots, with his T-shirt bunched in his hand. His hair looks damp for some reason, water dripping down his neck, and over those broad shoulders…
My jaw drops.
OK, this overactive imagination of mine is going too far. I mean, does it really need to hallucinate the vision of Duke without his shirt on, his skin tanned, and dusted with dark hair that trails all the way down to his?—
“Are you stalking me?” the imaginary Duke sees and stops, scowling.
I blink, processing the vision.
Angrily folded arms. Impatient glare.
Nope, not a figment. This is definitely the genuine grumpy article.
And he’s looking at me like I’m the last person on earth he wants to see.
Well, two can play that game.
“Yes, I am stalking you,” I declare brightly, folding my arms. “You got me. I really have nothing better to do with my life than roam the countryside, searching for just the sight of you. ‘Where’s Duke?’ I cry to the winds,” I add dramatically, pressing a hand to my forehead like some forlorn heroine in a gothic romance. “Where, o’ where can I find him now?”
Duke rolls his eyes, but I can see the edge of his lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile.
“OK, I get it,” he sighs. “This is just another unlucky coincidence.”
“Fate’s really got it out for you,” I agree cheerfully. “Better watch out for black cats, and avoid walking under tall buildings.”
“Who says it’s me being tormented?” Duke shoots back. “You’re way more likely to have pissed off the powers-that-be.” He runs a hand through his damp hair, and I try not to look at the way it makes his bicep flex.
Try, and fail.
Miserably.
“Let’s just call it a draw, and be on our way,” I tell him, hitching up my beach bag. “I’m guessing the swimming pond is that way,” I add, pointing to where he just emerged from the trees.
“How do you know about Gull Pond?” he asks, frowning.
“I have my ways. I guess my natural charm and powers of persuasion are irresistible,” I add airily, batting my lashes.
He snorts. “You mean, some poor guy fell at your feet, and you trampled all over him.”
I narrow my eyes. Why does this grouch think he knows me?
And why do I care?
“Sure,” I drawl, sarcastic. “Because in the precious few hours free time I get while I’m not stalking your every move, I make it my mission to seduce and manipulate every defenseless man in the Tri-state area. You know, I better get back to it,” I say, starting to walk past him. “Places to go, lives to ruin!”
“Have fun.” Duke snaps. “I’d say ‘good luck’, but clearly, you’re the expert!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I call back, determined to get the last word. “I can send you a link to my official fan club if you want—OWWWW!”
I feel a sharp sting on the inside of my leg, and let out a scream.
“Christ, what now?” I hear Duke’s annoyed voice rumble, but I’m too busy clutching my leg and hopping around in pain. Then I see something moving in the tall grass.
Something slithering.
“It bit me!” I cry, panicking. “A snake just bit me!”
“Are you serious?” Duke arrives at my side, frowning.
“I just saw it!” I yell, pointing. “Over there!”
He scans the ground. “I don’t see anything…”
“It was right there!” I insist, holding onto his arm for balance. “And it bit me. Look!”
I uncover my leg, showing him the red marks a couple of inches above my knee.
“I don’t know… it could have just been a mosquito, or bug,” he offers, looking dubious.
“Do mosquitos leave two little fang marks?!” I demand. “And then slither off into the trees?”
“Easy there, princess.” Duke examines the bite more closely, his warm hands wrapping around my thigh as he checks the puncture marks.
Thank god I shaved this morning, I think, and then immediately discard the thought because, hello! Snake bite emergency!
“I’m going to die,” I wail, holding onto his shoulder for balance. “I’m going to turn blue, and foam at the mouth, and keel over and die. They won’t even be able to have an open casket!”
“Nobody’s foaming,” Duke says impatiently. “Even if it was a snake – and I’m not saying it was – the breeds around here are all totally harmless.”
“That’s easy for you to say, you don’t have deadly venom coursing through your bloodstream,” I mutter.
“And neither do you.” Duke growls, starting to straighten up. Then I catch another glimpse of movement in the grass.
“Look!” I yelp, pointing. He turns – in time to see a brown, mottled snake slither out into the open, and the disappear into a bush.
“See? I told you so. Snake!” I smack him on the shoulder, but my triumph is dampened when I catch a flicker of unease on his face.
“What?” I demand, my panic rising to another level. “What’s that face for?”
“Nothing.” He looks around. “Did you drive? We might want to swing by urgent care. Just to be on the safe side.”
I whimper. Urgent care? “I told you, I’m doomed!”
“You’re not doomed,” Duke says, and maybe it’s just my fear of impending death talking, but he doesn’t look so convinced. “It was probably just a grass snake, you caught him by surprise.”
“Probably?”
“I mean, nobody’s seen a rattlesnake around here in over twenty years.” Duke drags a hand through his hair again. “Odds are, you’ll be fine.”
“And if I’m not?” I demand.
He pauses, looking around again at the empty field. “Fine. There is one thing we can try,” he says reluctantly. “People say it’s an old wives’ tale, but my uncle swears his buddy saved his life one time when they were hiking the Appalachian trail.”
“What is it?” I demand eagerly.
“Lean back against that tree,” Duke orders me, getting down on his knees with his face level with my crotch.
“Wait, what are you doing—” I start to blurt, flushing wildly – before he gives me an exasperated look.
“I need to suck the venom out,” Duke says, reaching into his back pocket and producing a wicked-looking utility knife. “Now keep still.”
I don’t have time to protest before he takes the blade to my inner thigh, slicing a small, shallow cut in my skin. Blood wells up.
“Oww!” I shriek, batting uselessly at his bare shoulders. “What are you doing?!”
“Trying to save your life,” Duke growls. “Would you shut up for a damn moment, and let me?”
He leans in and fixes his lips around the wound, sucking hard.
Oh.
My.
My protests die in my throat. I’m stunned into silence as Duke sucks harder. Sure, it hurts like a motherfucker, but there’s a weird intimacy about having his hands wrapped around my bare leg and his mouth doing things.
And the sight of his head bent between my thighs like that…
Duke looks up, our eyes locking for a long, intense moment. Hello. I flush deeper, my impending death briefly forgotten…
Then he pulls away and spits my blood unceremoniously into the undergrowth with a growl of distaste.
“Don’t say I never do anything for you, princess,” he scowls, getting to his feet again. He makes a face, hacks, and spits again. “You’re going to want to disinfect that ASAP.”
“I… thanks,” I mumble, still thrown. My heart is racing, and I stumble back. “I should, umm, go. Take that swim….”
Cool off.
But Duke looks at me like I’m an idiot. “You’re going in water, with an open wound?” he asks.
“Right. Of course.” I stumble in the other direction. “Home then.”
“And if you see any swelling, or start foaming at the mouth, see a real doctor, OK?” Duke backs up, like he can’t wait to get away from me either.
“Will do. Thanks! For the whole, saving my life thing!” I blurt, and then take off blindly in the direction I came, walking fast to avoid any more snake encounters.
This time, I really will stay away from Duke, I vow.
And I really mean it, too…
… until I wake up the next morning to forty-seven missed calls, a million voicemails, and photos of our venom-sucking encounter plastered all over the internet for the whole world to see.