8. Duke
“Hey buddy, it’s Matt. From college? I saw you’re hooking up with a movie star these days. Nice going. You want to introduce me to some of her friends? Haha.”
BEEP.
“Duke, sweetheart, it’s mom again. I’ve been getting calls from journalists about this business with Avery Lawrence. Don’t worry, I only told them nice things! Call me.”
BEEP.
“Idiot, it’s Suze. Why aren’t you picking up? I’m serious about this whole fake-dating thing. Come on, hanging out with a movie star wouldn’t be the end of the world. Think about it!”
BEEP.
“Sweetheart, it’s me again. Mom. I was thinking, you should bring this Avery for dinner. It’s only a few hours drive, and I’d love to meet her. I could make my lasagna!”
BEEP.
I let out a growl, and hurl my phone across the room. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since those photos went live. Everybody and their neighbor wants to know what’s going on, and they won’t take “no” for an answer.
Thanks for nothing, Avery.
I roll out of bed and shuffle into my shower, still scowling. It’s ridiculous, all this drama over nothing. I’ve tried setting everyone straight, that there’s absolutely nothing romantic, or even vaguely platonic, between me and Little Miss Movie star, but those pictures tell a different story.
I wonder again if she set the whole thing up. I wouldn’t put it past her. Avery seems to love the spotlight, and Lord knows, she’s under the glare of it now. And as for this fake-date nonsense Suze is bugging me about?
I’d rather go head-to-head with that rattlesnake. At least a man knows where he stands with a venomous beast like that. But a woman like Avery, smiling up at you with those baby blue eyes and her soft pink lips…? Clutching onto your shoulders…?
Burying her hands in your hair…
“Duke? Wake up!”
I snap out of those thoughts to hear a loud banging downstairs. Someone’s hammering on my door, and a moment later, Suze’s voice floats up.
“Are you seriously still sleeping? Lazy bastard!”
I grab a towel, and go open up. “It’s barely seven a.m.,” I grumble, as she pushes past me into the house – with her arms full of drinks containers, and two loud, yappy English poodles scampering in her wake.
“Ani, Tracy, get down!” Suze scolds them gently.
“If you’re going to coo at them like that, they’ll never behave,” I tell her. “They need to know you mean business. Down!”
At the sound of my stern order, the dogs immediately settle.
“See?”
“You’re a god among men, I get it,” Suze says cheerfully. “Now, be nice, or you don’t get your coffee.” She waves a takeout cup in front of me. “It’s just the way you like, too,” she adds. “Bitter and black, just like your heart. There’s a cruller, too.”
I pause. Coffee and a pastry?
“What do you want?” I ask suspiciously.
Suze gasps. “What a cynic!”
I give her a look over the rim of my coffee.
“OK,” she admits. “I was wondering, if you’d thought anything more about it.”
“About what?” I head to the kitchen, to empty the coffee into a real mug. Suze trails after me.
“Quinn’s suggestion. The fake date deal.”
I choke on the cruller. “You’re crazy. In what universe do you think I’d ever play along with that bullshit?”
“Come on,” Suze urges, like the annoying little sister I thankfully never had. “It would be fun! You need to shake things up,” she adds, looking around my spotless, empty kitchen. “You’ve been doing this grumpy hermit routine for way too long.”
“Avery Lawrence isn’t a shake, she’s a goddamn earthquake,” I mutter grimly.
Suze just grins. “You owe me,” she says, sing-song. “Remember the time I told our parents we’d been hooking up, to cover for you hitchhiking to that rock festival?”
I stop dead. “No way. That was ten years ago!”
“A debt’s a debt.” Suze insists.
“To you, not that princess,” I say firmly. I grab some dog treats from the jar on the counter, toss them to the pups, and then steer all three of them to the door again. “I could owe you a million bucks, and it still wouldn’t be enough to sign up for that kind of disaster. My answer, in case it was ever in doubt, is ‘no’.”
And then, just in case she doesn’t get the message, I slam the door in her face.
I’d preferto forget the whole damn mess, but gossip spreads like wildfire in Blackberry Cove. And those photos– everyone is all too happy to tell me– are the juiciest gossip around.
From the moment I step foot on my latest construction site, the crew gives me no end of grief about my time in the woods with Avery, and even when I escape into town to pick up some lunch, the ladies at the diner are demanding all the details about my hot and heavy new romance. Linette Walters swears our astrological signs make us the perfect match, and even Earl at the hardware store gives me a hearty handshake of congratulations for “hooking a stunner” like that.
“It’s really not how it looks,” I tell them all, but they just give me nods and winks, like they’re in on the joke.
“Sure it’s not,” Earl chuckles. “I’m happy for you, son. ‘Bout time you got back out there. Send my best to Avery.”
I bite back a growl of frustration, exiting the store. Does everyone in this town think I’m drooling all over that woman?
“Hey, Duke?”
When I get outside, some guy I’ve never seen is waiting by my truck.
I stroll closer, wary. “Who’s asking?”
“Nobody important. Just waiting for you to say ‘cheese’.” He whips a camera out from behind his back, and starts snapping, blocking my path as I try to get to the driver’s side.
“You better get that thing out of my face before I break it,” I threaten him with a growl, and clearly, my face says I mean it, because he jumps back.
“I’ll catch you later,” he calls, undeterred. “You’re working on that house over on Sandcastle Drive, right?”
I don’t answer, I just get in the truck and drive way, tires squealing.
Now how the hell does that asshole know my schedule?
I speed out of town, my temper at boiling point now. I was living a quiet life out here, minding my own damn business – until she came along and blew that all to hell. Now I’ve got the whole town gossiping over my every move, and strangers showing up to stalk me, too.
And it’s all her fault.
I wrench the wheel, cutting a U-turn right there in the middle of the street as I speed back in the direction of Avery’s place. I’m ready to give that woman a piece of my mind, but when I pull up outside the cottage, I find I’m not alone: there’s a cluster of cars and trucks parked on the side of the narrow country lane. At least a dozen people are lined up all along the bushes, and hanging over the front gate, peering and craning at the cottage with their cameras and phones out.
“There he is!”
“It’s him!”
As I exit the truck, there’s a burst of excitement, and suddenly, the pack starts rushing in my direction.
“Duke, is it true the town is filing charges for public indecency?”
“Duke, are you going to be the next Bachelor?”
“Was that a baby bump we saw? Will you and Avery be raising the kid together?!”
I fight my way through them, and up the front path. “Avery?” I yell, hammering on the front door. “It’s me, Duke. Are you in there?”
The door cracks open an inch, and I see Avery’s face peering through the gap. “It’s me,” I repeat.
She opens it wider. “Get inside,” she says quickly. “Hurry!”
I duck into the cottage, and she slams the door behind me – flipping the deadbolt, and the security chain, too.
“Christ, who are those people?” I exclaim.
“Reporters. Paparazzi. Random bloggers,” Avery replies in a quiet voice. “The first ones got here last night, and then I woke up this morning to that.”
I blink, adjusting to the dim light. The house is shrouded in darkness, and Avery goes to check the living room windows, yanking to make sure the curtains are drawn all the way shut against the prying eyes in the street.
“I’m so stupid, I didn’t even think about security,” she says, sounding miserable. “I mean, it’s Blackberry Cove! I figured I’d be safe here for the summer, and nobody would care…”
I get a proper look at her face, and just like that, my anger disappears. Avery looks pale and drawn, bundled up in an oversized sweatshirt like she’s trying to disappear completely.
“The library!” she says suddenly, and turns to hurry down the hall.
I follow as she heads for a sun-drenched, book-lined room at the back of the house. There are no curtains at the windows here, and Avery is reaching up, trying to drape blankets over the rails.
“Relax,” I try to reassure her. “They can’t see you from the street back here.”
Avery doesn’t stop. “You don’t understand, they don’t care about privacy, or trespassing laws,” she says, her jaw clenched with stress. “Last year, a photographer stalked me to my spa appointment, and photographed me naked in the locker room. He had to use a long-range lens from the roof of the building across the street, but that didn’t stop him! And I was lucky that time,” she adds grimly. “Robert bought the pictures before they could auction them off to the highest bidder.”
“Robert?” I ask.
“My ex-fiancé,” Avery replies, looking over at me. “His place had a whole security perimeter, and it was in a private community too, with a guard on the gate. I never had to think about them getting in. I got sloppy,” she adds sadly, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so vulnerable.
Avery gives up trying to throw the blankets over the railing, and drags a chair over instead. She climbs, balancing precariously as she tries to cover the windows.
“I can do that,” I tell her, moving to help.
“It’s fine,” Avery insists stubbornly.
“C’mon—
“I can take care of myself.” She reaches higher. “And you’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t want to—AAIII!”
Avery loses her balance, and starts to fall. I leap closer, managing to grab her by the waist before she tumbles to the ground.
“You were saying?” I ask pointedly, and then gloating is the last thing on my mind because Avery is in my arms.
Warm and yielding, her curves crushed against me; her heart-shaped face just inches away.
Blue eyes wide on mine. Soft lips parted. Breath coming fast.
Damn, she’s beautiful.
Lust crashes through me, sending good sense and logic out of my head for good.
I could kiss her.
I could kiss her right now, and find out what that smart perfect mouth tastes like.
I could kiss her, and make her forget about the headlines; turn that sad caution to a sigh of pleasure.
Find out what makes her moan…
Avery blinks up at me, still wide-eyed with her cheeks flushed bright pink. “I should, umm…” she lifts her hands from where they were laying pressed against my chest, and makes to pull away from me.
“Sure. Right. Sorry.” I quickly set her on the ground again, and step back. I need to do something with my hands in case I lose my mind and reach for her again, so I grab the blankets, and quickly finish draping them to cover the view. “There,” I blurt, still feeling off-balance. “That should do it.”
“For now,” Avery says, rueful. “But thanks.”
I follow her back towards the front door. “Would it help?” I blurt suddenly.
She turns.
“What Quinn was saying, the other day. If you and I…” I trail off. I can’t believe I’m even saying it, but something about the look in her eyes just about breaks my heart: so sad and cautious, like she’s a wild animal trapped in here, under siege from the yells and speculation outside. “If we pretended… you know, to be for real.”
Avery’s jaw drops. “Are you serious?” her voice comes out a squeak.
“If it’d make all that bullshit go away,” I say, jerking a nod towards the door.
“I… I don’t know,” she blurts, still looking flustered. “But… probably? Quinn says the tabloids are like wild animals. If you feed them scraps, it can stop them tearing you apart.”
“Then we’ll do it.”
I don’t even decide until the words leave my mouth. I mean, hell, everyone already thinks we’re an item. What difference will it make if I play along for a couple of weeks?
“But—” Avery starts to answer, when I catch a flash of movement through a gap in the drapes. Some asshole reporter is trampling all over the flower beds, trying to peer in the front window.
“Avery!” he’s yelling, outside the cottage. “Over here. Show us those tits!”
Avery cringes back, trying to hide in the shadows. I feel a surge of anger.
Goddamn vultures.
I fling the front door open. “Get the fuck away from the house!” I roar. I grab the guy by the back of his collar, and drag him away from the house.
“Get your hands off me!” he protests, flailing. “This is assault!”
“Then call the sheriff, and tell him I’ll see him at poker night.”
I hurl the idiot through the gate, and send him stumbling into the street. The rest of them have their cameras out flashing, so I circle my truck, reaching in back to grab a little surprise for them.
My chainsaw.
I rip the throttle, sending the blade grinding to life. “Any other of you scumbags want to try your luck?” I holler, crossing back to Avery’s crowded front gate, with the saw screeching in my hands.
The group takes one look at me and scatters.
“He’s crazy!” someone yells, racing down the lane.
“Damn right I am!” I yell. “And I’m only getting crazier with you buzzing around. So you better stay the fuck away!”