She could start by getting out of bed.
In a minute, she told herself and burrowed back under the covers—until the smell drifting into her room encouraged her to sit up. Kyle must’ve brought dinner. It was turning out to be a really good thing that she’d had to stay with him. If she’d been in the rental, she’d be going without, because she sure as heck didn’t feel like driving into town. If she couldn’t even make herself comb her hair or put on makeup, she wasn’t likely to do much else.
With the promise of food as motivation, she dragged herself out of bed. She had to stand still for a few seconds to regain her equilibrium, then shoved a hand through her hair to straighten out some of the tangles. “Smells delicious out here. What’d you bring?” she asked with a yawn as she shuffled down the hall.
She reached the kitchen a second later only to discover that it wasn’t Kyle at all. Some woman, who seemed to be about her age, was in front of the stove. She’d been putting various dishes in the oven, but now she just stood there, gaping at Lourdes. “Who are you?”
Lourdes didn’t have to answer that question very often. These days, most people recognized her. But she knew that at the moment, she didn’t look much like her pictures. “I’m...I’m Kyle’s tenant,” she said, hoping to avoid full disclosure and all the exclamations that would go with it. “Who are you?”
“I’m his ex-wife.”
Kyle had led Lourdes to believe things were over between him and his ex. So what was she doing bringing him dinner? Especially a dinner for which she’d obviously gone to a lot of work?
The woman’s eyes narrowed as if she wasn’t too keen on finding a possible “rival” in Kyle’s house. “Did you just roll out of bed?”
“I did.”
“But...if you’re renting the farmhouse, what are you doing here?”
“The furnace is broken over there.”
Seemingly mollified, she put another dish in the oven and closed the door. “Oh. So...where’s your husband? You must be married to the guy who came from Nashville, right?”
Lourdes didn’t intend to explain what’d happened to that guy. “No, I’m the only one who came.”
She scowled. “Kyle didn’t tell me he rented to a woman. I wonder why—” Her words fell off the instant recognition dawned. The mention of Nashville had obviously sparked a—albeit delayed—connection.
“Oh, my God! You’re Lourdes Bennett, the country star! I hear your songs all the time where I work. At Sexy Sadie’s.” She added the name as though Lourdes should recognize the place.
“I take it that’s a honky-tonk of some sort?”
“Yes, the only bar in town.”
That explained what she was wearing. With a low-cut top and a short skirt, it was a server’s uniform of the more risqué variety. “You must be on your way there now.”
“I am. And I can’t be late, or I’ll be fired. My manager is such a douche.”
For expecting her to show up on time? Lourdes didn’t bother to comment. “So you don’t have a date with Kyle...”
“No, not tonight,” she said. “I’ve got to work, or...or we’d probably do something.”
Really? Kyle hadn’t acted as if he had any plans with his ex—or second thoughts about her. “Does Kyle know you’re here?”
“No. I wanted to surprise him. And instead...look at you! I’m the one who’s surprised. Wait until I tell everyone at work that we have another celebrity in Whiskey Creek, and that you’re staying for a few months. Simon O’Neal comes here at least three times a year, but he never stays long. Why would he, when he has half a dozen dream homes all over the world? If that was me, I’d never come here.”
Lourdes raised one hand. “You said you were going to tell everyone at the bar about me. But please don’t. I... I’m here to work.”
“Are you putting on a show? Where?”
“No, I mean I’m going to be writing songs for my next album and I’d rather not be disturbed.”