“Lilly.”
When she looks at me her expression is a mystery. A mixed up jumble of anger and anxiety that I can’t stomach and I can’t decipher.
“Are you okay?” I ask her warily.
She forces a smile. “I’m fine. I just… I’m tired and this was a crazy way to end the night. The paparazzi thing, it’s not the way I imagined it.”
“How’d you imagine it?”
“I don’t know, but I didn’t think it’d be so intense. And being followed, it’s creepy.”
“That guy will leave when I do and it’s worse at night with the flashes. It’s not as bad in the daylight.”
“Maybe not.”
“We’ll see?”
She releases a tight breath, but her smile loosens. It’s more genuine. So is the kiss she gives me. Brief but sweet. “Yeah. We’ll see.”
I take hold of her chin with my hand to pull her mouth back to mine. I kiss her deeply, sweeping my tongue across her lips, inside her mouth to glide it along hers in a slow dance that I feel everywhere. She goes soft against me, melting slowly, the tension inside her easing until she’s leaning against my chest and my arms are around her. Until I know she’s rethinking letting me come inside.
Until the cab driver coughs pointedly.
Lilly breaks the kiss first. Her eyes are brilliant in the dark and I feel like she’s back. I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight.
“Do you want me to walk you up?”
She shakes her head as she pushes open the door. “No. I’ll go alone.”
“Cool. I’m just gonna go back there and kick that guy’s ass for ruining our night.”
She chuckles, her voice rougher than usual from hours full of singing and laughing. It suits her. “Punch him in the dick for me.”
“You know I will. Hey,” I put my hand on her arm. “I was serious. Can I open the store with you tomorrow?”
“You mean today?”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Can I meet you there?”
“I’d love it if you would.” She plants one last, quick kiss on my lips. “Goodnight, Avery. All three hours left of it.”
“’Night, Hendricks.”
I tell the driver to wait until she’s inside before we pull away from the curb. I give him my address because it doesn’t fuckin’ matter if the ‘razzi follows me to my place. They all know where I live.
As we drive away a single headlight sparks behind us. The motorcycle is following. They’re leaving Lilly alone. I breathe a little sigh of relief, but inside I’m still nervous. I’m worried and I can’t say exactly why. All I know is that it feels like when I’m on the field and I slip out of a tackle. That rush like I’m on borrowed time.
Like I just dodged a bullet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LILLY
November 28th
Mad Batter Bakery
Los Angeles, CA
I’m sorry.
That’s the message I get from Colt minutes before I pull up in front of the store. I have no idea what it means. Not until I see it for myself.
“What the shit,” I mutter, pulling into my parking spot.
Colt’s car is there in the spot next to mine, red and loud as a siren, but he’s not standing by the door the way he usually is. There’s no room. The place is swarming with men holding cameras. We’ve had paparazzi outside the bakery before, but nothing like this. Never this early. Never this eager. They’re taking pictures of the storefront, of Colt’s car, of him inside. Of me pulling up next to him.
His door opens the second he sees me but he has to push through a small swarm of photographers to get to me. I’m already out of my Jeep and on the sidewalk by the time he makes it.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me immediately, his words echoing his text. His voice is tense, his hand gentle on my back. “Let’s get inside and lock the door.”
I hurry forward as they snap our picture, and I’m grateful that I took the time to do my makeup today. If this is going to happen I’d rather I didn’t look like I woke up under a bridge.
They talk to us as we move to the door. They ask if we’re dating. They ask what happened to Nikki. They use my name like they know me.
I fumble my keys, trying to get the right one in the lock. Finally Colt takes the chain from me and does it himself. He ushers me inside and shuts the door firmly in their faces, throwing the lock as I pull the blinds on every window. They quiet down when they can’t see us but I can tell from the shadows they’re casting that they’re still out there. They’ll probably stay until the store opens. What do I do then? Can they come bursting in and photograph me all afternoon? How many pictures will be enough to make them go away?
The worst of it, the thought that makes me sick, is that they have my name. Lilly Hendricks; they were shouting it outside. That means they’re only a breath away from getting to Michael Hendricks. Then Cassie Carlyle. Then it’s last year all over again.
I turn to Colt, ready to ask him if there’s any way to stop it from happening, but the question dies in my throat when I see that he’s watching me. He’s worried.