by Anna Durand
"Sheriff's department," I mumbled.
Val slipped an arm around me, tugging me into his side. "It will be all right, Eve. Once they realize there's nothing to see here, they'll lose interest and leave."
A sour taste crept into my mouth. I needed to talk to Val about all of this, but not in front of Ollie. So I told Ollie, "Call the sheriff's department and then inform the guests of what's happening. I'll come to the guest house in a few minutes, as soon as I get dressed."
And figure out what the hell to say.
Ollie nodded and trotted back to the guest house.
I pushed the door shut with my foot and wriggled out of Val's embrace.
He shook his head slowly, his mouth open, and spread his hands. "Eve…I'm so sorry."
"How did paparazzi find out about my resort? How did they know you're here?"
"Only my family knows I came here, and they would never tell anyone." He reached for me, but I scuttled away from him. "Eve, please, let me help."
"Help how? A horde of gossipmongers are invading my home, my business. How can anyone feel comfortable staying here again? Privacy is paramount for a nudist resort."
"I know. I'll do anything I can to make this right." Head bowed, he rubbed his forehead. "I don't understand how anyone found out I'm here. Someone has known for weeks, based on the photo of us."
"You mean the one of us screwing." I backed up to the island and hugged myself, suddenly cold from head to toe. "What if my family sees that? What if these scumbag paparazzi track them down and harass them? Whoever took that picture of us might've photographed everyone who's been here lately."
Val scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "This is my fault, I know. Please believe me, Eve, I never meant for my life to crash into yours. I left all of that behind, or I thought I did."
"Obviously not. Maybe your new assistant blabbed to the tabloids."
"He didn't know where I'd gone." Val shuffled closer but didn't try to touch me. "Once this initial shock passes, we'll both be able to think more clearly and figure out how this happened. We're partners. Nothing will change that."
"Everything has changed. My business will be toast. My guests will never trust me again."
"Don't assume the worst. Nudists can be very understanding."
He almost smiled when he said that but couldn't quite accomplish the expression.
I had no fucking idea what I felt, what I should feel, what I should do. The numbness of shock had penetrated me to the core. He was right. I needed time to recover from the sucker-punch jolt of learning my privacy and the privacy of my guests had been shattered.
Was it Val's fault? I had no clue. Not yet.
He wouldn't do this, a voice in my head whispered. He loves you.
Yes, I believed that. Right now, it was the only truth I was certain of. But if his past had precipitated this disaster, I needed to reconsider whether a relationship with him was the best thing for me, no matter how much I loved him.
I straightened and cleared my throat. "I have to get dressed and talk to my guests. Everything else will have to wait until the dust clears."
"By 'everything,' you mean us."
"Honestly, Val, I don't know. This is all too much right now. I have to focus on protecting my guests."
Before he could say anything in response, I hurried down the hall to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I had no time to cry. Later, maybe I'd collapse onto my bed and sob for a while. At this moment, I needed to minimize the damage as much as possible.
How was I supposed to do that?
I pulled on jeans and a baggy T-shirt along with socks and sneakers. I almost forgot underwear but remembered before I walked out of the bedroom. The last thing I needed was a photo of me, braless and panties-less, splashed across the Internet. Sure, it wouldn't be as bad as the porn photo already out there, but I refused to add fuel to the gossip fire.
On my way out of the house, I grabbed my phone. Val seemed to have retreated into the spare room, considering the door was shut and he was nowhere in sight. I had no time to hash things out with him. My livelihood was in critical condition, on the verge of death.
Val was my partner. Not officially, not yet, but yeah. My partner. Should I include him in my decisions? I paused on the threshold of the outside door. Sunshine spilled through the opening into the kitchen, dispelling the shadows. The darkness inside me crept closer and closer.
I rushed out and yanked the door shut.
Ten minutes later, I stood in the dining hall in front of all the guests. They occupied chairs at the tables, and all of them wore clothes thanks to Ollie convincing them it was the smart thing to do under the circumstances. Everyone watched me and waited to hear what I would say. Fabulous. I had to come up with a reassuring and inspiring speech that would convince everyone I hadn't fucked up royally. No problem.
Rolling my shoulders back, I lifted my chin and began. "Thank you all for being so patient. I know you're wondering what's going on. Ollie told you a little about it, but I need to explain exactly what's happened and what we—" I hesitated for a split second, realizing I'd used the word we, implying I had a partner. "What I am doing to ensure your privacy and security. Nothing matters more to me than providing a safe and comfortable environment for all of my guests."
I paused, scanning the crowd to gauge their reactions. No one glared at me, so I figured I was okay for the moment.
"The sheriff's department has been informed," I said, "and they are sending deputies. The state police are also sending two troopers. That's all they can spare, but I doubt we'll need more. The people trying to get into the resort are tabloid reporters who want a juicy story. We are not going to give it to them."
"Why are they here?" someone asked.
The voice originated from the rear of the dining hall, and I couldn't see the speaker's face through the crowd.
I didn't want to tell them Val had been the bait that lured the paparazzi here. I still didn't know how they'd found out he was here. Until I could tell them that, I would not mention Val's connection to the craziness about to descend on us.
"Because of me," a voice behind me said. Val's words echoed through the dining hall. "This is happening because of me."
My heartbeat sped up as I swiveled my head to glance at him. He wore clothes, dark-blue jeans and a conservative tan shirt. He looked edible as always, but I couldn't muster any lust. His expression made sure of that. Sorrow was the best description of what I saw in his eyes.
"You all know about my past," he said from just inside the doorway. Though he spoke to everyone, his gaze remained locked on mine. "I've never tried to hide it, and in spite of my past behavior, you have welcomed me into your family. I'm very grateful for that. I wish I could turn back time and make it so what's happening today never happened, but I can't. All I can do is make sure no one else is harmed by it."
I clutched my hands over my belly, my body rotating toward him like it had a mind of its own. The look on his face, it pierced straight into my heart. My throat went thick. My mouth went dry. I had a sinking feeling I knew what he would say next.
"That's why I'm leaving," he said. "To protect you."
He was talking to me.
I swallowed hard, but my throat got thicker, tighter, constricted by a terrible emotion I couldn't quite name. He was leaving me. For my own good. Just a few minutes ago, I'd wondered whether I should continue our relationship. He'd made the decision for me.
All the guests jumped up and swarmed us, babbling things I couldn't understand. My focus had telescoped down to me and Val. Nothing else got through the haze of a new, colder shock and the pain that swept in behind it.
Guests asked me questions that I tried to answer as fully and honestly as I could. Noise outside made some of them run to the windows. I could see vehicles pulling up between my home and the guest house, people tumbling out of them even as others ran up the driveway and through
the open gate. There hadn't been much point in closing the gate. It had no lock, and besides, the paparazzi could've climbed over it.
By the time I'd fielded all the questions and the group had settled down, Val was gone.
I hurried outside, arriving as the sheriff's deputies drove up in one vehicle and the state troopers in another. Talking to them took more time. I kept glancing back at the house, wondering if Val was in there or if he'd already left. The paparazzi tried to surround me, but the law enforcement officers forced them back and escorted me toward the house. I noticed Val's truck parked behind the house as usual, so he hadn't left yet.
The paparazzi rushed for the door of the house.
I hopped onto my tiptoes, craning my neck to see what they had seen.
Val had stepped out of the house carrying his suitcase. He held up a hand to quiet the crowd. Once they settled down, cameras raised and mics positioned, he said, "I'm leaving."
Several voices shouted complaints.
Val held up his hand again. He grinned and said, "Follow me back to LA, and I promise you'll get a better show than anything you'll see here."
He winked and trotted toward his truck.
That grin and wink had been totally fake. Sure, his act had been a stellar performance. Nobody else would've noticed the slight clues to his true emotional state. He was luring the paparazzi away from this place, away from me.
I wanted to run after him, kiss him, tell him he didn't have to do this.
My feet wouldn't budge. It wouldn't have made a difference if I could've moved. Val wanted to be the hero who saved me and my business from shame and ruination. Maybe it was for the best. What we had might not have lasted.
Bullshit, a voice in my head snarled.
I ran toward his truck, ran as fast as I could, shoving paparazzi out of the way, elbowing the ones who hissed nasty curses at me. By the time I'd plowed my way through the crowd, Val's truck was gone. I couldn't even see it rolling down the driveway. He'd taken off, kicking up a cloud of dust in his wake.
The vultures descended on me. They fired off question after question, their voices overlapping.
I ducked my head and charged through them until I stumbled up to the door of my house. They tried to follow me inside, but I slammed the door in their faces.
The cacophony of shutters activating filled the air.
Stern voices shouted things I couldn't make out, but I realized it was the state police and sheriff's deputies attempting to wrangle the herd.
Keeping my head down, I ran through the house shutting any open windows and yanking all the curtains closed. I locked the windows and the outside door. I called Ollie and instructed him to keep the other guests inside the guest house until the cops drove the paparazzi away. After we said goodbye, I collapsed onto my bed and slung an arm over my eyes.
Val was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eve
A little while later—I'd lost count of the minutes or hours—a crisp knock lured me out of my bedroom and to the door to the outside. When I peeked out the window beside it, I saw one of the deputies. I also noticed the herd had thinned. Only a handful of paparazzi loitered out there.
I pulled the door open.
"Ma'am," the deputy said, nodding. "We got the reporters to leave. Most of them, anyway. Once we threatened to lock them up overnight, they seemed to lose interest in harassing you."
"Yeah, it was really Val they wanted."
"That was Val Silva, wasn't it? The soccer player whose team won the Olympics?"
I was more grateful than words could express that he hadn't mentioned the sex tape or Val's flagrant nudity whenever his team won games. Maybe this deputy didn't know about that, or maybe he was being tactful. Either way, I could've kissed him for it.
"Thank you," I said. "I really appreciate you guys stepping in to clear out the vultures."
"No problem, ma'am. The state guys are heading out, but my partner and I will hang around for a bit to make sure the rest leave."
"Would you guys like a bite to eat or something to drink?"
"A drink would be great."
I listed all the beverages I had on hand. He chose pop, and I gave him four cans so the other law enforcement men could have some too.
They all smiled and waved to me.
I couldn't move away from the doorway. Though only a few paparazzi remained, the idea of stepping outside and into the fray again left me paralyzed. I shut the door and retreated into my bedroom, curling up on top of the covers with my knees pulled up to my chest.
Would Val come back? Did he want to?
More time passed while I lay there, not sleepy, but mentally exhausted. Thoughts ricocheted through my mind like ping-pong balls. Should I have tried harder to stop Val from leaving? He would call me. Wouldn't he? Once he got home, he'd let me know everything was okay.
A knock roused me from my lethargy, and I headed for the front door.
Ollie was there when I opened the door. "Are you okay, Eve? I've been calling, tried your cell and the landline, but you didn't pick up."
I had a vague memory of hearing phones ringing, but I'd left my cell by the island and there was a hallway between me and the kitchen. The noises had seemed far away.
Yeah, I'd also been in a semi-catatonic state on my bed.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "Needed a break after all the craziness."
He touched my arm. "You okay, Evie? We all heard what Val said and saw him leaving. When's he coming back?"
I hunched my shoulders. "Don't know if he is coming back."
"Of course he is. Val's crazy about you."
A half-hearted shrug was all I could muster in response.
"You're wiped out," Ollie said. "Get some rest. I'll take care of lunch and dinner. If you don't mind me invading your kitchen."
I shrugged again.
"Be back in a few minutes," he said. "Gotta put some clothes on to make the food. You always tell us we can eat naked, but you have to make and serve the food with clothes on."
"Uh-huh."
He gave my arm a squeeze and trotted back to the guest house.
I slept all afternoon. Though I'd missed lunch, I didn't feel hungry at all. Ollie insisted I eat, even sat there watching me to make sure I did eat something. The food tasted like cardboard. Ollie's cooking wasn't the problem. Nothing would've tasted right to me. Nothing felt right either. My home had been invaded, my privacy torn to shreds, and my reputation blackened. Would anyone come to my resort ever again? I'd probably lose my business and be forever known as the slut who screwed Val Silva behind the guest house. Maybe I was overreacting, but I couldn't stop the crazy thoughts from whirling inside my head.
None of that mattered half as much as the fact he'd walked out on me.
After I dutifully swallowed food I couldn't taste, Ollie hugged me and left. I grabbed my cell phone and called Val. His voicemail picked up. I left a stammering message, sounding like an idiot. Two hours later, I left another message. At midnight, I tried again.
When I finally went to bed, I didn't get much sleep. Crying kept me awake.
The next day, I picked myself up and got back to it. Though my eyes were gritty and puffy and had dark circles under them, I refused to wallow any longer. I showered, got dressed, and started working on breakfast for the guests. Ollie showed up and insisted on helping. It seemed strange to see him in clothes, but he turned out to be an excellent helper. He also insisted on taking care of the other guests, handling any problems or requests they had.
When I caught him cleaning the toilets in the guest-house rooms, I told him, "You are a guest, Ollie. You shouldn't be doing janitorial work."
He kept scrubbing the toilet while he told me, "I don't mind. It's nice to do something constructive instead of being stuck in a cubicle. Besides, this place is like a second home to me. You're like a sister, and the other guests are my crazy aunts and uncles." He paused in his scrubbin
g and looked up at me. "I love you, Evie. Anything you need, I'm here to help."
I didn't know what to say to that other than the truth. "I love you too, Ollie."
We went on like that for a week. Ollie served as janitor, handyman, sous chef, receptionist, and guest coordinator. He had no official job here, but he worked as hard as any full-time employee. He wore clothes most of the time since the health code required him to wear clothes while cooking and serving food and, well, it would've been icky for him to go nude while cleaning toilets. In his duties as my receptionist and guest coordinator, he preferred to go au naturel.
Every day, at least five times a day, I tried to call Val. I gave up on leaving voicemails since he ignored them. I texted and emailed, but he ignored that too. After ten days, I gave up. Val was never coming back. My chest ached and tears blurred my vision every time I thought about him. Part of me wanted to hunt him down and kick his ass for running out on me. The rest of me, the larger and far less brave part, preferred to hide.
Another week dragged by with no contact from Val, not even a piddly email offering a half-assed explanation. The biggest excitement I had that week was of the unpleasant variety. I had decided to repaint the dining hall and went to the hardware store for the necessary supplies. Ollie had offered to handle the supply run, but I needed to get away from the guests for a while.
I was holding a gallon-size can of paint, reading the fine print on it, when I spotted a figure approaching in my peripheral vision. Glancing up, I nearly dropped the paint can.
Quentin nodded and offered me a tight smile. "Eve."
My brain couldn't generate any response to his appearance. Since I didn't care to stammer like an idiot, I opted for the silent treatment accompanied by what I hoped came off as a hard stare.
He hunched his shoulders and jammed his hands in his pants pockets. "I, uh, ought to explain."
I clutched the paint can to my belly. "Not interested in any explanations from you."
"You'll want to know this." He scrunched up his face and refused to look at me. "I'm the reason the paparazzi found out about you and Val."
