by Erin Wright
Holy shit, Zane, what is going on? Are you seriously sleeping with the nanny? After what happened with Dan, this seems like a dumbass idea. Call me.
After what happened with Dan? What in the hell did Dan have to do with Louisa?
He stumbled out of the room and down the stairs to the merrily brewing coffee pot in the breakfast nook – thankfully set to auto-brew every morning – and swiping to call Jacob as he went.
“God, tell me it isn’t true,” Jacob said as way of greeting when he answered.
“I just woke up,” Zane said curtly, rubbing at his eyes and trying to stifle a yawn, “and saw your message. What the hell is going on? How do you know about Louisa?”
Jacob let out a string of swear words under his breath that’d make a priest’s toenails curl. “Dammit, Zane, I was hoping maybe someone had just photoshopped the pictures. You really did go on a date last night with your Hispanic nanny?!”
“Jacob, if you don’t tell me how you know that in the next three seconds, I’m gonna hang up.” He slid the coffee pot back into place and sucked at his black coffee. He normally liked to sweeten it up a bit but not right now. What he really needed was a caffeine injection straight into his veins, but this would have to be the next best thing.
“It’s all over the news. Not just country music news – hell, not even just entertainment news. It’s everywhere. It’s sweet right now – you might as well start calling her Cinderella because everyone else is – but you know how this goes. The fairytale shit only lasts so long, and then the media starts looking for muck they can stir up. ‘Country music star falls in love with serial killer’ makes for a hell of a headline.”
“Louisa is not a serial killer,” Zane said, torn between laughing at the absurdity of the statement and wanting to scream at the unfairness of the situation.
“Right. Well, whatever she has buried in her past won’t be buried much longer.”
“Shit.” As much as Zane hated to admit it, Jacob had a point. Damn his dirty hide. The press was probably already on the hunt for any dirt they could find on Louisa. The first website to scream a nasty rumor – unfounded or not – would get a hell of a lot of clicks.
Zane realized – right about the time that the coffee started doing its job – just how much this was going to change their lives. This was potentially catastrophic – the ruination of a lovely relationship before it really even started. Panicking, his mind started flitting through everything that needed to be done, but before he could hang up with Jacob, he had to ask. “Why did you compare this to Dan?”
“Because, dumbass, after the bad press you got because of the split with Dan, I thought you’d avoid close, personal relationships with your employees. Everyone already believes you’re a dick to work for. What if you and Louisa breakup and she goes to the press? Makes up lies? Does a tell-all book where she talks about what it’s really like to date a superstar? You cannot be this stupid, Zane.”
“She’s not like that,” Zane said in a tight voice, “and if you say shit about her like that again, I’ll rearrange that pretty-boy face of yours.”
“Okay. Sure.” Jacob’s voice was a mixture of defeat and sarcasm. “Just keep in mind that they’re never like that, until you break up with them.”
Zane was staring down at his phone long after Jacob hung up, trying to wrap his mind around what just happened. His sweet, wonderful date with Louisa had been ruined, and now he had to figure out how to keep their relationship from being ruined just as completely.
Chapter 39
Louisa
Zane was holding his phone out, trying to talk to Louisa, but nothing was making sense to her. His words stopped having meaning. Now all there was was her phone – she’d wanted to look at the pictures on her phone, dammit, not his; it was her one lifeline to normality – and the pictures and the roar of noise in her ears.
There he was, feeding her a cube of cheese. Even with the terrible resolution of the photo – it’d obviously been taken from across the restaurant – the world could see the love in her eyes as she’d looked at Zane. She was the Cinderella of the modern age – the lowly servant girl plucked out of obscurity by her handsome prince.
Of course, that was exactly what she’d thought the day before, but it’d been sweet and touching when it had just been her thought in her own head. Now it was splashed across the internet and the newspapers for everyone to talk about and digest and speculate over.
“—fired him.”
“Who’s fired?” she asked dully, flipping to the next photo, this one of her and Zane kissing after they’d stood up to leave the restaurant. This was the moment he’d told her he loved her. The moment she was going to treasure for the rest of her life.
The moment she was now sharing with the rest of the world.
“The busboy.” She could tell Zane was trying to keep a tight rein on his impatience as he stated information that he’d probably already said, but she couldn’t seem to make her mind focus on his words. There he was with his hand at the small of her back as he’d guided her towards the front door. It was clear in the photo how low the back on the dress went, and how possessive his hand had been on her back.
My father is gonna kill me.
“The restaurant owner assures me that he’ll never get another job in Franklin again. Of course, after the payday he probably just lucked into, I don’t imagine he’ll need to work for a good long while.”
“Selling other people’s lives is a lucrative business,” she said quietly. The words were right, but still, there was a small part of her brain that wondered at her ability to say them. It sounded so intelligent. So calm. So rational.
She was broken, though. No matter what it appeared like on the surface, she was far from intelligent, calm, or rational.
“Does Skyler know?” Still, her voice was just as measured. Why wasn’t she crying hysterically? She should be crying.
“Not yet. I told the Millers to keep their TV off and the boys off any electronic devices. Who knows what headlines will pop up as a notification. I do not want Skyler to find out we’re dating from Entertainment Tonight.”
It would already be enough of a shock that they were dating at all. She knew Skyler liked her. Hell, in his own twelve-year-old-boy way, he probably loved her. But there was a big difference between liking your nurse, and wanting your nurse to become a pseudo mother to you. Skyler had loved his mother with all of his heart. By all accounts, they’d been super close. Having Louisa fill that role was a touchy concept, at best.
And now having the whole world in on the discussion?
She pushed herself off the couch and ran upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. Zane was calling after her but she blocked him out. She needed time away from Zane and Skyler and the news and the pressure of it all. She shoved her feet into her trainers, ripping at the laces, blood pounding through her veins, needing nothing more than space from everything. Zane was in the doorway, talking again, but she couldn’t hear his words through the thudding in her ears. She snagged a hair tie from the dresser and brushed past Zane, slipping out of his hands, whipping her hair into a ponytail even as she practically flew down the stairs and out the front door.
She needed—
“Ms. Vargas!”
“Louisa!”
“We have a few questions for you—”
It was only sheer luck that kept her from plowing right into the crowd of reporters. She stumbled to a stop, looking around her frantically, trapped, and then made an abrupt U-turn and ran right back into the house, slamming the door closed behind her. She leaned against the front door, listening to the reporters banging on the heavy door, calling out her name, and wanted to whimper in frustration. All she wanted to do was go for a run. Clear her head. And now, she’d just given the bloodthirsty swarm of reporters another shot at pictures of her – pictures that were certainly going to be less impressive than the ones of her in her evening gown. She hadn’t even looked in a mirror that morning. She probab
ly had lipstick and eyeshadow smeared everywhere.
She heard Zane on the stairs. He was talking to her. He must’ve followed her. He was trying to apologize for the reporters out front, telling her that he had his security team flying in from Nashville but it’d be another couple of hours until they got there, but none of that mattered. Didn’t he see that she needed to run? How could she ever breathe again if she couldn’t run?
And how could she live if she couldn’t go outside?
She remembered then the dusty, unused, unloved home gym that was in yet another room in the walkout basement. She’d found it one time while searching for Skyler. As far as she knew, it’d never been used the whole time they’d been there.
Well, it was going to get used today.
She brushed past Zane – he was still talking, this time about how this didn’t change anything, as if she was really that stupid – and pounded down the stairs to the basement. She headed straight for the workout room, thinking how weird it was that Skyler wasn’t on the couch, shooting something on the giant TV, red blood splattering the screen, but it was good that he wasn’t there. He shouldn’t see this circus. He was just a kid and he’d already lived through so much and it wasn’t fair to ask him to live through more.
She slammed the door behind her, even more pissed when it just swung shut silently instead, the high quality hinge system keeping the door from being slammable – is slammable a word? – and robbing her of even that small bit of relief. She climbed onto the treadmill and began punching at the buttons, forcing it into the highest gear possible. She was going to run. Run until she couldn’t think or breathe or hurt anymore.
Chapter 40
Zane
Zane stood at the base of the stairs, listening to the whine of the treadmill set on high, the pounding of Louisa’s feet as she did her best to run away from it all. He had to leave her alone. It wouldn’t do a damn bit of good to talk to her right now anyway, considering that he doubted she’d heard anything that morning past his initial breaking of the news. She’d kept asking questions about things he’d already explained, and then asking about them again just moments later.
It wasn’t difficult to ascertain that she was in shock.
And really, who could blame her? He felt betrayed and angry and disgusted with humanity, and he was used to this. He should’ve known stories about the most magical date he’d ever gone on would eventually leak. He just hadn’t expected it to be reported on every channel in the free world, let alone within hours of it happening.
I went on a date with my nanny during a slow news cycle. Just my luck.
He heard three quick rings of the doorbell and knew that Stetson was there. Thank God. Zane hurried back up the stairs and opened up the front door just far enough to let the rangy cowboy in, and then shut it and threw the deadbolt, blocking out the horde of reporters, all shouting for his attention.
“Holy shit, Zane,” Stetson said, eyes wide as he pulled his cowboy hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “You weren’t kidding. They’re like a pack of bloodhounds. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Zane sent him an un-amused smile. “Bloodhounds is about right. Look, thank you for coming over. I know you probably have cattle to move or fence to fix or something—”
“It’s okay,” Stetson said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s what friends are for. Where’s Louisa? Carmelita is worried sick about her. She’s not answering the phone.”
“Honestly, you’re not going to get any better of a response in person. I’ve tried. She’s in shock. Nothing is registering when you try to talk to her. It’s like talking to a zombie. She moves like a human, but she’s not processing anything. At the moment, she’s downstairs, running on the treadmill. She tried to go outside to go for a run, but…” He gestured at the front door. “It didn’t go well, let’s just put it that way. I need to leave you here while I go pick up Skyler from your brother’s house. Him and Juan are thick as thieves, and so I arranged for Wyatt and Abby to take Sky for the weekend while I woo’d Louisa.” His lips twisted into a sarcastic smile.
Stetson was quiet for a moment. “I thought my introduction to Jennifer was rough,” he said after a moment with a low chuckle, “but I think you have us beat to pieces. At least the national media wasn’t beating down my door the day after.”
“Fame ain’t always what it’s cracked up to be.”
They were quiet for another moment, until a particularly loud demand for a comment made it into the house, loud and clear, jerking them back to the present.
“I best get going. Don’t open up the front door for anyone, I don’t care what bullshit they tell you. Everyone who is on their way from Nashville knows the key-code to get in through the garage. If someone’s trying to come through the front door, they’re not welcome here. Oh, and if Louisa makes her way back upstairs, tell her I’ve gone for Skyler and I’ll be back soon, and to hold tight.” He rather doubted she’d try to make another run for it – terrible pun, Zane – but he didn’t want to take the chance.
They needed to figure out what they were going to do together.
Stetson nodded his understanding, and Zane took off at a jog for the garage door. He hadn’t had to put on his media disguise for a while, but he hadn’t forgotten the drill. Baseball cap low over the eyes. Sunglasses. Big coat with a high collar. The best shot the paparazzi could get would be of a man who could be him…or who could be any other millions of men in America. That didn’t make for an interesting photo, and that was exactly what Zane was willing to give them.
He backed out of the garage, thankful that it was set on the side of the house, hiding its entrance from the front door. By time the reporters realized he was leaving, they’d be lucky to get a shot of the backside of the Audi. Good luck trying to convince their editors to run with that picture.
He put the Audi into gear and then stepped on it, feeling the smooth roar of the engine as it gained speed, eating up ground effortlessly. A couple of reporters, probably getting bored with yelling at the front door, were loitering in the driveway, drinking coffee and laughing as they chatted with each other.
Zane didn’t exactly point his SUV directly at them, but he also didn’t exactly point it away, either. He buried the pedal as far as it would go and watched with satisfaction as people dove for the bushes, yelling at him as he tore by. Sure, it was best that he didn’t run over a reporter – he’d be hard pressed to convince the insurance company that it was an accident – but still…
He let off the pedal with a regretful sigh. He had to keep his eyes on the road, and his hands at 10 and 2. Just drive calmly, and under the speed limit. All he needed now was to be pulled over by an overzealous cop and have that end up on the news that evening.
Don’t worry Skyler. Get him home, and then decide how to proceed from there. Keep calm. Isn’t that one of those stupid sayings that women hang up all over their houses? ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’? Well, for once in my life, a trite saying is actually true.
After a mindless drive that Zane didn’t remember a moment of, he pulled up in front of Wyatt’s house and immediately, their dog came bounding over, tail wagging a million miles an hour, just thrilled to pieces to greet someone. Considering she was on their front porch, Zane was fairly sure that meant that Wyatt was actually inside, since Maggie Mae would never otherwise stay behind.
The front door opened and Abby came out onto the front porch, waving, trying to pin a cheerful look on her face, but Zane wasn’t fooled and he was damn sure his much-too-observant son hadn’t been either. She was just as worried as Stetson had been.
Smart people.
“Good morning, Zane!” she called out gaily as he stepped out of the Audi. He sent her a sarcastic look and she had the good grace to shrug and look a little guilty for the platitude. “Skyler’s inside, gathering up the last of his stuff. He was a great kid the whole time. No problems at all.”
“Good, good,” Zane said, headed for the front porch.
Suddenly, the overwhelming feeling of weariness washed over him. Had he really had a cup of coffee that morning? He suddenly felt as if his body had never even heard of the concept of caffeine before.
“C’mon in. You look like you need a cup of joe. Or three. You can sneak some into you while Skyler finishes up.”
His lips curved at the corners, his best attempt at gratefulness, as he trailed along behind her. Wyatt had said that she was a cop, of course, and Zane could definitely see that in her. A no-nonsense straight shooter who stayed calm in an emergency.
He appreciated all of those traits, and counted Wyatt’s taste in women in his favor. Marrying Abby was a damn smart idea.
“Hey, Dad!” Skyler called out, waving at him from across the large, comfortable living room before going back to a stack of cards that him and Juan were looking over. Although the home was new and had some upgrades to it that Zane was sure had cost a pretty penny, it wasn’t pretentious or a showcase. It looked like a home filled with love. It was, Zane thought distractedly as Abby filled a coffee cup for him and shoved creamers at him, what he’d always wanted in a house, and yet had never had. Tamara had wanted a showcase once his record deals started bringing in the income to pay for one, and then there was the house they were renting this summer. It was even worse, at least in Zane’s mind. Too much dark wood. Too much oppressiveness.
Too much old-man tastes.
“Morning,” Wyatt said, coming into the kitchen and putting out his hand to shake. “You hanging in there?”
Zane smiled automatically, instinctually, even as a small part of his mind realized he’d just been spending his time thinking about the decorating tastes of the people who owned the house he was staying in, in the midst of a huge crisis.
