Beauty (A Midsummer Suspense Tale) (14 page)

“Anyway, yeah, this last time, everyone fought about stuff and I won’t bore you with the details, but I think we’re done for good. And I got in it with Nicky over stuff a few weeks ago when we ran into each other, there was an actual fistfight, which I am not proud of. So I’m back in my hotel suite. I call some of the usual crew to hang out. We’ve got liquor, someone running the bar. A couple people show up, pretty sure one’s like a c-rate model, don’t know her name, and she has her whole entourage, and they’re all fucking high already. Cocaine. I can tell by this point, I’ve spent enough time around Nicky.”

Sawyer sighed, his voice growing tight and faint. “And I just said fuck it. Whatever, bring your drugs here. Do your thing. Fuck Nicky. Fuck his rules, fuck my rules. I was angry still and being stupid.

“Night goes on. I don’t remember half of it, I was drunk. Nearly everyone leaves at some point, and it’s four-thirty in the morning. And I find I can’t get into my bathroom, the door’s locked. I called the hotel staff but just started banging into it rather than wait and eventually it popped open.

“There’s this girl in the bathtub. And I thought she was dead right off the bat. I’m still a bit drunk, feel like I’m going to puke, and suddenly freaking out because this girl just looks
dead
. She had a pulse but I didn’t know how long she’d been there. It was an OD, I know enough seeing it now. I called 911 but I was thinking shit, I should get her out of here, and tried carrying her. Door gets open, there’s the hotel staff, and the noise must’ve attracted people because here are these idiots with cell phones taking pictures of me carrying a half-dressed girl about to die.

“I freaked out. Passed her to the hotel staff and locked myself in my room. Not my best idea. Packed and went out the back door, called my agent and my lawyer. Not my best idea either. Called my sister. About the worst idea so far. And the story now is that I almost killed a girl during a wild drug orgy. Nicky will never speak to me again and last I heard the girl’s family want to sue for medical costs.”

He went silent again, this time she sensed for good. His arm was still draped over her side and she folded her hand over his.

“It’s not your fault,” she said softly.

“I should’ve kept with the rules. They might’ve just left, she might’ve ODed elsewhere. I don’t know. But I was responsible for the people there. I should have insisted. I should have checked the bathroom sooner. I should’ve stayed with her while the ambulance came. I panicked. I was a dick.”

“Sawyer—”

“It’s not just that. It’s that every time something happens, I
know better
, and I do it anyway, and someone else gets screwed over. I didn’t look after Nicky like I should’ve either. I went out my first night here, when I was supposed to be hiding, and was seen. Then I went in to town, when I promised Val I wouldn’t. Now your face and place of employment is plastered everywhere.”

“Except I don’t care. My boss Gina understands, I’m not going to lose my job. My aunts can fuck right off if they don’t like it.” She squeezed his hand. “Does this mean you’re leaving, though?”

Nothing. Not a word from him.

Her body went cold at the thought and then she mentally kicked herself.
Of course
he was leaving. He didn’t live here, didn’t belong here. Look at the lack of security around the house, it had to be far less than he was used to. Than he
needed
. More bloggers and reporters would show up, they’d find him. They’d only need to follow her around a bit and end up here, wouldn’t they?

He had no reason to stay.

“I don’t want to,” he said at last, his voice filled with doubt.

Bryar chewed at her bottom lip and glared at the window, as if the sun was offending her. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“I mean it.” This time he kissed her neck and her body stirred despite the fact that she was irritated. “I don’t
want
to. But if this keeps up much longer, you’re going to care, Bryar. You won’t be able to leave the house. People will harass you at work, at your door. They’ll call. I have fans and they don’t take too well to the women I’m involved with. They’ll threaten you.”

“I can probably beat them up,” she said stubbornly.

His kissed her neck again and her eyes closed, his mouth soothing back her annoyance and stoking her arousal. He grew hard behind her, his erection pressing into her ass, and she shifted to rub him. Already she was growing wet, her body craving his, to feel him sliding in and out of her again.

“Where would you go, if you left?” she asked.

“Mmm, I don’t know. Where would
you
go, if you were me?”

“Hmm. I always thought I’d go to some country that was like party central. But maybe Europe. Paris. Definitely a city, something completely different from Midsummer.”

“Paris is nice.” He was mouthing her throat fully, his tongue sweeping over her sensitive skin, and his hand draped over her moved to her belly, sliding under her T-shirt and across her ribs. “We should go some time.”

Now she knew she was crazy—running off to Paris with Sawyer. She didn’t need to be a fangirl to know the ridiculousness of it but she didn’t call him on it, just let herself go completely and enjoy his touch. He gripped her breast, rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she gasped.

Someone knocked on the bedroom door.

Sawyer cursed. Bryar squeezed her eyes tight and turned, flopping flat on her stomach and burying her face in the pillow.

“What?” he called with a sigh.

“We’ve got guests at the gate,” a woman called—Valerie, his sister, Bryar presumed.

“Uninvited, I take it.”

“Mmmhmm. Gonna be fun getting the car out later. I think a few people brought tents.”

“Shit.”

“They probably followed me,” Bryar mumbled against the pillow.

“Do we pack?” Val asked.

Sawyer was silent for a moment. “No, we call the realtor and find out where the property line is exactly, and start arresting people who cross it.”

Valerie said nothing but Bryar could sense her there, likely chewing on whatever she wanted to say. Clearly she did not like this plan. “We should get a hotel, Sean. Something with proper security.”

“I like the beach house. Let me look into private security first.”

Bryar stirred enough to lift her head and look at him. He lay flat on his back, starring up at the ceiling, brows pulled down in thought over his lovely pale gray eyes.

“I know someone,” she offered. “My boss’s husband’s friend. Which sounds kind of backward hick-ish but if Brennen says this guy is good and reliable, he probably is. Brennen is like richer than God around here and he trusts him.”

Sawyer met her eyes and nodded, smiling slightly. “Okay. Get me the number and I’ll call. And we should get ready—it’s going to take a bit longer to get you to work.”

She would’ve liked to spend a bit more time in bed with him but he was probably right. Reluctantly she rose and he pointed out the shower while he grabbed his robe and padded off to deal with the people outside.

While she didn’t say it aloud, Bryar was selfishly glad he was staying. Part of her hoped he’d never leave.

Chapter Nine

The bakery was insane.

No other word for it. Just...insane. Worse than the other days that week by far.

Sawyer’s driver, Jeffrey, had driven her in the SUV with its tinted windows. It was bad enough getting through the throng of people at the gate. Bad enough that some of them got in cars and
followed
, thinking it was Sawyer in the vehicle. Bad enough that Bryar was afraid to stop home for a change of clothes so just instructed the driver to head into town and hoped that her shirt didn’t smell.

But the people crowding Midsummer’s downtown core was just nuts.

The bakery had a lineup down the street and the moment they glimpsed the SUV—which was
not
very stealthy, she had to admit—they swarmed. Jeffrey had barely hit the brakes before Bryar dove out and ran for the backdoor. Thankfully she had the key still to unlock it because no one was in the kitchen—she found Gina and Brennen both out front.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Brennen as she peered past him—he stood in the doorway again, watching Gina’s back quite literally. There was another guy stationed at the door who didn’t look like a store patron; he stood ramrod straight, his arms crossed at his chest. Auburn hair cut short, eyes cold and almost predatory the way they scanned the room.

“That’s Mike,” Brennen said, following her gaze. “He’s just helping out in case anyone gets rowdy. So far so good, but...”

“But I just got here. And Sawyer was seen here the other night, I know—I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. He came by to apologize because he didn’t know where I lived and I guess the photos finally made the rounds.”

“It’s okay,” Brennen reassured her. “Really. It’s not your fault.”

But does that matter?
They were all suffering the consequences because of her.

Gina finished ringing up a customer and waved Brennen over. “Duty calls,” he mumbled and changed places with her; she rushed back, grasped Bryar’s arm, and pulled her into the kitchen.

“Jesus, I’ve had at least two hundred customers today.” Gina swiped an errant curl from her eyes. “It’s crazy. Do you think you could get your boyfriend to walk around town holding a box with my logo? We get popular enough, there could be franchise opportunities.”

Bryar stared at her, unsure whether she was being serious or not. “Are you not mad?”

Gina waved her off. “I’m exhausted. I was going to call you to come in early but Brennen was happy to help. I need to bake more of, like,
everything
, and I can really use you here in the back with me. You okay with that?”

Bryar let out a heavy breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and slumped against the nearest counter. “Oh, thank God. I really thought you were ready to fire me this time.”

“Never. You’ve done a great job already, especially on your own the other day. I was hoping to ease you into baking but there’s no time like the present to learn. Unless...” She stopped her frenzied moving, one hand on the handle of an open cupboard door, the other mid-air reaching for a canister of flour. “Were you planning to quit?”

“Oh God no.” Bryar grabbed the spare pink apron from the hook nearby, threw it on, and rushed to Gina’s side. “And, by the way, you are like the best boss ever.”

Gina grinned, turned back to the cupboard, and went about pulling down supplies. “And I notice you are wearing what you wore yesterday. I want details.”

Just don’t ask about what happened on your counter here
, Bryar thought, though outwardly she smiled and prepared to dish about all the rest of it.

****

Brennen drove her home again, this time close to seven. The bakery stayed open an extra half hour and sold basically all of the remaining stock. The three of them cleaned up and Gina sent Bryar home with some leftover bread, tarts, and cookies, and promised Bryar overtime pay for all the effort she’d put it. Bryar wasn’t sure she did all
that
much, mostly just following Gina’s instructions, but she wasn’t going to complain about extra money in her paycheck. The following day she was expected at nine-thirty and to stay until six, a full shift with a half-hour lunch break, and Gina was already talking about getting those uniform shirts with the store logo sooner rather than later.

Bryar had given Sawyer’s number to Brennen with the explanation of him needing extra security, and Brennen put Mike in touch with him. Provided Val didn’t convince Sawyer to leave in the meantime, hopefully that would help with the situation around the beach house. Bryar planned to check in with Sawyer that evening, but she knew first she had to face her aunts.

There was no avoiding it.

People were basically camped out on the lawn of the cottage. Unfortunately, the driveway and garage ran around the side of the place, and it was just faster for Brennen to pull up on the shoulder and let her run up to the house along the front path than try to pull up himself.

“Call us tomorrow if you need a ride,” he advised.

Normally she wouldn’t dream of it, but this time she nodded. Getting dogged by these people for the entire walk there would drive her nuts.

Bryar took a breath and then darted out of the car, twisting her head back as cameras flashed. There were twenty or so people, all shouting at her to the point she couldn’t make out what they were saying. There was no point in getting snarky when she wasn’t sure what she’d even be responding to. So she ignored them, powered through the crowd with her purse and bag of baked goods clutched to her chest, and flew in the front door.

“Okay,” she said as she slammed the door and blew stray curls from her eyes, “they are
right
on the front lawn, which is private property—why the hell hasn’t anyone called the....” She looked around and frowned. “...police...yet.”

The house was packed.

Boxes everywhere, stacks of them. The furniture was in place but the bookshelves were clear. Tables empty of knickknacks. Framed photos gone. Some of the boxes were marked “kitchen” and “bedroom”. Some said “Keep” others said “Goodwill”.

What the fuck?

She took a few steps forward and Merry appeared in the hallway. Her plump face was sad, eyes strained. She looked exhausted.

“What’s going on?” Bryar asked.

Aunt Donna swept past her wife, carting a suitcase. “We’re leaving.”

Bryar stood mutely, frozen there in the middle of the living room amongst boxes, and just stared. “Leaving?” she repeated when at last she’d found her voice. “You’re just...moving? Leaving me? Because of this?”

“No dear,” Aunt Merry said swiftly, crossing the room to take Bryar’s hands in her own. “No, we’re all going. It’s time.”

Bryar blinked. “It’s time? What the fuck does that even mean?”

“What your mouth,” Donna said sharply.

“You can’t just literally pack up in a day and
move
. I can’t. I have a job. I live here.”