“Mix of both. I did shoot a man and get a woman in a matter of days.” He shrugs. “I’ll get it handled.” He guides me toward the kitchen. “I don’t like when you run from my bed.”
“Well, it’s our bed now,” I point out. “I am living here now.” He smiles big before he lifts me, sitting me on the counter.
“Yeah. Our bed then.” He kisses me, and I wrap myself around him. A hard knock sounds at the door.
“Let me in!” his agent shouts.
“Fucking hell.” He pulls me off the counter onto my feet. “Clothes.” He moves me toward the bedroom. He grabs my bag on the way and drops both of us in the room before closing the door.
I hurriedly get dressed, and my phone keeps going off the entire time. I can hear Corby getting heated with his agent, so I answer it, giving them time to sort this all out.
“What the hell is going on?” my friend Willow screams into my ear. “You’re dating some famous writer? Mark has been stalking you! There was a shrine? What the freak?”
Clearly she heard a lot about what happened. Not surprising since she works in a bakery which can be as gossipy as a salon at times.
“A shrine?” I think that might’ve been one of the things Corby left out.
“They said Mark is under arrest, but they think he’s been working with someone.”
“What?” It doesn’t make any sense. “Why would he work with somebody to stalk me?”
“Hold on.” I hear shuffling before her voice comes back over the line. “Okay, I’m going to tell you something. Not just because I’m worried and I think you should have a heads up, but I overheard Sheriff Larson talking to his deputy. They didn’t see me there. I think some girl has been stalking your boyfriend guy.” I snort a laugh at anyone calling Corby a boy. “What’s so funny?”
“Sounds funny when you call him my boyfriend.”
“We’re not going there right now,” she snaps. “I’m your best friend, and you don’t even tell me? And for the record, Ames is pissed too.”
“Shit! It’s been crazy. I’m sorry. We’ll catch up later, but spill the rest of the tea!” And she does.
Apparently they’ve been using Mark’s phone to track this woman. They were planning a sting that was happening very soon. They even think it might be the same woman who tried to claim Corby was the father of her child. One that no one thinks is actually real. This woman and Mark sound like a match made in mental heaven.
“Heard about your car too. You need a ride?” Willow can be both sweet and a bit wild at times. I guess almost dying can do that to you. You want to experience life.
“Yeah, I’m going to have to sneak out of this place, there's paparazzi everywhere. I’ll share my location with you so you can come to me.”
“I don’t need you to share it, it’s all over the news.” I groan, knowing she’s right. Everyone knows exactly where I am. In some ways I hate that, but I have to admit in others I don’t mind everyone knowing that I’m at Corby’s. It lets them all know he’s mine.
“Bring some snacks from the bakery!”
She snorts a laugh before hanging up. I want to get the exclusive story on this sting operation. Maybe punch this crazy girl in the face. The only person who will be having Corby’s babies is me.
I pause, realizing the thought I just had. Why doesn’t that seem crazy? I’ll have to question that later. I finally get one of the windows open. I look around to make sure the coast is clear. I think I can escape out the back and through the trees.
I text my mom before I slip out the window, telling her to spread the word nobody better be renting a room or serving food to those vultures outside the house. Then I send one to Corby when I’m far enough away that he can’t try and stop me. My heart flutters when he texts back instantly telling me to be careful and to get my story.
It’s better this way. The paparazzi will think I’m in the house. All the attention will be kept there. In the meantime, I’ll be off getting the rest of the story, and they’ll be stuck speculating on Corby’s sex life. This is perfect.
Or so I thought…
Chapter Nineteen
Corby
"I can’t believe this is who you've replaced me with," cries Crystal. I didn’t know what her name was until today when, after tying me to the chair, she dramatically slapped her chest and cried out that I had killed her, Crystal, a woman who could never be killed. She is obviously not dead, unfortunately, but does look as unhinged today as when I caught her in my bedroom, rubbing one out on my sheets. "What will you say to your son?"