“What, you gonna hit me?” the reporter goaded.
Shaw’s fist balled. “What?”
The guy took a step back, knowing he’d crossed a line Shaw could legally call him out on. “I’m only the first, Mr. Miller. Give me an exclusive, and I’ll be kinder than what the others are going to say. The story isn’t going back in the bag.”
Shaw felt like he was going to throw up. It was starting all over again. And he’d dragged Taryn into it. “She didn’t know a thing. Leave her alone. Now get out.”
He herded the guy out, careful not to touch him, and then slammed the door shut.
Sweat rolled down his back, and his heart felt like it was going to give out. He grabbed his cell phone and hit a number, stalking away from the door so no one could eavesdrop.
Taryn’s voicemail answered. He hated leaving a message, but he didn’t have much choice. She might not answer any of his calls, and he needed to warn her. “Taryn, it’s Shaw. I’m sorry to tell you like this, but a story got out about us. A video from karaoke. Don’t answer your door or phone if you don’t know who it is. I told the reporter you had no idea who I was. I’ll be gone before they can get any more information out of me. Just deny everything. Say you never saw me again after that night. We met at the bar, sang, and that was it. Say you were drunk.”
There was another knock on his door. Fuck. “And, Taryn, I’m so sorry for all of this. I never meant to drag you into my mess. I loved the time we spent together.” He wet his lips. “No, I think I probably just straight-up love you. I know that coming from me, it could never be enough, but I thought you should know. Take care of yourself, songbird.”
The confession slipped out, inappropriate as fuck, but he had to get the words out there. He needed her to know that she was more to him than just a hookup. That even if it was brief, their relationship had meant something and he’d forever be thankful for having known her.
He ended the call before he could say more shit to make it worse.
He punched another button on his phone.
Rivers answered. “What the hell, dude? My phone is ringing off the hook. What’s going on?”
“A video of me and Taryn got leaked. Someone recognized us both. I told the reporter who came here that Taryn didn’t know who I was. Stick to that story. I’m going to call building security to get the reporters out of the hallway, and then I’m leaving out the back. I’ve got to get out of town. I’ll call you from the road. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to come back.”
“What? You can’t just leave permanently,” Rivers protested. “Dude, they don’t get to fucking chase you off. You didn’t do anything.”
Shaw scoffed. “I did enough. I’m sorry. I’m heading down to Galveston.”
“Galveston? Why?”
“I bought an RV.” Man, this was not how he wanted to tell Rivers, but he had no choice. “So don’t worry. I’ll have a place to stay. I’ll touch base with you when I get there, so we can figure out what to do with my stuff. Thank you for everything, man.”
“Shaw—”
But he ended the call. All this hurt too damn much. He just needed to get on the road and get the hell out of there. He wouldn’t make it through the goodbyes this time.
* * *
“Whoa, what is going on?” Liv asked, breaking the silence in the room. “You have dog treats in your purse or something?”
Taryn looked up from the laptop they’d set up on Rebecca’s dining room table, her eyes swimming with spreadsheets but the numbers still not making sense. She couldn’t freaking concentrate. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything since she’d walked out of Shaw’s apartment. She’d managed to go through the motions, run the fund-raiser, do the press for the event, but her mind was always somewhere else—mainly, sitting in a room rocking back and forth and freaking the hell out. “Hmm?”
Kincaid, who was sitting next to her working on the new blog, cocked her head toward Rebecca’s big, black dog. Knight was nosing Taryn’s purse, which she’d left on the couch, and whining like he was being denied beef jerky.
Rebecca stepped out of the kitchen and frowned. “Knight, don’t do that.”
Knight barked and pulled the strap of Taryn’s purse with his teeth.
“No,” Rebecca said sharply as she plunked down a pitcher of iced tea on the table. “No, sir. You put her purse down.”
At her firm tone, Knight hopped back and dropped the strap from his mouth, puppy-dog eyes in full effect. Rebecca groaned as she walked over. “You are the worst. I will not feel guilty.” She grabbed the purse. “Oh, your phone’s vibrating. Knight hates that noise.”
“Aww,” Kincaid said and made a cooing noise to call the dog over. “Does that hurt Mr. Knight’s ears? You poor baby.”
Knight’s tail thumped on the hardwood floor and his tongue lolled out.
Rebecca handed Taryn her phone. Taryn looked down. “Holy crap. I have, like, ten new voice messages.”