I’m not happy about it.
“If you think it’s not safe, then you don’t have to,” murmurs Sadie with a look on her face that I imagine she would wear if I kicked a dog in front of her.
“Sawyer’s just jealous, honey. Don’t mind him.” Mom walks over and swats me on the arm. I pretend like it hurts and text the front to allow Wright through the gate.
“Jealous?” Sadie echoes. “Of what?”
“I like you,” Mom says, grinning. “Sawyer’s jealous that—”
“Mom,” I interrupt with a growl. “I think your pasta water is about to boil over.”
That successfully distracts her. “Gracious!” She spins away and runs toward the kitchen. “Good thing I decided to make spaghetti. I’ll put an extra serving in. Anything Charlie is allergic to?” she calls back. “I was thinking about adding some shrimp.”
“No. He loves pasta and seafood.”
I don’t like that Sadie has this intimate knowledge of some other man’s eating habits. Feels wrong to me.
Sadie stops me before I go to the door. “Charlie’s a good guy. Like I told you, he’d never hurt me. I don’t know who took those photos, but it wasn’t him.”
I look down at her small hand, her fingers barely covering my biceps. I could lift her with one hand and not break a sweat. She’s small and vulnerable, and people outside these walls want to bring her down, but it’s not going to happen on my watch.
“I’ll find the bastard who did it, and he won’t take another photo in his life,” I vow.
She cocks her head. “You know what? I believe you.”
“You should.” I pull open the door and let Wright in. He flies by me right to Sadie.
“I heard that you assaulted Randle Beckstrand! Literally spit in his face and threw the script on the ground and stomped all over it!” He reaches for her shoulders, and while he might have meant no harm, my instincts kick in. I sweep her behind my back, grab Wright’s arm, twist it behind his back, and shove him against the wall.
“Wait. Wait. He’s not going to hurt me.” Sadie pulls at my arm.
A pillow comes flying across the room and bounces off my shoulder. “Let the man go,” Mom orders.
“Sorry, man.” I ease off.
He shakes his arm and backs away. “My bad. Should’ve realized after the grilling by your company that you took this security thing seriously. Charlie Wright. Friend, not foe.” He sticks out his hand.
I don’t want to shake it, but I can see if I don’t, Sadie’s not going to be happy. Already she’s watching me with suspicion.
“No harm, no foul.” I clasp his hand in mine and give it a brief pump. “You want to explain yourself?”
“I do. God, Sadie”—he turns away from me—“word is all over town that you and Randle got into some argument, and you flew off the handle, diva like. I know that’s not you, so I assumed that he hurt you. I came right over to see if you were okay.”
Sadie makes a distressed sound in the back of her throat.
“How did you know she was with me?” I ask.
“It was posted on Twitter.” Wright holds up his phone and shows me the screen.
Sadie w a new man? It’s accompanied by a photo of my black SUV speeding through the gate. There was a link to a map which pinpointed my location. That’s fucking disturbing. Sadie turns white.
“It doesn’t matter if your stalker knows you’re here. He is not getting inside,” I assure her. I direct my next words to Wright. “As for the Beckstrand issue, I was there with Sadie the entire time and can verify there was no assault, pouting or stomping.”
“I knew he was lying, but Sadie, it’s not good. Your name is being dragged through the mud. What do you want me to do?”
“I’m not taking the role,” she says suddenly. Her worried face clears. “In fact, I think I’m quitting.”
Chapter Seven
Sadie
Everyone stares at me. I swear you could hear a pin drop with how silent the room has grown. I guess that’s the last thing they thought I was going to say. I should be used to people staring at me, but I’m actually not. I’ve never been comfortable with all the attention focused on me.
“Let’s eat,” Marie says, cutting in. I’m so grateful for her interruption. “You joining us, Charlie?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He answers her, but his attention remains on me. I can tell his worry is only growing at my confession. I don’t know why I went and blurted it out, but it’s true. “Whatever it is smells wonderful.”
“Come set the table. We never get to use it.” Marie grabs Charlie’s arm and drags him away toward the dining area, leaving Locke and me somewhat alone.
“You okay?” Locke steps more into my space. If anything, him being this close should get me flustered, but I find myself relaxing.