Lexie didn’t know if that was a compliment or not. “Thank you.”
After breakfast, Sean pulled on jogging pants and a Nike sweatshirt before he ran out the door, leaving Lexie to entertain his mother. First up on Geraldine’s list of morning programming:
The Today show. a. Hoda and Kathie Lee.
Santa Diabla.
“I don’t speak much Spanish,” Geraldine confessed, glued to the telenovela. “But Humberto is so handsome and romantic.”
The show opened with a woman crying, the dramatic sound of a beating heart in the background, and Lexie knew it was official now. She was being punished for:
Flunking Spanish class. a. Not a fan of rajas poblanos.
The misunderstanding with the Mexican policía in 2010. a. The dog had looked homeless. She hadn’t tried to steal it.
Blessedly, the telenovela was only a half hour. Next up on Geraldine’s watch list, Wendy Williams.
“How you doin’?” Wendy asked, wearing a tight white dress and fingertip veil. “Let’s head on over to Hot Topics.” She walked across the stage in white stilettos and arranged herself in a lavender velvet chair. “You know my staff loves a theme,” she said through a deep chuckle and arranged the veil about her shoulders.
“I bet you’re up first in Hot Topics,” Geraldine said, the telephone just inches from h
er fingers.
“I appreciate you keeping me a secret for a few days.” Out of the corners of her eyes, Lexie watched the older woman’s hand.
“Let’s get to it,” Wendy said as Lexie’s publicity picture from Gettin’ Hitched appeared on the screen behind Wendy.
“I was right!” Geraldine crowed.
“It’s been a day and a half since Lexie Kowalsky—you know, the Gettin’ Hitched bride—ditched her wedding to poor Pete Dalton. I’ve been told by someone on the set”—she lowered her voice for effect—“they’d planned a big fancy reception at the Fairmont Hotel in Seattle. They were serving prime rib and roasted potatoes infused with rosemary.” She laughed. “You know I love prime rib. Red in the middle with horseradish. Yum!” She went on to name the rest of the menu Lexie and Pete had picked out for their wedding dinner. “Now, I also heard she’s probably hiding out in the UK at the Manchester Dog Show. You know how much she loves dogs. That’s where I’d be. You know I love my Shaq.” A picture of a dog replaced Lexie, and the audience gave a collective “ah.” “If anyone sees the runaway Gettin’ Hitched bride, call me.” Wendy pointed to a pink phone on the table beside her as she went on to describe the all-inclusive trip to Disney World.
Lexie’s stomach twisted into a knot, waiting—waiting for Wendy’s phone to ring. Had she been spotted? Would someone call in? Did anyone know where she was hiding, beyond the woman in the recliner beside her?
“With all the people in the world looking for you, you’re right here in my living room.”
Lexie waited for Geraldine’s hand to move. So much as a twitch and she was going to tackle the older woman. “I know how much you want that vacation. When this all blows over, I’ll send you to Disney World.”
“No, thank you. It’s not the same as winnin’ it.” Geraldine turned and looked at Lexie. “I told Sean I’d keep your secret.” She picked up an imaginary key and locked her lips. “I’m not telling a soul,” she said from one corner of her mouth.
Halfway through Wendy, Lexie called her mother and learned that her agent was trying to get ahold of her. People, Us Weekly, OK, and Star magazines wanted exclusives, while TMZ and the National Enquirer had staff looking everywhere for her.
“Are you safe, honey?” her mother asked. Lexie looked across her shoulder at Geraldine and could not give her mother a reassuring answer. “That’s all I care about right now.”
The back door of the house opened, drawing Lexie’s attention to the kitchen. She heard the creak of Sean’s footsteps seconds before he walked through patches of deep shadow and bright sunlight toward her. “Yes,” she told her mother without stopping to think about it. “I am.” For some reason, she felt safe with a man she didn’t even know. A man she was pretty sure didn’t even like her very much. “I’ll call you when I get home tomorrow,” she said, and hung up the phone.
He stopped in the doorway and raised his hands up and behind him, grabbing fistfuls of his sweatshirt. As he pulled the sweatshirt over his head, a white T-shirt beneath rose up his hard stomach and ripped abs. The end of the T-shirt stopped at mid-chest, hovering for several drool-worthy seconds before sliding back down to the waistband of his jogging pants. He used the sweatshirt to dry his hair, wet from sweat and chilled dew hanging in the air. He looked from one woman to the next. “What’s going on?”
“Ah.” Lexie had to remove her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Nothing.”
“No one’s called Wendy for that vacation.”
“I’ll be upstairs.”
Doing what? Lexie wondered. Her answer came shortly with the unmistakable bump and clang of a weight machine.
“He must lift every day,” Lexie said, more to herself than to anyone else in the room.
“He has to keep fit for his job.”