“Of course.” She smoothed her camel-colored, pleated skirt and smiled at Joelle, Damien and Scotty, all of whom had ended up in the living area to witness the drama. “It was the dark hair that threw me off, by the way.” Violet pointed to my messy curls, sprouting like demon horns in all directions from my head. “The color is great, but I didn’t recognize you when we met. I kept thinking you seemed familiar, though.”
She peered down at her camera and pushed some buttons, probably reviewing how ridiculous I looked in Damien’s bathrobe with my mouth gaping.
“I was going to take off, anyway,” Joelle assured me. “I’m getting a room at a hotel nearby and I can stop back tomorrow. Maybe we can make a date to tour some other properties and see if we can find you a tearoom to get you settled.”
My friend already had her sweater over her arm.
“I’ll text you and we’ll make a plan,” I offered, grateful for the help. I really did want to talk to her more. “Thanks for checking on me.”
She gave me a hug and a quick kiss on my cheek. “You knew I would.”
Soon, Joelle was gone and Damien had disappeared into the kitchen with Scotty. I knew he probably had some animals to check on, anyhow. I wondered when I’d get to be with him alone again. I could hardly believe what had happened between us last night. I’d taken a monumental step with him, even if he didn’t know the full extent of what a big deal it had been for me. My old insecurities were already jittering around a little bit inside me, making me wonder how important the night had been to him.
I hoped I wasn’t the only one still reeling from the realization that we had a powerful connection. What if I was attaching too much meaning to how great the sex had been?
“So...Violet.” I waved her over to one of the chunky leather ottomans near the fireplace in the front room. “Have a seat.”
“Actually, I’d love to take you to lunch if you have time.” She fiddled with the strap on her camera as she perched on the edge of the ottoman. “I’m visiting some local friends this week and they are big fans of the show.”
My stomach knotted.
“That’s just the thing.” I tightened the belt on Damien’s robe, wishing I was back in his bed and this day could start all over again. “I’m trying to put the show behind me.”
“Why?” she blurted, her delicate, pale features scrunching into a worried frown. “You should be proud! You did a great job and you didn’t compromise your values. It doesn’t matter about the dopey nickname they gave you, right?”
She spoke with such vehemence, I actually did feel a little proud of myself. Not compromising had been important, after all.
“Thank you. I appreciate that. I really do.” I reached to give her arm a squeeze, an impulsive gesture she returned. “The problem is, I’d like to keep my whereabouts out of the media, and if my picture is posted with any details about me being in Sonoma County—”
“Oh, no.” Violet straightened.
“What?”
“I may have inadvertently—” She bit her lip. “That is—” She pulled a phone from the pocket of her cream-colored blazer. “I think I mentioned...”
“What?” My shoulders tensed. Hot prickles broke out on my skin. What had she done?
Scrolling through brightly colored screens, she slowed down to read a message or text or something.
“I did post a note last night about meeting you. I thought I might have sent it as a private message on Twitter, but it’s on my public feed.” She flipped her phone around so I could see the screen, but the little box with her note didn’t mean that much to me, since I didn’t use the program.
The blurb read: Met THE Gutsy Girl, the Nebraska NICE girl, Miranda Cortland, in wine country this weekend. #awesome
“But the note is only seen by your friends, right?” I had a vague understanding of Twitter. Maybe.