Damn. Paris held out the lipstick case. “Jenna tripped, and her stuff went everywhere.” She handed Jenna the lipstick case.
“Thanks.” Being the actress she was, Jenna brushed off the imaginary gravel from her knees.
“Are you okay?” Suddenly, Doug sounded concerned.
“Yeah. I took a step, and my ankle gave way. It happens all the time. I suck at walking in high heels. Thanks for asking.” Jenna turned to Paris and hugged her. “I hope you’re feeling better.”
“I'm sure I will in a few hours.”
Paris made brief eye contact with Doug. “See you tomorrow.”
“Sure,” he said.
She waited a beat for him to move to his side of the truck since she didn’t need him to spot the camera.
Still pretending as if her stomach was upset, she walked away. Too bad she’d parked in the opposite direction. She kept walking, acting as if she’d parked on Doug’s side of the lot.
As soon as he pulled out, she hightailed it to her car. Those last five minutes had been quite tense, but she’d completed her mission, and that was what had been important. Right now, though, she needed a drink to calm her down.
Even though she’d planted the camera as per Rider’s request, Paris’ hand still trembled, making it difficult to even put the key in the ignition. After taking a few large breaths though, she succeeded.
Paris had driven about a half mile, feeling quite satisfied with her performance, when she spotted what looked like Doug’s black truck behind her. She slowed down a bit for a better look, but it kept its distance behind her.
Her paranoia must be playing tricks on her mind. He’d left a few minutes before her. No way could Doug be behind her—unless he’d waited for her to leave. At that thought, her stomach tumbled for real.
To prove to herself that she wasn’t imagining things, Paris turned toward town instead of heading straight home, hoping the truck would continue on the main road.
Nope. He followed. Okay, the safest place to be right now would be with other people. As soon as Paris spotted The Treetops Diner, she pulled into the mostly empty lot. She cut the engine and then pushed open her door. So as not to look like she suspected anything, she didn’t look around.
The sound of a diesel truck engine passed by, and relief washed over her. She had let her fear get the best of her. With the danger gone, Paris considered going home, but then decided she didn’t want to be by herself. Besides, she needed to eat dinner.
Paris entered the restaurant, took a seat in a booth near the back, and waved to Shirley, one of the waitresses who often served her.
Shirley came over. “You’re early.”
“I know, but I wasn’t feeling well and left work.” Paris was physically fine, just not emotionally steady yet. Paris debated telling Shirley that she thought she had been followed, but once the truck passed, Paris realized it had been her over-active imagination. “How about a cup of tea and a bagel?”
“Sure thing, sweetie. Coming right up.”
Paris expected to feel relief, but the jitters still plagued her.To hell with it. She wanted to call Rider and tell him she'd planted the camera.Truth?She didn't want to be alone. The thought someone might have followed her, scared her. A lot.
“This is a nice surprise.” Rider had answered quickly, almost as if he had been waiting for her call.
“I need to see you. And Grayson.”
“Sure thing. Do you want to come here?”
That would be a grave mistake. If she showed any sign of weakness, one of the men would hug her, and one thing would lead to another. That was something she wasn’t ready for.
“Can you come to The Treetops Diner in town? I’m sure I imagined it, but I thought maybe Doug Peterson saw me do the thing I was supposed to do and then followed me here.”
“Oh, shit. We’ll be right there.”
She gave him directions. This time as soon as Paris disconnected, she felt better. She leaned her head back for a moment and closed her eyes to let her muscles relax.
“Paris?”
That voice. Oh, shit.