by Elise Faber
“I think it would be prudent to make a statement and maybe include a picture of you two on your Instagram and Facebook pages, especially since you two are together now.” A beat. “You are together, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know about Mr. Green,” I said lightly. “But I’m just here for the hot sex.”
Mags made a retching sound.
“Don’t even,” I said, pulling out a bowl and starting to measure ingredients. “I had to hear all about your hillside romp with Aaron in Tuscany, so you can certainly deal with a bit of my happy times with Talbot.”
“What are you doing?” the man in question asked.
“I’m making cookies.”
He glanced at the clock. “It’s seven-thirty in the morning.”
“And?” I raised my brows.
“And . . . nothing, I guess,” he said.
“What’s happening?” Mag asked, her voice slightly tinny through the speakerphone.
“Tammy’s making cookies.”
“Maybe I do need to come over for our mid-morning emergency meeting.”
“Maybe, you do,” I called, cracking several eggs into the bowl. “It’s your recipe.”
Mag sighed. “You play mean, Conners. I’m curled up with my fiancé, and you’re tempting me out of my nice cozy bed.”
“Well, by the time you pried yourself out and made it through traffic, I doubt there would be any left.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m making them for the Free Talmy people out front.”
Talbot froze, his face a comical mask, shock written across every pretty line.
Silence from him . . . and from the call on my cell.
Then Maggie started chortling, right around the time I began mixing in chocolate chips.
“What?” Tal and I asked at the same time.
“She’s good, Tal. She is good.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Ignore me,” Mags said. “Deliver the homemade cookies. Just bring a security guard with you.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary—”
“It is,” Tal said.
“Yes,” Mags added. “Listen to your big sexy man.”
“She’s glaring at you now,” Tal stage whispered.
“She’s scary when she does that,” Mags whispered back.
I sighed. “I’m going to have to watch it with you two.”
“She’s got angry eyes,” Tal said.
“Ooh, extra scary.”
I snorted, tried to hold on to those angry eyes, but I couldn’t do it. Not with these two jokers teasing me, not with the love I felt for both of them in my heart. “I’m ignoring you,” I said, scrounging until I found a cookie sheet and beginning to scoop out the dough, and since I didn’t do this quietly, it wasn’t long before Tal slipped into the other room to chat about business things instead of teasing me about my scowling.
Which was just as well.
Without interruptions, I quickly got the cookies in the oven, and soon the house smelled like sugar and butter and chocolate.
The best smell ever.
Luckily, I made a double batch (with my years on the force, I wasn’t stupid about how much junk food humans, especially those at work, could fill their stomachs with), and before long, I had security team members drifting into the kitchen, looking longingly at the cookies cooling on the racks.
I parceled them out, giving plenty to the guards with the longing eyes, and the rest I put on a platter before grabbing a stack of napkins.
Poking my head into the other room, I held up the tray as I met Tal’s eyes.
He was still on the phone, although he’d switched cells, since mine was on the coffee table, and it sounded like he was also no longer talking to Mag, since his tone was far more serious and the conversation far more involved. Slipping out, I grabbed one of my cookie-bribed guards to watch my back, made sure I was fully dressed—no more pants-less pictures please—and headed out the front door.
The first thing that surprised me was the noise.
I’d been inside so much, and outside only in that small, secluded garden, that I hadn’t realized the baseline amount of noise a crowd of people made. Noise that increased in volume when the remaining paparazzi spotted me, lifting their cameras, that strange whirring of their shutters clicking filling the air.
Then the voices joined in—a hum turning into a drone, excitement drifting up from the gate.
I strode down the long driveway toward the crowd, thinking this was probably exceptionally stupid, even if Mags and Talbot hadn’t vetoed the idea. Still, I thought it was sweet that they were protecting Tal, and by extension, me, and I knew how much a small gesture like this could make a person feel wanted.
And that, more than anything of these last couple of days, was the thing I wanted to take away from this experience the most.
Care didn’t have to have strings.
Care didn’t need to be grand and overt.
Care could be an omelet in the morning, chicken parmesan in the evening. It could be searching cabinets for “girl shit,” just as easily as it could be standing in front of a person invading our space.
The little things were those that I had been missing for so long. Those were the things Tal gave me.
And those were the things that I was going to give back to the rest of the world.
I wanted those people who didn’t have those little things, the quiet joy, to have them from me, even if they were just cookies warm from the oven and a quiet thanks.
“There’s a lot of people,” I whispered, feeling my steps slow unbidden. This had all seemed so easy in the house. Just bring cookies to the nice people outside. They’d appreciate the thought, and it would make us both feel good.
That was true.
What was also true?
There were a lot of eyes currently watching me navigate my way barefoot down the driveway, not a stitch of makeup on, my legs in black sweats, my torso covered in a bulky hoodie of Tal’s.
It wasn’t exactly glamorous.
It probably wasn’t another image I wanted plastered everywhere.
“Shit,” I whispered.
“I’m here,” the guard, whose name was Tex, said. “And we already have back up positioned by the gate.”
“Right,” I said. “So, I’ll try to pretend this isn’t terrifying because you guys won’t let anything happen to me.” And not that it was just occurring to me exactly what dating Tal would be like. People staring. More pictures—and probably unflattering ones at that, because I wasn’t going to stop wearing hoodies and leggings—gracing covers and blog posts.
He was worth it.
I felt that in my gut, without a doubt.
But this was also a lot for any normal woman to deal with.
Tex chuckled. “Oh, it’s not terrifying because of your safety.” I glanced up, met his dancing eyes. “You forget, I saw how you handled yourself in that video.”
I made a face. “But they still have my gun.”
Another chuckle. “You’ll be fine.” His voice dropped. “And I’m fully aware that it’s terrifying because that’s a shit-ton of people looking at you.”
Yup. That was what was terrifying.
“You’re not helping.”
“You got this,” he said, giving me the slightest nudge forward.
I clenched the platter tighter, lifted my chin. “Of course, I do.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“Tammy!”
I blinked, somehow surprised they knew my name when I really shouldn’t be, not when we had a hashtag and a couple name, but it was an otherworldly experience for a grown woman to just be shouting my name.
And then other voices rang out, joining the first.
Calling my name, asking where Talbot was, if we were all right. The paparazzi were shouting, too. Telling me to smile or to look here or there. I did my best to ignore the cameras and walked to the woman who first called my name. “Hi,” I
said through the gate. “I’m Tammy.”
She smiled. “I know your name,” she said, and I could have smacked myself. Oh, of course she knew it. She just called out to me. “I’m Mary.”
“Nice to meet you,” I murmured then stalled out for several awkward moments until I lifted the tray. “Well . . . I just want to thank you for your kindness, so I . . . um . . . if you like, I baked some chocolate chip cookies. They’re nut-free, but they have eggs and dairy.”
Her brows drew together. “You baked them? For us?”
I felt my cheeks go pink. “Um . . .” I nodded. “Yeah, I— They’re still warm from the oven.”
“Oh.”
I held up the napkins.
Her face lit up as she reached for one of the paper squares and used it to pick up a cookie through the gate. It was silly and a little difficult, but we managed.
Then she took a bite . . .
And as I moved on to the next person, spending a couple of moments talking to them, maneuvering them another cookie, I knew this was right.
Show that care I’d missed out on, that I’d longed for, to others.
Without expecting anything back. Without strings and expectations because in the process of that giving, their smiles, their words, the blips of happiness on their faces filled me up in a way that I hadn’t even known was possible.
And I knew that even though my life had taken a sharp right turn over the last few days, I would be just fine.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Talbot
I held a file in my hands and a whirlwind of butterflies in my stomach.
It had been a week since Tammy had wooed the crowd in front of the gate with her homemade cookies—a recipe Maggie had giddily shared on my Instagram, along with a snap of those fresh-baked circles of goodness I’d taken before they’d all disappeared. The crowd had mostly gone at this point, only a handful of paparazzi still camped out front.
But I didn’t care.
One, because we’d snuck out in the dead of night to my new house hidden in the hills a good distance away.
And two, because this house didn’t have any clear lines of sight for cameras, and Tammy had reviewed the security procedures with the team. There wasn’t anything sexier than a woman stating words like “line of sight” (see? I learned that one from her) and “backup security rounds” (I liked her rounds, ha) and “patrol the perimeter” (which was just fun because of the alliteration—patrol perimeter, patrol perimeter, patrol perimeter).
But the point was that she felt comfortable, I felt comfortable, and we were able to live together without the intrusion of cameras.
It was like the best first date ever. And also the longest.
Which was fine with me. I didn’t want the date to end. I wanted it to go on and on and on, to never stop and . . . that brought me to the folder in my hand. The one I needed to show Tammy because I was set to leave to shoot my next film in a little over a week, and she was readying to return home. Our longest, best first date had an end date, and as much as I loved hanging out and cooking together and having lots of glorious sex, I wanted to make sure that we had plans in place so that our long, best first date could continue indefinitely.
“There!” she said, triumphantly placing the square on the board.
She had surprisingly nerdy taste in board games. Which was fine with me. I had quite a collection of board games, especially the nerdy ones—though we’d had to open up quite a few boxes in order to locate the one she’d wanted to play tonight. Prior to meeting Tammy, most of my stuff had already been in storage in anticipation of my move, all except for my bedroom and kitchen. Those had been packed and moved over right along with us in the middle of the night by a scarily organized woman and her very effective crew.
Now I glanced down at the pieces Tammy had played and knew that I’d met my match.
“Two dungeons and four unique pieces on either side,” she crowed, doing a happy little dance. “Beat that.”
There was no way I could beat that.
“I yield, oh dragon master,” I said, pushing the board away from me and fiddling with the folder in my lap again.
“You going to show me that?”
“What?” I glanced up from the table to her eyes, which were filled with warmth.
“Whatever you’re fondling in your lap,” she said. “Either that, or you’re fondling something else, and I don’t know whether I should be sad to be left out of the fun or disgusted.”
“Disgusted,” I quipped. “Definitely disgusted.”
She laughed quietly then began stacking pieces, not bothering to tally up the score because one look at our respective boards told even the most casual viewer that she had absolutely obliterated me.
Once they’d been cleared, she looked at me expectantly.
I handed her the folder.
Her brows drew together, a slight V forming between them.
I opened it. “I was thinking . . .”
“What is this?” she breathed.
“I was thinking,” I said again. “That I don’t have much of a need to continue living in L.A. anymore. I have this place if I need to be here for work, but otherwise I’m either on set or . . . well, I want to be with you.”
She glanced up from the listings of houses I’d had my realtor pull together. Houses that were located in Darlington, Utah.
Because my life might not be there, but Tammy’s was.
“What is this?”
I’d broken her.
After pushing up from my seat, I rounded the table and crouched near her side. “Pick one,” I said. “Or we can pick one together. But I don’t care which house we live in—I just want to live in one with you.” I cupped her cheek. “I want to be with you. I want to build a life together and have you make me cookies that don’t all get eaten before I ate only a single, paltry one”—I gave her sad, puppy eyes, which had her smiling, the shock wearing off her expression—“I know things have moved so fast, that we’ve been living in this alternate reality with forced proximity and dangerous situations. I just want to have a chance for us to be us together.”
She softened, shifting in her seat to face me. “But will there be board games?”
“For you to destroy me in them?”
A smirk. “Naturally.”
I nodded. “There will be board games.”
“And omelets?”
I took her hand. “And omelets. And,” I whispered, leaning very close. “If you’re very, very good, I’ll even make you my special blueberry pancakes.”
She leaned in, her lips coming to my ear. “Blueberries are my favorite.”
“Are they now?” I asked, turning my head so that our mouths were suddenly perfectly aligned.
A nod.
“Well, then,” I said. “I guess you’d better pick a house.”
“Tal?”
“Hmm?” I asked, having gotten distracted by the column of her throat and starting to kiss my way down it.
“It’s just . . . I’d rather we stay at my house,” she whispered. “It’s on the edge of town and isolated. We could put in some security protocols, but Darlington is safe and—”
I placed my finger over her lips. “Tammy?”
It was her turn to murmur, “Hmm?”
“I’d love that.”
“Really?” she asked, after peeling my finger back. “It’s not fancy like this place and—”
“I don’t need fancy,” I said. “I just need you.”
Her smile was bright enough to light up the world, and I knew that even though we were just starting out, that we were going to be okay.
Tammy was asleep in bed, and I was answering emails.
Did that still constitute us being on our long, best first date?
Maybe?
Despite us separating at intervals throughout the day, we always found each other at small, random moments. Me stroking my fingers down her neck as she talked with her boss about what her schedule would look like
when she returned, her squeezing my shoulder as I squinted over offers that Mags sent over. Me bringing her some of that sludge while she relaxed on the back patio. Her finding out that my favorite meal was Pad Thai and finding a recipe so she could cook it for me. Board games at noon, movies in the evening. It felt like every minute was completely full of a life I hadn’t known was possible, and also as though I were on the most incredible vacation of my life.
Apart and yet not. Finally belonging for the first time ever.
I was part of a pair.
And it felt fucking great.
I was feeling great, better than I’d ever felt in my life. In fact, I was feeling so great that I was going to close my laptop, cuddle up with my woman, and go to bed at the very “late” hour of ten P.M.
Ha.
We’d had an eventful couple of weeks, okay?
Plus, that afternoon, Tammy had her stitches taken out, after which we’d gorged on homemade pizza, watched a movie, and then my woman had crashed.
And she was beautiful when she slept.
Too beautiful and peaceful for me to keep scrolling through tedious emails on my laptop. I closed the lid, set it on the nightstand, then did what I should have done in the first place: I gathered her in my arms, held her close, and let sleep carry me under.
My phone rang, what felt like minutes later, and I released Tammy, sitting up and seeing that it wasn’t mere minutes past when I’d lain down. It had been just over an hour, and when my eyes flicked to the caller ID, seeing that Maggie was calling, I felt my stomach knot.
The peace of the last week was over.
I knew that in my fucking bones.
Mentally cursing, I slipped out from beneath the blankets and lifted my phone to my ear the moment I was in the hall.
“Mags?” I asked. “Is everything okay?”
“No, Tal,” she said. “It isn’t.”
And that was when the bottom fell out of my world.
Chapter Twenty-Four