“Think you could beat ‘em?” Cara asked.
“Are you kidding? They could probably shuck an entire bucketful in the time it would take me to do one clam.”
We watched them for a while then wandered around the festival, playing a few of the games, checking out the fishermen reeling in their catch, and cheering on the contestants in the boat race. Cara made everything seem exciting, and her enthusiasm was contagious.
The crowd was surprisingly relaxed about my presence. It was obvious that most of the people there recognized me based on the way they stared at me or did a double take when I walked by. Some of the teenage girls whispered and giggled and pointed at me, and a few people asked for a picture or an autograph. But lots of others just said hello and gave a friendly smile or a wave like I was any other familiar face, not a famous celebrity. It was refreshing to enjoy being out amongst people without becoming the center of attention.
“I really like it here. This town, these people,” I said as we strolled casually along the wooden boardwalk that bordered the inlet on the far side of the park. The calm water sparkled in the sunlight, and fish, used to being hand fed by passersby, swam near the surface, poking their heads above the water and opening their mouths.
“Yeah, it’s a special place.”
Cara’s hand dangled between us, close to mine. How would she react if I took her hand? There was only one way to find out. I reached for it, lacing my fingers through hers. “I think you’re pretty special, too.”
She stumbled to a stop and looked down at our entwined hands then up at me. I didn’t say anything, just smiled softly. She smiled back and didn’t pull away. I squeezed her hand as my chest tightened.
I had thought about suggesting she move to Hollywood and let me give her a life a luxury, but she belonged in Sweet Bay, riding her little scooter, going bowling, and hanging out at the diner. The funny thing was, I could see myself living that way, too.
“What if I stayed?” My heart formed the words and tossed them out there before my brain had a chance to weigh in.
Cara glanced at me curiously. “What do you mean?”
I pulled her over to the railing and turned so I could face her. The light breeze blew wisps of coppery hair across her face. “I know you didn’t want to be more than friends because you think there’s no future for us, but what if there could be? I like you, Cara, a lot. And I like this place. There’s no reason I can’t stay here, be with you.”
Cara’s eyes widened, then she dropped her gaze to our entwined hands and pulled hers away, shaking her head. “You’d get bored here after a while and want to go back to your life.”
“I don’t think so. My old life was meaningless. I had everything, but I wasn’t happy. I was always searching for something more. But here, I don’t feel that way. You fill that void.”
“You’re only interested in me because there’s no one else around. We don’t have anything in common, Beau. Our worlds are totally different.” She looked out at the small town crowd.
I took her hand again and turned her chin so she was looking at me. “No, Cara. I like you because you are different.”
She smiled at that, a soft, sweet smile that made her eyes twinkle like the sun-dappled ripples on the water. I cupped her cheek in my hand and moved closer till our bodies were almost touching.
“I know you like me, too.” She opened her mouth but didn’t deny it. I felt her breath come out in warm quivers.
“I like your world. I want to be part of it. I want to get to know you better.”
She tensed up at that and pulled back, and her bright eyes clouded. Why was she so unwilling to open up to me? Was there something about her she thought would turn me off? She seemed so young and innocent, I couldn’t imagine she had any skeletons in her closet.
“It would never work, Beau.” She turned away from me to stare out at the placid water. Like it, she was calm on the surface, but what churned beneath was a mystery.
“You can’t know that unless we try. There’s something between us, Cara. I know you feel it. Will you at least give it a chance?”
She turned back towards me and gave me a pitiful smile. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have, okay?”
I sighed and tucked the loose hairs behind her ear. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but at least it wasn’t a flat-out rejection. I’d take whatever time she would give me and prove to her that I was serious. “Wanna get some lunch?”
She nodded eagerly, and we headed towards the food vendors. I didn’t reach for her hand again, but I walked as close as possible, letting our shoulders brush. I was used to getting what I wanted right away, but Cara was going to require my patience.
Several food trucks stood in a row along one side of the festival grounds, offering everything from raw oysters to elephant ears. Their scents wafted out in clouds around them, tempting us with a new smell every few feet. Nearby, picnic tables were filled with people enjoying the variety of foods. I couldn’t decide what I wanted, everything looked and smelled so delicious. “Have you had any of this before? What’s good?”
“Most of these vendors are here every year, so I’ve pretty much tried it all. Everything is good.”
I chuckled. “You’re not being very helpful. How am I supposed to decide? Why don’t you pick?”
She stopped and swiveled her head back and forth between the food trucks, tapping a finger on her lips. Eventually, she pointed at one of them. “Well, I really like the crab boil plate, but that line’s the longest.”
“I don’t mind. I’m not in any hurry.” I’d stand in line all day, as long as it was with her.
I led us over to the truck and joined the back of the line. The person in front of us greeted us but didn’t strike up a conversation. Cara and I chatted about what we were going to order for a few moments, but she clammed up when another person headed towards the line. She glanced around nervously till her eyes landed on the picnic tables.
“You know, the tables are pretty crowded, but a spot just opened up. Maybe I should go claim it.” She dug a hand into her pocket and pulled out a twenty. “Here, will you order me the number one?”
I pushed her money away. “I got it. It’s my treat.”
She looked like she was about to argue, but then she nodded and said, “Thanks,” before hurrying away.
The man joined the line behind me and looked at me, but he didn’t say anything, so I was left to speculate about Cara’s behavior. She claimed a spot at the picnic table furthest away. A few moments later, Layla approached her, and they started chatting. Cara turned her head to look at me, a strained look on her face. What was bothering her?
The long line suddenly got a lot shorter when the group of people in front of me decided they wanted something different. It didn’t take long before I had my hands full of food.
I headed towards the picnic table where Cara was still talking to Layla. Her back was to me, so she didn’t see me. As I got closer, Layla’s words filtered towards me.
“Cara, that was such a nice article you wrote about Calvin and the resort for the newspaper. I know you agreed to keep it positive, but you really went above and beyond. So complimentary.”
Her words stopped me in my tracks. Cara wrote an article for the newspaper? I’d skimmed that article before Cara pulled the paper away from me. The byline said Caroline something. Was that her full name? Now that I thought about it, the article stuck to her bulletin board was written by the same person. Did she write that, too? Was that what she didn’t want me to know about her?
“Are you writing an article about the festival?” The white-haired woman sitting across from her asked.
Cara nodded. “Yeah, my editor wants me to do a piece on it.”
The teenager next to her leaned closer to her with a conspiratorial look on her face. “Who cares about that? I want to read the article you’re writing about Beau Bennett. I saw you walking with him earlier.”
Layla put her hand on Cara’s arm. “I’m so
rry you didn’t get to interview Beau that night at the party.”
She was supposed to interview me?
The teen waved a crab leg at Layla. “Don’t worry, she’s making up for it. I heard a rumor that she’s been cozying up to him all week. I bet she’s getting some really good stuff. I can’t wait to read it. Which tabloid are you going to submit it to?”
I didn’t realize I’d moved closer to the table till the plates of food dropped from my hands and Cara whipped her head around to look at me. Her eyes got as wide as the plates. She stared at me, and I could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to figure out how much I’d heard and make up some lie to cover up the truth. But I’d heard it all, and everything suddenly made sense.
“You’re writing an article on me? All the time you spent with me, that was just a ruse to get me to spill my secrets to you? Is that why you asked me so many questions but wouldn’t tell me anything about you?”
“I… I’m not… I don’t…” She scrambled for a response, but she couldn’t come up with an excuse. It was all true, and she couldn’t deny it.
“Don’t lie to me, Cara. Are you a reporter?”
She gave a tiny nod, but it felt like she launched an arrow straight into my heart. “I write for the Sweet Bay Sun.”
“Were you even a maid at the resort, or did you engineer that to get access to me?” My voice grew hard and cracked.
Layla gave Cara a strange look, and the teenager asked, “You’re a maid at the resort?”
Cara shook her head.
“What’d you do, bribe the real maid?”
She winced and hung her head. Layla gasped, and her eyes widened in surprise.
Suddenly, I saw every moment of the last week differently, because it was all a lie. Cara wasn’t the sweet, fun, innocent girl who was struggling to survive on a maid’s salary. Even the stories about her family were probably made up so I’d feel like she empathized with me. She was baiting me, and I bought it, hook, line, and sinker.
“You told me I was different than you thought I would be. You were trying to dig up dirt on me, but you’re the one who’s dirty. I can’t believe I fell for you.”
I sneered at her and whipped around so I wouldn’t have to look at her anymore. The sight of her hurt too much. I stomped off, my long legs eating up the length of the park, till I was far enough away I couldn’t see her anymore.
The sight of her scooter hit me in the gut and made me want to pick it up like a toy and hurl it across the parking lot. Those tentative kisses, the way she only let me touch her when we were riding on her scooter, pretending like she was protecting her virtue? None of it was real. She probably had a boyfriend who was laughing with her about how she was playing the playboy.
I started jogging, eager to get as far away as possible as quickly as I could. As soon as I got to the resort, I yanked out my phone and called Dave, telling him I wanted on the next flight out of there. Then I grabbed my suitcase out of the closet and tossed my things into it haphazardly.
Once I was packed, there was nothing left to do but think while I waited. My mind was happy to replay all the time I’d spent with Cara, and I couldn’t stop myself from analyzing every moment of it, every question she asked, every answer I gave.
If she wanted a story, she could’ve revealed the truth about me hiding out in Sweet Bay instead of going to rehab, but obviously that wasn’t controversial enough for her. She wanted more. Had I told her anything that I wouldn’t want to get out?
I’d revealed my fear of flying, my insecurities about myself, and my dysfunctional family life. They weren’t all that scandalous, but I hated the thought of my private fears being exposed for the entire world to read. I’d rather they know I’d lied about rehab.
Was there any way I could stop her from writing that article? Unless that house we went to wasn’t her real home, she obviously wasn’t very well off. Maybe I could bribe her not to write it. The thought made me sick because I would’ve given Cara anything she wanted if she’d have let me, but she didn’t even expect me to pay for her lunch.
No, that was all an act. She wanted me to think she would never take advantage of me because that’s exactly what she was secretly doing. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she tried to blackmail me.
Let her write her story. I wouldn’t give her a dime. I didn’t want to stoop to her level. Or maybe I did. Maybe I’d write my own article and submit it to her little newspaper, telling the whole town what a two-faced, lying scoundrel she was.
Chapter 16
Cara
Layla stared at me, her pretty face wrinkled up. “Cara, is that true? Did you bribe the maid so you could get to Beau?”
I dropped my head and stared at the picnic table, too humiliated to look at her. Hot tears welled up in my eyes then dripped down my cheeks and onto the table, leaving tiny wet spots on the wood. My body shivered even though the sun was blazing down on me.
“Why didn’t you just ask for an interview? We probably could’ve arranged it.” Layla put a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I flinched under her kind touch.
I didn’t deserve any mercy. I knew all along that what I was doing was wrong, but I did it anyway. I wasn’t asking for forgiveness or hoping for absolution, but I needed to confess. I needed to rid myself of the toxin that was poisoning me. I let the whole truth spill out of me like vomit.
“No one was supposed to know he was here. I overheard Calvin talking to him on the phone and knew he was hiding out at the resort before anyone else found out. But I was mad at him for not showing up to the party and ruining my chance to get a story. I didn’t want him to know I was a reporter because I wanted to get some dirt on him, just like he said. I spent the whole week with him, digging, but I didn’t find any skeletons. He’s not the terrible person, I am.”
Layla’s brow pinched, and she wrapped her arms around me. I sobbed into her chest as she stroked my back. “I don’t think you’re a terrible person, Cara. What you did was wrong, but you obviously feel bad about it. That makes all the difference.”
I pulled away and wiped my eyes with shaking hands. “I decided right away that I couldn’t betray him by writing a story about him, but I liked being with him. I should’ve told him the truth, but I thought if I did, he wouldn’t want to spend any more time with me.”
“You fell in love with him. And it sounded like he fell for you, too.”
I shook my head and curled my lip in disgust. “He feel for someone who doesn’t exist. He hates the real me.”
She shook her head. “He hates that you lied to him, but you’re still the same person. A good person who made a bad choice.”
“I’m glad you think so, but I don’t, and neither does Beau.” I stood up and walked away. I didn’t want someone to console me or make light of the situation. I’d done something awful, and I deserved to suffer the consequences. I just wished that Beau didn’t have to suffer for my actions.
I pushed through the crowd, avoiding as many people as I could, ignoring the ones that said hello to me. Lindsey saw me and moved towards me, her face wrinkling with worry at the look on mine. “Cara, are you okay? You look upset.”
“I’m fine.” I gave her a fake smile and kept walking, and she fell into step with me.
“I saw you and Beau together earlier. He seemed totally into you.”
I snorted out a pained laugh. “He offered to stay in Sweet Bay to be with me.”
“Oh my gosh, Cara, he really likes you! What did you say?”
“I told him it wouldn’t work.”
“Why couldn’t it? He’s willing to move here for you? It sounds like he really wants to be with you.”
I didn’t want to talk about it, but she obviously wasn’t going to let it go. Lindsey was a hopeless romantic who believed in fairy tales. I skidded to a stop and whirled around to face her. “Yeah, well, that was before he found out I’d been lying to him this whole time. Now he wants nothing to do with me.”
Lindsey’
s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. She stared at me in stunned silence for a moment. I turned and stalked away.
She hustled up to me again, grabbing my arm. I yanked it away from her. “Just forget about it, Lindsey. Not everyone gets a happy ending.”
“This doesn’t have to be the end of the story, Cara,” she called out to me. She didn’t chase after me, thankfully, but her words did.
I drove home, missing the feel of Beau’s body wrapped around mine. I stomped into the house, grateful that my mom wasn’t home. I didn’t want to tell anyone else what I’d done.
The case for the movie we’d watched the day before still lay on the coffee table. I ejected the movie from the DVD player and put it back in the box then opened the drawer where we kept the movies and shoved it back in. One of Beau’s movies caught my eye. I pulled it out and stared at his picture on the cover. He looked too handsome to be real. A larger-than-life celebrity. What we had wasn’t real, either.
If I hadn’t tricked him, we never would’ve met. He never would’ve spent time with me if I wasn’t the only person around. Even if he had, he would’ve realized soon enough that I was too ordinary for a guy like him. He would’ve gotten bored with me and my small town life eventually and moved on.
It was better this way. If he’d stayed, I would’ve fallen in love with him because he was the world’s most eligible bachelor. Who wouldn’t fall for him? Then, my heart would’ve been broken when he left. It already felt like it was being crushed, and I’d only spent a week with him.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten. I went to the kitchen and yanked open the fridge, but there wasn’t any more in there than there was the day before. I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich then sat on the swing set and cried while I ate it, remembering our time together.
I spent the rest of the night torturing myself by reading every article I could find about Beau. After only a week with him, I knew that most of what they said wasn’t the least bit true. The people who wrote those articles knew nothing about the real Beau. They found tiny kernels and grew them into grandiose stories that were nothing but fiction. It was cruel and heartless.
Stalking the Billionaire Celebrity (Sweet Bay Billionaires Book 2) Page 13