by Emily Conrad
By now, they may have seen Gannon, but he hadn’t reached out to Adeline since their disagreement at the lake.
In the picture featured on the tabloid, he looked angry—angrier, even, than when she’d told him Drew thought he wasn’t a Christian. A separate photo showed Harper English with bruises, and the headline made the connection, accusing Gannon of beating her.
Adeline’s muscles hardened with offense.
Gannon? Beating someone? His response to Adeline’s poor behavior the other night had been to deliver her home and give instructions to help her stay safe. She’d never felt threatened by him.
Quite the opposite.
She was drawn to him, and the only thing keeping them from friendship was Adeline’s reluctance to call and apologize.
She finished loading the groceries onto the belt and then slipped the magazine from the rack. The article contrasted the ever-popular picture of Gannon and Harper laughing in each other’s arms on the red carpet to a shot of a bruised-up Harper leaving his apartment.
He’d said he’d let her stay at his place once while he was in Wisconsin.
If that was when they snapped this picture of a bruised Harper, the writer of this article twisted Gannon’s actions, using his hospitality to make him look bad. The nerve of the tabloids, accusing someone of something as serious as abuse.
“That too?” The cashier’s question drew her attention to the empty checkout belt.
“No. Sorry.” She returned the tabloid to the rack. She wouldn’t fuel an industry that hounded her and featured such ridiculous headlines against Gannon.
Conviction stabbed her belly.
She shouldn’t have accused him of not being a Christian because of something she’d seen in the press. The judgment and criticism aimed his way came from enough directions already. He hadn’t needed more from her.
She finished at the register and loaded the food in the car. When she got behind the wheel, she took out her phone. Her nerves hummed like horror movie violins, but she hit the button to call Gannon.
After a single ring, his voice came on. “Leave a message. I’ll call you back when I can.”
She had expected to reach him directly, and the brevity of the recorded greeting didn’t allow time to plan a voicemail. The beep sounded, but what could she say on a machine?
“Um, hey. It’s Adeline.” Should she ask him to call her back? No. No, leave the awkwardness of admitting she’d been wrong here, in a message, and be done with it. “I am calling to apologize. I shouldn’t have said the things I did the last time we talked.”
Did she need to give more details?
No. He probably wasn’t sitting around, waiting for her to get her act together.
Maybe he’d thought he liked her, but after the things she’d said, he would’ve abandoned the notion. Moved on.
He had bigger problems like the tabloids to worry about.
She hung up and stared at the phone.
What nonsense.
He wouldn’t have simply moved on, her words forgotten.
She’d seen his expression. She’d hurt him worse than any rumors could in her rush to tamp down her own feelings and not betray Fitz’s memory. If only he had answered her call, she could have tried to smooth over what she’d said.
She should’ve admitted she’d put words in Drew’s mouth, should’ve said she was sorry for how the tabloids dragged his name through the mud.
She could call again, but doing so would reveal how much she cared. He’d know she wanted to be more than friends and wouldn’t understand why the memory of Fitz made that impossible. He’d push, and she’d either give in or alienate him forever.
Maybe if she left it at her fumbled apology, he’d eventually return her call.
They could be friends.
That was what she wanted.
Wasn’t it?
Ugh. Her life had been so much simpler before he’d shown up.
She drove to the food trailer and got to work but found herself constantly checking her phone with a mix of hope and dread.
Golden clouds floated at the horizon, signaling Wednesday’s end. Adeline needed to hustle if she wanted to finish sanding this wall tonight. Already, this part of the project had stretched a week when she’d allotted three days.
The ladder was fully extended beneath her as she raced sunset to finish the last section under the roof. All the way down on the ground, her phone waited. She hadn’t heard from Gannon before she’d climbed up here, and the one nice thing about her full hands and the loud sander was the forced break from constantly monitoring the device.
She sneezed on the dust, jerking the sander. The gritty belt propelled itself sideways. Leaning to keep her hold on the tool with one hand, she reached with the other for the ladder.
Caught only air.
She swiped again, this time catching a rung. Her safety glasses dropped two stories to the tarp. Righting herself, she hugged both arms around the rails, sander still running in her hands.
Thank you, Jesus.
The ground was so far below. If she’d fallen, she would’ve been seriously injured. Killed, maybe. Why had she risked her balance to save a power tool? She pressed the switch, and the machine stilled, but her hands buzzed as if it were running. Her heart buzzed too. She should never have ignored Drew’s advice about getting help.
Then again, what good would Tegan do if Adeline fell from this height?
Stupid house. Stupid neighborhood association. Stupid paint.
Just a couple more feet to go and this awful job would be finished—but only on this side of the house. She needed to move the ladder to continue working, but that would mean climbing all the way down and all the way back up again.
Worse, though the street had been empty all evening, a sporty motorcycle rumbled up to the curb. The sound died. Still hugging the ladder, she turned her head as the rider dismounted and started her way.
If this was a photographer, she was a sitting duck.
He wore black from helmet to boots, long sleeves and long pants despite it being the height of summer—though in Lakeshore, that meant seventies.
Her biceps and forearms hurt from being pressed into the rails, but easing up would be no less uncomfortable. Maybe she could lower the sander by its cord, freeing both hands to hold the ladder as she descended. The photographer might have a field day taking pictures of her this shaken up, but so be it. Better embarrassed than dead.
“Are you okay?”
At Gannon’s voice, her pulse went from nervous and shallow to galloping like a runaway horse. She renewed her grip on the sander and turned only her head.
He stooped and laid the helmet on the ground without breaking his pace toward the ladder. He gripped both rails and peered up at her. “Do you need help getting down?”
“What are you going to do? Climb up here?”
“Would that help?” He put one foot on a rung.
“No.” She couldn’t picture them trying to descend from this rickety thing together.
“Drop that and use both hands. You can get a new one.”
“It’s not mine. I’ll lower it down.”
He didn’t reply, but he also didn’t protest as she lowered the tool, one hand over the other. If the process damaged the power cord, she’d have to pay the hardware store extra, but it had to be less than her medical plan’s emergency room deductible. Finally, the tarp rustled as the tool settled, and she dropped the plug.
Another car pulled up by the house. Adeline adjusted her grip on the ladder and took the first couple of steps down before checking the vehicle again. Two females got out.
“Hey, Addie!” Olivia Cullen shouted.
Three more girls joined her on the sidewalk for a total of five.
“You should leave.” Adeline looked between her arm and her body to see Gannon, who continued to hold the rails, attention locked on her.
“Not until you’re okay.”
The girls hesitated, whispering and pushi
ng each other forward. One rushed back to the car. Now that they’d found the person they’d sought all this time, they became shy?
Adeline white-knuckled the rails and watched her feet as she descended. She was about eight feet from the ground when the girls approached, talking over each other.
“Are you Gannon Vaughn?”
“We’re huge fans.”
“You’re the best singer I’ve ever heard.”
“‘Yours’ is amazing.”
Gannon didn’t reply. She descended another couple of steps, and his hand reached her waist, firm and warm and reassuring. When her feet hit solid ground, she didn’t immediately peel her hands off the ladder. Safe on the ground, Gannon’s chest against her shoulder, his hand still on her waist, protective.
“You okay?” He gently turned her from the ladder.
She nodded and ducked her face away from the staring high schoolers to brush sawdust from her cheeks and forehead. How humiliating.
Gannon shrugged out of his jacket and placed it in her hands. “Put this on.”
“But—”
“Fast.” He scooped up her phone and his helmet.
She scanned the scene as she obeyed. Another car had pulled up, and a man emerged.
The jacket emanated Gannon’s body heat and smelled like sandalwood mixed with something sweeter. Orange, maybe. The coat had fit him snuggly without looking cumbersome, but on her, the fabric proved heavy and stiff. The sleeves did their best to swallow her hands. She must look like a clown, and the latest arrival had a camera.
Her phone landed in her hand, and she slid it into the jacket pocket. Everything went black for a moment as Gannon fit the helmet over her head. His hand closed around hers, and he led her, half jogging, half stumbling, past the still-jabbering teens to the bike. He was on the seat in seconds. The photographer raised his camera, so she hopped on behind him. Her first motorcycle ride.
Gannon said something she didn’t catch through the helmet and over the throaty engine. He caught her hand and pressed it against his abs, then the bike surged forward.
She locked her hands together, lowered her chin to the side, and let the helmet rest between Gannon’s shoulder blades. Though she couldn’t make out the words, she felt the vibration of him speaking as they ripped down the street. He hooked a right onto the country road that linked the towns along the lake.
The wind rushed over Gannon’s face, through his hair, across his arms. Adeline’s arms, clamped around his torso, and her warmth on his back were fixed points. Just what she’d always been to him. Something solid in a rushing world.
When she’d lurched sideways on that ladder, he’d barely managed to park without crashing.
But she was safe now. In his care, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She’d looked so cute with the dusting from the sander on her nose before he’d plunked the helmet on her. And then there’d been the slight impression of her wide eyes blinking at him through the dark visor.
He didn’t see anyone following them, but then he had thought he’d lost the photographer before heading to Adeline’s house. He should’ve resisted such a direct approach, not put her in their sights, but once he’d gotten her message, he’d lost most of his common sense.
With her this close against him, he didn’t miss it.
He checked the mirrors. Still no one, but even if he were willing to end this adventure, he couldn’t take her to either of their homes, as both were likely being watched. She may have called to apologize, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be front page material with him.
They needed a second helmet for safety and so identifying them in photos would be impossible. He’d drive until he found a place to buy another helmet. The next city would take about half an hour to get to, if he remembered right, but he could drive all night with her clinging to him like this. And how he wanted to.
Too soon, the edge of town welcomed them with a restaurant, two hotels, and a large farm and outdoor goods store. He pulled in, his body cooling as soon as Adeline let go and climbed off.
She pulled the helmet straight up. Her hair clung to it for a moment, then dropped, sending dust particles into the light that poured from the lamp overhead.
“You might want to …” He rubbed his fingers through his own hair.
Adeline brushed her free hand over her hair and face. Once he took the helmet, she removed his jacket, shook the dust off, and gave it back. That done, she crossed her arms. Her frown wasn’t happy, but her expression wasn’t angry either.
Time to start talking before she decided she didn’t like this.
“I’ll get you gear here, if they have it. Then no one will be able to take a good shot of us on the way home.”
“Gear?”
“Jacket, pants, helmet. Riding is dangerous enough with the right gear. Without …” He’d intended to put her at ease, not worry her. “It’ll make getting a shot of you more difficult.”
She uncrossed her arms, a step in the right direction. Now, when he’d just ridden half an hour without a helmet, wasn’t the time to ask why she’d taken on such a dangerous job as sanding way up on that ladder.
Once they’d stepped inside, she motioned toward the restrooms. “I’m going to clean up.”
“All right. I’ll text when I find the right section.”
The store was bigger than he’d anticipated, and camouflage hunting clothing hung to the left. He waded through that and was rewarded by a few racks of motorcycle gear and a selection of helmets. He picked one off the shelf and turned to see the clothing options.
Adeline pushed her way through the crowded section, her eyebrows and the hair around her face damp. Half her makeup had come off with the dust, revealing a smattering of freckles on her cheeks. She lifted an eyebrow at the helmet. “All black for me too?”
“They don’t have a lot of options. For clothes, you get to choose between black and white or black and pink.”
“What about the blue?” She turned the tag on a hoody that hung closer to where they stood, then stepped back, shock skewing her features. “Or how about jeans and a regular jacket? This stuff is way too expensive.”
“At highway speeds, you need the right gear. Especially with the wild cards of photographers and fans in the mix.” He steered her to the rack with the armored jackets and pants. “Besides, I’m buying, and I was thinking we could …” No. She’d never go for it.
“Thinking what?”
“We could hightail it for a visit home. Spend the night at our parents’ houses, come back tomorrow.” The trip would extend their time together, and it’d provide solid alibis that he and Adeline hadn’t done anything inappropriate, should the press get ahold of this.
“Fox Valley’s a two-hour drive from here.”
“It’d be a shame to get the gear and not break it in.”
She blinked, eyes fixed on the clothes, probably still too distracted by the price to consider other outlandish ideas.
A voice came over the store speakers, announcing they would close soon.
“Either way, the gear is nonnegotiable. White or pink?”
She snatched up the nearest price tag. “This will cost hundreds of dollars.”
He adjusted his grip on the new helmet, hoping the price tag wasn’t visible. “Nonnegotiable.”
She had no idea how much she was worth to him.
With a sigh, she collected the gear with the white accents and turned toward the checkout.
“Gear has to fit right to do its job.” He pointed toward the far wall of the store where a sign indicated fitting rooms.
When Adeline emerged with the clothes on, the thick material wasn’t formfitting, but she looked ready for adventure. Though he’d rather stretch it into a cross-country road trip, even the prospect of the half an hour ride back to Lakeshore with her lifted a grin to his face.
She extended her arms to the side. “How am I supposed to know if this fits right?”
“You look great.”
She’d been looking down at herself, but at the slip, her focus rose to his face.
“I mean the fit looks right.” He fought against letting his gaze skim back over her. “It’s supposed to be snug, but you should be able to move. Bend like you’re on the bike to make sure the knee pads hit in the right place.”
She made a face, but she tried the idea and straightened again. “I guess we have winners. I’ll wear it out of the store?”
He nodded, and she pulled the tags off and handed them over as they made their way to the front. As the sleepy cashier scanned the barcodes, Gannon glanced at Adeline. “Have you been to Fox Valley recently?”
“I go a couple of times a year. Holidays, mostly.”
“How’s the family?”
“Good. My sister took a job in Chicago.” Her eyes widened when the cashier scanned the helmet, and she slanted a look of protest at Gannon.
“Precious cargo.” He tapped the side of her head. The gesture was meant to be light and teasing, but the silk of her hair under his fingertip almost stole his ability to withdraw. He clenched a fist as he returned his hand to his side. “And your parents?”
She frowned, apparently too miffed about the price of the helmet to have thought anything of the touch. “My parents are more and more excited about retirement the closer it gets. There’s talk of an RV. Your mom?”
“She had a bout with breast cancer a few years ago.”
“I didn’t know.”
Gannon paid for the purchase. “I came home a few times, but people didn’t care about Awestruck so much then, so word didn’t really get out. She’s been cancer-free for five years now.” He took the helmet and the receipt, and they started for the exit. “She came out in December, tagged along to watch us play for one of the late-night shows, made more Christmas cookies than LA has ever seen, and delivered them to all the neighbors like it was the most normal thing in the world.”
Adeline laughed, and she didn’t even know one of his neighbors was a hulking pro wrestler. He’d tell her, but this was such a normal conversation. Why derail their connection by pointing out how different their lives were?
He handed her the new helmet and zipped his jacket as they stepped back into the parking lot, that much closer to returning to Lakeshore. He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want this to end. “Her expression would be priceless if she woke up in the morning and saw me on the couch.”