by Nic Saint
“Don’t. The Joshua Poole that’s in the public domain doesn’t really exist.” He sighed and looked up at the stars, stretching his arms over his head. “We invented him.”
“You did? Mr. Ladies’ Man, Hot Shot Action Man Poole is a figment of your imagination?”
“My agent, actually. I’d always wanted to write action adventure, but habitually hovered on the verge of being cut by my publisher. Then one day she said I needed an edge if I wanted to break into the hallowed circle of bestselling writers. I needed a story. What she called an origin story. My story was that I was a regular Joe who’d always dreamed of being a writer. You know, the regular stuff.”
“Trust me. I know. I’ve read the same ‘origin story’ on practically every writer’s website. Including my own.”
“To really stand out, Mel told me I needed to reinvent myself. Turn myself into some sort of superman instead of the ordinary kid-turned-writer. So Joshua Poole came into being. The macho, globe-trotting, dame magnet superstar.” He grimaced. “To tell you the truth, Joshua Poole isn’t even my real name. We made that up because it sounded way cooler than…” He hesitated.
“Tell me!” she insisted with a grin. Then, softer, “Trust me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“My real name is Josh Reynolds, and I come from a long line of horse ranchers.”
Her eyes went wide. “A horse rancher? You’re a horse rancher?”
He grinned at her surprise. “The Reynolds Ranch is a household name back where I come from. Started by my paternal grandfather, run by my father until this day, and destined for me to take over one day.”
“So where do you come from?”
“A very small town in Montana,” he said. “Pleasant Springs. Pop. 5467 at the last count. My sister’s running the ranch together with my father and my granddad now.”
“And she’s fine with that?”
He nodded. “Yes, she is. In fact, it was always more my dad’s dream than mine that I follow in his footsteps. I was always the writer in the family. You know, keeping a diary since I was nine, submitting short stories to all the major magazines… My sister’s the one who was fascinated with horses. She could spend hours down at the stables, watching my dad and grandpa work. Grooming the horses, watching the trainers… So one day, about ten years ago, we sat my dad down and broke the news to him that it wasn’t going to be Josh taking over the family business but Jocelyn.”
“Was he very disappointed?”
“He was, at first. For some reason, he’d envisioned the Reynolds name being carried from one generation to the next for the next couple of decades or so. So when I bailed out, it came as something of a shock to him. Fortunately, he came around when we told him he was lucky at least one of the kids had caught the ranching germ. By the same token, neither of us could have wanted to take over the business. Then he would have been forced to sell, and that would have truly broken his heart. And granddad’s, for that matter.”
Chloe slipped her arm through his. “Is he still alive, your granddad?”
“Very much so. In name, my father and sister run the ranch, but my granddad is still in there practically every day.”
They stood staring out across the ocean, the gentle rustling of the waves having a soothing effect. In spite of the cool breeze wafting in from across the vast body of water, Chloe felt a warm glow suffusing her being. “I like your real origin story, Josh. I think I like it even better than the fake one.”
He expelled a long breath. “I was afraid you’d be disappointed.”
She hugged him close and rested her head against his shoulder. “How could I be disappointed?”
“Horse rancher turns bestselling thriller writer? Just doesn’t have that sexy ring to it.”
She smiled and closed her eyes, cherishing his proximity. “It does to me.”
She couldn’t explain so she didn’t try, but listening to the story of his life had somehow made her feel a lot closer to him. It had made him real in a sense she couldn’t describe. Before, he’d still been Joshua Poole, the famous writer. The celebrity. Now he was just Josh Reynolds from Pleasant Springs. Local boy who made good.
“Josh and Chloe. Has a nice ring to it, hasn’t it?” she whispered.
“It has,” he agreed, and slid his arm around her shoulder.
For the longest time, they stood gazing out across the tranquil expanse of ocean, then up at the millions of stars twinkling seen and unseen, watching over them with a benevolent eye.
Life was good, Chloe thought. For the first time in ages, life was actually pretty good.
CHAPTER 22
Josh slung his arm over the left side of the bed, then groggily came to the conclusion that he was alone. Ever since he spent that week on Eden Island, he’d gotten into the habit of sleeping on the right side of the bed as opposed to the middle, still unconsciously providing Chloe her own sleeping space. She wasn’t there, however. And he missed her. In his bed. In his life.
Sleep finally lifted its hazy tendrils, and he remembered. After their walk on the beach, he’d invited her to stay the night, but she had—in the sweetest way possible—declined.
He hadn’t insisted, though he’d been deeply disappointed. In his imagination, he had her moving in with him already.
He rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t deny feeling that tiny tinge of doubt creeping back into his mind, after her reassurance the night before that she wasn’t seeing anyone.
If she wasn’t seeing anyone, why wouldn’t she sleep over?
If this Frank guy who kept texting her—he’d texted her three times over the course of their evening together—wasn’t more than a friend to her, then why would she keep him at arm’s length?
He felt they’d established such a strong connection. First on the island and now here. He’d told her all his secrets. Things even his most ardent fans didn’t know, and yet he knew so little about her. Christ, she was even going to meet his mother, who was sure to spill even more details of his personal life.
He frowned. His mom. Before she divorced his father and moved to Long Island to be close to her famous son, she’d been known far and wide as Pleasant Springs’s most ardent gossip queen.
He glanced over to his nightstand, where his cell lay. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.
And yet…
He disconnected his phone from its recharger and wavered for a moment, his hand hovering over the connect button.
Then he thought back to Chloe’s happy grin as she read yet another message from this Frank guy last night, and he steeled his resolve.
She wasn’t being honest with him, and he needed to know.
He pressed connect, and before long was listening to the languid voice of his mother, whom he’d probably awakened from her beauty sleep.
***
Chloe walked up to the restaurant, feeling not a little nervous. She’d never met a boyfriend’s mother before. Correction, she’d never really had a boyfriend before. After last night, she really wanted to make a good impression on Josh’s mom. Wanted her to see her as a good prospect for her son.
Which was odd, she knew, as Josh had invited her to stay over, and she had refused. Though she’d wanted to spend the night with him, she’d freaked out a little at the sight of his fancy house, his fancy car and his private stretch of beach. In Eden Island, she’d laughed away all his talk about being a famous writer, but out here in the real world, it was all too obvious that he was just that: a celebrity.
She’d had her dealings with the rich and famous, and seeing Josh’s mansion had brought the fact home to her that she’d be dealing with it once again. As Josh Poole’s girlfriend.
She was conflicted, to say the least. She now realized she loved Josh Reynolds, but wasn’t necessarily enamored with Joshua Poole.
Could it be that she loved one man but feared getting involved with his alter ego?
She shook her head. This wasn’t the time or place to question how she felt about Josh. She was about to meet h
is mother!
She quickly walked through the restaurant, passed the double glass doors and stepped out onto the terrace, searching around for Mrs. Reynolds. She’d googled her but hadn’t discovered much about her. Not even a picture. A middle-aged lady, seated near the back of the terrace, held up her hand, and she returned the gesture, quickly setting foot for her table.
She looked a lot younger than she’d imagined, and a lot more ‘normal’ as well. Contrary to what she’d pictured, Mrs. Reynolds was a round and wholesome-looking woman, with a friendly and open face and a halo of outrageously frizzy hair crowning her head.
She graciously rose to her feet as Chloe approached and held out a hand and a welcoming smile.
“You must be Chloe.”
“Mrs. Reynolds?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “I see that my son decided to come clean? Reynolds it is, honey. But I prefer Deirdre.”
Chloe swallowed, wondering if she’d made her first faux-pas already. Then she remembered Josh had told her his parents were divorced. The woman probably preferred her maiden name, which Chloe didn’t know. She probably should have asked Josh. Too late now, she thought ruefully, and gave Deirdre her best smile as she sank into the white wrought-iron chair opposite from her.
She felt her back stiffen as Deirdre subjected her to a penetrating scrutiny. Finally, the older woman smiled, as if satisfied with what she saw. “So you’re my next favorite author, huh?”
Chloe smiled nervously. “Still have to get the book written first, um, Deirdre.”
“Oh, hogwash. Josh told me you’re one of the hottest new talents he’s ever read.”
She was pleasantly surprised at that. It was so like Josh to sing her praise. “He told you that?”
“He did and if that’s what he thinks it must be true.” She shook her head, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “My son has a keen eye for hot young talent.”
“Thanks,” spoke Chloe dubiously. She wondered if Josh’s talent-spotting qualities extended beyond the literary.
“So. Tell me about yourself.”
Chloe swallowed, starting to feel more and more like a job applicant. “What do you want to know?”
Deirdre pursed her lips. “Let’s start with the most important part. Are you involved with anyone right now?”
A twinge of annoyance shot through Chloe. Again that same question. She had a good mind to tell the woman her private life was her own and not open for discussion. “I, erm…” She shook her head, irritation replacing embarrassment.
Deirdre’s eyebrows rose. “I wouldn’t be asking this if it wasn’t important.”
Fueled by a sudden discomfort, Chloe decided to be candid for once. “You know? Your son asked me the same thing last night.”
“And what did you tell him?”
Chloe straightened her back, and that mutinous streak that ran so strong in all the Thomsons, once again reared its ugly head. “Perhaps you should ask him.”
CHAPTER 23
She expected Josh’s mother to get upset, but instead the woman surprised her by bursting into a riotous laugh. “Oh, my dear. You really are fresh, aren’t you? Very fresh indeed.”
Chloe didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply sat there, studying the menu card and feeling her cheeks burn.
When finally she had ordered, and the waiter disappeared from view, Deirdre said, “I’m sorry, honey. It’s just that when it comes to the heart department, I’m all my son’s got.”
“How do you mean?”
Deirdre heaved a dramatic sigh. “That boy’s been jilted so many times you wouldn’t believe. Ever since he became this hotshot writer, it seems like the entire female population of Long Island decided to throw itself collectively at his feet so they could plunder his wallet and trample his heart.”
At the thought of Josh on his throne, dozens of gorgeous women lying at his feet, she experienced a sharp twinge of resentment. “Your son has had a lot of girlfriends, huh?”
Deirdre smiled a mysterious smile. “Less than what you’d expect, more than what you’d fear.”
Chloe sunk a little deeper into her chair. “That many?”
Deirdre waved a perfectly manicured hand. “None of them serious, if that’s any consolation. I mean, Josh being Josh, he’s serious about every one of them. Unfortunately, they never seem to feel the same way about him.”
“Huh. I would have thought it was the other way around.”
“You would, wouldn’t you? But then Josh isn’t like most men. Beneath that rather gruff exterior lies a very tender heart. He’s got that from his dad, who’s a bit of a pushover.”
Chloe gave this some thought. She had to admit that after her initial aversion to him, Josh had quickly shown himself to be a lot more tender-hearted than she’d given him credit for. But a pushover, he definitely wasn’t.
“After his last date broke up with him—”
“She broke up with him?”
“They all do. I’ve never known Josh to break up with anyone. And the last girl he hooked up with pretty much broke his heart into a million pieces. She was a writer, you know. Just like you. A very nice young woman.”
“You met her?”
“Oh, did I ever? I make it a point to meet every young lady Josh gets involved with.”
Chloe shook her head disapprovingly. She couldn’t believe this woman. Who did she think she was? Josh’s relationship coach? “So what happened?”
“He got her an agent and a publishing contract and never heard from her again, that’s what happened.”
“I’m not like that, Deirdre,” Chloe stated emphatically, feeling as if Josh’s mother was putting her on the spot. “I’m really not interested in Josh furthering my career if that’s what you think.”
Deirdre gave her a sweet smile. “I’m not thinking anything, honey. I’m just here to lay out the facts as I see them. And the fact is that my son is a very high-profile person who attracts a lot of unwanted attention from people with the wrong intentions. So I’ve made it my mission in life to shield him from as much heartache as I possibly can.”
Chloe’s temper flared. “Mrs. Reynolds—”
Deirdre leaned in. “Chloe, I’m not accusing you of anything, but Josh has been through hell and back these last few years, and I won’t sit idly by as yet another gold-digging little whore comes along and reduces him to mush.”
Chloe, her jaw set, rose to her feet so fast her chair flew back and slammed to the flagstone terrace. “I’m very sorry, but I didn’t come here to be insulted,” she announced.
“Sit down, young lady,” bit Deirdre, her tone hard and her eyes shooting sheets of flame. “I’m not finished.”
“I am,” she bit back, and started striding for the French windows. She didn’t care that a couple of diners sat goggle-eyed. But before she could reach the exit, Deirdre had suddenly caught up with her, and clasped her arm with a surprisingly strong grip.
“I’m just trying to protect my son,” the woman said in a fierce whisper. “He has feelings for you. The last time that happened, he was a mess. So at least answer me this question: are you involved with someone else? If you are, you need to let Josh down easy, or else…”
Chloe glared at Deirdre, who shot her the same look. Neither of them backed down, but then Chloe thought she detected in the woman’s face a hint of vulnerability, and it surprised her. Then she understood. Deirdre was a tigress, looking out for her cub.
Reluctantly, she shook her head. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
The corner of Deirdre’s mouth quivered into a tiny smile. Then she gave Chloe a curt nod. “Thank you. Now was that so hard?”
Chloe merely stared at her. She hated to admit it, but she actually wanted to stay and find out more about Josh. Then Deirdre decided for her: she took her by the arm, and gently steered her back to their table. Seating herself, she shook her jumble of curls and said, “Now. Where were we?”
“I think we were talking about Josh,
” replied Chloe, a little wearily.
“Ah, yes. Of course.” And as if nothing happened, she proceeded to regale Chloe with the story of Josh’s life, from infancy to fame.
In the end, she had to admit Josh’s mom was a lot like Josh himself: a forbidding exterior with a gooey core. Gradually, she relaxed, and apart from a few ‘uh-huhs’ and ‘huhs’ she kept her mouth shut and let Deirdre do the talking.
An hour passed before she realized that a small miracle had taken place: she was actually starting to like the woman. Well, like was perhaps too strong a word. But she was definitely interesting, to say the least.
The conversation smoothly drifted from Josh to Deirdre, and Chloe felt she’d earned the right to ask a personal question of her own. “Why did you leave Josh’s father?”
Deirdre’s eyes twinkled. “Who says I have?”
“But I thought you were divorced?”
“Uh-uh. Hank never asked and neither did I. I have to admit we hit a rough patch a couple of years back, and I did move out, obviously, but we’re still married, and we’re still very much devoted to each other.”
“Josh never told me.”
“That’s because he doesn’t know.” She held up a bejeweled hand, her trinkets merrily clinking as she did so. “And don’t you go tell on me, either, you hear?”
Chloe smiled. “I won’t.”
“We decided to spring this on Josh and Jocelyn as a surprise.” She puffed herself up like one about to make a grand announcement, then declared, “I’m moving back to Pleasant Springs next month.”
“You’re going back?” This surprised Chloe. Deirdre looked every bit a product of the city. She simply couldn’t imagine her living in a small rural town.
“I only moved out here to keep an eye on Josh. And with him returning to Pleasant Springs, there’s simply no reason for me to stay.”
Chloe, who’d just taken a sip of tea, almost choked. “Josh is… leaving Long Island?”
Deirdre’s finely penciled eyebrows arched up in surprise. “He didn’t tell you? Yes, of course. He’s moving back next week.”