“Don’t worry.” As always, her mom seemed calm and collected. “I’m in a Mustang, and he’s in a truck. I got this.” Her mom floored it, easing ahead of the flatbed and dropping back into her lane with hardly any time to spare.
Gigi let out a breath. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe, but I’ve put some distance between us and the motorcycle, so I’m calling it a win.” Her mom flicked the turn signal and headed down an unmarked road, surrounded on either side by an aspen colony. “Lost him.” She slowed, since this little-used road was known for animal crossings.
Heart racing, Gigi said, “You literally just took ten years off my life.”
“I just added to your emotion file.”
“Sure, Mom, I’ll jot it down.” Her mom thought all artists should keep journals so they could write down their emotional experiences. She thought it would make Gigi’s lyrics richer.
I have Cassian. Believe me, that’s more than enough fodder.
After driving a few minutes in silence, her mom said, “So, you really think I was too hard on you girls?”
“I didn’t say you were hard on us. I said you kept us busy. I remember coming home from Ariana’s birthday party in sixth grade, and telling you how much fun I had dancing, and the next thing I knew, I was spending the summer in New York City in some famous dance academy. Or how about that time Coco took a picture and you made her spend a month apprenticing with that photographer?”
“I didn’t make her. I encouraged her.” She looked pissed. “That was nice of me to provide you with those opportunities.”
“It was. But sometimes we just wanted to hang out with our friends and with each other.” She knew her mom had the best intentions, so she’d never told her any of this before. She hadn’t meant to sound that worked up, but the conversation had really unearthed some old resentment.
Because she also believed Stella would never have betrayed Lulu like that if the focus had been more on hanging out as a family instead of chasing their individual passions.
“I can see that.” Her mom looked upset. “I just wanted a different life for you girls. I guess I gave you the life I’d always wanted.”
When a modeling scout discovered her in a mall, fifteen-year-old Jocelyn Montalbano had thought it was the coolest thing ever. She’d begged her parents to let her have this amazing opportunity.
“My parents…well, you know, life on a farm…they needed me. But I made such a fuss, and the agency made it sound like a year’s wages could basically pay off the mortgage and debts, so they let me go. I was fifteen and living in New York.” Her mom had a faraway look in her eyes. “I was eighteen and traveling the world. I was twenty-two and making more money than I could ever spend…” Resolve settled over her features. “You know what I remember? I came home for Christmas when I was twenty-two, and my friends were talking about boyfriends and frat parties and their dream jobs, and I just felt so lost. Like I’d missed out on finding out what I might be good at. I never did find that out.” She flashed Gigi a smile filled with regret. “I didn’t want you girls to miss out.”
“You were—are—a great mom. We felt loved every day of our lives. If the very worst thing you did was send me to LA to intern with a sports agent”—that was when Gigi had considered a job in sports management just to stay close to Cassian—“then I think you did all right.”
The roar of a motorcycle interrupted the conversation. Gigi whipped around. “It’s him. He found us.”
“We’ll just see about that.” Her mom’s grip tightened on the wheel.
“What does he want? Maybe we should stop and let him take a picture of me. I’m not doing anything.”
“We don’t know who he is, and he’s in hot pursuit. I’m not stopping.”
With a burst of speed, the guy caught up with them. He lifted a hand and pointed to the side of the road.
Recognition hit her. “It’s Cassian.”
“Are you sure? Be very sure.”
With the helmet it was impossible to see much, but she would recognize those broad shoulders anywhere…and those muscular thighs. “I’m sure.”
As her mom slowed and eased to the side of the road, the motorcycle pulled ahead of them and stopped, a boot heel smacking the kickstand. One long leg swung over the bike.
Cassian yanked off his helmet and shot her mom a furious look.
Body buzzing with excitement, Gigi got out of the car.
“What the hell were you thinking?” With his hair all tousled, he stalked toward her mom, who was just coming around the front of the car. “You could’ve killed her.” He’d never been anything but respectful to her parents, but now he was practically shaking with anger.
“I thought you were paparazzi coming after my daughter.” Her mom spoke kindly but pointedly. Which is your fault.
“Jesus.” He wrapped an arm around Gigi’s back and hauled her toward him. She fell hard against his chest. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Warning flares went off in her brain—resist! Resist! But, instead, she burrowed into the space between his arm and his ribcage. His T-shirt smelled fresh out of the dryer, and with that particular quality of Cassian—masculine, pine, and fresh mountain air—like a perfect day on the trails—she melted into him. More.
She always wanted more of him. It was never enough.
He pulled back so he could address her mom but kept one arm slung around her. “Where are you going? There’s nothing along the Old Preston Road.”
Gigi wasn’t going to let her mom handle this one. She gave her a look that asked for some privacy. With a nod of understanding, her mom said, “I’ll wait in the car.” And left them alone.
The afternoon sun beat down on Gigi’s head, not a single breeze stirring the leaves on the trees. “I’m going to the airport.”
He took a step back. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry, Cassian. I need to get back to work.”
“You can work here. I will protect you.”
“I know you want to, but you’re just not getting it. Last night proved it.”
“Wait. Just hang on.” Hope enlivened him. “I’ve hired a private investigator. My security team viewed the footage of both hotels, and we found the same rental car in both lots. I’m on this, Gigi. I’ve got this guy.”
“It isn’t about a guy, Cassian. It’s about you. Your celebrity makes you a target, for sure. But you’re the one who got on that diving board and carried Amie off. You’re the one who got in the hot tub with her, not Dean, not Andre. You. You’re not seeing what’s right in front of your face.”
“You keep talking about Amie like there’s something there. There isn’t. There never will be.” He lowered his head, the tip of his boot kicking the asphalt in frustration. “We just found our way back to each other. Don’t bail on me after one day.”
“I’m not bailing. I’m going home to salvage my career. That’s all. And, while I’m trying to get a contract from Dale, I need to keep my distance. I have to focus on the duet Grant and I are going to record and on the demo I’m making for Clean Beatz.”