“And won’t be the last.”
“Touché. So we’re good?” he asked.
“No, we’re not. But yes, the filming can go ahead. But I have to be kept informed. No springing shit on me.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” That adorable smirk should be illegal.
“Stan!” Bart, one of the baristas stuck his head out the door. “A customer wants to discuss a kid’s birthday party.”
“Be right there.” I headed toward the door and sensed Chet at my heels. “Need any help?”
“Huh?”
“I’m guessing there are a lot of enormous egos in the TV industry, and thought you might have trouble getting yours through the door.”
Chet froze. His mouth creased into a wide grin and then he slow-clapped. “One point to you, Stan.”
Ass!
Six
Chet
“Ms. Bea.” I nodded. “Pleasure to see you again.” She smiled sheepishly at me with a slight blush tinging her face. What was that about? She’d seen me before, we’d had conversations, she knew my deal in town—but this? This was new.
“Thank you. I just made some tea. Would you like to join my son and me?” And there it was. She was trying to set me up with her son. Not interested.
“I was—” Her face fell, and I felt bad and did the only thing that I could think of to recover. “I was just going to wash up. Would five minutes be too long?”
“No. No, that would be perfect.” She clapped her hands together. “I’ll see you in a bit.” And she flitted off.
I climbed the stairs wishing I was walking up them with the hot omega from the café. There was something about him—even when he was pissed as all be, he had me thinking all the things I shouldn’t be. I opened my door using the skeleton key they provided. It was adorable and fit the motif of the place, but it took me a good three tries to get the thing open.
I splashed some water on my face and smoothed my hair, not wanting to do too much so the poor guy thought I was interested in his mother’s attempt at matchmaking and not just being polite.
My phone buzzed just as I was about to leave. Glenn, of course it was.
“Hey, Glenn, what’s up?” I answered as I stepped out of the room and started to fumble with the key.
“This place is a dump,” he grumbled.
“Where are you?”
“The hotel we booked. I came a day early to get some rest and the place is a dump.” I’d have felt bad, but he was the one who picked the place with the best rates and the worst reviews.
“I’m sorry about that, but I need to go. I’m having tea with Ms. Bea.” I held back a chuckle at the silly singsong rhyme that came out of me.
“Fine. Leave me to the dive.” I could picture his disapproving look. I loved the guy. I really did. Considered him one of my best friends, but when he got like this even I was done.
“Will do. See you tomorrow.” I slipped the phone in my pocket and headed downstairs, not even caring I couldn’t get the lock to work. It wasn’t as if I had anything in there that mattered. Just my suitcase full of clothing and my travel computer which was pretty much just for watching movies.
“Ms. Bea,” I stepped into the sitting area, or was it a parlor, I never knew the distinction. “I apologize for my tardiness. I received a work call.” Gods, I sounded so formal.
“It is quite all right.” She took me by the arm and led me to the seat next to a very young--barely college aged if I were to guess--man whose foot was tapping in what I assumed were nerves.
“Chet Perry,” I gave a nod, both of us too close for a handshake.
“Taylor Stapleton.” He held out his hand, and I prepared for an awkward shake only to see him holding out a business card. “I’m with Rosewood Realty.” He met my eyes briefly, then lowered them.
“Taylor is my youngest, fresh out of college, and he already has a fancy job.” She beamed, pouring the tea. “Sugar? Cream?”
“Yes to both, please.” Maybe it would help it taste less like tea.
“My mother thought you might be interested in some property. Said you were checking out the neighborhoods.” Ah, my morning walk. Small towns.
Funny thing was, I didn’t hate it. The town itself was adorable, the houses had character unlike the neighborhoods they were building in droves in most big towns, and unlike the city, I could cross the street without stepping on broken glass or smelling urine.
“I don’t really have plans at this time to move,” I accepted the card, “but I will say the town has intrigued me. May I hold onto this?”
“Absolutely, and if you need anything, anything at all, please call. I have access to all the listings in the county.” He then babbled on and on about the different areas and what they were best known for as we drank our tea and ate some shortbread.
The more he spoke, the more I solidified my first impressions of the area. It was quaint, adorable, and shockingly had more than a couple celebrities. Not that I really was a celebrity, per se. Not even close. I had enough people recognize me to sometimes be a nuisance. But maybe here? Maybe it wouldn’t matter.
And really, I was most well known when I traveled and people saw the cameras and the bus and all the craziness that went along with filming. I had a feeling that had equal parts to do with me and with the desire to be on camera.
“It sounds like this town has a lot to offer if I ever decide to retire from television.” I couldn’t do it forever. Traveling non-stop, always having to be on, and wondering at the close of each season if there would be a next. It was beginning to wear on me. “I’ll be sure to call you if I decide to look into it further,” I promised him as I got up.
“Thank you for the lovely tea and for introducing us.”
“Anytime, Mr. Perry.”
As I walked back to my room, I imagined what it could be like living here. Would I walk down the street and have people see me as Chet, the weird guy with the huge Victorian all to himself, or would I be Chet, the famous guy? Was this the kind of town where I would always be the new guy or was it the kind of place where after six months it felt like I’d always been there? Would I be too lonely without all the noise and hustle of the city to fill my nights with a false sense of being happy to have an empty apartment to eventually go home to?
My phone buzzed in my pocket with a long message from Glenn about something or other and reminding me that it didn’t matter if this was a place to settle down, I had a contract, and it would be a long time until I could even begin to think about something like this.
Seven
Stan
I hung the ‘Closed’ sign on the door but didn’t lock it as usual. Heck, I didn’t even close it. Chet’s crew had just driven up in a huge-ass van and were unloading equipment. They were traipsing mud in and out and getting in the way while the junior staff were cleaning the floor and wiping down the counters. It was pointless. It was chaos in the café, and if I tripped over one more wire, I’d strangle someone with it.