Prologue
Elodie
The buzzing on the nightstand is incessant. Unstopping and forcing me to pay attention. From underneath the toasty warm covers of my bed, I shoot my arm out to grab my phone to make it all stop.
“Hello?” I’m barely coherent and my voice comes out garbled and scratchy.
“Oh, hell. I forgot the time difference again.” Kennedy Cole’s voice floats over the line. She’s been my best friend since college and is currently in London handling one of her clients. She’s a damn PR whiz, having learned from her mother, the best in the business.
“No worries,” I squeak out. I reach for my glasses on the bedside table and place them on my face. I then slide myself upward so I’m leaning against the headboard. If Kennedy is calling in the middle of the night, she must need me. “What’s going on?”
“Fucking Ryan Evans is what’s going on.” Ryan is one of Kennedy’s biggest clients. He’s a hot shot Premier League soccer star and causes her a lot of headaches. She’s been with him for years, so I’ve been privy to the stories. “Yet again, he cocked up and I have to clean it up. This time though, Els, I don’t know if I can scrub this.” Her voice is tired and weary.
“You are the best, Kennedy. I know you’ll be able to figure this out. You always have a plan.” Kennedy is one of those people who can think on her feet. This skill got us out of quite a few dilemmas throughout the years. That skill also got me out of a marriage with my ass intact.
“So… about that…” She trails off and I have a sneaking suspicion I may not like what’s coming. “I need a favor.”
I sit up straighter in bed. “And what would that be?” I’m almost afraid to ask.
“So, I know everything with Kevin is still kind of fresh.” Oh, hell. Now we are bringing my ex into this? “And I know you are still healing. But I really need to hide Ryan.”
“Hide him?” I ask stupidly.
“In Maine?” Her words come out as a question. Wait. She wants to fly him to Maine to hide out. What the hell did he do?
“You want to hide him in Maine? I have a few contacts within the B&B association. I could find him somewhere to go.” I mentally start thinking of all the places I could reach out to.
“So about that. I was thinking Lilac Harbor.” Kennedy pauses. “Do you have guests coming?” My family owns and operates one of the oldest B&Bs in the area. I’ve been managing it on my own for quite some time now.
“I actually had a cancellation so the B&B is empty for the next two weeks,” I respond while thinking this over.
“Perfect!” Kennedy practically shouts over the phone. “Hold on a sec, Els.” I can then hear her muffled voice ordering someone to make sure the plane is ready to go in the next hour. “Okay. I’m hoping to get his ass on a plane in the next few hours. We should be there later today.”
“Hold on a second, Kenn. What exactly do you need me to do here? I don’t want to be anyone’s keeper.” My marriage to Kevin taught me a lot of things. One of the most important was that I cannot be responsible for other people’s happiness. He loved being a lawyer in Boston and I loved being at the B&B. Those two worlds were never going to collide into something positive.
“I just basically need you to keep him away from the press and in Lilac Harbor. He can’t drive in the US, so he really can’t go anywhere.” That didn’t seem too hard. “I’ll also talk to him about keeping his dick in his pants.” That she really won’t have to worry about with me.
“That seems unnecessary, Kenn.” I’ve heard the stories about Ryan. I know he’s a notorious playboy with a new model on his arm every night. Kennedy has told me all about the messes she’s had to clean up when he loves ‘em and leaves ‘em.
“Have you looked in a mirror lately? It most definitely will be a problem.” She’s always good for my ego—isn’t that what best friends are for? But that again is something that’s still healing from my divorce. Being thirty-five and back on the market does not do an ego good.
“Sure, Kennedy. Sure.”
“Are you sure you are okay with this?” Her voice drops a decibel and becomes softer. “I would never want to put you in a position where you were uncomfortable.”
“It’s totally okay. You know I’ll always help you out.” I stare at the clock and see that it’s close to two in the morning. “What time did you say you guys would be here?”
“I have to drag his sorry ass out of bed and then get him on a plane. It’s about a seven-hour flight they are telling me, so if we can be wheels up at noon my time, we should be there sometime in the afternoon your time.”
I’m mentally calculating in my head what I’ll need to do to get the rooms ready.
“Alright, sounds good.”
“Elodie?” she asks.
“Yes?” I respond to her.
“Thank you.” I can hear her sigh. “Love you lots.”
“You owe me, lady,” I joke.
“More than you know,” Kennedy responds before she hangs up the line. I place my phone back on the side table and lay down to try to get some sleep before my guests arrive.
I don’t know why Kennedy sounds stressed—this will all be perfectly fine.
Chapter One
Ryan
“I can’t fix this one, Ryan.” My publicist, Kennedy’s, voice cuts through my thoughts like a well-sharpened knife. “This can’t be spun to be made pretty. It’s a fucking nightmare.”
I close my eyes and rest my head on the back of the seat. Not only do I have the worst hangover ever, I’m on a private plane—destination unknown. “I get it, Kennedy, I do. Can you stop talking for ten seconds? My head is fucking killing me,” I snap at her. I know she’s just trying to do her job—the job I hired her for—but I can’t take any more of her lectures right now.
“I give exactly zero fucks that your head hurts right now. Zero. I got dragged out of my nice warm bed last night to deal with your epic screw-up.”
I open my eyes slowly and even through the blurriness, I can see the exhaustion etched on Kennedy’s face. Her long, dark hair is thrown up haphazardly on top of her head and she’s wearing what looks like yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. This is a side of her I don’t typically see. She’s ever the professional—dressed to the nines. Now, she actually does look like she just got out of bed.
“Every single news outlet in England is covering this. The almighty Premier League striker, Ryan Evans, caught with his pants down—literally.” She makes wild gestures with her arms, her iPhone in one hand. “Not to mention the prostitutes. Oh, and the blow. That’s just the damn cherry on top of the sundae.”
“Dude, Kenn, I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?” I press my thumbs against my temples. What’s a man got to do to get some quiet?
“I want you to rewind time and actually use the damn pea brain in your head for something other than soccer.” She sighs and closes her laptop. “I made a decision, and you aren’t going to like it. Also, let me reiterate how much I don’t care.”