Ain't She Sweet (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers #2) - Whitney Dineen Page 0,41
Where is she going with this?
“Correct,” I tell her. “I’d feel uncomfortable doing that.”
“And you don’t want to take money from your mom for your house repairs, right?”
She’s playing dirty pool now. Through gritted teeth, I answer, “Correct.”
“How about if I had a way you could make more than enough money for your repairs, plus a lot extra.”
“How?” While I know I should just walk away from this whole idea, I wouldn’t be human if the lure of easy money didn’t intrigue me. In addition to my house falling down around me, I have a lot of plans for the fifty acres I just purchased adjacent to my farm.
“The tabloids would pay a fortune for pictures of me with another man. I propose we let Rachel take the pictures after we come to a satisfactory monetary settlement.”
I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now. Disgusted … intrigued ... “I don’t know.”
“James, people do this all the time. It’s how the tabloid industry works and there’s no changing that. Celebrities sell their own wedding and baby pictures to raise money for charity. We’re simply writing the rules to a game that’s going to be played with or without our consent.”
She might be right, but I still don’t like how this setup feels. “What kind of pictures are you talking about?”
“Just something candid like us taking a walk or sharing a candlelit dinner. Nothing too lovey-dovey, just enough to get the point across.”
I have no idea what gets into me, but when I hear the words, “Okay, let’s do it,” come out of my mouth, I suspect I’m in for a world of trouble.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gwen
Perusing the frozen food aisle at the Quick Stop leaves Gwen feeling less than inspired. Nothing looks appealing, but with the paparazzi in Spartan she doesn’t want to go out more than she has to.
A nice-looking older gentleman approaches her and says, “You look a little green around the gills, ma’am. You feeling okay?”
Gwen smiles at him. “I’m trying to settle on what to have for supper.”
He nods his head. “Cooking for just yourself?”
“I am.” Gwen surprises herself by adding, “My daughter is the pastry chef at the Willamette Valley Lodge and I’m in town visiting her. She’s working tonight so I’m on my own.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth she wonders why she was so forthright with a total stranger. That’s not like her. What if he’s one of the people she’s trying to avoid?
He puts his hand out and offers, “Name’s Billy Grimps. I’m the camping manager up at the lodge.”
Gwen smiles with relief. He didn’t look like a slimy reporter, but she’ll still have to be more careful in the future. She doesn’t want to do anything further that will lead the press to her daughter. “Ah, you must be Ruby’s brother-in-law.”
Billy blushes slightly. “That’s right.” He pauses a moment before asking, “In the spirit of being neighborly, might you be interested in joining me for supper? I’m a pretty decent cook.”
A feeling akin to interest bubbles up inside of Gwen. It’s been ages since she’s gone out with a man and longer yet since one cooked for her. While he claimed he was just being friendly, she can’t help but feel flattered. “That sounds lovely, thank you.”
“I live in one of the cabins on the lodge property. How does six o’clock sound?”
“That sounds very nice, thank you. How do I find you?”
“I’ll meet you in the parking lot next to the golf carts and show you from there,” he tells her.
There’s no way Gwen would accept an invitation from a stranger back home, but Tara filled her in on Billy’s story a couple of months ago, and from what she heard, he sounded like a good guy.
Gwen finishes her shopping with a bounce in her step.
Tara
Things I Don’t Miss About LA
Traffic. I was becoming convinced I would draw my last breath on the 405 freeway two hours into my twenty-mile commute to the airport. I’m not sure if I would have died from a stress-induced heart attack or old age. Both seemed equally possible.
Fire season, which always coincided with Santa Ana wind season, which preceded the rainy season (if we were lucky enough to get one), which led to mudslides, and flooding. It’s worse than being stuck on a bus with a drunk driver on the North Yungas Road in Bolivia.
Smog. Air, by its very essence, should not be visible to the naked eye. It is a gas. There