in, usually?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes at him then hit the register key with an officious snap. “You taking a sudden interest in the latest on the movie stars in rehab, Will?”
“Something like that.” He glanced at the empty rack again, pulling out his wallet. “It’s Tuesday,” he said, thinking out loud. “Will more magazines come in this week?” He’d buy every one of them if he had to, just to keep the locals from drinking that stupid Kool-Aid and somehow changing—or forming—their opinions about Jocelyn.
“Varies.” She took his money and started to make change, faster than usual, he noticed.
The bell rang and they both glanced at the door, seeing Deputy Slade Garrison with two other men, one holding a small video camera.
“Charity, can I talk to you a minute?” Tough enough to be respected but still young enough to be respectful, Slade’s tone was deferential toward Charity.
“What do you want, Slade?” Her gaze zeroed in on the camera, a touch of color draining from her face. “Something the matter?”
Standing near the coffee station, Will set up a cup, listening to the exchange while he poured.
“These gentlemen are from an Internet Web site and TV show known as TMZ.”
The coffee splashed as Will missed the edge of the cup.
“What the hell is that?” Charity asked, setting Will’s change on the edge of the counter with a loud slap.
TMZ? Holy shit. Will knew what it was. He knew exactly what it was—thanks, Guy—and why they’d be here. Son of a bitch, if Charity had given away the fact that Jocelyn was in town, he’d kill her.
“They stopped into my office,” Slade said, not answering her question. “They are looking for some information on a former resident who I don’t personally know, but I told them if anything is going on here in Mimosa Key, you’d know about it.”
Only in a town the size of Mimosa Key would visiting reporters get an escort from the sheriff’s department.
Charity stood, pushing back her stool and lifting the countertop so she could step out. When she did, a couple of Will’s coins dropped but she ignored them, her unwavering focus on the men.
Of course. Charity would be in her element now. The most gossip-crazed busybody in the state of Florida with a chance to be on TMZ? Her head would explode.
And if she so much as uttered the name Jocelyn Bloom, Will would break their fucking camera and run them over with his truck. Right in front of Slade.
Will eyed the two men, one stepping forward and handing a card to Charity.
“Bobby Picalo,” he said, flashing a fake-white smile and running a hand through hair that had spent too much time in the sun or maybe a salon. “Reporter-at-large for TMZ.com.” Slimeball freelancer, in other words. “We’re a news-gathering organization.”
Will almost groaned out loud. News? They call this news? And, shit, this bastard would have Charity plastered all over TV tonight—–or all over the Internet in an hour—and sixty more slimeballs just like him would be barreling over the causeway by tomorrow morning.
He had to stop her.
“What brings you to Mimosa Key?” Charity asked.
“We’re tracking a big story out of Los Angeles and we think it’s possible a source we’d like to talk to is on this island. A young woman by the name of Jocelyn Bloom.”
Despite the fire that shot through him, Will stayed perfectly still, not reacting, not breathing, just waiting, the coffeepot poised in the air.
Charity said absolutely nothing.
“Do you know her?” the reporter asked.
Charity glanced at Deputy Garrison, who didn’t respond, then she lifted a skeletal-thin shoulder. “I’ve heard of her.”
Maybe she wanted them to beg so she could negotiate for more airtime. That’d be just like her.
“From the papers or do you know her personally, ma’am?” Picalo asked.
“She used to live here years ago. Maybe came back now and again, but I think she’s on to much bigger and better things than a little town like this.”
Will gently set the coffeepot back on the burner. Was this Charity Grambling? Not attacking the opportunity to be in the middle of a national scandal? Something was not right.
“Does she still have family living here?”
Another look at the officer and then a sideways look at Will. If he didn’t know Charity better, he’d have sworn she’d sent something like a warning. To him?
Because if these pricks went anywhere near Guy, he’d—
“Her mother passed ’bout a decade ago,” she said. “And her father took an early retirement from the sheriff’s office. Right, Slade?”
“That’s