pretty sure she couldn’t care less but was too well-mannered not to ask.
“A 1966 Chevelle.”
Lily May nodded, but seemed unsure how to proceed, so I threw her a bone. “I’m Johnny, by the way.”
I stretched my arm across the counter and held out my hand to her.
She looked down at it for a moment, seeming deep in thought, before shaking it and saying, “You can call me May.”
Hmm, incognito.
I got it. It must be a total drag to go around with press and fans hounding you all the time.
“Nice to meet you, May,” I said, letting her hand go and turning back to my food.
“You, too,” she said, just as Terry walked over with her to-go bag and said, “Here you go.”
While I finished my dinner, Lily May paid her tab, so we ended up both moving toward the door at the same time.
“Let me get that for you,” I said, passing her so I could open the door.
She paused to look up at me, having to tilt her head back quite a way to manage, and gave me a smile.
“Thank you.”
I simply nodded and followed her out, finding I liked the fact she was so much smaller than me. I usually dated women five or six inches shorter than my six-foot-two frame, but Lily May had to come in at barely five four.
We walked the few short steps back to the inn, where I held the door open for her once again. But as we went inside, I found myself wishing I could have more time with her. Not because she was famous or anything like that—I met plenty of famous people in my line of work. Actually, she hadn’t acted at all like I’d expected her too, so I was curious about her and the instant attraction I’d felt at the diner.
“What do you say we meet back down here in twenty minutes for a drink?” I asked.
She paused long enough I worried she’d refuse, but then her eyes lit up, and she said, “I’d like that. I just have to find out where Merle put my things.”
I crossed to the desk and rang the bell to call Marie and Merle, then shot her a grin and said, “See you in a bit,” before heading up to my room to grab a quick shower and find something in my duffel that wasn’t covered in paint or grease.
Chapter Three
LILY MAY
I felt a little bubble of excitement as I dried myself off and got dressed.
Well, it was either a bubble of excitement or the after-effect of scarfing down the sandwich and fries so fast.
I’d been in the public eye for so long that I was pretty sure I’d never had a guy ask me to meet him for a drink without there being some kind of ulterior motive on his part. Usually, he wanted me to introduce him to my agent, wanted to pass me a song he’d written, or had a demo he was sure I’d love.
With Johnny, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t even know who I was, which was at once exhilarating and terrifying.
I’d never been normal… and didn’t even know if I could pull it off. But, boy, was I eager to give it a try.
I put on a light layer of makeup, which meant a little concealer, blush, and a swipe of mascara. I’d learned at an early age never to go out in public without at least the basics. If you went out barefaced, you were guaranteed to have someone, either the paparazzi or a fan, snap a photo and post it for all to revel in.
Even though I wasn’t expecting to find anyone lurking in a corner with a camera in the middle of the night in Promise, the habit had been ingrained in me.
Not wanting to look like I was trying too hard, I put on a pair of black leggings and an oversized sweater and made my way back downstairs to meet Johnny.
When I hit the landing, I glanced around. Marie had said she and Merle were turning in for the night, so the lobby was lit by a single lamp, but Johnny was nowhere in sight. I padded softly in my socks-clad feet toward the room past the front desk, which I hadn’t been in yet.
As I walked inside, I saw a grouping of tables to the right, which must be where breakfast was served, and then a small sitting area to the left. Johnny was there, standing in front