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“Yes. I just ran into some girls from high school and rather wish I hadn’t.”
Zach raised an eyebrow. “The Mean Girls again? I told you before and I’ll tell you again: just tell me and Beck, and the two of us and Kyle will protect you.”
“No, no, that’s okay. Nolan was amazing, anyway. His fame can be super helpful at times.”
Something crossed Nolan’s expression, but it was gone before I could blink.
He cleared his throat. “Well, we’re off to wander the market. Is there anything you want?”
Zach nodded. “Yeah, if you see a present for Aunt Lori from all of us, then get it. She’s hard to shop for, unless it’s a tacky tourist mug, and Beck and I haven’t been able to come up with any ideas.”
“Of course. We’ll stop by your booth again before we leave and let you know if we find anything.”
Zach studied us again and then smiled. “Thanks. Now, I’d better go back to my duties before Beck gets word that I abandoned my post, even if it’s for a worthy cause.”
With a salute, Zach disappeared.
Nolan offered his arm. I threaded mine through it and said, “You’re the only guy I know who does that.”
“What?”
“Offers your arm like an old-timey gentleman.”
As we walked back out into the market proper, he replied, “All of us Wolfe brothers have our own little acts of being a gentleman. I don’t know how that happened. My mom tried to instill them in all of us, but not everything stuck.”
Eve Wolfe had died nearly five years ago now. “Your mom was always the best, though. And not just because she let Abby have more sleepovers than any of the other parents.”
“Are sleepovers the measure of a good mom for young girls?”
I rolled my eyes. “There’s no uniform measuring stick.”
Nolan grinned. “Well, whoever fed us the most was usually the best for me and my brothers.”
“Boys and their food, I swear. Does that still work?”
“Naw. For certain roles, I have to stick to strict diets to add muscle or keep it off. It’s definitely one of my least favorite parts of my job.”
“I never thought of that. But you were pretty beefed up for that superhero movie, so that must’ve taken some work.”
“Saw it, did you?”
“Of course. I’ve seen all your movies.”
Okay, I hadn’t meant to let that slip.
His eyes turned curious. “Even the awful ones? Even Bigfoot’s Hunt?”
I smiled. “That one was pretty horrible, I’ll admit. The story was way over the top, and the dialogue was super cheesy. You had to know that from the script, so why did you take the role?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Well, it was early in my career, and I sort of took whatever I could get. There was one positive from it, though—I realized horror movies weren’t my favorite to act out. After the Bigfoot sequel, I never did another horror flick.”
“So what is your favorite kind, then?”
“Hmm. I like historical ones. Or comedies. Although I rarely get roles for the latter.”
“I would think that at this point in your career, you could turn down anything. And with your production company, couldn’t you make the movies you want to star in?”
“It’s complicated.” He stopped us in front of a Glühwein stall—German mulled wine. “We can’t come to this market and not get some Glühwein.”
