AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I dabbed at his cheek lightly, blending it out with the pads of my fingers. “What did you say to dear old Betsy to earn that lip action?”
“She was a fan of one of my first films,Never Forgotten,where I played a captain in the Revolutionary War.”
I nodded as if I hadn’t seen that movie five hundred times. There’s a scene where Rhett rips off his shirt and wraps it around the leg wound of one of his subordinates only for the injured man to die in his arms. I’d cried many tears to the tune of Rhett’s historic sorrow.
“It’s one of my favorite roles, and not many people mention it. I told her she was my best girl today.”
I put away my concealer and cleaned my fingertips on the edge of the cleaning wipe. “I think you made her year.”
“Nah.” He stepped back, shaking his head. “She made mine.”
“It’s a good movie,” I said quietly. “I don’t blame her for loving that one.”
Rhett held my gaze, his eyes darting back and forth as if he was trying to read me.
“Ready?” someone called behind us.
Rhett nodded, then he leaned in to whisper, his lips nearly brushing my ear. “You came to my room to warn me about Karina, didn’t you?”
I could barely move. Up close, this man smelled like the high seas, a mountain hike, and a sunny afternoon at the beach all wrapped into one. A wave of scent washed over me, dousing me in Rhett’s essence and rendering me speechless.
His lips brushed the loose tendrils at my ears and sent a volley of shivers down my neck. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
He really needed to move away or stop talking into my ear if he wanted an answer. I couldn’t function with him this close to me, touching me like this. Energy hummed between us that I certainly had never felt with another man before—not even my cardboard cutout.
He must have sensed that because he stepped back, hiking an eyebrow.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah.”
Rhett gave one soft nod, looking at me again, then turned around to meet his fate—I mean, date. I’d like to think Karina Bier was atonight-onlysituation that wouldn’t bleed further into his life.
“Wait,” I said impulsively.
He turned back to face me.
“You seemed like you’d already been warned. Earlier, I mean.”
He shot me a sad smile. “Yeah. I’m a huge fan of lobster rolls, and I was looking forward to having them for dinner, but Bridget struck a deal with an Italian place in the North End for the publicity.”
Lobster rolls. After watching the man eat plain chicken today with dry leaves, I could understand why he would have been so disappointed in the change of a much-anticipated menu item.
“You could get one for lunch tomorrow,” I suggested.
“It’s fine. It’s not part of my diet anyway.”
But he could have had it for the date. A freebie or a cheat meal or whatever. I wasn’t a dieter as a general rule—I paid attention to what I ate, because I cared about having a healthy body, but I wasn’t about to restrict myself on a day-to-day basis. What would be the point of living if I couldn’t have Cherry Garcia ice cream or fresh Boudin sourdough on occasion?
Rhett and Karina refilmed the whole scene of him helping her onto the boat and toward the front bench, and they got extra shots in various situations and angles. A man climbed onto the bike-looking thing hidden behind the large white swan at the back of the boat to row them out to the water. Or was it to pedal them out? This whole interaction was much more posed than his date with Miss Chicago had been, but Karina and Rhett seemed used to it.
I, on the other hand, was not. The more time I spent around Rhett, the clearer it became that the man he allowed the world to see was a carefully constructed image provided by his acquiescence and Bridget’s brain. Which parts of his past interviews had been authentic? Which posts and videos on social media had been from him? The man was the boss of everyone here, but he allowed them all to tell him what to do—including what to eat.
I pulled out my phone and began to research. Because I had one clear goal for the night: I was getting my hands on the best lobster roll Boston had to offer.
Chapter Nine
These days, everyone claimed tohavethe bestof whatever. Search for chocolate chip cookie recipes on Pinterest, and twenty pins immediately populate claiming their recipe would give you the very best chocolate chip cookies you’ve ever had. But the pictures will vary in thickness, chewiness, and amount of chocolate, because even if that claim was the truth for the original poster, it all came down to personal taste. My favorite might not be the next person’s.
Turns out, Boston was no different in outlandish claims. There were so many places claiming to have the best lobster rolls in town, or the best cannolis, or the best Boston cream pie, that I resorted to reading a lot of Yelp reviews. And I meana lot. I figured if I was going to sneak illegal food to Rhett tonight, I was giving him a meal worth cheating with.
