She shot a warning glance at Spock, who sat poised on the edge of the toilet seat, ready to pounce. While he loathed water, he loved popping bubbles. “I’ll be right back. Don’t even think about going near the tub while I’m gone.”
Spock leaned back on his haunches with a huff, but his coy expression said he couldn’t be trusted.
Swiftly, CeCe skipped down the steps to the side entrance. A large plastic Tupperware sat on the welcome mat. Even though she’d already had dinner, her mouth watered at the sight, and she couldn’t resist peeling back the lid for a quick whiff of the aromatic sauce. The savory scents of cumin, coriander, and turmeric wafted from the opening, bringing a smile to her lips.
A bright, startling flash of light caught her off guard.
The Tupperware slipped in her grasp, sloshing soupy sauce onto her robe.
Great. What a waste.
Another flash blinded her, followed by several more.
Then came the shouting.
“CeCe! CeCe Dupree! Over here!”
“How long have you been engaged?”
“When is the wedding?”
“Can we see the ring?”
CeCe squinted, shielding her eyes with one hand, struggling to reorient herself. Engaged? Wedding? Ring? What were they talking about? And who were all these people?
“CeCe, tell us. How did Jayce propose?”
CeCe’s heartbeat stuttered. Jayce?HerJayce? Wasn’t he in Paris or somewhere filming a movie? They hadn’t spoken in a few weeks, but she’d certainly remember a proposal.
Where on earth had they heard such a ridiculous rumor?
Chapter Six
JAYCE
Jayce deplanedthe private jet and scanned the tarmac for his usual driver, Carl. Instead, he spotted his lifelong friend, Mia Larsen, sporting a chauffeur hat and wielding a sign that read Dead Man Walking.
Rolling his carry-on behind him, he strode toward her. “Where’s Carl?”
“I told him to take the day off.”
“And he took orders from you?”
“You know he can’t resist my homemade kettle corn.” She flashed an impish grin.
While Mia had grown up in her mother’s candy store, Sweet Blessings, and knew her way around confections, Jayce had a feeling Carl had been more persuaded by Mia’s mile-long legs and million-dollar smile. If it weren’t for her oddball style choices—today’s ensemble consisted of a pink sequined shirt under scruffy overalls she’d sheared into cutoff shorts—she could be mistaken for aVoguecover model.
“Why does the sign say Dead Man Walking?” He tossed his suitcase into the back seat of Mia’s 1967 VW Beetle convertible. In the warm Los Angeles weather, she religiously rode with the top down. Although the butter-yellow exterior with hand-painted daisies on both sides drew more unwanted attention than his auspicious black Jeep, he couldn’t deny the fun factor.
“Because by the time we get to Blessings Bay, CeCe’s going to murder you. Or maim you, at the very least.” She hopped into the driver’s seat, ditched the hat, and secured her shoulder-length blond hair with a tie-dyed scarf. “You were planning to drive straight home to clean up your mess, right?”
“What mess?” He climbed into the passenger seat beside her. No way Mia knew about the fake fiancée fiasco. He’d explicitly asked Gretchen to keep quiet until he could tell CeCe he’d “spilled the beans” in person. In reality, he’d planned to beg for her cooperation—and forgiveness—while hoping she’d agree to ride out the bogus engagement for a few days, maybe a week, then they’d publicly announce they’d amicably parted ways. Of course, they’d have to figure out how to explain the situation to their friends and family, but first things first.
Mia tossed a celebrity gossip magazine on his lap. The cover photo showed CeCe in a stained bathrobe, her hair in a tangled topknot, and some kind of sticky goop on her face. Above the photo, the headline read, “Hollywood Heartthrob Jayce Hunt to Wed Homeless Woman.”Oof. That’s rough.
He cringed. “Maybe we should stop at a store for some body armor?”
“Unless they sell Kevlar at Dummies-R-Us, you’re out of luck,” she teased, heading off the tarmac. “How did this happen?”
