“Yeah, my friend Jodie has a sister Sarah whose neighbor Sally said that she’s going to marry him one day.” I grin at him, his face now one of disbelief.
“But have you seen him? Here in the diner or around town with his brother?” he presses.
“Our local lawyer is never here. Jodie tries to take him cakes every day, you know, trying to get to know him.” I wink at him like we are part of an inside joke. “But he’s mostly in New York. His office is barely open.” I nod across the street, proving my case. Sawyer’s legal office is closed, or at least it looks that way. He’s probably there or working from home, but he’s always in Whispers. Hardly ever leaves now that he’s settled down with Annabelle.
“Are you sure you haven’t seen Sutton?” he asks one last time, but I feel his energy wane.
“Believe me, if a guy like that was here in Whispers, I would be all over him like a poison ivy rash. You know Jodie said that he probably kisses so good it makes a girl’s toes curl.” I let out a giggle for good measure. It’s easy to act stupid. And men just believe it. If only he knew I graduated on the Dean’s List from MIT, know three languages, and vacationed in the Swiss Alps as a kid.
“Well… you and most of the women in this country.” He huffs with a smirk. “Fuck. Looks like the tip-off was bad. Glad I spent all day traveling here for nothing.” Pushing off the counter, he walks out without so much as a thank you. We all hold our breath, watching him get back into his blacked-out SUV and making his way out of town.
It’s only then that the few people in here start to laugh heartily.
“Who the hell is Jodie?” Bob asks, chuckling.
“You heard her, she’s Sarah’s sister,” Tim adds, and the three men start cackling and shaking their heads at me, and I can't help but grin. There’s been a few journalists come in who I’ve had to throw off the scent, but never has Sutton been right here when I’ve done it.
When I look at him, his gaze on me is intense, so with a racing heart, I walk over with the fresh pot of coffee to offer a refill.
“Thanks for that,” he says quietly.
“Rochelle told me that you need to remain unseen… I know what that’s like.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I seize. He watches me closely, and I feel like a deer in headlights. I’m saying too much, obviously getting too relaxed. But he doesn’t ask anything further, and for that, I’m grateful. So far, James and I have hidden in Whispers with success; I don’t need to blow our cover.
“Sooo all over him like a poison ivy rash?” He lifts his cup to his lips, and I notice the ends curl up a little as he takes a sip. He’s trying not to laugh.
I cringe, even as I chuckle lightly. “I had to improvise.”
“You’re good at it. Ever had a poison ivy rash before?” His smile is small, a little cheeky, and I think my stomach flips into itself.
“Never. Also never had my toes curl, but…” Shit, my cheeks flush immediately, and the smile he had disappears as his mouth parts slightly.
“Sounds like your friend Jodie knows what she's talking about.” He clears his throat, and I want to die. He knows there’s no Jodie, so he’s letting me off easy. I can’t talk. I’m equal parts mortified that I just admitted that and terrified that I opened myself up too much.
“I should go. You’ve probably done enough fibbing for me for one day.” As he stands, I watch him come to full height right next to me. He’s tall, just like his brother and all the other men around here. But I’ve never stood beside him before, and now that I am, I notice I only come up to his chest. I was born with the short gene. I’ve hated it most of my life. I was always the shortest in the class. Always an outcast, especially around all the socialites in Manhattan who would come to my father’s events. They were all models, rake thin and comically tall. Legs for days, hair long, thick, and fake. Then there was me. All five-foot-nothing, strawberry-blond hair, and a brain bigger than my boobs.
I swallow as I look up for what feels like minutes, my eyes trailing up his chest, over his well-defined broad shoulders, across his clenched jaw until I see his eyes searching mine from under his hat. Damn. They’re the same deep brown ones from the photo.
“Well, acting isn’t really my strong suit,” I whisper as we stand chest to chest. My feet are rooted to the spot, and I have no idea what’s wrong with me. He looks at me like he wants to kiss me, and for just a moment, I wonder what that would be like.
“Could’ve fooled me. That accent was… interesting.”
My lips quirk.
“Have a good night, Nikki.” Without another word, he brushes past me, his cologne leaving a trace of leather and spice that I breathe in as he slinks out the back door like the ghost he is. Taking a deep breath, I try to settle myself. I haven’t been that close to a man in a long time and never one who makes me feel like this. Shaking my head, dislodging the thoughts, I turn to clean up his table, grabbing his cup and napkin before I see he left me a tip. Grabbing the cash, I pause. Because it isn’t the usual few dollars the others drop around here. It’s a hundred-dollar bill. Benjamin looks up at me with his thin-lipped smile, and my teeth grind.
I pocket it quickly, looking around, spotting a guy from the group of men watching me. But from his gaze, I get the shivers, not the feeling of warmth that I do from Sutton. Lowering my eyes, I quickly clean up and walk out the back door with my shoulders up around my neck and smoke coming from my ears.
4
Sutton
I stride to my truck, equal parts amused at what I just witnessed and fucking turned on. My jeans are tight, and my heart races. She was phenomenal. Didn’t miss a beat, completely in control, confident, and it was hard to keep my eyes off her. More so than usual.
Of course I have my brother in my corner, and Rochelle does a great job of turning journalists away, but I’ve never been in the diner to see Nikki do it. The fact that she did it so convincingly, when I was merely a few feet away, makes me want to scoop her up and take her home. Living in Hollywood, it’s full of phony people, all trying to suck the life out of you to further their own agenda. Over time, that’s become clearer and it’s made me a little wary. But Nikki had my back, asking for nothing in return. Her morals and her authenticity are refreshing as hell.
“Wait!” Her voice stops me mid-stride, and I turn quickly, seeing her run after me. Hair flowing in the breeze, her cheeks are a little flushed, and I swallow roughly. I see beautiful women in LA and on my travels all the time. Hell, I spend weekends in Cabo with models and actresses every chance I get. But never has one taken my breath away like Nikki does.
“This must’ve fallen from your pocket or something.” She pushes her hand out, passing back the hundred I left for her on the table.
