Candace nodded eagerly, obviously grateful for the lifeline he’d just hit her over the head with. “The whole adaptation was amazing. The music, the costumes.” She paused to smile dreamily. “And, of course, the performances. It was a book lover’s dream.”
“High praise,” Ian said softly to Candace, but he was looking right at me. “I’m so happy you enjoyed it.”
“I’m going to grab some coffee,” I said flatly, with all the grace of an air horn, effectively ending the conversation and glowing five-star review.
Candace glanced at me worriedly.
I shot her a look that was probably none too friendly before making my way inside the house.
Conversation resumed beyond the sliding glass doors. I could hear the muffled sounds of Brady’s and Ian’s voices coming from outside my parents’ warm kitchen.
A moment later, as I was adding a splash of milk to my mug, the door slid open quietly, and Candace stepped inside.
She winced and joined me at the breakfast nook.
“I’m sorry I told him you loved the movie,” Candace offered, fidgeting with the shiny engagement ring on her finger. “I just thought you’d be excited.”
“What about me makes you think I’d be excited to meet some actor from Hollywood?”
“That’s fair,” she admitted. “You didn’t even want to know who was starring in the movie being filmed at our farm.”
That was true. Every time Candace had brought it up, I’d told her it didn’t matter. This whole thing was an inconvenience, and I didn’t want to know any more about it than I needed to in order to get by. It was just five months out of our lives, and then everything could get back to normal.
Furthermore, I wasn’t interested in famous people or their lives. That was like caring about what aliens did on their home planet. It was so foreign to me, I couldn’t even bring myself to consider it. So, no. I hadn’t wanted to gossip with my mom and sister about the bright, shiny movie people taking over our property and our town.
“But if not excited,” she wondered, “I thought you’d at least be polite to your favorite movie star.”
“He is not my favorite movie star,” I argued. “I don’thavea favorite movie star. That would be like picking a favorite zoo animal.”
“Most people have a favorite zoo animal, Joanie. And a favorite movie star.”
Frowning, I said, “Well, I don’t.”
“Okay. But why were you looking at Dorian Masters like he started a forest fire or bad-mouthed Dolly Parton? What could have possibly happened in the few days he’s been here?”
“It hasn’t been just a few days. He’s been here over a week. He showed up before the trailers and the equipment. I ran into him on the tractor path, and we’ve been . . .”
Candace leaned forward in her seat, interest doubling at my hesitation.
I swallowed uncomfortably and finished, “Running together in the mornings.”
My sister’s lips parted in surprise.
“I didn’t know who he was,” I said, slightly defensively, before she could ask. “He wore sunglasses and hats. Introduced himself as Ian. Said he was part of the production crew. I didn’t recognize him.”
“Oh.”
We were both quiet for several moments. I could still hear Ian and Brady bro-ing it up out there.
As irritated as I was at the surprise of it all, I was equally annoyed with myself for failing to recognize Ian for who he was.
“You think he was messing with you. Hiding who he was intentionally?” Candace asked quietly.
“Maybe. I don’t know. Feels that way though.”
I was both relieved and disappointed that my sister’s thoughts had traveled the same suspicious path as my own. I felt a little less cynical, but once again annoyed that I’d been taken in—no matter how briefly—with Ian’s good-ol’-boy routine.
I sighed, angry with myself for ignoring my instincts. The irritation I felt right now was my own damn fault. Actually, no. Ian probably did this on purpose. Probably as payback for me not telling him my name.
