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I follow them, but she turns to me with wild eyes. “Not you. You have to go. Just say no comment. Nothing else.”
As she ushers them inside, I hear Liam’s voice. “Mom, why would they say that about Digger?”
I get in the golf cart and take off, feeling utterly helpless. Just last night, I promised to protect them, and the first chance I get, I fail miserably. The reporters run alongside me, shouting questions.
“How long have you and Harper been lovers?”
“We know you and Brett had words last night. Are you the real reason their marriage is over?”
By the time I pull up to the lodge, even more reporters appear. I’m surrounded as I get out and try to make my way to the steps. My lips are sealed, but my heart is pounding while rage courses through my body. Brett better not show his face around here because I’m afraid I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he does.
The reporters form a circle, making it impossible for me to get through unless I’m willing to shove one of them out of the way, which I’m not. I let out a deep sigh and say, “No comment. Please leave.”
But they don’t. They keep peppering me with questions as I slowly push through them. The sound of a shotgun stops everything. Most of them flinch. One of them screams, while another hits the ground. Most of them scatter which clears a path for me to get through.
Grandpa Jack stands on the porch with his gun aimed at the sky. “Now, that’ll be enough of that. This is private property, open only to guests of the lodge and the restaurant. We don’t have any rooms available, so you either leave or you come inside and buy breakfast. I’ve got a special deal for reporters today. A thousand dollars a plate.”
I use the distraction he’s creating to get inside, and once the door is closed behind me, I turn and look out. The rats are scurrying toward their vehicles. I watch as they pull out of the lot, but they don’t go far. Instead, they park on the road. Grandpa Jack walks in and hands me the gun. “I gotta go punch down the dough. You got this?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I tell him as Evie rushes over to me.
“What the hell happened last night?” she asks. “I saw the footage at the Steel Trap. I can’t believe you shoved Helioman!”
Crap. Someone was filming us.
“And that was some kiss, boss,” she adds with a big smirk.
I shut my eyes and rub my forehead with my fingertips, feeling every muscle in my body tense up.
“It’s a long story that I don’t have time to tell,” I say, walking into the office.
Evie follows me. “Are you and Harper an item now?”
“I … can’t really talk right now, okay, Evie? Can you handle the restaurant for me?”
She nods, but before she leaves, I tell her, “Harper and the kids’ll need some breakfast. Obviously, they can’t come up here to get it.”
“I’m on it,” she says, shutting the door behind her.
I sit down at my desk, dumbfounded by what just happened. It looks like that bastard has made Harper out to be the bad guy in this whole situation to try to save his sorry ass.
I’m tempted to go out to the road and tell the reporters the truth—that Harper and I just met, and that Brett’s not only a cheater, but he left his kids alone last night to go drinking. But I can’t do that. It would only make things worse than they already are, and there’s no way I want to add fuel to the inferno.
Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I call Harper’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Dammit,” I mutter.
If only I knew what to do to make this better. If only I could talk to Harper. If only I hadn’t let myself get dragged into this mess.
Chapter33
Harper
Dear Readers,
I’ve revised the Harper/Brett playlist to include “Dirty Laundry" by Don Henley. We are positively lapping up the tidbits leaking out of Alaska!
This morning Harper Kennedy walked out of her rustic lodgings with her kiddos and—drum roll, please—a man! A man that was not her husband. A man I wouldn’t half mind seeing in a pair of red polyester gym shorts.
Needless to say, the press went wild. Harper sent Hunky Pants on his way, alone, and within an hour her “team” showed up. They have sequestered themselves.
