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The mention of the latter had me blushing slightly, to Brandon's clear delight. The last time we were in that grove, he had made love to me in the grass under the summer sky.
The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded. There was more than enough space for a wedding on the expansive lawn, and the place meant something special to both of us. It was Brandon's favorite place in the world, one of the only places that was truly him, stripped of societal pretensions. For me, it was the place where I'd bonded with my brother and sister, where, despite Janette and Maurice's ulterior motives, I'd felt like I had a complete family.
"The Cape," Brandon repeated, testing out the words. Then he looked at me with a grin that lit up the entire forest. "I like it."
~
We arrived back in Woodstock to a crowd of cameras. Someone had apparently tweeted our arrival, and now photographers were trolling the streets of the small colonial town.
My head started to spin.
"Shit," Brandon said under his breath.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him so I was sheltered by his big form as we made our way down the main street. The car was a few blocks down. Now that we were outed, there was really no other choice but to brave the storm and hope they missed us in the pedestrian crowds.
"Here," he said, fishing the Mercedes keys out of his pocket and handing them to Lucas. "We'll be in the gelato shop up the block. Can you pull up the car?"
Lucas looked at the keys doubtfully. "Sir, I really don't think I should leave you and Ms. Crosby by yourselves. It would be safer if I escorted you there."
"We'll be fine," Brandon said through clenched teeth as he thrust the keys out again. "I'm not exactly a pushover."
It was a tone of voice I remembered, although I hadn't seen it much lately: the one that allowed no argument. But there was a flash in his eyes I had never seen before––something angry, almost violent.
Despite the obvious fact that he disagreed completely with his boss, Lucas took the keys and gave a curt nod. "I'll be back in a minute. Stay in the shop. Go out the back door if you have to exit. Keep your cell phone on."
He glanced back and forth, as if checking for any possible assailants among the camera-bearing tourists who were strolling up and down the brick sidewalks, and then left.
"Come on, Red." Brandon said, pulling the brim of his cap forward and low. Then, with a glance at my flaming red ponytail, he took it off. "On second thought, you should probably take it."
With a faux grimace, I allowed him to clap the grubby old hat on my head. It was too big and fell over my face, but once I stuffed most of my hair into it, it stayed put.
"There," I said, glancing back at the cameras. "How's my disguise?"
"Sexiest disguise I ever saw," Brandon said. He squatted down and stamped a kiss on my lips.
"You're going to attract more attention doing that."
I was rewarded with a wide grin that caused more than one passerby to double-take. As much as I loved it, Brandon's smile wasn't exactly incognito.
"Worth it," Brandon said. He pushed a hand through his hat-flattened waves. "Come on, let's get some ice cream and go back to Boston before Cory sends out bloodhounds looking for me."
We walked into the gelato shop, where a line of customers was waiting to be served. For a while, it seemed like we wouldn't be recognized at all, just like we'd been able to go incognito for most of the day. But then:
"Hey, aren't you that guy who's running for mayor of Boston?"
"Shit." Brandon looked down at me with a hooded expression. "You should go. Out the back door before anyone recognizes you."
I took one look at his fists, clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white, and shook my head. "Absolutely not. I'm not leaving you here to deal with this alone."
"Skylar––"
"Hey, it's his girlfriend, too! That redhead from the papers!"
Slowly, we turned around to the owner of the voice, a squat, middle-aged man with pasty skin and a jiggling belly. He elbowed the woman next to him who looked like she was his wife. "I told you," he said to her. "It's him! That Brandon Sterling you were talking about!"
"It's nice to meet you," Brandon said, extending a hand and turning on a smile I'd only seen at banquets. It was several degrees cooler than the one I'd just seen outside, but one that charmed the shop regardless. A politician's smile.
I hated it.
