17. A First Night Out

17

A First Night Ou t

Auston

“You didn’t pack much,” I say, glancing at Emma’s small overnight bag. “You do know we’re going for six days, right?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I’m a light packer. Mostly leggings and T-shirts.”

I shrug, taking her bag and stowing it in the trunk. She opens the passenger door, and I’m about to take my seat when an idea strikes me. “Would you be more comfortable driving? I’m fine either way.”

She offers a sh y smile. “Oh, I can’t. I don’t have my driver’s license.”

We both get in, and I start the engine. “No license, huh? I wouldn’t even consider that in LA.”

“Yeah. It’s a good thing I don’t need one here. I walk everywhere.”

“How long have you been living here?” I ask, eager to know everything that’s happened during our time apart.

“Not long. I used to live in a small town, not far from where we grew up. I worked at the town’s library, so I didn’t need a car.”

“So, you stayed in Wyoming?”

She lowers her gaze. “Yeah, after Grandma died, I was in a foster home, then I started working in the library. So I stuck around."

It’s as if someone just emptied an ice bucket over my head. “Your grandma died? I’m so sorry,” I say, gripping the wheel tight. “When?”

“About a year after you left.”

“Gosh.” I shake my head. “Emma, I’m so sor—”

She tuts. “We have rules, remember?”

My jaw clenches. I hate that she doesn’t want to talk about it when it clearly had a big impact on her life. “Well, we’re not currently in a fake-dating situation.”

“But we’re on our way to one. The rules still apply.”

I could argue that we’re actual ly on our way to a work function, but I’m too stunned to gather my thoughts. My only consolation, all this time, was that Emma still had her grandma. That she wasn’t alone. I guess I was wrong. I would have known that if I’d had the decency to call her. But I didn’t know what to say. I was a stupid kid, and the more time that had passed, the more awkward the idea became.

I force the thoughts out of my head and focus on the present. She’s here now. I have a chance to redeem myself. And this time, I won’t screw it up.

We make it to Porthaven about an hour before sunset. The small hotel that production rented is already bustling with crew members when we step through the front entrance.

After grabbing my key from reception, the two of us walk to my room on the third floor. We only have one key, but the connecting room has been booked for Emma. Robyn came earlier to set it up for us—a way to keep up our charade while letting us each have our own room.

As anticipated, the connecting door is unlocked.

“There you go,” I say to Emma, swinging it open. “Just remember to come through my door to go in or out, just in case Ma—Madison! What are you doing here?” I exclaim. She’s right here in Emma’s room, sauntering out of the bathroom draped in a bath towel.

“Well, this is my room after all,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Or is that another mistake? They moved me here last minute because the hotel is full.” There seems to be a genuine confusion in her eyes, although with Madison, we never know.

“Um, no, we’re next door,” I say, glancing back. “We were just wondering who was in the neighboring room, that’s all.”

“Why?” She glances suspiciously between us.

“I . . . wanted to check if I liked that room better,” Emma stammers. “I usually prefer when the bed faces the other direction. But I think I prefer ours.”

“Great.” I flash a big smile at Madison. “We won’t be bothering you, then.”

“Bye,” Emma adds loudly as I shut the door.

“That was a close one,” I whisper, and Emma bursts into quiet laughter. We’re close now, so close I can see her chest heaving up and down.

“Gosh, I hope she believed it,” she murmurs.

“Me too.” I stare into her eyes, and her smile falls.

“Um, maybe we should unpack?” she asks, her cheeks now tinted red.

“Right.” I take a step back, then look at the large king-size bed. “Are you going to be okay with this?”

“I don’t know. Do you sleep naked?” She arches an eyebrow.

“Uh, no. Do you?” My heart picks up its pace. Does she? She did pack light, after all.

She glares back. “No.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, great.” Still, the thought of sharing a bed with Emma has my pulse doing some sort of parkour course through my veins. “Are you hungry? We could go out to dinner.”

She gives a small shrug. “Sure.”

We exit the room, and Cillian is already waiting for us by the elevator. This guy is the best in the business. But tonight, I don’t need him to be.

“Hey, man,” I say as we’re approaching. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

He nods. “Lad.”

I gesture to Emma that I’ll only be a minute, then take Cillian aside.

“I’m going out to dinner with Emma, but you don’t need to come.”

“But—”

“Dude. I’m trying to pull off a romantic seaside dinner, but that won’t work if you’re there. Plus, this is Porthaven, Massachusetts. I think we’ll be safe.”

His eyebrows scrunch together, but I give him an insistent look, and he caves. “Fine. But call me if you need me.”

I bump my fist on his muscular chest and almost break a finger. “Will do.”

Then, I flash Emma a smile. “All right, let’s go.”

We ride the elevator down and begin our stroll along the boardwalk. It’s a warm summer evening with a light breeze. Seagulls are squawking, and the setting sun is dipping low over the Atlantic Ocean.

“Wow,” Emma says, her gaze fixed on the lapping waves. “It’s so pretty here.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. I love going on location because I get to discover gems like this place.”

“I bet. It’s—”

She freezes, and I glance to the left to see what caught her eye. A couple of tourists are taking pictures of us with big smiles. I offer a friendly wave, then focus back on Emma.

“Sorry,” I say. “I should have come out with a full disguise.”

She chuckles. “So, that’s a real thing? I always wondered.”

“Oh, yeah.” I nod. “The mak eup crew puts me in full prosthetics so I can walk around freely in LA. We’re talking a two-hour makeup session every day. I know it’s a bit crazy, but it’s part of my routine.”

Her jaw drops. “You can’t be serious.”

I press my lips together, trying to contain my smile, but I give in.

She bursts into laughter, then swats me on the shoulder. “You got me for a second.”

“It was too tempting to pass up.” I grin. “I did do the whole prosthetic thing once, though. As a joke for a late-night show. Otherwise, it’s usually just a baseball cap and sunglasses. Not the cleverest disguise, but I get away with it. Especially when Cillian isn’t out with me.”

“Yeah, the 200-pound, six-foot tank guy pretty much screams ‘hot celebrity coming through.’”

I lift my eyebrows, my heart pounding a mile a minute. “Hot?”

A hint of pink colors her cheeks, but she recovers quickly, waving a hand in dismissal. “You know what I meant. Hot as in popular.”

A grin tugs at my lips. I’m pretty sure that’s not what she meant. I guess after all these years, Emma still finds me attractive. “Right.”

She stands on her tiptoes to peer over my shoulder. “I’m not sure a cap and some sunglasses would have done the trick this time, though.”

Turning around, I notice about ten people gathered on the other side of the street, waving their posters and snapping pictures.

I hold back a groan. “Let’s just keep going. The restaurant isn’t far. Once we’re seated, it’ll be fine.”

She nods, letting out a heavy sigh as she takes in the glittering ocean again. “This view is really spectacular.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. But I’m not looking at the sunset or the waves anymore. Because Emma is stealing the show. The gentle breeze frees her face from her dark locks, and she has this angelic expression, one I wish I could capture and remember forever.

When she turns around, our gazes cross. I open my mouth to tell her just how beautiful she is, but she’s faster.

“Um, anyway, thanks for bringing me here. I would have never come otherwise.”

“I’m happy I could take you.” I’ll take you to every corner of the world , I want to add, but that might be a little premature. “And that we reconnected. I thought I’d never see you again.”

She swallows, then looks straight ahead. “Me too.”

The crowd across the street has d oubled in size and is now matching our pace.

“So, you said you went from librarian to bookseller, right?” I ask, switching the subject to something more mundane so she’ll dare to look me in the eye again.

“Yep. Books have been my whole life.”

“You never considered college? You were the most brilliant student at Kinston High. Hands down.”

She shrugs. “Maybe for a while, but no. I wanted to work, and I loved the library.”

We step onto the crosswalk to reach the heart of town, but the crowd has ballooned in size. Tourists, locals, and paparazzi alike are pressed on the sidewalk, partially blocking traffic.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep going,” I say once we reach the median. “I can’t even see the sidewalk anymore.”

Emma bites her lip, clearly disappointed. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” I groan, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “Maybe we should go back to the hotel and eat there.”

“That’s probably best.”

We retreat back toward the beach, and I ask Cillian to come and pick us up. Unfortunately, the cluster of fans realized I wasn’t coming their way and are now crossing the street to follow us.

My heart quickens. “Stay behind me, okay?”

“Auston, Auston,” they call out as they encroach on us, and I glance around for an exit strategy. But there is none. We’re trapped. Well, we could make a run for it or jump in the water, but I’m not sure even that would work.

“Hi!” I wave to the clamoring fans, hands high in the air so they can see me. “Thank you so much for your support,” I yell, and some of them stop to listen. Others keep pressing toward me. “I’ll sign your posters if you all stay calm, okay? No pushing.”

The fans in the front are ecstatic, bobbing their heads in agreement like their lives depend on it.

I don’t think signing autographs right now is a good idea, but I also doubt we can safely wait for Cillian if I don’t entertain them.

I extend my hand to sign the first poster, and a few fans start telling me how much they love me, what their favorite movie is, and that they adored me in that part. The stories are always the same, but I enjoy hearing them. I’m just more at ease when I’m not glancing back at Emma every five seconds to make sure she’s okay.

I try to focus on the fans when I notice a blonde girl shoving people out of the way to make her way forward, a determined look. I keep telling the crowd that everyone will have their turn if they don’t push, but there’s always someone who doesn’t get the messag e and ruins it for everybody else.

“Hey, you!” Emma yells, stepping in next to me. “Beat it. He said no pushing.”

I turn to Emma, and her expression is dead serious. A mean scowl wrinkles her forehead, though it dissolves when I glance at her, trying to contain my smile. This girl is one tough cookie. Still, if anyone takes so much as a step toward her, I’ll forget everything about PR and neutralize them.

“Who are you?” the girl growls, throwing her a fiery glare. My blood freezes as I flit my gaze to Emma.

“Someone who’ll make you eat your teeth if you don’t behave,” Emma says, her eyes narrowing.

The girl does a double take but says nothing. Good. Why anyone would try messing with Emma is a mystery to me.

The blare of a car horn pulls me out of focus, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Cillian in the driver’s seat. He parts the crowd with the car and pulls up next to us.

“Get in and lock the door,” I tell Emma as Cillian climbs out of the car to control the agitated crowd.

With a nod, she steps into the car. I’m glad she doesn’t argue.

“Everyone take a step back,” Cillian bellows in his deep voice, and they oblige.

“I’m fine signing a few more,” I say to him. The more posters I sign now, the better the chances they’ll leave me alone for the rest of the trip.

“Okay.” Cillian nods, planting himself firmly next to me as I continue taking selfies and signing autographs. I steal a glance at Emma, making sure she’s still safe, but she’s in the car, scrolling on her phone.

Relaxing, I talk to a few more fans and then wave goodbye to them.

“All right, lad. Let’s go,” Cillian says, gunning for the driver’s seat.

“I’ll drive,” I say in a rush.

He frowns but lets me take the wheel. When I slide into the driver’s seat, I notice Emma’s shoulders dropping in the rear-view mirror. Glancing up, she offers me a grateful smile. And with one look, I try to tell her that she has nothing to worry about. That I’ll always take care of her.