First the smoothie and now food. Is he…trying to feed me?
“I don’t want to take your breakfast,” I say.
“No worries. I have, like, eight in here.” He taps the Wild Flour bag. His lips tip into a soft smile, and something pulses through me like one of those shockwaves after a bomb goes off.
It only takes a second for me to realize that I probably should have dressed better before showing up on his porch for my phone hunt, but I had panicked about my only way to keep tabs on the world being gone and started searching for it in a frenzy. Imightstill be wearing what I slept in: leggings and an oversized T-shirt that falls halfway down my thighs. The shirt is so worn and thin it’s practically see-through. But it’s my comfort outfit—the buttery-soft fabric made even softer from years of use.
I should have thrown it away ages ago. It’s nothing like the clothes that line my multiple closets back home, but this was supposed to be my escape. My hideaway. My chancenotto have to impress anyone for four weeks.
I didn’t even bring my dog.
Probably a good thing. That bougie little lady would have judged my outfit and the way I’m hanging around my ex-boyfriend in my pajamas.
Benny glances at the clock. “I need to make a phone call, but help yourself to the scones, and there is fruit in the bowl over there.” He picks up his protein smoothie and walks out of the room, sliding his leather jacket from one very broad shoulder as he goes.
What am I doing here?
I take a sip and sigh. It’s amazing. Tugging the bakery bag closer, I’m faintly aware of Benny’s deep voice rumbling on the other side of the wall.
The man haseightscones. I don’t feel too bad taking one. But then I think…eight? No man buys eight fresh scones for himself. Is he having people over? Did he buy these for me? I peek in the bag and notice they all look a little different.
“No. Don’t do that, Bree. Not everything is about you.”
“Are you talking to yourself?” Benny asks, coming into the kitchen and reaching over me for a scone.
“Yes.” I’m not going to lie. I do it all the time. Just, you know, usually when I’m alone. “Good phone call?”
“Work meeting thing,” he says.
Ah. The scones make sense now. I can’t help but feel a little disappointed he wasn’t thinking of me when he took his bike out this morning. Of course he has a work meeting. Of course his life involves people.
Hold on. Work meeting?Here?
“Don’t you live in Montana?” I glance around, noting the lack of sweet old women. “Where’s your grandma?”
Benny pinches off a bite of the scone and pops it in his mouth. “I live here now.”
“What about your ranch?” And, again, the whole grandma thing.
“I sold it a few years ago. Decided to come out here.”
“To be closer to family?”
Benny swirls his smoothie glass, waiting a beat before answering. “Yeah.”
That is the most loaded one-syllable word I’ve ever heard. It begs me to pry further, but something tells me that isn’t how I should repay his gift of scones and liquid vegetables.
“Great.” What are the chances that, of all the houses in all the world, I would end up next door to my high school ex-boyfriend? Not that we went to the same high school. Our romance was more of the summer fling variety that stretched into fourteen months of blissful monogamy. It only happened because I was lucky enough to end up at the same Kid’s Choice Awards afterparty as him, and we immediately hit it off. Chemistry like you wouldn’t believe fueled by fresh, intense teenage hormones.
He wasthe one.
My family’s reality show took off right away, but my momager—you know, mom-manager—had gotten me on a few shows before that as a kid, and I’d been doing light modeling on and off as a tween. Mom thought I’d make a good actress, but all I’d really wanted to do was sing.
A low, unpleasant feeling settles in my stomach. Singing doesn’t bring me joy anymore, not like it used to. I finally got all the fame and acclaim and records I’d dreamed of, and now…I’ve ruined everything.
Which is why I’m here. In Bodega Bay.
Okay, so the chances of ending up next door to Benny were significantly higher than any other celebrity, since he’s thereason I chose this place. But I never thought in a billion years I would actually see him.