Page 15 of Protecting Hailey

He grinned, and I wasn’t sure if he would heed my warning.

I didn’t have to worry, though. He drove her smoothly, easing through the turns and the gear shifts. Not everyone I knew drove standard, so I rarely trusted someone else with my car. It was the first big purchase I made when I signed my record contract.

Christian pulled up into my garage and turned off the engine. “You wait here for a minute. I need to check the alarm system and make sure nothing’s been set off.”

I nodded and scrolled through the messages on my phone while he went inside. He closed the garage door, presumably to keep me safe from any outside threat.

I had an encouraging text from Victor and my mom. Frankie texted me that he would pick me up at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I checked my watch; it was past eight now. I would have enough time to eat something and then try and get some rest.

Christian opened the door from inside and stuck his head out. “All good. You can come in now.”

Just as I was about to open the car door, I checked my Instagram page and read the comments from my latest post. My social media manager, Ingrid, took care of all my pages, so I rarely went on here. But whenever I checked, the comments were usually positive. This time, they were not.

“Hailey better check herself,” one person wrote. Another chimed in, “If she doesn’t lay off Kendra, this will be war.”

I texted Ingrid: What’s going on with my social media page?

Ingrid: What do you mean?

Me: There are a lot of comments about Kendra. We need to chat about my response to these. I don’t like where it’s headed.

Ingrid: Kk

I then opened another message and texted my publicist, Sam, to meet me after the show tomorrow to discuss this imaginary feud with Kendra. I needed to squash it by putting out a statement that I’d never said anything derogatory about the artist and that I wished her well.

“Are you coming inside?” Christian asked, looking around the garage as though some intruder would pop out from behind the trash cans.

“Yep,” I said, hitting send on my text to Sam, and climbed out of the car.

“I’m starving,” I said as we walked into the kitchen. “What should we make?”

Christian opened the fridge and leaned inside. “Well, there isn’t much here, but I think I can pull together a BLT sandwich.”

“Sounds great. I’ll cut up the lettuce and tomato if you fry the bacon. I hate when that smell gets into my hair.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

We worked side by side, passing each other utensils while we prepped and talked about our favorite musicians.

“I can’t believe Celine Dion is on your top three list,” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich after we finally sat down at the table. I couldn’t remember the last time I hadn’t eaten at the kitchen island.

“She’s the Queen. Why wouldn’t she be one of my top three?”

I shook my head and chewed quickly through fits of giggles. “I don’t know. I guess I pegged you as a heavy metal dude or something.”

“I enjoy a good drum solo as much as the next guy, but a great voice, now that will move me.”

His eyes caught mine, and he licked some mayo off his lips. “You have an incredible voice.”

“I’m no Celine Dion.”

“No. But your voice moves me just the same.”

Aw! I nearly choked on the bacon. I swallowed the large bite through a tight throat. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He shrugged. “It’s true.” His gaze held mine and that fire in my belly roared.

Then Christian’s phone chimed. “There’s movement in the backyard. Stay here.” He pushed away from the table and marched out of the kitchen.

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