Page 28 of Hiding Hollywood

She shook her head.

“Who is it?”

She shook her head again. “No. No questions. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Cameron held onto her elbow. She looked like she might run at any second.

Both his and his dad’s cell phones rang at the same time. Using his other hand, because he wasn’t letting her get away, he fished it out of his pocket. “Dewey?”

“Cameron, you are not going to believe this. A log truck veered off the road.”

Stepping away from Addie, Cameron jogged behind his dad to the Sheriff’s car for a ride into town. “Anyone hurt?”

“The driver. But it took out two fire hydrants. Two cars have hydroplaned.”

His dad spoke in low, clipped words into his own phone. Judging by the directions, it was the fire chief. Addie hadn’t moved. It was a mental picture he knew he’d never forget. The way she stood on his family’s front porch, his dog sitting at her feet and concern on her face. Concern for him.

In a little over a week, she’d be gone. He concentrated on Dewey’s words describing the multiple wrecks. This was his job. His future. He’d enjoy the small amount of time he had left with her, but he had to remember she was his responsibility. Whatever was between them couldn’t go anywhere.

It was almost impossible to trust her with so many secrets she seemed to keep.

10

Addie swiped her finger under her lower lip, straightening her fruit punch colored lip gloss. The bright lips should distract attention away from the dark circles under her eyes that her makeup had a hard time concealing. Three hours of beauty rest after six hours of late-night computer hacking didn’t leave her looking, or feeling, very cute.

But cute would have to wait.

She had a job to do.

Too bad she’d worked on Cameron’s job most of the night instead of logging into her server and doing the job that she’d agreed to do. What in the world had prompted her to offer to help? After a mini panic attack and a hot shower, she’d refocused on the overall outcome. She could help.

She pulled her high-heeled boots out of the closet, slipped them on, and zipped them up. A small ,usually ignored part of her wished she had a little time to lounge around in sweatpants with no bra, binge watchThe Real Housewives of Atlanta, and eat a big, carb-loaded bowl of sugary kids’ cereal and pick out all the marshmallows.

That’s how she imagined the other women ofWhite Rabbit.Complete computer nerds with forgiving elastic wardrobes.

Twisting and turning to see how she looked from all angles, Addie felt a sigh slip out with the thought. She picked this life. Perfect hair. Perfect makeup. Body…well, no one was really perfect after all. It all added up to one impressive cover.

She’d let it slip too many times with Cameron. The video footage sat on a server she could access through their computer. She hadn’t had an email address to send it to, so she’d agreed to show it to him this morning.

She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth before remembering the lip gloss. Too bad what should be a cover was an almost unrealistic expectation by those around her now. She didn’t know how to change her situation, though, and still, do what she loved.

White Rabbithad entirely unrelated expectations of her. Most of which she’d failed at this point. She’d hopedMiss Alice’slast message, announcing she get busy before she finds another job, stood as code for some other meaning. But her boss was a hard woman who’d probably scare the shit out of Addie if she’d ever meet her. That would never happen.

She straightened her pale pink sweater, adjusting the neckline to the right position. After an hour of getting ready, the smell of breakfast began to scream her name in a tribal chant that pulled her feet out of the door of the bedroom.

Following her nose, she found the origin of her first love. Coffee. No man would ever, honestly, come between her and a hot cup of java.

Mrs. Dempsey sat at the kitchen table with no makeup and a loose-fitting shirt with a slogan supporting the Statem Sheriff's Office.

“Good morning!” She pushed back from the table, the chair legs scraping against the tile. “I have coffee ready and biscuits in the oven.”

“I’d love some coffee.” The scent of heavenly carbs wafting from the oven tempted her. “And one biscuit.”

One.

She accepted a pink mug with tiny roses dancing around the lip. “I love these mugs.”

Mrs. Dempsey grinned. “I’ve been outnumbered by men for over thirty years. I try to remind them I’m a female whenever possible.”

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