Page 15 of Building What's Meant to Be

The answer to all of his questions is a resounding no, however, the way he saysclubso stiffly makes me want to giggle. Perhaps my friends have been ignoring me as people do before a surprise party so the tension builds and everyone thinks their friend forgot. Thenboom! They bounce out of their hiding places and shout,Surprise!

But no one appears from the darkness beyond the road. My headlights beam into the distance as the police officer’s lights spin on the roof of his patrol car.

This situation suddenly seems so absurd that I want to laugh.

But I don’t. I know better.

“You’ll have to come with me,” Officer Henley says.

If you’re smart...The federal agent’s words come to me, but this time I don’t heed them. “Sir, why are you arresting me?”

“For driving a stolen car. New York plates. Reported missing yesterday.” He clicks his tongue. “Not only that but you do not have a valid driver’s license...unless it’s 2015. I’m sorry to say this one expired quite a while ago.”

I bite my lip. “I usually use my passport for identification.”

“Can’t help you here. Please come with me.”

I am handcuffed and put into the back of the police car. My eyes tingle with tears, but I blink them back as we pass a sign that saysWelcome to Butterbury: a small town with a big heart.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

“I’m afraid not, Miss,” Officer Henley says.

I want to explain that I was here for the Fall Festival but keep quiet because now I don’t have a car, am stranded here, and will have to answer for my crime.

Fear trickles slowly over my skin and sticks like a spider’s web as the vague memory of Butterbury takes shape with its quaint Main Street. We pass a diner, a few shops, and the headquarters for the HLTV show Designed to Last. Looks like I can’t escape my past or show business.

The next minutes are a blur as I’m unceremoniously booked, am tested for alcohol, and have my mug shot taken—it’s not half bad even though my makeup has all but melted off.

Officer Henley locks me in a jail cell like a common criminal. Like Puma. I let out a long breath and then drop onto the wooden bench along the wall.

Maybe Taylor can bail me out. Or the feds. They can attest to my innocence. I would not object to Southern Agent either. He would’ve been incredibly handsome if not for the glare cast in the general vicinity of all criminal activity. He had cheekbones that would be the envy of any aspiring Hollywood Hunk, and lips that would’ve been delicious if he weren’t in what appeared to be a permanent scowl. His hair was tousled and brown with the slightest hint of red. I wondered what color his eyes were.

From across the room, the guy didn’t even notice me. Now, I’m a far cry from Malibu.

With a long sigh, I peer through the bars into a second cell. A manly, well-groomed man with an intense gaze glances at me and then away.

Now I know the answer to my question. Southern Agent’s eyes were blue. My stomach does a swoop. Shockingly, he’s in the cell next to mine.

Chapter Four

AIDEN

My gaze collides with the woman’s in the next cell like a slow-motion action shot. The clock on the wall above the window slows. Officer Henley’s voice takes on a drone-like quality. The fan moving back and forth on the desk goes at half speed. But my focus turns exclusively to her because she’s arrestingly familiar.

She has balanced features with clear skin and an angular jawline. My attention drops to her collarbones before it lifts to her lips. My eyes don’t know where to land. My pulse either. Now would be a good time to look at kittens online. But all my thoughts float out the window when I meet her eyes again. They’re big and brown and soft.

Eyes that make me forget to breathe.

But then my gaze drops to her dress covered in gold sequins, and I realize where I’ve seen this bombshell before.

I physically jolt like I was tasered. Then it’s as if the sudden awareness of my reaction resumes the normal forward motion of time. No, it goes at a breakneck pace because I was looking at photos of this woman yesterday, or was it the day before? The days and nights blur together since I went to Los Angeles,returned, and was arrested with no thanks to my nearest and dearest, but I digress.

Tinsley Humber looks at me with shock, curiosity, or a plea in her eyes—I can’t tell. Her big brown-eyed gaze is mesmerizing. Why she isn’t the star in every feature film is a mystery. But perhaps it’s because her expression refuses to settle, to focus. Whereas moments ago I saw shock, curiosity, or a plea, now there’s caution, possibly even fear.

Maybe it’s because of the obvious. We’re in a pair of jail cells—the only two in Butterbury, I might add.

Unless she is a hardened criminal in disguise, I imagine she’s as terrified as my sisters would be if they found themselves in the slammer. Which they will or my name isn’t Aiden Fuller King of Pranks.

---