Page 103 of Rumor Has It

Isaiah’s security detail is supposed to arrive in an alternate vehicle. I’m about to suggest it’s silly and the six of us can ride together, when I see Bellamy shake her head at me. She stops herself from planting a tooth in her lipstick and ruining her makeup. Red seeps up her collarbone.

Ew.

Isaiah releases an inelegant snort.

“What?” I ask, my ears burning as the others file out of the suite. The door to the second bedroom is closed so Aria doesn’t get upset seeing us leave.

He keeps us a few paces behind, walking to the elevator, teasing, “For someone who isn’t shy in the bedroom, your reaction is funny.”

“Other people can have as much sex as they want. I dipped in the dating pool for a long time and just decided as a single person I didn’t want to hear about it or be aware of when it’s happening... Between the men Rhiannon picks up and the stories that circulate about Bellamy and Gatlin’s exhibitionism—”

“Wait, those are true?” he shout-whispers with a raised brow.

“I don’t know!” I squeak. If Isaiah has heard the rumors, perhaps they have merit. “He’s your friend. Ask him. Then keep it to yourself.”

“Would you…” his voice trails suggestively.

“I seem to recall you have a certain fantasy about a picture window.”

“So that’s a ‘yes’.” His grin is full of mischief.

I twist from his grip, cautious as I walk the final few feet backwards. I lick my lower lip—letting his pupils flare—and I leave it at that.

The elevator ding isn’t what makes Isaiah speed up. It’s catching me by the waist.

We meet Uncle Cris outside the hotel under the portico. In a strange turn of events, a humble Isaiah takes our family picture to send to Aunt Daveigh and everyone at Kingsbrier.

“We’ll be about twenty minutes behind you,” Gatlin says as we load into the cars.

The auditorium is five minutes away at most.

My nose wrinkles and Isaiah snorts again, helping me into the limo and taking his place snug at my hip with an arm around me.

“Nervous?” he asks, approaching the venue.

“How much should I tip the limo driver to take me back to the hotel?”

“You’ll do great. Do you need a minute? We can circle the block like Gatlin and Bellamy. I have a few tricks up my sleeve guaranteed to take the edge off.” Isaiah brushes his thumb over his chin and winks.

“Don’t go there. That’s my cousin you’re talking about.” I remove his hand from his face.

He’s skittish, wanting everything to go our way as well.

Isaiah kisses my knuckles, flashing me a broad grin. His brown eyes dance.

When he’s happy, I’m happy. When we’re silly with one another, I’m happy. He’s always patient with me and has been in tune with helping me to relax and be comfortable in any situation. It’s ridiculous to think my anxiety over public appearances will ever go away, but I haven’t found this level of contentment with anyone. We’ll make it through tonight, and every other night, because we trust what we have and we’ve grown to rely on each other.

He brushes his soft lips over mine as the driver pulls up to the curb.

Vespa’s instructions were that Isaiah was the celebrity fans were coming to see, therefore I needed to exit the limo first. We break the rule when Isaiah opens the car door. He gets out, waves to the throng of excited country music listeners assembled on the street, and turns around to interlace his fingers with mine. My heel hits the ground and I grip his palm, feeling like a princess in a carriage. My breath comes in quick bursts, matching the flashbulbs going off in blinding succession.

An event manager with an earpiece and dressed from head to toe in black draws us further along the red carpet. We’re right behind my uncle and my bestie. Rhiannon claps for us as the crowd roars. Uncle Cris puts a solid thumb up in Isaiah’s direction, indicating to the reporters he has nothing but good things to say.

Joy paints their expressions, and I return a genuine and excited grin.

Paparazzi shout Isaiah’s name as we pause for pictures. They call my name, vying for a front page shot.“Look here, Miss Cavanaugh… Over this way, Cassidy.”Instead of ignoring their presence, as is my habit, I tilt my chin left and right. It’s as exhilarating as it is overwhelming. I wish the attention they give me stayed where it is. Fifteen minutes of fame is easier to deal with than photographers chasing you down the street.

The event manager leads us to a female correspondent from an entertainment show. Vespa gave me ample notice this will be one of many stops we’re expected to make along the red carpet. It’s obvious the woman is thrilled she’s the first to snag Isaiah Roomer.

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