Page 12 of The Road Trip Romance

“Later, Mom. We got it from here,” he says. I raise an eyebrow at him. But then I glance over to see another boy his age walking toward him. Dear God, we’ve enteredthatphase.

Lizzie waves as they walk inside. “Bye, Mom!” she calls out happily as Cal opens the door for her after being greeted by one of the women running the camp. The woman gives me a wave and I wave back.

Lizzie looks ridiculously small with her giant gear bag slung over her shoulder. I hate that I can’t spend more time with them. They are growing up way too fast.

Pulling myself together, I turn and get back into my car. “You sure you want to go to work with me?” I ask as I glance at Tate.

“I do,” he says. His eyes bore into me. I feel a blush creep across my cheeks at his intensity.

“OK, then,” I reply as I pull out onto the main road.

I turn up my playlist. By song number three, Tate turns to me.

“You have very eclectic music tastes,” he notices.

I laugh. “I suppose so.”

“You suppose so? The first song was rap, the second one was an eighties love ballad, and now we’re listening to grunge from the nineties,” he states.

Shrugging, I get off the highway and turn onto a side road. “I like what I like,” I declare.

“I like that you like what you like,” he says, his voice softening. I realize my last sentence was a little defensive.

“Soooo…why again did you decide to come here?” I ask because I have to know the reason, the real reason. It’s killing me. I just don’t get it. Celebrities don’t run away and hide in normal people’s homes.

“Like I said, I needed to get away and I wanted to meet you so we could talk business,” he explains. I steal a glance at him, but I can’t see his face. He’s staring out the passenger window.

“Yeah, but why me, and why now? You could have gone anywhere. I’m sure you have friends or family or somewhere else you could go for a bit. And you could have just gone to a hotel,” I point out.

“It’s going to sound crazy,” he starts. I don’t say anything, letting him continue. “So, I got into that fight with Warren Johnson. To be clear, Warren…isn’t a good guy and I saw him do something and I should have just dealt with it, not in that moment, but I just reacted. Anyhow, it blew up in the media, as you already know. Lacey is filming in Montana, and everyone kept asking where she was and I can’t tell them we broke up because, shit, I can’t even imagine the media shitstormthatwould bring. I just had to get away. All I knew was that I had to leave and go somewhere. So, I’m lying in my bed and your book is on my nightstand.” He pauses and I glance over at him again. This time he’s looking at me. “I loved your book. I don’t know why but I kept rereading it.”

“Can I stop you there for a moment? Are you normally a romance fan?” I ask because the fact that Tate Anders is admitting to loving my book and wanting to make it into a film is blowing my mind.

He shrugs. “I hadn’t read any before. Lacey left that on her nightstand, and I guess in the haste to feel connected to her when she left, I read it. And I loved it. So, I reread and reread it again,” he explains.

“OK, well, I wasn’t expecting you to be such a fan,” I admit.

“I’ll be blunt. I didn’t think I would be either, but you converted me,” he confesses with a small smile. “Anyhow, I finished the book again and something in me just screams that I need to make this into a movie, that this is a story that needs to be told. I called Carol and she got in touch with your agent. I asked for your address because…well, I might have internet-stalked you already and had your email. And I did email you, but from my business account. So, it probably went to spam. Hell, if I’m being honest, I guess I sort of wanted it to go to spam because I wanted to come here. I closed that book, and it was all I could think about. It was the first good thing I’d thought about in days…and I guess I sort of latched on to it in an unhealthy way.”

“Wow! A romance reader and a stalker with a temper. You are really selling yourself here, Anders,” I tease.

He chuckles. “Damn, when you say it like that, I sound like a psychopath.”

“I mean, if the shoe fits…” I trail off as I pull into my parking spot at the office.

“I guess I haven’t been doing so well, and for some crazy reason, I decided to show up at your house instead of trying to contact you in a normal way. I didn’t tell my friends or Carol or anyone. Shit, I do sound like a crazy stalker now that I’m saying that out loud,” he admits.

“Just a bit,” I say, holding up my fingers with a small space between my thumb and forefinger. “When you say you didn’t tell your friends or your agent, does that mean you’re technically a missing person?” I squeak, suddenly realizing all of Hollywood might be looking for Tate Anders in a matter of days if he doesn’t return home soon.

Tate reaches out and grips my hand. His hand on mine clears my thoughts momentarily and I look over at him. “Maybe I’m not missing anymore, Sophia. Maybe I’m finally found.”

Holy shitballs! Did he just deliver a line from my book to me?I blink and then blink again.

He leans forward and for the briefest moment I think he might be going in for a kiss but then his lips hover next to my ear. He smells amazing, like it’s not even fair how good he smells. A human shouldn’t smell that good.

“Do you think I could play the lead character, too? I mean, I delivered that line pretty damn well, right?” he whispers, his breath tickling my earlobe.

All of my lady parts light up like a dashboard in a car when the check engine light comes on. I swallow nervously.

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