Page 46 of Valentine Nook
By the time the sixth flies off its perch, a small crowd has begun to form behind me. But as I’m sure Lando’s guessed by now, this isn’t my first rodeo. In fact, he’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, a wide grin stretched over his face.
I don’t hate it.
I channel Tanner and all those times I’ve watched him play or practiced with him over and over in the backyard until the ninth ball hits the coconut square in the middle, and it topples to the ground.
A couple of people behind me clap. A group of boys step forward to give it a go of their own, while muttering it can’t be that hard.
I push the remaining bucket of unused balls over to Mike and hold my hand out.
Silently, he pulls an envelope from his pocket, places it in my palm, and grins wide. “I guarantee no one else is going to do that today.”
“Thank you,” I reply, turning to Lando whose eyes are open wide. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I can see he’s battling with himself while he tries to figure out a way to tell me he’s impressed without coming across as sexist or offensive. It’s kind of cute, so I decide to go easy on him.
“My twin brother, Tanner, plays baseball in the majorleagues. I was the one who practiced ball with him for hours and hours on end growing up. You learn some things.”
Lando nods slowly. “And what did you get out of it?”
“He practiced my lines with me.” I laugh. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first guy who’s underestimated me.”
Two deep creases appear between his brow, and his smile drops. “I don’t doubt that. And I’m certain it’s never a mistake made by the same person twice.”
The last part of his sentence is spoken with such sincerity that I can only shake my head in response.
As we say goodbye to Mike and turn to leave, a couple of boys have blocked our path. Though they’re not boys. They’re men, young men but still men.
One of them steps forward, phone in hand. “’Scuse me, are you Holiday Simpson? Can we get a picture?”
It was going to happen sooner or later. I’m not exactly hiding myself in the village, but for the past couple of weeks, there’s been peace in walking around undisturbed.
Any disappointment I feel, however, vanishes when I realize Lando’s stepped Rottweiler-like between me and the guys because his natural instinct is to protect. Even before he figures out what’s happening.
I place a hand on his arm to let him know I’m okay, then nod to the guys.
“Sure. No problem.”
I put on my best smile, the one I practice for moments like this. The one that’s shared and viewed millions of times over. It’s the one that everyone knows, that makes me look happy all the time. Friendly.
Hollywood’s Golden Girl.
But as my eyes flick to Lando and his scowl, my smile morphs into a wide grin. Right now, he looks like he wants to rip the guy’s arm off for slinging it around my shoulders.
“Thanks. Big fan. We loved your last film.”
“That’s kind, thank you. Thank you for your support,” I reply, easing away from them for their own safety, given the murderous expression on Lando’s face.
As soon as there’s a gap, Lando steps close to me again.
He stares until the guys have walked away out of sight, then turns us in the opposite direction, like he’s worried they’ll come back.
“Does that happen a lot?”
“Yes,” I reply, folding up the dinner envelope and slipping it into my purse. “Not as much as some actors because I keep a lower profile, but yes. First time here, though.”
“Must be annoying.”
I take a breath. I’m always careful to respond to comments like this in case it comes back to bite me in the ass. But with Lando, it sounds like he’s speaking from a place of experience. If that older lady from earlier is anything to go by.
