Page 9 of When You Rescue your Celebrity Crush

Across the street, the front of Helmut’s lights up. Spotlights shine on the clock, the door above it, and the carved dancers on the balcony. The clock winds backward to seven fifty-five, then forward to eight. The door opens, and a big yellow bird pops out, cuckooing eight times. Then music plays—Edelweiss from The Sound of Music. The wooden figures turn and spin, and water pours out of a rectangular wooden conduit in the eaves, sloshing onto the wide blue blades. The wheel starts to move, spilling the water into a trough below with a musical splash.

I grab Matt’s arm. (See? I’m doing it again. Can’t help myself.) “Thank you! It’s just as amazing as I remember! Look at the men sawing!” I point at two wooden lumberjacks pushing and pulling a two-man saw. “And the couple kissing under the tree! And the dog!” The carved sheepdog holds a bone in its teeth, raising and lowering its head in time to the music.

Matt smiles, clearly enjoying making me happy. And the cycle is complete. I’m rewarded for using my feminine wiles on an unsuspecting fan. But no one got hurt, so it’s fine, right?

It’s really not like me to be so introspective. I’m a surface dweller. I keep things light and easy, never looking too deep. It’s served me well for most of my thirty years, and I’m not ready to change that now. I give myself a mental shake. Time to get back to normal.

The music stops and the spotlights go out. My eyes take time to adjust—Matt is barely visible. “I need to get back to the Ranch, I think. Thanks for walking with me.”

“No, thank you. Do you need a ride?” His voice is deep, like Blake’s, but with a slight burr the “Velvet Drawl” doesn’t have. It tickles my ear in an almost physical way, pleasant and a bit sexy.

I lift my phone. “I can call a QuikTrip.”

“You can try, but it’s hard to get one here.” He gestures at the empty street. “I can drive you home.”

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” And I’m not going to give a random fan my address.

His nose wrinkles. “I promise I won’t stalk you. You can check with my brother if you want—I’m trustworthy. How about this? I’ll take you out to the Ranch and drop you off at the Visitors’ center. Then you can walk home from there, and I’ll have no idea where your dad lives.”

His mention of Blake reminds me he isn’t a random fan. He’s the brother of another celebrity—a kindred soul. We may not know each other, but I’ve seen enough on social media over the last few months to know Blake Stein has experienced the same invasion of privacy I have. And his brother clearly hasn’t sold him out. Can I trust him to extend that favor to me? Based on what I’ve seen so far, my answer is yes. “Where’s your car?”

“Back at my house—I was walking home when I found you. Do you want to wait here while I get it or walk with me? It’s only a few blocks.”

I glance at the quiet store and the dark buildings around it, then take his arm. “I’ll walk with you. I don’t think Trevor is going to run the clock again.”

We stroll down the street, moving a bit faster this time. The wind picks up, biting into my cheeks and neck. A little tremor runs through Matt’s flannel-encased arm. “Are you cold? I should give your jacket back.” I reach for the zipper.

He puts a hand up. “I’m fine. But if we walk a little faster, I’ll be finer.” He chuckles at his own words.

I pick up my pace, and he matches it. We cross the cobblestone plaza in silence and cross the street. He hesitates at a dark arch between two buildings. “This is a shortcut—if you trust me.”

“I trust you.” And I do, for some reason. More than I should, probably. But I’m a pretty good judge of character. “Lead on.”

“There’s a courtyard back here, and it’s lighted.” He starts forward, pulling me with him as I’m still holding his arm. “It’s only the alley that’s dark. Although, going into dark alleys with strangers is one of those things I warn my daughter against.”

“How old is your daughter?” We step into the dark, arched alley between the Alpine Coffee Shop and a bistro named Swiss Cheese, Please. At the back of the building, it opens out. Lights shine from the windows onto a half dozen cars parked diagonally against the walls. At the far side, a slight ramp leads to the street.

“She’s twenty. Almost twenty-one. She’s a sophomore at University of Oregon. Go Ducks.”

I adjust my estimate of his age upward a few years. Still right in my range. I tend to date older men—my therapist says I have daddy issues. Not exactly breaking news.

I give myself a mental head-slap. This man is not dating material. He lives in the middle of nowhere and has a daughter. I date actors, and only those without any baggage. At least, no current baggage. Nearly all actors have a long string of exes, but children are a big no-no for me. I remember how my father’s multiple marriages impacted me as a kid.

But twenty isn’t a child—cut the crap, Nica. Accept a ride home, but that’s as far as this is going. Matt Hertzsprung is a very nice man who doesn’t need my brand of crazy in his life. And I don’t need any complications right now. My career is finally heading in a new direction. Don’t get me wrong, I love being the queen of the Romance Channel, but what actress doesn’t dream of making it on the big screen?

We cross a couple more streets and turn into a residential area. All the houses here are cookie-cutter, but in a Swiss Alps style, with steep roofs, carved wooden balconies and big window boxes. It’s hard to tell in the dim light—there aren’t any streetlamps here, just fixtures beside front doors—but they appear to be pastel colors with light wood trim. Matt takes me down a side street and stops in front of one.

“Here we are. Come on in.” He hurries up the walk and unlocks the front door. With a flick of a switch, the entry light comes on.

I hesitate on the sidewalk.

“The car is in the garage. You can wait here while I pull out, if you want.”

I hold up a hand as I move toward the front step. “No, it’s fine. I either trust you or I don’t.”

He smirks. “Going into a stranger’s house is another thing I’ve warned Eva against.”

“Hopefully she listens better than I do.” I step past him and into the home. The small entry opens into a living room full of comfortable-looking furniture. The house is surprisingly well kept for a single man.

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