Page 31 of The Fangirl and the Playboy

“I just wanted a memento,” she says primly as color rushes to her cheeks.

“You’ve been filming BingBang videos with Gavin,” I remind her. “I’m sure you have pictures, too.”

Her lips tremble as she tries to suppress a smile, and I have a sudden urge to let it go. Like maybe I don’twantto know what she was up to.

She loses the fight and a wide grin spreads across her face. “Just something I like to do with Trace. Being bratty toward him has certain…benefits.”

“O-o-o-kay. That’s enough of that,” I say quickly. “How’s Pressley doing? When’s she coming back?”

Keegan’s evil chuckles ring out at my sudden subject change, then her face settles into a warm smile. “Next weekend, I think. We’ve filmed everything we need for the month, but she wants to come check out some real estate.”

“Real estate? She’s moving here?” I ask, excitement filling me.

“She’s thinking about it,” she answers after chewing another bite of her croissant sandwich. “Depends on whether or not she can find a place. With the Planter’s Vodka sponsorship going well, we’re starting to get offers from other companies, too, so she doesn’t have to get a day job. There’s nothing really holding her in Seattle. And it would be easier for us if she were closer.”

“That’s amazing, Keegan. I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m happier than I ever thought possible, but if she were to move here?”

She widens her eyes and shakes her head in wonder. Like having Pressley here in Evening Shade would make her almost-perfect life complete.

“Anyway,” she says, shaking off her euphoria, “Trace offered to let her rent one of his properties at a deep discount, but she refused. She wants a home she can call her own. I just hope she finds something fast, because her lease on her apartment in Seattle is ending in a few months, and if she doesn’t move out, she’ll have to sign on for another year.”

“It’ll work out,” I say. “I’ll light a candle and put together a pouch with some tiger’s eye and green jade stones for her to carry around with her for luck.”

“Thanks, Willow,” she says with real gratitude.

I’m used to most people––including my own brother––rolling their eyes at my belief in and practice of metaphysical arts, but Keegan has always been open-minded and accepting. It’s part of why we hit it off so quickly, becoming as close as long-time best friends within days of meeting.

We finish breakfast, and Keegan gives me a hug before taking off, saying she wants to check in with Trace at the inn before heading home. Once she’s gone, and I’ve cleaned up our dishes, I pull out my phone and re-read Gavin’s text messages about getting together to catch up.

Biting my lip, I quickly tap out a response.

Me:Sure, I’m free. What do you want to do?

ChapterSixteen

Gavin

Checking out my reflection, I run a hand over the scruff I’ve been growing since I’ve been in Evening Shade. When I decided to stop shaving, I’d hoped the facial hair would help disguise my face so people wouldn’t recognize me when I’m in town. It’s not really working, though. I still look like me…only hairier. I consider shaving, but a quick check of the time has me disregarding the idea.

Willow will be here any minute.

When she finally responded to my text this morning, I’d suggested hanging out here and maybe watching a movie, or something. She agreed, saying it was a deal if I’d order pizza, too. The pie arrived five minutes ago, loaded with pepperoni and mushrooms, just the way she likes it.

Or…likedit. Shit. Does she still take her pizza the same way she did a dozen years ago? People’s tastes change over time. Fuck, I should’ve asked.

A knock on the front door cuts off my thoughts, and I take a deep breath as I walk toward it. Lifting a palm to my mouth, I cup my fingers and blow into it before breathing deeply through my nose. Still fresh from its earlier brushing. Good.

Grabbing the knob, I inhale as I turn it and swing the door open. The breath comes whooshing out the second I lay eyes on Willow Bardin.

She’s wearing loose jeans and a baggy t-shirt. Her long dark hair is twisted up into a messy bun on top of her head, and her face is free of make-up. My mind goes blank as I take it all in, and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

Snapping out of the daze, I shake my head and step to the side. “Sorry. Please, come in.”

Fuck.She looks exactly like she did when we’d hang out together over a decade ago, and seeing her like this––so naturally beautiful andreal…

I’m literally speechless.

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