Gamble on Engagement (14 page)

“Uh… no.” I looked up at her, stunned. “No
thank you.”

“Just let me know if you do,” she said, and
walked back into the store.

My mind was reeling with what she’d said.
Leo had been there that morning? And he only goes for the fresh
baking when he has a girl to impress? This girl? On the cover of
the tabloid? But… that would mean…

Nooo!

Oh God, this was so much worse than the
little brushing of the hand last night. This meant… okay, cripes! I
had no idea what it meant.

I quickly read the article. It talked all
about how Leo had been so attentive with his ‘new squeeze’ at the
club, which was just plain weird because if that was attentive, I’d
hate to see what non-attentive might be. I’d practically felt like
I was just an accessory the whole night, until we got to the
wildflowers, and then, after the initial awe wore off, there was
nothing but weirdness there too.

Though apparently, only for me.

Did the Prince actually think something was
going on last night? I mean, we’d had a bit of a flirtation going
on, but he had to know that was all in fun, right? Honestly, I
hadn’t even been that comfortable with the innocent flirting, and
then last night… well, that felt less innocent.

More importantly, if Leo did think something
had been going on, did he really think that was a date that went
well? At least well enough to think a nice, intimate little
breakfast the next morning was in order?

Thank God I had slipped away when I did.
Although… God, what about the book? I was going to have to keep him
as close as possible, feeling as comfortable as possible, if I was
going to get his story. But… how was I supposed to do that now if
he was going to be all… falling in love with me and stuff?

Okay, now I was really losing it. Having my
picture on the cover of two tabloids must have really gotten to me.
My head seriously must have been about the size of a beach
ball.

I pulled my diary out of the oversized purse
I’d thrown in the basket of the bicycle—I’d taken to keeping my new
one on me as much as possible after the incident with my roommate
back home—and got to writing.

Dear Disaster Diary,

I loved playing softball. There was nothing
more satisfying than feeling the crack of the bat making solid
contact with the ball and watching it sail over the fielder’s
heads. But the one thing I hated was that I was always stuck in the
outfield when it was the other team’s turn to bat.

But I was part of a team and I just kept
telling myself that I had to prove I was just as good as the girls
playing infield if I was going to have a chance to be a star
shortstop or first baseman.

It was so hot that day; the breeze was just
not cooperating, and the sun was beating down hard on my face. I
pulled my cap down further, hoping my nose wouldn’t get too
sunburned. You’d think with how hot it was, the bugs would stay
away, but every mosquito in the vicinity seemed to be buzzing
around my ankles since it was the only grass around for miles. And
that’s when I finally got my chance. A ball was hit hard, straight
up the middle over the head of the second baseman. It was coming
straight for me. Well, not straight for me exactly, but behind me,
over my head.

I started running.

I ran as hard as I could, forgetting all
about the heat, forgetting all about the bugs, focusing on nothing
but catching that ball.

My future in softball was at stake.

It was coming closer… closer… until it was
there, inches from my outstretched hand as I leapt into the air and
felt the satisfying thwack of the ball landing safely in the pocket
of my glove.

But, as with all things, what goes up, must
come down.

And come down I did.

Hard.

Right onto the outfield fence, somehow
flipping right over the waist high chain-link fence. Which could
have even been spectacular, me sacrificing myself for the good of
the team, except for the fact that when I went over, the waist of
my polyester ball pants caught on the tip of the fencing and, as I
came down, they peeled off me like I was a banana.

There I was, head hanging toward the ground
with my sensible white cotton clad butt hanging in the air, and
even more sadly… watching the ball roll feebly out of my glove.

After writing the entry, I was sure the
whole loading up on baked goods thing had to simply be a
coincidence. There was no way Leo would ever give me the time of
day if not for the fact that I was his ghostwriter. Besides, he
totally knew I was with Jake, so why would he even bother
trying?

A tiny thought that maybe Leo like the idea
of ‘winning’ a girl as if it were some sort of sick competition or
something flitted through my head, but I dismissed it as fast as it
came. No, Leo seemed much too upstanding of a guy to do anything
like that.

There was nothing left to do but go face him
and pretend like nothing ever happened. Because, you know, nothing
actually did.

I did, however, finish the Cinnamon Twist
because seriously, I could see why Leo liked them so much; they
were to die for.

With my belly full and my head clear of all
the silliness, I headed back to Gatesbury.

I needed to make things right with Leo, and
more importantly, I wanted to give my boyfriend a call and tell him
how much he meant to me.

~ 12 ~

The one thing about having a super famous boyfriend
who is super busy with filming, and rehearsing, and charity work,
and appearances, and tons of other stuff… is the fact that they are
really hard to get a hold of when you really want to talk to
them.

And it wasn’t like I had any sort of
emergency or anything where I
had
to talk to him, so I was
stuck just not being able to reach him at all.

Very maddening.

Especially when you haven’t been able to get
a hold of him for a day or two and you really, really miss him.

But I took a deep breath and told myself
everything was okay. He was just busy. He was one of the world’s
most famous actors, after all. And besides, I was busy too, right?
Yes, I said to myself, nodding once. I had a job to do here and if
I was ever going to write this damned book, I needed to get to my
Prince and get the story.

So I went wandering.

But Lord, the castle was still as huge as
ever and honestly, I had no idea where Leo might be. God, I was
supposed to be his autobiographer, to
be
him, and here I was
in his house, having known him for a weeks now… and I had no idea
what he might be doing.

I had no clue what hours he worked, or if he
even did work for that matter. Obviously, he must work… or at least
plan appearances or something, but then… why did he have Miranda?
Did she do
all
his work for him? And if she did, then, what
the heck did he do with all his time?

So I kept wandering, asking each person I
saw (except for Miranda, of course) if they had seen the Prince
anywhere.

Most of them just shrugged and shook their
heads like they hadn’t even understood what I’d said. I guess
they’d all been trained to keep things on the down low. Which was
weird, I thought, since, the only people they would be talking to
would be people who were actually at the castle in the first place,
so, wouldn’t they be privy to where the Prince was anyway? Unless,
apparently, you were just the lowly ghostwriter.

The fresh morning had started to turn into a
damp, gray afternoon, which seemed to nicely fit my mood. I kept
wandering the ever-darkening castle until my cell rang.

I answered.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Hey Mattie,” I said, fining a bench in one
of the random hallways.

“What are you doing over there? Do I have to
come to England and chaperone your ass?”

I sighed. Apparently the story about Leo
clubbing last night must have hit the US papers too. “No Mattie,
I’m doing just fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“Uh huh.” He said, though he sounded
anything but convinced.

“Really, Mattie, everything is fine.”

“Well, I’d believe you if I wasn’t sitting
here staring at a picture of you—a you that looks somewhat
different, I’ll give you that, but a you none the less—out on a
date with a certain Prince… except that I know it cannot be you
since you are already dating a very well known actor.”

“Shit, you could tell it was me?”

“Honey, I am your best friend in the world.
Of course I can tell it’s you.”

“Damn. The girl at the coffee shop this
morning had no idea.”

“The disguise isn’t bad, but come on. Anyone
who knows you well is bound to pick up on it.”

“God, I hope my mother doesn’t figure it
out. Of course she has no idea what I’m doing in England, and
hopefully she doesn’t read the tabloids, although I have a sneaking
suspicion she might have started after the whole Bridesmaid thing
began.”

“Look, you’ll probably be fine, but have you
thought about what Jake’s going to say?”

“What do you mean? Why would he even read
the tabloids?”

“Well, considering he’s on the front page of
most of them, I’d bet he picks them up every now and again. I mean,
does he even know who the subject of the book is?”

“Yes. I mean, I wasn’t even supposed to tell
you but you both have a way of… breaking me.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, seemingly quite
content about that fact. “But, if he does see it, have you thought
about what you’re going to tell him?”

“No.”

“Exactly. If I were you, I might just let my
famous boyfriend know it if there was a chance he might see me in a
tabloid or two with another man. And you know, tell him not to
worry since it was only for a job and there was absolutely nothing
else going on.” There was a bit of a pause while Mattie switched
gears. “And there is nothing else going on, right?”

I decidedly did not like the gears he’d
switched to.

I sighed. “No Mattie, there’s nothing else
going on.”

At least from my end, I thought, but didn’t
dare say anything about the Leo weirdness to him. It would only
send him into a tailspin of made up dramas. And if there was
anything Mattie liked, it was weaving a good drama. Honestly, it
didn’t much matter to him whether or not it might be true.

“Good,” he said, in a matter of fact way.
“Because the last thing I want to see is my best friend getting
hurt. And I just so happen to have a best friend who has a real
knack for getting in over her head.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,
best friend,” I said, emphasizing the last words to point out how
very un-best-friend-like he was being.

“Okay, I know I come off kinda harsh
sometimes, but I’m just worried about you, that’s all,” Mattie
pouted. “I hate that you’re all the way across the whole world and
I don’t get to be there to have your back.”

My heart melted a little. I actually was
pretty lucky to have a best friend who would worry so much about
me. I mean, I’d had a best friend before who I thought I could
trust, and boy was I wrong. But with Mattie, I knew he’d stick by
me no matter what. I mean sheesh, if he stuck by me after my most
embarrassing moments were fed to the world via newsprint just for a
couple of bucks (thanks a lot old best friend), then there was
pretty much nothing else he wouldn’t stand by me through.

“Thanks Mattie. I know you just want the
best for me. And speaking of… how are things with your love life
since I left?”

We chatted for a few minutes about Gary, his
new squeeze. Apparently Gary was stuck on a job driving around some
snotty teenage starlet these days and was none too happy about it,
even wishing he was still on my Bridesmaid driving duty.

I kind of felt bad for the guy, he was
really nice and didn’t deserve to have to go rushing around the
entire city just to find someone who sold Wild Cherry Slushies—not
cherry, but Wild Cherry—but I had no doubt that Mattie was doing
his very best to help him wind down at the end of the day.

I was sad to hang up. I hadn’t really
realized it, but I’d been so busy with everything around the
castle, and Spain, and London and everything, that I didn’t even
notice how little I’d talked to him, not to mention I’d hardly even
spoken to my fellow bridesmaid and new roommate Jennifer, and she’d
just moved into my apartment. God, sometimes I was such a bad
friend, no wonder Calla turned her back on me and betrayed me like
she did.

Okay, strike that, there was absolutely no
excuse in the world for her selling all my deepest, darkest secrets
to the highest bidder. But still, I was going to have to seriously
work on my friendship skills.

I tried the house, but Jennifer must have
been out. I quickly checked my watch, making sure I hadn’t
accidentally called her at like three in the morning or something,
but no, it was still a reasonable time, so I quickly dialed Jake
too.

No answer.

It had only been a couple days, but it felt
like a year since I’d talked to him. Maybe it was all the weirdness
with Leo that had me longing to hear his voice, and maybe there was
a little guilt there too. I had after all, told myself that I was
going to do anything to get the story and I
had
consciously
engaged in a little flirting, but it was all totally innocent.

Or so I thought until last night on the
hill.

And this morning at the bakery.

Ugh.

Maybe I shouldn’t go looking for the Prince
after all.

Of course, there was that niggling little
issue of you know, writing a friggin’ book about him.

I knew what I had to do. I had to go find
Leo and set the record straight. Make damned sure that he knew the
scoop about me and Jake, and that things between he and I had to
remain strictly professional.