Love and Rumors: A Summer Sisters Beach Reads Contemporary Romance (The Summer Sisters Book 1) (3 page)

Hailey cringed, knowing her sister was about to launch into her sappy, let-love-cure-the-world philosophy which in her current mood would make her say something that would hurt Daphne’s feelings.

Across the street, Finian was stretching, looking as though he was preparing to vanish on her. Hailey tried to breathe past the tightness in her chest as the pressure built within her. She squeezed her eyes shut until the burning passed. “I have to go. Now.”

Finian was walking away, as the rain let up to a light drizzle. She was going to lose him.

“Hailey, I love you.”

She turned to her sister and niece. “I’ve got to run. I have work to do.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Daphne said. “We’re rescheduling the Canada Day picnic on Nymph Island because of the rain, and because Maya got called into work.”

“Okay.” Hailey stepped away.

“We’re thinking of having it in a day or two.”

“Okay.”

“When do you need this year’s tax money for the cottage?”

She paused and cleared her throat. “Um, before the end of the month.” Guilt rose within her as she thought about how Daphne’s portion of the annual tax bill and back taxes would not only clear out her savings for taking Tigger to Florida, but would make going to the cottage the only vacation she could afford from now until her daughter grew up and went off to college.

“I heard taxes went up. How bad are they?” Daphne drew Tigger close.

“Not too bad,” Hailey lied. “Maybe you can call in some honorariums with your environmental work or something?” Her niece’s bright eyes flicked between the two, and Hailey stepped closer to lightly tap Tigger’s nose. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you to Florida little monkey.”

Tigger grinned and began bouncing around on the sidewalk, singing about airplanes, Disney World and her mom.

Hailey glanced down the street, her shoulders sagging. Finian was strolling along, hands in his pockets, kicking an empty Tim Horton’s coffee cup. He caught her eye over his shoulder, beckoning her to go save her family.

* * *

What kind of cut-rate paparazzo was this girl with the crazy hair, anyway? Finn had seen her following him off and on all week, her massive camera bag always over her shoulder. A few minutes ago, he’d ducked into an alley, hoping she’d follow, and mindlessly tried door handles on fancy cars as though seeking a joyride. Thankfully, none of them had opened. Until the Jag. But by then he’d given up on her helping him into the tabloids and had, instead, walked away.

What did he have to do to get her to take shots of him?

Right now, when she could easily be stalking him, she was across the street chatting with someone, her hair growing frizzy from the rain. He began to stroll away, noting her panic and how she tried to extricate herself from her conversation with the woman and child.

Gotcha.

Maybe she had potential after all. He paused for a little fake window-shopping, allowing her to catch up. In the reflection he watched as she stopped at a food truck to purchase a cup of coffee, chatting with the vendor as though they were friends.

How was she going to aim that big camera at him if she was drinking coffee? What kind of paparazzi did they have in Canada, anyway? He ought to stomp over there and give her a few tips.

He hadn’t been mentioned in a single tabloid—other than the odd post-breakup speculative whisper—since coming to Bala. Even after three days of this lady tailing him.

And yeah, sure, he’d selected Canada because he needed downtime to sort out who he was and where he was going with his life. But he hadn’t been expecting to slip out of the spotlight in doing so. He’d just broken up with Jessica Cartmill and finished a movie. It shouldn’t be easy to lie low.

Either that, or him breaking up with Jessica, a beloved star since the day of her debut, back when she was three years old, wasn’t earth-shattering news as he’d assumed. Their breakup had come as a shock to the public, but instead of milking it he’d fled to what turned out to be backwoods Canada, where the paparazzi preferred to drink coffee rather than snap shots of him.

Maybe Jessica had been right. Maybe he
was
nothing without her.

His phone rang and he whipped it out, frowning as the rain started up again. His agent, Derek Penn, probably wondering why Finn hadn’t delivered anything fresh for the celebrity news.

As if he needed that kick in the nuts right now.

“Yo! Finnegan!”

“Finian. Finn,” he reminded him kindly. Finn cooled his temper, telling himself that he worked with Derek because the man was great at building stars. Derek knew who Finn needed to align himself with. What to do—and when—in order to keep his name out there, build his image, and which rung he should climb to take him up the ladder to A-list notoriety. Then on to the Hot List. No more B or C, or heck, D list for him. He was so close he could smell it. And it smelled like irresistible women hungry for him. Redemption. And cash. Lots of much needed cash.

“You haven’t been in the rags in almost a week, man. What’s up? I know you’re chilling out and mending your broken heart and all that B.S., but you can’t leave the planet. People will forget you exist.”

Finn’s heart thundered at the thought. If fans started wondering what had happened to that guy who was in all those action movies, everything would crumble. Not just his finances, but his promises. He’d be a broken man sent right back to the horrible place he’d struggled to escape.

He spun in a slow circle on the sidewalk. Not a camera in sight.

Goddamn it. He kicked over a trash can and stalked on down the street. When he turned, a family was clustered around the barrel, righting it and placing the refuse inside. Canadians. They were making him feel guilty when he was supposed to be a man with no regrets and certainly no remorse.

Finn paused, spotting his little shadow with her face buried behind her phone as she sipped her coffee. She glanced at him, frowned at her cell, and continued on past him.

Maybe she wasn’t a paparazzo. Maybe she was just a fan. A stalker. Though, she seemed much too indifferent for that. Those women did a lot more giggling and bumping into him. He’d be eating a meal, lost in his own world, and suddenly look up to see an excited face shining with the thrill of having locked eyes with him.

That was surreal in a way that made him shudder every time. It was as though they were looking into a pool where their own wishes and dreams were being reflected back at them. They weren’t seeing him, they were seeing a man he could never truly be, and they expected so much from him. Things he couldn’t give.

“And dude, what the hell’s up with your tweets? They’re like friggin’ cotton candy, they’re so sweet,” said Derek.

“What do you mean?”

“A puppy?
Really
?”

“What? It was cute.”

“Yeah, but a golden retriever? Are you trying to kill me?”

Finn smiled. “I’ll have you know that got over seven hundred retweets.”

“Finn, man, listen to me. Bad boys don’t tweet cute puppy photos. They tweet beer bongs and cleavage, and their hundred-and-forty characters are loaded with swears. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Finn stared at the cracked sidewalk. He knew what men from the wrong side of the tracks did. He just couldn’t seem to stay in the role. That was probably why he had fallen off the planet. He sucked as an actor.

He let out a jagged sigh and stared up at the rain clouds. Cool drizzle landed on his face, weaving its way through his stubble.

Maybe that was the problem. If he pretended to be a bad boy long enough, he might succeed and become the people back home. The people he’d promised not to become. And tweeting out crap felt like going back on the promises he’d made himself. It was though he’d be taking a step back to the place he’d struggled to leave behind.

“Find someone with a camera and get back in the rags, man,” Derek continued. “You can’t afford a vacation, not for the next five years. You’ve got to get high in the rankings or your next paycheck will see a decrease. You gotta keep dry-humping the ladder until you own the Hot List. You want it, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then get your ass in gear. Do you need me to leak part five of the plan? Because if you can’t handle this and I leak it now—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Derek. The fall will come too soon. I won’t stick to the top, career is over, et cetera, et cetera.”

Finn didn’t like Derek’s elaborate plan for falling from grace, but it had worked for a ton of his stars when their careers had started to flag. Stars who never quite made the A-list, but nevertheless enjoyed one last hip-hip-hooray joyride on the fame train before drifting off into oblivion where they belonged. Washed-up nobodies living in obscurity. People like him who just missed becoming a household name.

But Finn wasn’t ready for that. He wanted to climb to the top and hang in there for as long as he could. He had too many changes he’d vowed to make in the neighborhood where he grew up. Once he fulfilled those promises, then he could fall from grace. Then he could let Derek give him that little bonus bump before vanishing into obscurity, his bank account bursting. His promises and family taken care of.

Finn studied his little shadow with the wild curly hair. She
had
to be more than a nature photographer which was what he’d first suspected since tourists didn’t walk around with that kind of equipment slung over their shoulder. And she wasn’t taking pictures of the stunning woods and water scenery that surrounded them. No, this girl was a serious photographer. The problem was, he’d yet to see her take a single shot of anything.

He shook his head, phone still clutched to his ear. It didn’t matter who she was. It mattered who she would become.

He stepped out from under a green and white striped awning, wishing for some crazy drunken revelry he could crash. It was their Canada Day long weekend, which should mean party time, but he hadn’t come across a single party to dig into. They were having cake.

Politicians, who nobody had heard of, were cutting cake and taking complaints about garbage pickup. Kids eating cotton candy, with red maple leaves fake tattooed on their cheeks. No floozies in short skirts. No drugs. No booze. Just beautiful nature and a sleepy town sandwiched between rocks, trees, and water. A bunch of kind, warm-hearted people doing lovely, family-oriented things.

No wonder Derek wanted to hold his hand through all of this. Finn had come to familyland for his vacation, not bad-boy nirvana. His cottage might be crazy expensive, but he was having a hell of a time finding temptation.

He “uh-huhed” into his phone as his agent rambled on about his image. Running a hand through his hair, Finian shook off the light drops of rain. Only a cloud or two remained in the sky. Nothing to spoil the face painting.

“I’ll get a flight out of here soon if I can’t scare up some stories, but I think I might be onto something,” he promised just before he pocketed his cell, the devil on his shoulder drumming up a plan to get him in the tabloids.

If he couldn’t get this gal following him to take shots on her own and sell them, then maybe they could collaborate. Stars did it with paparazzi all the time. He could have his quiet vacation and still stay in the tabloids.

He changed course suddenly, heading to the first bar he saw. The woman with the windswept hair noted his movements and followed.

Gotcha again.

He reached the steps to the bar, planning to go inside, have five rye and Cokes in quick succession, and see what Canada had in store for a drunken celebrity early in the afternoon. A throng of people suddenly surrounded him, cameras raised. He flinched, adrenaline surging through his veins. Holy hell. Where had they come from and how had they trapped him so quickly? They’d slipped out of the bush like moose or mice or something.

He shook off the fear and gave the crowd a crooked grin, knowing his two-day stubble was making his blue eyes sparkle in contrast.

Finn waited. Nobody snapped a photo. What the hell? Had he stunned them all with his craggy good looks?

“Uh…” He held open the screen door, making an ushering motion so the crowd could enter the bar. “Going in?”

“Are you Finian Alexander?” asked a teenager.

“Yup.”

“Can we take your photo?” asked a breathless granny, a camera clutched to her ample chest.

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. What the heck was up with these people? They appeared out nowhere, pressed in on him, all eerie and silent, and then asked if they could take photos? Didn’t they realize his fame had put him in the public domain, and they could take a shot of him taking a crap in the woods and he wouldn’t have a case for them invading his privacy?

They lined up like obedient kindergarteners, making room for each other, polite and quiet. His nature-nut shadow wove through the group, her hair still in knots, her face buried behind her phone. She glanced at him with dazzling eyes that took his breath away, then frowned at her phone again as she came up the steps to where he was holding the door. She apologized to someone nearby, although he couldn’t figure out why.

Finn gave her a little bow and smile as she met him on the landing, and shot her a wink. She blushed and looked away. So very cute.

He began envisioning ways he could woo her. Have a little affair, wrap her around his finger so he could break up the boredom of this peacefulness. They could collaborate, or if that didn’t work, he’d get her to betray him by releasing a story of how he was a jerky badass. Somehow he’d find a way to get her to spin a story of his making, which would hit the rags and thrust him into the limelight. Just in time for his upcoming summer blockbuster release.

He shot her a massive grin as she moved through the doorway, and gave her a playful tap on the butt. Her eyes grew wide and she took a quick, unsteady sidestep before making it into the dimly lit bar.

Easy bait.

Plus she looked like she needed a drink. Even easier.

Finn shook his head and followed her inside. She looked so serious he wanted to pry her open, expose her to fun and make her smile.

Preferably while naked.

Yep. This vacation was about to get a whole lot more promising.