As I started walking back the way I’d come, my phone pinged with an email from my security company. I read it quickly. They wanted me to return to L.A. or to hire someone local to play bodyguard. I couldn’t do that. Besides the fact there was no need because hardly anyone knew where I was, it wouldn’t make a good impression on the locals if I had hired muscle following me around. I typed a quick reply, vetoing the idea, and sent it. I was safe here in Destiny Falls.

Chapter Six

LIAM

Miss yu Kenmedt. Why’d you have to rune evertng? - Unsent text message from Liam to Kennedy, after having had too many drinks

By Wednesday, I’d managed to go nearly two whole days in the same town as Kennedy Carter—Cox, or whatever she called herself—without seeing her again. Considering the size of Destiny Falls and the fact that she wasn’t making any attempt to keep to herself, that was a damn good effort on my part. Unfortunately, my streak came to an end when I walked out of the fire station at the end of a shift and found her standing outside, a cardboard box clutched in her hands.

“Hi.”

She hurried over to me, looking as drop-dead gorgeous as ever. Now that the shock of seeing her again had worn off, I noticed the regrowth of her brown hair beneath the bottle blonde she’d sported since becoming famous. I hated those dark roots. They reminded me of the girl I’d known. When she was perfectly styled and camera-ready, I could almost pretend she wasn’t the person I’d once loved with all my heart. Now, the past and present were coalescing in my mind, and it was ugly.

I ignored her greeting and moved toward my Ute. She trotted beside me. I glanced down at her feet and noticed she was wearing open-toed sandals with a sensible sole. Perhaps she’d suspected she might need to chase me.

“I have brownies,” she said.

I spun to face her. “Brownies?”

As if that could possibly make up for what she’d put me through.

She smiled, the expression so full of hope, it was painful to see. “They’re homemade.”

“I’m not interested in your bribery brownies.”

Since when did she bake? She never used to, and I couldn’t imagine Hollywood encouraging actresses to make junk food. She opened the container so I could see them. They smelled amazing, and my mouth watered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she replied. “Just listen for two minutes, and if you want me to leave after that, I will. You can have the brownies either way.”

Could I really be bought by brownies?