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Chapter Twenty
Harper
I needed coffee, something strong with an extra jolt of caffeine. Last night I’d spent it at the shitty motel, alone. Lincoln and I had grabbed dinner and drinks at the nearby bar after we finished rafting.
He may have been hot, but he’d lied to me.
Lincoln worked security for the production set along with his buddies.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been angry, but why hadn’t he told me?
Had he known who I was when we had first stumbled into each other at the coffee shop?
Here I was again, in dire need of a shot of caffeine. On my way to the set, I stopped at the local coffee shop where I’d first ran into Lincoln.
What were the odds I’d see him again today?
Probably pretty good, but that was when I got to the set. Thankfully, this morning he wasn’t here.
I breathed a sigh of relief and headed straight to the register to give my order to the girl behind the counter. Her name tag readSkylar.
It was the same girl who butchered my name the last time.
Wonderful.
“Harper?” An unfamiliar voice stepped up behind me in the line to order.
Finishing my order, I slid my credit card into the chip reader before glancing over my shoulder. “Yes?”
I didn’t recognize the gentleman with short-military cropped hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He wore blue jeans and a dress shirt and barely looked out of high school. “Charles Stone, I’m with the Hollywood Chronicle.”
He pulled out of his jeans pocket his lanyard with his PRESS credentials.
Inwardly, I groaned.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked.
Behind him the shop door opened and Lincoln headed inside.
Could this day get any worse?
“Are you stalking me?” I shot at Lincoln before returning my attention to the news reporter.
He wasn’t a local.
The Hollywood Chronicle was an entertainment magazine based out of Los Angeles, which meant Lincoln wouldn’t have recognized him. “Yes, join me, Charles. I’ll grab us a table,” I said a little too loudly for Lincoln to hear.
I snatched my coffee from the counter and hurried to sit down.
Charles skipped the line and grabbed a chair.
Smart man.
He probably was worried I’d change my mind.
I also was on a time crunch, which he seemed to recognize. I sat across from Charles at the round table, one leg propped over the other, staring past him at Lincoln.
Lincoln scowled as he ordered. Every so often, glancing back in my direction.