Page 19

My phone rings again.

Nova.

I answer with a groan. “You calling to make sure I’m packed already?”

“No,” she says dryly. “I’m calling to ask if you’ve made up your mind.”

I pause for a beat. My eyes flick to Mia’s photo again—the one where she’s dancing in the rain, eyes squinted shut in joy.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’ll go to Bardstown.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then—“That’s great, Jack. But before you head there, I need you to do something.”

“I don’t like the sound of this already.”

“You have to go over to Mia’s hotel and smooth things over.”

I sit up straighter. “Excuse me?”

“She’s doing us a favor.”

“No. She’s getting paid.”

“Jack,” Nova sighs. “Your introduction was… less than ideal. You need to fix that. Get on the right foot.”

I groan, dragging my hand over my face. “Can’t we just skip to the part where she hates me quietly, and I do my part from a safe distance?”

“Jack.”

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.”

“Tonight.”

“Of course tonight.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

She hangs up.

I stare down at Mia’s file one more time, then rise from the couch with a sigh. Guess I’m apologizing to the woman who called me “Hollywood’s most hopeless case.”

Fantastic.

MIA

Istep out of the bathroom, steam curling behind me like lazy clouds, and tug my plush robe tighter around my waist. The phone is pinned between my shoulder and ear, Emma’s voice chirping on the other end as I towel-dry my hair.

“—I’m just saying, Mia, this could be big. Like,bigbig.” Emma sounds like she’s practically bouncing with excitement, her words bubbling through the speaker. “Do you know how many people would kill to have a celebrity land in our little town?”

“Trust me, I’m painfully aware,” I murmur, dragging a hand down my face as I glance around the hotel room.

It’s small, nothing flashy. The walls are beige, the carpet’s seen better days, and the lamp on the nightstand flickers like it’s trying to decide whether to give up. I’d turned down Nova’s offer for an upgrade. There’s no point wasting money when I plan to leave as soon as this whole madness is sorted. My suitcase is still half-open in the corner, spilling out sweaters and the book I never got around to reading. I flop onto the bed with a groan.

“Are you sure I did the right thing?” I ask quietly.

“Absolutely,” Emma replies without hesitation. “You’re doing this for the shop. And the kids. It’s not about Jack Calloway.”

I wince at his name. Just hearing it makes my stomach twist. “Yeah, but working with him? Emma, he’s… ugh. Everything I hate about Hollywood wrapped in one perfectly symmetrical face.”