Page 11 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

Connor knew I was stopping by Mr. Gowan’s house this morning. I didn’t have to worry about racing off to work. It was a random Tuesday, and though the post-holiday, pre-Valentine season was typically slow, the store had been busier than usual. I had to go through inventory, call the chandelier company about the broken crystal in Mrs. McNulty’s newpièce-de-résistance, check the new linen order, and—

I resurfaced when Enid swung the front door open just as an official-looking pristine black Escalade with tinted windows pulled onto Mr. Gowan’s circular gravel driveway.

OMG.This was really happening.

A petite brunet alighted from the passenger side first. She adjusted her stylish sunglasses and pulled a red messenger bag over her shoulder. I couldn’t help noting that her bag matched her lipstick and ballet flats, which somehow made her boring jeans and plain white tee ensemble seem effortlessly chic. And her chunky jewelry was gorge.

A ginormous bear of a man with military short brown hair rounded the vehicle from the driver’s side. He was roughly the size of three of me, but all muscle. The dark suit, headset, and scowl indicated he was the bodyguard-slash-enforcer. A second man of equally imposing stature exited from the second row. He surveyed his surroundings and nodded curtly to the woman, who finally turned to the house, a polite smile fixed in place.

“Good morning. I’m Janet Kapowski. You must be Enid.”

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Gowan is in the house. I’ve made coffee and tea and—”

“This will be a short visit,” she intercepted. “I’ve allotted twenty minutes, which should give Pierce and Mr. Gowan a chance to meet and take a few photos.”

“Oh. All right.”

Janet briefly glanced my way. “There are just two of you, correct?”

“Yes.”

“A quick reminder to refrain from overly personal questions or queries regarding future films, and no unauthorized photos, please. If at any point those requests have been compromised, I’ll end the visit immediately. Understood?”

Enid and I nodded, sparing a covert WTF look as Janet signaled to the bodyguard standing at the SUV.

A moment later, the door opened and—nothing happened.

Janet didn’t seem bothered. She pulled her sunglasses off and made a production of sliding them into a protective case.

Still nothing.

Just when I thought they’d forgotten to bring the big cheese, an Italian loafer hit the gravel.

One loafer.

I held my breath because…Wow! This was like a scene in a movie come to life. I could practically feel the tension on the set as the actors awaited their cue. Action was unfolding, and we were privy to history in the making.

Fuck, I hope I don’t faint.

A second loafer later, a man wearing designer jeans and a sharp navy sport coat over a crisp white oxford shirt emerged. He slipped his cell into his pocket and a smile onto his sinfully handsome face as he pivoted on his heels and marched toward us with his right hand outstretched.

Ay, dios mío.

It was him—Pierce Allen, mega movie star, box office sensation, A-list celebrity, and arguably, the most famous man in the world…two feet in front of me, greeting Enid warmly with roguish dimples, beautiful blue eyes, and a mouth that promised all kinds of deliciously sinful deeds.

“It’s so good to meet you, sir,” Enid gushed, clasping both of Pierce’s hands.

Pierce grinned, gently extricating himself from her grip. “It’s nice to meet you, too. And it’s just Pierce, please.”

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry. That’s silly of me,” she twittered like a schoolgirl, blushing five shades of pink that somehow didn’t clash with her outfit. “Pierce, it’s an honor. Thank you for coming to see Mr. Gowan. He thinks so highly of you and your work. I was stunned when he said he knew your family.”

“Me too,” Pierce replied in a low tone.

“Yes. I’ll let him fill you in on—”

“Mind if we talk inside?” Janet interrupted, tilting her chin toward the street. “I don’t think we were followed, but it’s best to be safe. We don’t want to deal with paparazzi this morning.”

Enid escorted Pierce, Janet, a photographer, and a bodyguard into the foyer. I brought up the rear, locking the door, then slinking as close to Pierce as I dared without being overly intrusive. I had a feeling I might get booted, and I wanted to make sure I got that selfie first.