Page 393 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

ASPEN

I looked around, not sure what had bothered Luke.

“Hello, Derek.”

Oh. It was the woman approaching. She blended in with every other overly made up LA woman that I hadn’t paid her any special attention. Her using Derek indicated she only knew him as an actor.

“Lacey,” Luke said.

Lacey? This dark-haired Barbie doll lookalike was Lacey? She was the one who said she and Luke–no, Derek–were dating but when that didn’t work told the tabloids he was in rehab? That Lacey?

The one whose dark hair was surely half extensions. Her eyelashes looked like caterpillars had fallen from a tree and landed on her face. Her tan was… orange and it clashed with her pink sweatsuit. Her gaze raked over me like I was assessed, then deemed worthless.

But it was the smile she gave Luke that was fake–how white could teeth be?–and catty.

Oh, this bitch was going down.

“You’re looking good,” she told Luke.

“Thanks,” he replied, his voice deep and in a tone I’d never heard him use before.

The way he was eyeing her was full of disdain, although I had to wonder if he was using his acting chops not to call her out in front of an entire coffee shop.

“I was in Montana, in case you heard I might have been elsewhere.”

“I missed you at the premiere,” she replied, glossing over the veiled words.

“I’m Aspen,” I said, cutting in. “The girlfriend.”

This was what I was here to do, to make this woman go away.

I could cause a scene, but since Luke hadn’t started one yet, it was probably best if I pulled a Bergstrom.

I may have ditched the last name when I was pregnant with Sierra, but I’d been trained and trained well to live up to the family name, even though I’d failed.

Luke wasn’t the only one who could act.

“This is Lacey,” Luke told me, although he’d already said her name. Maybe he really thought I had no idea since I didn’t have a TV and she hadn’t been in the first season we saw the night before. “She works with me on NYC ER.”

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” I said, my voice laced with sweetness. What was the saying, you could catch more flies with honey?

She looked my way, and the smile was gone. “You’re from Montana?”

“Yes.”

“How… quaint.”

I noticed a man come up behind Lacey. Not too close, perhaps three feet back. He had a phone in his hand, and he was filming this. He didn’t look like they were together–he was dressed in jeans, Metallica t-shirt, and a ball cap–but I felt pretty confident this whole thing was a set up.

How she knew we were here, I couldn’t say. Maybe they followed us from his house. Maybe she knew he stopped here often. It didn’t matter. She was getting her opportunity to do… something. Poking at me was it. Most likely to make Luke react.

To get him to behave angrily or irrationally so it could be perceived he was on drugs or mean to her.

“Lacey,” Luke said, drawing out the name as a warning, but I turned into him so my chest was pressed into his side and I set my hand on his shirt. The possessive touch was pretty clear.

“A community is as rich as its people,” I commented, offering her a neutral smile.

Lacey frowned, or she tried to since her forehead seemed to be frozen, probably with Botox. My vague statement confused her.

Luke stilled beside me, then leaned in and whispered. “Tiger, what are you doing?”

“You know Derek was with me first,” Lacey said. “That you’re just a country bumpkin he’ll tire of.”

There was a distinct correlation between the volume of Lacey’s voice and the amount of noise there was in the coffee shop. No one was talking. No one was making coffee. Not a hiss of steam could be heard. Everyone was watching this live scene play out.

I felt Luke’s body tense.

“Lacey,” he said again.

I wasn’t falling for the drama trap. It was what Lacey wanted. Her aim wasn’t Luke any longer. It was me. She wanted me to respond. Maybe I’d yell. Or cry. Or throw a croissant at her. Or to get Luke to do all of that.

Not happening. I’d learned from the expert, Senator Marsha Bergstrom, on how to handle myself in sticky social situations.

I met the President when I was seven. I had to negotiate interactions with senators and members of Congress and CEOs and other boring people as a child.

Could I have done that without coaching?

No way. I’d had a social tutor starting at five.

Yeah, it was as awful as it sounded. But it was coming in handy right about now.

I patted Luke on his rock-hard abs. “It’s okay, baby.

” Then I gave Lacey my megawatt senator’s daughter smile.

“Derek’s fortunate to have such a great community surrounding him.

” I made sure to use Luke’s actor name. Pen name?

Stage name? “I know his working with you and the others on the show have made him the actor he is today. I’m so eager to see him in the movie role. Aren’t you?”

Lacey blinked. “Well, yes.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you stopped by and introduced yourself. When you’re in Montana next, be sure to look me up.”

I glanced up at Luke. He stared at me, and I wasn’t sure if he was incredulous, amused, or angry.

“I think our drinks are ready,” I said. “Shall we go?”

He nodded dumbly and I steered him toward the counter where our to-go cups were waiting.

“Oh, Lacey, wait,” I called.

She hadn’t moved.

“How about a photo of the three of us together? I know how much you like to share photos of you and Derek on social media. Your man there can take it for us, I’m sure. Oh wait, is he your boyfriend? Lucky you, he’s so handsome.”

Luke actually snickered as Lacey was caught out.

She had no choice but to acknowledge the guy, who it turned out was not her boyfriend–surprise, surprise–and stand with us to take a photo.

He probably already had a bunch, enough candids that could be sold to the tabloids.

Several random people in the shop stood beside him to take photos of their own of the three of us together and I was sure Lacey picked up on that.

This couldn’t be misconstrued as anything but what it was: co-workers meeting in a coffee shop.

Luke had his arm around me, and I turned my body into him so it was more than obvious we were an item.

I leaned across Luke so I could whisper to Lacey. “If you post shit about my man again, I won’t be so nice next time. You might think I’m a country bumpkin, but this tiger has claws.”

Luke growled as Lacey’s eyes narrowed.

“Good seeing you,” I said, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear, patting her on the surprisingly bony shoulder as Luke steered me toward the door.