Page 14 of Sweet Obsession (Honeysuckle, Texas #5)

Blake stared out the kitchen window, nursing his second cup of coffee and watching the morning light stretch across the Sweet Ranch.

Two days had passed since Jillian’s rescue mission to his grandmother’s house, and while some of the reporters had apparently gotten bored and moved on to more interesting celebrities, like vultures waiting for roadkill, too many were still lurking around Honeysuckle.

Today was the day. Dr. Crawford’s appointment was scheduled later this afternoon in Miller’s Creek. Somehow they had to get his grandmother there without creating a media circus that would follow them all the way to the specialist’s office.

“Any brilliant ideas brewing in that coffee?” Alice slid a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him and another in front of her daughter.

“Still working on it.” Blake picked up his fork, though his appetite had pretty much disappeared along with his peace of mind. “We can’t exactly waltz out the front door with Grams and hope nobody notices.”

“We could maybe do it in waves?” Jillian shrugged. “I could pick Ms. Sara up and maybe take her to the beauty parlor, get her nails done. Then come back to get you, while Mom goes into town to pick your grandmother up. They’ll never think anything of Mom and your grandmother.”

“Not a bad idea,” her mother nodded, “then we can all meet up somewhere out of town and y’all head to the doctor and I’ll head home.”

“Something like that.” Jillian stabbed at her eggs.

The plan had possibilities. “Better than just waltzing out the door with her.” Though, after his misjudgment on how this talk to the press would go, he was leery to follow any new plan.

Brady, who had been dozing by the back door, suddenly lifted his head. His ears snapped to attention, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

Coming down the steps, Kade’s gaze narrowed at the unsettled dog. “What is it, boy?”

“At least we know it’s not you coming home for a surprise visit.” Their mother’s tone was teasing yet laced with just enough reproof for not having let her know he was coming home. Her gaze turned toward the dog.

Brady rose to his feet, a rigid line from nose to tail. He paced a tight, agitated circle, his gaze fixed on the front windows, the fur along his spine raised. The growl deepened.

Blake set down his coffee cup.

Staring at her son’s dog, Alice’s spine stiffened.

Jillian shook her head. “Something’s not right.”

Everyone now on their feet, focusing on the dog, the source of Brady’s distress became clear. A figure, silhouetted against the graying dawn, crept across the front lawn, slowly approached the house, and foolishly pressed their nose against the living room windowpane.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Alice practically growled herself. Wiping her hands on her apron, she marched to the living room. Her expression anything but motherly. It was pure, unadulterated fury.

Blake thought she was going to open the door and let Brady take care of the unwelcome guest. He should have known better. Instead, the woman had gone straight to the gun cabinet, and retrieving a standard shotgun, cocked the loaded weapon.

Years ago, he could have seen Charlie Sweet doing exactly that to protect his family. No sane human being dared mess with the family of a rancher.

By the time Alice crossed the room and flung the front door open, her gun at her shoulder, aimed at the idiot, Kade had done the same, taking his gun with him out the back door, he softly told Blake and Jillian that he would circle around from behind.

Another moment and Jillian had her hand gun out of her purse and at her side.

The Sweets were ready to defend their hearth and home.

If it weren’t his fault the reporters were descending on the family, and he didn’t have to go look to know that the fool would be a reporter, he’d almost laugh at the synchronized reactions.

“Excuse me!” Alice’s voice carried across the yard with the authority of a drill sergeant. “This is private property. What exactly do you think you’re doing with your face pressed against my window?”

The man jumped like he’d grabbed hold of a live wire, tumbling backward. Even from where he stood, Blake could see the guy’s face go pale when he spotted Alice with the shotgun.

“I was just—”

“Trespassing,” Alice finished for him. “With a camera. On my land. Without permission. I’d take it kindly if you’d take your curious nose and that camera and get off my land before I’m tempted to rearrange it for you.”

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and ran back toward the road, where the dark shape of a parked sedan was barely visible.

Kade on the corner of the front porch, Jillian now at her mother’s side, and Blake thanking heaven that the reporter wasn’t as stupid as he looked, they all watched the man leave before turning back inside and calmly returning their weapons to their rightful place.

“Honestly,” Alice huffed, “you’d think they’d have better manners.” The job done, she turned and headed back to the kitchen as if she’d done nothing more than shoo a stray cat off the porch.

“Well,” Blake poured a fresh cup of coffee, then smiled at Alice Sweet, “that’s one way to handle the press.”

“For now.” Jillian chuckled softly. “We may have to rethink how we get your grandmother to the doctor.”

The table now surrounded by Sweet family members, sighs and huffs and slurps of hot coffee filled the air, but no good suggestions were heard. Then, a slow grin spread across Kade’s face. He looked from Blake, to his siblings, then back again. “They’re waiting for Blake Kirby, rock star…”

Everyone slowly nodded, except Carson who rolled his eyes.

A mischievous glint had Kade’s eyes sparkling. “Maybe we should just give them what they’re looking for.”

Kade’s mischievous grin was contagious. One by one, the tension around the kitchen table began to dissolve, replaced by the familiar spark of Sweet family ingenuity.

An idea, wild and audacious, took shape in a flurry of overlapping suggestions.

With a few phone calls to key players, a quiet morning of dread had officially transformed into a mission.

“Okay, so Carson’s our primary decoy.” Already in strategic mode, Preston looked from his brother to Blake. “You two are the closest in build. They’re expecting Blake to leave from here.”

Carson, who had initially rolled his eyes, now leaned forward, a slow smile spreading across his face. “What am I wearing for my big debut as a rock star?”

“Something noticeable,” Rachel chimed in immediately. “Something they can’t miss.”

Twenty minutes later, the plan was in motion.

From the living room window, Jillian watched as Blake, dressed in khaki pants and a bright pink button-down shirt with rhinestone cuffs, walked out to his rented SUV.

At the driver’s side door, he slid the dark glasses in place, put his favorite ball cap on his head, and patted his pockets.

With a long-suffering sigh visible even from the house, he turned and walked back inside. The bait was set.

A few minutes ticked by. Then it was Carson’s turn.

Having switched clothes with Blake, he pulled on the dark baseball cap, slid on Blake’s sunglasses, and with his head down, strode purposefully to the SUV.

He didn’t hesitate, just climbed in, started the engine, and pulled away, heading south down the main drive.

Jillian held her breath, binoculars pressed to her eyes.

Just as Carson reached the main road, two sedans with tinted windows pulled out from their hiding spots and fell in behind him.

“We have a follow!” she called out. A round of triumphant, hushed high-fives went through the room. Phase one was a success.

The real genius of the plan, however, was its scale. It wasn’t just about a single decoy; they needed to distract all the paparazzi. While Carson led his tail on a wild goose chase toward the southern county line, Alice activated the town’s formidable grapevine.

The first confirmation call came from Iris Hathaway, her voice crackling with conspiratorial glee over the speakerphone.

“They’re on the move! Young Bobby Prescott just left his house wearing one of those ridiculous hoodies and a pair of sunglasses big enough to land a plane on.

One of the reporter vans is right on his tail, heading east! ”

“Okay,” Alice clapped her hands, “time to head to Sara’s. You two duck down in the back seat. I have a good feeling about this.”

“Wait.” Rachel held up her hand. “Give Jim and me a few minutes head start.” Her sister and brother-in-law were dressed to impress.

Jim had on the cowboy hat that Blake had worn the last few days as well as dark glasses, boots, jeans, and one of Blake’s shirts from the concert tour.

Rachel had on Jillian’s favorite yellow sundress, a floppy hat and, of course, dark glasses.

Ten minutes after Rachel and Jim were gone, the three of them climbed into the car.

“Here we go.” Her mom looked way too happy about all this role playing. Not that Jillian blamed her. The whole thing was just a little bit… tantalizing.

Almost to town, Jillian’s phone buzzed. All this excitement was right up her speed demon sister’s alley.

“Hey Sis,” Rachel’s cheery voice came through loud and clear, “we’re parked in front of the bakery. I ran in to get some donuts. By the time I came out, there were at least three vehicles following us out of town.”

“Perfect.” Her cheeks almost hurt from so much smiling.

“And thank Blake for the use of his house.” The sound of keys jingling could be heard over the soft music playing. “These poor suckers are so going to think we’re you and Blake when we lead them straight to his place near Austin.”

“Drive safe.” She disconnected the call.

“Y’all missed your calling.” Blake shook his head, smiling. “The Barrymores have nothing on you.”

Another beep came in. This time it was her mother’s phone. “Get that for me, dear.”

Jillian dug in her mom’s purse and pulled out the phone. Answering, she could hear Iris’s voice talking to Mildred. “She must have butt dialed.”

“No.” Her mom shook her head. “She said she was going to let us listen in.”

“Oh, this is rich.” Jillian laughed. “Not only are we listening, it’s a video call. Her phone is propped up so I can see it all.”

“Ooh.” Alice whined. “I can’t drive and watch.”

“She’s leaning over the table, practically nose to nose with Mildred. Glancing around before speaking. I can see at least two reporters in the booth behind her.”

“Did Alice call you?” Iris asked.

Mildred, who toned down her bling for the event, nodded. “It’s all set. They’re leaving from the ranch this afternoon. Alice is going to drive them to the airport in Midland.”

“Midland?” Blake muttered.

“Shh.” Jillian waved him off.

“It’s going to be a quick wedding,” Mildred continued. “They’re flying to Vegas, getting hitched, then flying home.”

“Now Vegas?” Blake’s brows rose high on his forehead.

“Oh, that Iris is truly brilliant,” her mom whispered so only they could hear. “Makes me wonder if she’s really with the CIA.”

Jillian bit back a laugh as the conversation continued.

“I promised her we’d have the church hall all decked out for the reception.”

Mildred nodded, and gleefully rubbed her hands together. “We’ll have food, and music, and I’ll make my famous chardonnay punch.”

“Ooh,” Iris squealed. “And white doves and ice sculptures shaped like guitars!”

Biting on her lower lip not to laugh, from the performance these two put on, Jillian almost believed the two ladies.

The reporters in the nearby booth scurried out of their seats and two more people at a table across the way pushed to their feet as well. Another few minutes and the café door slammed shut and Iris and Mildred were almost bent over with laughter.

“Did you catch all that?” Iris asked.

Mildred high-fived her friend. “And that is four more reporters on their way to Midland or Vegas or who knows where.”

A broad grin on his face, Blake leaned over and kissed Jillian’s forehead. “Miller’s Creek, here we come!”