America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(26)

“Need a dog,” my dad growls while he stares out the window in the back door, arms folded, and studies my normally tranquil small back yard.

“Mom, I brushed my hair this morning.”

“Oh, sweetie, it looks so cute when you put it in a French twist. Just two seconds—”

“I like it down,” Beck says.

“Are you trying to embarrass her?”

“It’s soft.” He curls a lock of my hair around his finger, and dammit, the gentle tug is lighting up the nerve endings all over my scalp. “And pretty.”

He’s holding my purring cat and playing with my hair and standing so close that I can feel the heat off his skin, and I have to remind myself that I don’t need a guy in my life to be complete.

Especially with all the other complications my life comes with.

And all the complications his life comes with.

Assuming he’s not just playing a part here.

I mentioned complications, right?

“Not enough security,” my dad growls.

“Fixing that right now,” Beck says.

I dodge my mom and her hairbrush and trip over the pig, who squeals and rushes to Mom, who squeaks and drops the hairbrush, which crashes to the ground and splits in two. The handle spins across the linoleum and comes to a stop at Mackenzie’s feet.

“I’m starting to get it,” she says to me. “Screw you famous people. Me and Sarah are going to my place.”

She links her arm through mine and marches me out of the kitchen, pointing a finger at the three famous people who try to object. “Stay. Don’t burn the bacon. And hand over the cat. And if the Fireballs lose, it’s all y’all’s fault.”

Beck hands me my cat. My mom just gapes at us, probably because neither of us is wearing shoes. My dad tries to follow us, but Beck holds out an arm. “She has a taser. She’ll be fine.”

Mackenzie pulls me out the front door, where the security guys are pulling a random dude with a camera out of my gardenia bushes.

My heart stops. Just freezes in terror.

They know where I live.

They know where I live, and the next step is they know who my parents are, and the step after that is my high school prom is about to be rebroadcast to the entire universe on repeat for the next twelve years, and maybe not Tahiti.

Maybe I should find a monastery in the Himalayan mountains and take up painting and meditation.

“We got this, Miss Dempsey,” the bigger of the two guys says. “You need a lift somewhere?”

“Yes,” Mackenzie answers for us, and a third security guy pulls a black car to the curb. Without hesitation, we both climb in.

And I’m really, really glad I checked out all of their credentials when I got home earlier, because otherwise we’d be sticking out like sore thumbs in Mackenzie’s Fireball-mobile, because I don’t get in cars with security guards whose credentials I haven’t checked myself.

“You have so much talking to do,” Mackenzie murmurs as we pull away from the curb. “But catch your breath first.” She squeezes my hand while I hug Meda tight with my other arm and she purrs like a crazy cat facing white water rapids. “You look like you need it.”

“You’re not mad?” I whisper.

“Not yet. You are going to tell me everything, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m definitely not mad. Also, this explains so much. I never really got the Oregon vibe off you, but I figured none of us ever really fully fit in anywhere. And for the record, I totally didn’t get the Hollywood vibe off you. I mean, how did you even survive that?”

I’m so relieved my throat clogs, and I make a production of digging my phone out of my pocket. “I have to text my parents,” I whisper.

I skip Mom and go straight for Dad, because despite the growling today, he’s always understood I need a little space to process that my cozy little life is about to be turned upside down more than she has.

Also, I tell him to go easy on Beck.

And to make sure the pig doesn’t eat my bees.

I really shouldn’t have abandoned my bees.

But I’ll be back to take care of them soon.

I just need a minute to figure out what I’m going to do next.

.





Fourteen





Beck



I’ve never been so grateful for the paparazzi as I am today, because the dumbass trying to sneak through Sarah’s bushes prompted the private security guards to demand we vacate the house while they secure all the surrounding blocks too.

Made for a good excuse to get away from the suspicious eyeball coming from Judson freaking Clarke that I may have aimed myself a time or seven at Ellie’s former boyfriends.

I don’t want to pass on this bit of news to Charlie and my team, but it’s going to get out eventually, so I need to.

I’m still sitting on it four hours later though, even after sitting through another video conference with my manager, marketing lead, and PR team lead about the importance of getting Sarah on board with this plan of letting me woo her, because fuck.

Just fuck.

No wonder she was so gun-shy about the publicity.

And I’ve just made it a million times worse for her.

Now, I’m hiding from the guilt by teaching Tucker the fine art of Mario Kart back in my penthouse.