We eat our breakfast in relative silence. I don’t know what James is thinking, but I’m contemplating how nice it would be if he was right and, once my secret is out, people here would continue to treat me like they already do.

  “And once you realize you and Sam are the same, I want to start dating you for real,” he says.

  “You have a thing for Sam Elliot, huh?” I tease.

  He puts his toast down and says, “It’s the mustache. It makes me hot.” Then he gets all serious and stares into my eyes. “I have a thing for you, Tara. I’d have a thing for you even if you had a handlebar mustache.”

  A delicious tingle fills my body and I momentarily lose my ability to speak. When I finally snap out of it, I say, “If you’re right about people not caring who I am, I’d be honored to date you.” And while I hope against hope Spartan comes through for me, I’m not exactly optimistic.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Ruby

  “Ruby!’ Chris calls out as her friend walks toward the dining room.

  Turning to join her at the front desk, Ruby asks, “What’s up?”

  Gwen introduces her to the young woman she’s talking to. “This is Claire. She’s the wedding planner for the Thanksgiving wedding in the ballroom.”

  Ruby smiles, thinking the wedding planner looks formidable and fashionable at the same time. She’s quite young—probably in her late twenties—tall and willowy. Her auburn hair is rolled tightly in a chignon at the back of her neck leaving her elegant features open for inspection. While she’s wearing a very feminine wrap-dress, there’s something about her that suggests she could lead an army into battle should the occasion arise.

  “Welcome to the Willamette Valley Lodge,” Ruby says. “I’m sure planning a wedding at Thanksgiving adds some additional stress.”

  “Your lodge has been very accommodating,” Claire replies crisply before adding, “I would like to meet with your chef and pastry chef as soon as possible.”

  “Geoffrey will be able to cover all of your questions. Our pastry chef is currently out of town, but have no fear, your cake will be perfect.”

  Claire arches an eyebrow in obvious concern. “I know this event is probably quite small compared to the ones you usually host, but I assure you it’s an extremely important affair.”

  “All weddings are important to us,” Ruby assures her.

  Temporarily placated, Claire asks, “Is everything set with the block of rooms I’m holding?”

  Chris answers, “They’re all on the third floor so that your guests will have the best views.”

  “I’m going to need keycards the morning of check-in so I can prepare them with the gift baskets and their weekend itineraries.”

  “We’d be happy to do that for you,” Chris offers.

  “Thank you, but my brother has entrusted me with making sure everything goes smoothly and I don’t intend to let him down.”

  “Your brother is the groom?” Chris asks.

  Claire nods her head once. “He is.”

  “How nice that you’re the one to plan his big day for him,” Ruby offers.

  She shrugs her shoulders. “I suppose.” She doesn’t seem at all excited about the wedding.

  “Well, I’m sure the bride is pleased to have you in charge,” Ruby adds.

  Claire’s large green eyes narrow slightly as she replies, “I couldn’t care less about her.”

  James

  Shrinkage. There, I’ve said it, the single most terrifying word any man out in the elements has to fear. It’s the primary reason the smart ones among us have eschewed the Speedo. We’re not embarrassed to show off our butts, because we’re too preoccupied worrying about possible, or probable, diminished volume in the package area.

  It doesn’t get as cold in November here in Oregon as it does in much of the country, but that’s not to say it’s swimsuit weather. When I volunteered Tara for a swimsuit shot, I was thinking of the heated indoor pool at the lodge. But are we going to the lodge where I can stay warm and fully endowed? No. No, we are not.

  Rachel thinks we should take the pictures in the great outdoors and showcase the natural beauty of our location. While I’m sure that will look great, the thought of taking my clothes off in forty-two-degree weather brings to mind the very word that renders panic in the luckiest of men.

  “Are you sure I need to be in a swimsuit?” I ask Rachel. I’m thinking shirtless in jeans will have the same impact without the potential of destroying the reputation of my manhood.

  “You big baby,” Tara teases me. “Surely you’re man enough to stand outside for twenty minutes in your swim trunks.”

  Rachel gets in on it by adding, “Remember the Sports Illustrated shot of Tara ice fishing in Alaska.” She asks Tara, “How cold was it when you did that again?”

  “Ten below zero,” she answers. “We were lucky to have such a warm day.”

  With both women picking on me, there’s nothing to do but give in. “Fine, let’s go.” I lead the way from the lobby to the parking lot. “I’ll drive us up in one of the bigger golf carts.”

  Tara and Rachel sit in the back and talk while I navigate the path through the woods. The energy is much lighter with Rachel than it was yesterday. I think part of that has to do with the fact that we already survived yesterday’s trial by fire.

  I hear Tara say, “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Very different from LA,” Rachel replies. “Do you miss California at all?”

  Tara doesn’t answer right away, which makes me think maybe she does. She finally says, “Not yet. I’ve traveled so much in my life that I adapt to new surroundings pretty easily.”

  “I grew up in LA and stayed after college. I’ve never lived anywhere else,” Rachel offers.

  “Do you have any kids?” Tara asks her.

  Rachel says she doesn’t. While the ladies talk, I enjoy the view. Most of the trees in the forest are evergreen, but the few that aren’t are on the tail-end of a bright burst of fall colors.

  I drive past Billy. He waves and calls out, “James, how are you this fine day?”

  “I’m good, Uncle Billy. How are you?”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t have to call me uncle, boy. I’m still the same old Billy I was before you knew we were related.”

  I just wave and we continue to drive by. “See ya later, Uncle Billy!” I hear him chuckle. I would have stopped and properly introduced him to Tara, but I don’t particularly want to involve Rachel in my family’s life. The less she knows about us, the better.

  A few minutes later, I stop the golf cart in front of a giant ponderosa pine and announce, “We have to walk from here. It’s not far.”

  Tara puts her backpack on, and Rachel grabs her camera case. As I lead the way, I tell them, “The waterfall is two hundred feet above Copper Creek. While it’s not one of the biggest in Oregon, ten thousand gallons still fall every minute.” Thanks for taking my nature tour.

  “It’s amazing!” Rachel exclaims, letting her eyes scan the area. “Is there a place in the creek where you two can stand so I can get most of the falls in the background?”

  Tara points to a large flat rock in the middle. “How about over there?”

  “We’d have to walk through the water to get there,” I tell her, hoping she’ll opt out. My mind is focused on how cold the water will be and how my body is sure to respond.

  Instead, she says, “Cool, let’s do it.” She strips out of her clothes and proceeds to pile them on a rock on the shore. “Hurry up,” she orders.

  “I didn’t bring any towels,” I tell her while taking off my clothes.

  “Then you’d better not fall in,” Tara laughs.

  Rachel is walking around, looking through her camera and trying to find the angle she wants. I take the opportunity to pull Tara into my arms and chatter, “Warm me up.”

  She comes willingly and teases, “I thought you were supposed to warm me up.”

  “Let’s warm each other up.” I lean my head down to her and capture her lips in a searing kiss. Her response is tentative at first, but she quickly gets on board. Shrinkage is temporarily averted.

  Rachel calls out, “Perfect! This is going to be a beautiful shot!” Her exclamation is followed by the clicking of rapid-fire frames. Well, that just killed the mood. I’m no exhibitionist.

  Tara takes my hand and leads the way to the creek. “You’re doing great,” she whispers. “Just think, only one more meeting with Rachel and you’ll be able to pay for your bathroom and then some.”

  “I’d do this even if I weren’t getting paid. I feel kind of dirty taking money.”

  “Don’t,” she tells me. “I assure you the Tattler takes you more seriously because you’re not doing it for free.”

  “That’s some crazy world you come from,” I tell her.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” she says before stepping right into the frigid water of Copper Creek like it’s a warm bath.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Gwen

  Sitting in front of the large picture window in the dining room at the lodge, Ruby tells Gwen, “I’m back to thinking our kids might be perfect for each other.”

  “What makes you think that?” Gwen asks while pouring a packet of sugar into her iced tea.

  “They just seem so comfortable together. Also, Penny loves them both and that puppy deserves a mom and a dad.”

  Gwen laughs. “I’m starting to see some of the benefits of life in Spartan myself.”

  “Does Billy have anything to do with that opinion?” Ruby asks her new friend.

  “It’s not like I think I’m going to marry the man or anything,” Gwen answers. “I mean, we’ve only seen each other a couple of times, but I really like him. It’s nice spending time with someone who isn’t trying to impress me with superficial things.”

  “Billy is one of the best people I’ve ever known. After all these years, I’d love to see him with a partner.”

  Gwen smiles shyly. “You’re something of a matchmaker, aren’t you?”

  “Ever since my husband died, I’ve been determined to get the boys settled. I want them to know the joy that comes from being in love and raising a family. And let’s face it, they’re not getting any younger.”

  “Neither am I,” Gwen replies. “I haven’t been in a real relationship in nearly twenty years, and while I never thought I wanted to get married again, I’ve come to realize that I miss having someone to share the quiet moments with.” Gwen’s attention is suddenly drawn to a dispute occurring across the dining room from them.

  A man she assumes is the chef is talking to a beautiful young woman. The woman raises her voice and nearly bellows, “I didn’t order filet mignon, I ordered Chateaubriand and that’s what I want.”

  She can’t hear what the chef says, but the woman’s response is crystal clear. “Do I have to talk to the owner about this?”

  That’s enough to get Ruby to turn around. “Gwen, will you excuse me while I go check on what’s going on over there. It seems my chef and the wedding planner are locking horns over something.”

  “Of course,” Gwen says. Her eyes are trained on the young woman. There’s something about her that’s very familiar, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. She decides it must be nothing as she’s certain she doesn’t know anybody in Oregon.

  Tara

  James is a riot on the shoot with Rachel. He carries on and squeals like a little girl whenever his feet touch the water. Once we step up onto the rock to have our picture taken, he holds me very closely. He claims it’s because he’s so cold, but I think the truth is he’s uncomfortable knowing these shots are going to be seen by millions of people.

  Rachel calls from the shore, “You two look beautiful! Just try to act natural and do whatever you’d normally do, so the pictures don’t look staged.”

  “I normally wouldn’t be standing on this rock in the middle of November,” James grouses. “I don’t know what she wants from me.”

  “Pick me up,” I tell him. “Then pretend like you’re going to throw me into the water. That will make for a fun shot.”

  “You want me to throw you in?”

  “I want you to pretend to throw me in,” I tell him before warning, “you throw me in, and I’m coming for you.”

  James lifts me into his arms. “What did you and Rachel talk about on the way up here?”

  “We actually talked a lot about her. She says she’s only working at the Tattler until she can get a staff job at a more respectable paper. She wants to work at the LA Times, but those jobs aren’t exactly a dime a dozen.”

  “Do you believe her, or do you think she’s trying to get you to let your guard down by appearing more likable?” he asks.

  “I think she’s telling the truth. I have good instincts about people. That doesn't mean I think of her in friendly terms, just less adversarial.”

  “When does her article come out?” he asks.

  “The Tattler wants to run the first one on Thanksgiving Day. She’s going to call it ‘Giving Thanks for a New Life,’ which I have to admit, I like.”

  “It has a nice ring to it,” he says. “Just be careful. I’m nervous about her ever since seeing her talking to Syd Byerly.”

  “Don’t think about him,” I say. “The pictures will be better for it.”

  “You want me in the moment, do you?” His eyes glimmer with mischief and promise. It’s practically freezing out here, but my extremities are heating up like I’m standing in front of a bonfire wearing a fur coat. My brain is telling me to back off, but the rest of me is screaming, “Ride that bull!”

  James slowly draws me into his arms, giving me plenty of time to pull away. I don’t. As he lowers his mouth to mine, I say a silent prayer that everything works out and I can stay in Spartan. I’ve never given much thought to topics like soulmates, but if such a thing exists, I’m starting to think James might be mine.

  When his lips reach mine, I feel the effects to my very core. He holds me so close, we might as well be one person. In addition to being highly aroused, I also feel an inexplicable desire to cry. This could be my fresh start. Please let this be my fresh start.

  It isn’t until I feel the effects our kiss is having on James—hello!—that I remember we’re on a photo shoot. “James,” I start to say before getting sidetracked again. I push back slightly, “Rachel is going to get some pretty interesting shots if we don’t stop.” I let my eyes travel south of his equator.

  He snaps out of his lust-induced haze and says, “Damn. Where’s a cold shower when you need one?”

  “You want a cold shower, do you?” He recognizes my intent and grabs my hand just as I push him off the rock into a moderately deep pool of creek water. We both land with splash and a scream.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” He’s between wearing a grin and gasping in shock.

  My body turns into a head-to-toe goosebump. “It was that or have the whole world think I was in a relationship with a pornstar.”

  “That’s farmer/pornstar to you,” he teases, before grabbing my hand and pulling me to the shore.

  We hurriedly dry off and slide into our clothes which doesn’t do much to warm us, but it’s sure better than nothing.

  In the golf cart on the way back to the lodge, Rachel says to me, “You and James aren’t really in love, are you?”

  “What?” I practically swallow my tongue. “Why would you think that?” I mean, hello, we just gave her a great show.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I can definitely tell you’re into each other, but you act like you’re at the very beginning of a relationship. You know, kind of awkward and unsure.”

  Damn, damn, damn. I thought we were doing so well, too. I can’t come clean and tell Rachel the truth. Not only would that go against every hardcore rule I have about the press, but I’ve pulled an innocent party into this charade and I have to protect him. The last thing James needs is for the Tattler to accuse him of trying to make a buck off of them. His reputation cannot be left tarnished once this is over.

  “My relationship with James is different from anyone else I’ve ever dated,” I tell her. Rachel pulls out her trusty phone and turns it on while I continue, “He’s not savvy in the ways of celebrity. He’s just a small-town guy living his life. You being here is throwing him for a bit of a loop.”

  “What does that have to do with whether or not you’re in love?”

  “It has to do with how fast things are going,” I tell her honestly. “James is exotic to me. I don’t want our relationship to move so quickly that it changes him. Does that make sense?” Why am I saying this to her? I should just continue with our ruse and redouble my efforts to sell the story we first concocted.

  But I don’t stop talking. “James is my unicorn,” I say. “He’s rare and special and I don’t want to scare him off before I can convince him I’m worth sticking around for.” I stare out into the passing woods and feel the full impact of what I just told her. “When you live under a microscope for so long, you lose your perspective on what’s real and what isn’t. I’m not saying that what Romaine and I had wasn’t real. It’s just that our relationship had more than two people in it.”

  Rachel’s eyes bug out like I’m confessing to something sordid. I shake my head to make sure she knows that’s not what I’m talking about. “It had the press, Romaine’s fans, my fans, assorted agents, and publicists. Everyone felt like they had a stake in our relationship. With James and me, it’s just us, no one else. Normal.”

  “If he’s such a rare commodity, why are you introducing him to the world? Aren’t you worried that will change what you have together?”

  “I wasn’t thinking about that. I just wanted everyone to know I’d moved on and that it was time to forget about me.” Damn, am I ruining the possibility of something real happening between us? When I asked James to pretend to be my boyfriend, I wasn’t thinking about a future with him. But now that we’ve spent so much time together, and I know what a wonderful man he is, have I already ruined whatever chance we had for normalcy by making him public domain?