“Jonesing for a jolt?”
“You have no idea.” I hop up on a kitchen island stool, swinging my legs. “What will happen to the pap?”
Masters shrugs. “They can charge him with criminal trespassing. Stalking would be a stretch — this guy doesn’t seem like a repeat offender. You haven’t noticed him lurking before, have you?”
I shake my head. “There’s always a swarm of them, like flies on a carcass.” I pause. “The carcass being Grayson, of course.”
“And you.” Masters sounds serious. “You’re big time now.”
I snort.
“Miss Firestone, there was a man camped out in your eucalyptus tree twenty minutes ago. Believe it or not, that’s not a normal occurrence for regular people. You need to accept that your reality has changed, and start acting accordingly when it comes to protecting yourself.”
A groan rumbles from my throat. “I know. It’s just hard to see myself that way.”
Masters shrugs. “We’ve all got crosses to bear.”
The sharp ring of my doorbell makes my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. I wonder if it’s the police, back to take another statement, but somehow I doubt officers of the law make it a habit to jam their finger repeatedly into the doorbell despite me calling, “Just a minute!” on five second intervals as I race for the front room.
I undo the deadbolt and she storms inside, a messy cloud of magenta hair sticking out in all directions. There’s not a lick of makeup on her face. I blink slowly, stunned. I haven’t seen Harper Kline without eyeliner since… ever. I was beginning to think she was born with twin birthmarks in the shape of perfectly winged cat-eyes.
“Oh good,” she says stormily. “You’re not dead. That means I can KILL YOU MYSELF!”
I wince. “Merry Christmas to you too?”
Still scowling, she yanks me into her arms and squeezes the wind out of my lungs.
“Paparazzo in my tree,” I wheeze. “I’m fine.”
“I thought something terrible happened. Kent sat straight up in bed, grabbed his phone, and bolted so fast I could barely get a word out of him. And since neither of you had the courtesy to answer your damn cellphones… here I am.” She pulls away, eyes watering. “I didn’t even brush my hair or swipe on a single coat of mascara.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, recognizing a declaration of affection when I see one.
She pins her boyfriend with a lethal stare. “You!Mr. We-Don’t-Need-Secrets-Babe.Ha! Next time you race out of the house without a word to save my best friend, you’re taking me with you.”
“I’m not,” he says, swallowing a slow sip of coffee.
“Come again?” Harper hisses.
“Not taking you with me.”
Her face flushes with fury. “You’re an ass.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. But I’m an ass who likes his girlfriend’svery fine asssafe in bed, not chasing down bad guys in backyards at six in the morning on Christmas.”
Damn, he’s good.
I turn my head to hide my smile.
Harper huffs, but I can tell she’s losing grip on her anger. “Well,fine. You’re going to keep secrets, then so am I.”
He laughs, and it’s even better than the first time around. A stunningly rare sound that makes the whole room go silent in appreciation.
“What’s so funny?” Harper snaps, but her eyes are gooey with warmth.
“Babe.” He shakes his head, amused. “I already know all your secrets.”
“We’ve been dating a month! You don’t know anything. You can’t possibly.”