When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek #1)(72)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Or Ian. He’s the one who told your father where we are.”

“My father’s different. He may not be doing much acting anymore. There aren’t too many good parts for men his age. But he’s still a force to be reckoned with in Hollywood.”

“I figured that out.”

He pulled her up against him, to keep her warm. “I’m sure Ian didn’t feel he could refuse. But…” Suddenly the obvious occurred to him. “That’s it! I’ll bet you anything my father did this!”

“Why would he tell the paparazzi where you’re staying?”

“He doesn’t want this town to be an escape. He’d rather roust me out, get me to head back home so I’ll make that damn movie.”

“You have quite the father.”

The images he dreaded came to mind, the ones that revealed Tex as the selfish bastard he was, but Simon shoved them away. It helped that Gail softened against him, as if she wasn’t opposed to letting him hold her. Somehow that made him feel better because it convinced him he hadn’t lost everything he’d gained earlier. “If you had any idea…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He hadn’t told a soul about what had happened. He wasn’t going to break his silence.

“So what do we do?” she asked. “We could pull our mattress into a bedroom, but the bedrooms have windows, too. And we don’t have a hammer and nails to put up a blanket or a sheet.”

“You stay here. I’ll take care of it.”

She grabbed his hand. “You can’t go out there! You’re angry and defensive. What if you get in a fight?”

“Whoever it is deserves to have my fist planted in his face.”

“No!” She tugged him back. “You’d only reinjure your hand. And we can’t risk a scene. There can be no more pictures or stories of you losing your temper.”

He felt he should have the right to defend himself—and his wife—which made it difficult to listen to reason. But he’d ignored Gail too often when she worked for him. “Your suggestion is…”

“We call the police and let them handle it.”

Footsteps echoed on the wooden porch. The photographer was coming around the house, probably looking for another way to see in.

“My phone’s charging in the kitchen,” she added.

“Mine’s in the living room. I’ll get it.”

“Wait.”

“Why?”

“Maybe we can create an opportunity here.”

She was always thinking. “Gail, whoever’s outside is trespassing and invading our privacy. I want his ass kicked off the property. Our wedding pictures haven’t come out in People yet, which means he’ll have the first shots of us after our wedding. He’ll be able to sell them for a fortune, and I’m not about to let some guy get rich out of sneaking pictures of me in bed with my wife.”

“Maybe we can make a deal with whoever it is to release his snapshots after that.”

She couldn’t convince him on this. He’d dealt with the paparazzi for too many years. “Absolutely not. We can invite someone else to take pictures when we’re ready. There’s no need to let this ass**le get away with what he’s doing.”

“Okay. You’re right. It’s just…if we give the press what they want, they’ll be more likely to leave us alone.”

“You’re wrong,” he argued. “They’re insatiable.”

“They’re insatiable when they have some scandal to report. Our marriage is news because it’s shocking and they think it’s another bad move on your part. Once we prove otherwise and establish that you’re happy and living a good life, they’ll lose interest. Then, as long as nothing changes, they’ll leave us alone.”

He’d been hounded to the point that he had a hard time believing this. “No…”

“Yes,” she insisted. “Their profits depend on showing the dirt in people’s lives. If you give them nothing negative, they’ll have to look to other actors, musicians, whatever, who might be screwing up.”

He could see her logic. It wasn’t until his marriage had started to crumble that the paparazzi had become so unbearable. They wanted a front-row seat at the destruction of Simon O’Neal. Now that he was pulling his life back together there wouldn’t be so much to see or report. “Fine. We’ll invite someone else out here, like I said. But this guy’s not the one.”

“Agreed.”

He dashed into the living room for his phone. But it turned out to be an exercise in futility. By the time the cops arrived, the intrusive photographer was gone.

Knowing the culprit could very easily come back, they packed up and returned to Gail’s father’s.

* * *

“I thought I heard you two come in last night. What happened? Air mattress pop?”

Martin DeMarco was in the kitchen brewing coffee. That meant it was Joe who’d left earlier. It must have been his turn to open the station. Simon had heard someone tramp down the stairs and head out. The noise had awakened him from a deep sleep, but he felt rested despite the early hour and the hours they’d been up in the middle of the night. No doubt it helped that he was no longer dealing with a perpetual hangover.

“We got a little surprise,” he said.

Martin’s caterpillar-like eyebrows drew together. “A skunk?”

Simon laughed. “In a manner of speaking.” He explained about the photographer as Martin handed him a cup of coffee.

“Who do you think told the paparazzi where you were?”

Chances were they’d never know for sure. Simon had his guess, but he didn’t want to say it was most likely his own father. He could hear the protective note in Martin’s voice, knew he was a different kind of man. Martin would do anything to shield his children. Just being married to Gail put Simon under that same protection.

The stark contrast between Martin and Tex embarrassed Simon. But Simon had been ashamed of his father for a long time. Maybe he’d always been ashamed of him. The story of his own conception wasn’t exactly something he could be proud of. The humiliation caused by his personal history had been excruciating. It was so salacious that it was brought up again and again and again in the media.

“We don’t know,” he said instead of admitting his suspicions.

Martin took out a frying pan and turned on the gas stove. “I can’t imagine anyone around here would give you away. The only person who could provide your exact address would be the Realtor. And Kathy’s good as gold. Or—” he seemed to realize she wasn’t the only one who knew where they were “—maybe it was one of Gail’s friends.”