“Leaked? Are you fucking kidding me?” How the hell could someone leak Cheyenne’s address? And why the hell didn’t she live in a secured complex? Who the hell was taking care—or in this case, not taking care—of this woman? This … celebrity.
Cheyenne shook her head as though it was a normal occurrence.
Brendon crossed his arms over his chest before turning his head and looking into the living room. “What happened to the furniture you had in your apartment?”
Cheyenne didn’t make eye contact with him and that bothered him. Something was definitely up.
“Cheyenne?” he implored.
“It was damaged, so I had it all tossed out.”
“Damaged?” Brendon could feel his protective instincts kicking in, warning bells clanging loudly in his head, telling him there was something really wrong here. She’d said her address had been leaked, her furniture damaged … which probably meant …
“It’s nothin’ for you to worry about, Bren. Really. I’m sorry I brought it up,” Cheyenne stated firmly before turning and placing her empty glass in the sink. She retrieved two mugs from the cabinet and moved to the coffeepot.
Brendon couldn’t help it. He had to know more and it was apparent she wasn’t going to share unless he encouraged her. Moving to stand beside her, he ducked his head in front of her face while she held the coffee carafe above one of the mugs. When her emerald green eyes met his, he saw something he’d never seen before in her gaze.
Fear.
“What’s going on, Cheyenne?”
She sighed as she twisted to look around him, pouring the coffee. “It really is nothin’. Just a crazed fan. He got into my apartment, destroyed my stuff. The police took my statement, my insurance issued me a check to cover the cost of the damage.”
“A crazed fan?” Fucking hell. He noticed that she’d heedlessly mentioned that as though it was something she’d been warned about in the “How to Be a Celebrity” handbook.
“Yeah,” she answered, a forced smile forming on her lips as she set the carafe back on the warmer. “Like I said. No big deal.”
Brendon’s muscles tightened. “Cheyenne, that’s a big fucking deal.”
Cheyenne handed him one of the mugs, so he took it from her, still eyeing her carefully.
“No one knows where I am now,” she explained, taking a sip of her coffee. “The house is in a different name, so there’s no chance anyone’ll find me. I didn’t even bother givin’ my agent or my record label my address. I got a post office box in Round Rock.”
“Does Travis know?”
Cheyenne’s eyebrows darted down. “No. Why would I tell him?”
“Because he’s your … friend?”
“He’s my friend, yes. Not my babysitter. He’s got enough on his plate. Definitely doesn’t need to have to worry about me.”
Brendon opted not to say anything, crossing his feet at the ankles and leaning against the counter a few feet from where Cheyenne stood. Arguing with her wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He sipped his coffee, pulling his gaze from hers briefly, choosing instead to study the intricately designed tile work on the floor as he considered what she’d told him.
“Brendon?”
He didn’t want to look up, but he forced himself to. Meeting her eyes again, he waited patiently. She wasn’t going to say anything he wanted to hear, but then what he planned to do probably wasn’t going to be one of her favorite things, either.
“Seriously. I don’t want you worried about me. I’ll be okay. That’s why I’m here. I came to Coyote Ridge to get out of the limelight. No one can touch me here.”
Brendon nodded. He didn’t agree with her at all, but again, he would keep that to himself. For this piece, they’d just have to agree to disagree.
chapter FOUR
Monday morning Brendon found himself at a job site early. He spent the requisite amount of time bullshitting with the general contractor while making sure everything was going as planned. After taking a look around, then heading to another site and doing the same thing once again, the morning had practically disappeared. By the time he was out of there and heading back to the Walker Demo office, it was already ten, and for the first time in months, he was ready for the day to be over.
Why, he had no earthly idea.
Now you’re lyin’ to yourself, huh?
Brendon ignored the little irritating voice, but he couldn’t seem to stop the smile tugging at his mouth.
When he pulled into the shop’s gravel parking lot, he found it empty. Even his cousin Jared’s nondescript white truck was gone, which meant no one was there to give him shit. Strange how he actually wished someone was. His family had spent too many months not giving him hell, and truth was, Brendon kind of missed it. He was sure he wouldn’t think the same once they were at it again, but he figured until that time came, he’d just have to deal.