Page 35 of Never Date a Celebrity

Amelia needed more information so that she could work out how to play this. Not that it was a game. Ugh. See, this was what happened when you got yourself tangled in a web of lies. It spiralled and spiralled until it got totally out of control. Her phone buzzed again in her hand.

Thankfully not. We lit the fire for the first time today. Huh. Correction—it was two days in a row that Imogen had been lighting fires, considering what she’d done to Amelia the day before. Yes, I am. Would you like to go on another date with me? We could explore some more. We could go to a restaurant (the platters were just my in). Or you could come to my place. I’d invite you to the bar, but my friends are perpetually nosy.

Yes! That was perfect. Imogen had already mentioned that she lived alone, so nobody would see them there. It was exactly the kind of low-risk solution Amelia was looking for.

How about your place? Although it might have to wait a few days because work is crazy busy right now.

She added a sad face that she was probably mimicking herself and hoped that Imogen would understand that she wasn’t stalling for any other reason. Her shooting schedule was jam-packed for the whole week.

Imogen was straight back. Even in the evenings?

Amelia chewed her bottom lip. It wouldn’t be easy to get a car at night when most of the drivers were finished for the day. She could, but people would notice—Bridget certainly would. Then again, did she really care? Security wasn’t an issue because there was no way she was bringing Steve along to Imogen’s place. Sorry, Helen. Before she started to reply, Imogen texted again.

I could pick you up at your fancy hotel and leave you back again.

Amelia grinned. Imogen was solving all her problems without even knowing. All Amelia would have to do was sneak out of the Emerald Grand without drawing any attention to herself, and after years of practice, she had her ways of doing that. She flicked her phone over to check out her schedule. Sounds great. I can do Thursday after seven if you can?

This was good. Amelia would have a few days to make a plan. Obviously, telling the truth was her number one priority. And she could prepare for the fallout. Maybe she would call Helen and ask her the best way to handle the situation. She would know how Imogen could best be protected. Maybe it was optimistic to think that Imogen would stick around, but Amelia refused to consider the alternative unless she had to—and she really hoped she didn’t.

Great. Thursday after seven it is. I can still text you until then, right?

Amelia was counting on it. You better.

Chapter Seven

Divide and conquer was the objective of the day. Piper was hanging back to take care of business at the Wishing Well whilst putting her online shopping talents to good use and finding things to make their platters look pretty. Quirky boards, cute decorations, that sort of thing. Apparently after spending most of her night on Pinterest, Piper already had a ton of ideas.

Niamh was going to pay Connor a visit at the Local Shop to see if he could provide some of the stock that they needed—mainly a selection of the cured meats from his butchery counter. Imogen suspected that Connor had a bit of a notion of Niamh, so they were hoping that they might get a decent price if Niamh was the negotiator—and maybe batted her eyelashes a little.

As for Imogen, she was going to see Songbird Sally to strike a deal for some of her magnificent homemade jams and cheeses. After that she would pay a visit to Cian at the Craic and Crumble to see about getting some fresh bread prepared each morning.

Of course, they could have outsourced all of these things from one of the bigger suppliers, but it felt important to keep their business local. Ballyluck was a community after all, and although they were still fairly new to the village, they wanted to show that they were a part of it. Involving everyone seemed like a good way to do that.

The bell jingled above her head as Imogen pushed open the green door and entered Fresh Picks. “Good morning, Sally. How’s my favourite jam maker?”

Sally beamed like she was genuinely delighted to see her. And maybe she was, but Sally treated all her customers like that—full of friendliness and joy—which was probably why people travelled to Ballyluck specifically to visit Sally’s shop. If only it was the same story with the Wishing Well. “Imogen! Good morning. You picked a great time to call in. I’ve just finished a batch of your favourite lemon drop chilli. Need any?”

“I’ll always take a jar, Sal. You know this.” Imogen spotted the jars full of the orangey-yellow deliciousness. “Give me two.”

Sally wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “A woman after my own heart. I’ve been experimenting with the Firecracker recipe too and should have some tomorrow.”

Imogen’s mouth practically watered. “I’ll be in.” She leaned on the counter while Sally grabbed her jars and rang them up. “I was also hoping you could help me out with some stock for the Wishing Well.”

Sally turned her head. “My stock? In the pub?”

Imogen nodded and pulled out her phone. She brought up the photo she’d snapped of her picnic. “We’re going to try serving something like this in the pub, and naturally, we need the best jams in the country. Some cheeses too. What do you think?”

Sally clasped her hands together. “I think it’s a brilliant idea, and of course I’ll help however I can. Jams, cheeses, fruit, veg. I’m your gal.”

“I knew you would be.” Imogen shifted her weight. “The thing is, we don’t know how much we’ll need. And we don’t want to order too much and end up throwing half of it away.”

Sally waved her hand. “Don’t worry about that. We can work out amounts together and make adjustments as we go.”

Imogen smiled. “That was my hope.” You wouldn’t get that kind of arrangement with the big suppliers. They were all minimum orders this, minimum orders that.

“You got it.” She popped Imogen’s jars into a green paper bag and set it on the counter. “You know, we all knew that you ladies would be a breath of fresh air for that place.”

“We?”