Page 93 of Never Date a Celebrity

“Is it Amelia?” Niamh asked, craning her neck.

“It must be.” Imogen frowned. Usually there was nothing like the mad stampede that was happening now. They made a point of avoiding all that. “But she usually comes in through the back.” They had quickly learned that it was easier if Amy slipped into the pub unnoticed. Imogen even had a special seat set up beside the bar for her near their office, tucked out of the way from the main floor. People still spotted Amy of course, and many approached her. There was no avoiding that unless she waited upstairs, which Amy didn’t want to do. She said it was a waste of time when she could watch Imogen in action. That had made Imogen swoon a little. She felt like a rock star.

Imogen admired how Amy handled it all with ease. The fans. The attention. Giving everyone the time of day and making each and every person she spoke to feel like they mattered. She was a special person. And she was her person. Sometimes Imogen felt like pinching herself when she thought about it.

She stood up on her tiptoes to try to catch a glimpse of Amy herself. She still couldn’t see over the crowd, so she put her hands on the bar and used it to lift herself up which did the trick. Ah. The extra ruckus made sense now. “You guys need to brace yourselves,” Imogen said to Piper and Niamh. “She’s not alone.”

“What?” Piper started jumping up and down, trying to see what was going on. “Who is it?”

Niamh, who was much less patient and much more pragmatic, rounded the bar and had a look for herself. Her cool vanished when she came rushing back after. “Oh. My. God. You guys, Bridget Clemonte is in our pub.”

“You’re lying,” Piper said, her jaw dropping. “No, Niamh, there’s no way. You’re being a Billy Bullshitter right now.”

“I’m serious. Why do you not believe me? Bloody Amelia Whitlock practically lives here in her spare time, don’t forget. And who could have seen that coming? Bridget’s right there with Amy posing for selfies with the Wednesday Gossip Club.”

“I can confirm,” Imogen said. Although she wasn’t quite as excited about the prospect of seeing Bridget Clemonte again as her friends were.

“Amelia Whitlock and Bridget Clemonte are in our pub. I might actually fucking faint.”

“Well, don’t do that,” Amy said with amusement as she approached the bar. She comfortably walked behind it and wrapped her arm around Imogen’s waist. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself.” Imogen smiled and leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Much quicker than the kiss she wanted to give her, but that would happen later.

Amy kept her arm secured around Imogen like it belonged there—which it absolutely did—and turned to Piper and Niamh. “Hey, guys. I hope you don’t mind that I brought Bridget along with me.”

“We don’t mind at all,” Niamh said immediately.

“Nuh-uh. Not one bit,” Piper added. “The more the merrier.”

Amy shot Imogen a knowing grin.

“Why did you?” Imogen asked quietly, with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

Amy leaned closer and dropped her voice. “She insisted.”

Imogen nodded. That made sense from what she knew about Bridget. She just couldn’t help but wonder if there were any ulterior motives to her insistence. Not that it mattered. Imogen would never let anything come between Amy and her ever again. Not fame. Not Bridget. Nothing.

“Speak of the devil herself,” Amy said teasingly as Bridget confidently strolled toward them.

“Hi, everyone,” Bridget said as she approached the bar like she owned it.

Niamh stuck her hand out first, remaining cool, calm, and collected. On the outside anyway. Imogen bet it was a different story inside her fangirling little head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bridget. Welcome to the Wishing Well.”

“The pleasure is all mine. What a charming place you ladies have here.” Bridget returned the handshake and then turned to Piper—who was gawking at her. There was no other word for it. “Hi there.”

“I met you at Always the Bridesmaid day,” Piper blurted. “The, um, open day. You were there and I saw you. I’ve got a photo. Of us. On my phone.”

Huh. What was with Piper and famous people? It seemed that Piper’s reaction to meeting Amy hadn’t been a fluke or a bad day. Composed, unflappable, charismatic Piper, who was smooth as silk with most women, a bit of a lothario, some might even say, hopelessly unravelled around celebs. Who knew?

Imogen and Amy watched on with shared amusement. They were such a couple. In tune. Imogen loved it about them.

To her credit, Bridget remained very polite and charming to poor babbling Piper. “You know, now that you mention it, I knew I recognised your faces. It’s so great to see you both again.” Whether she meant it or not, only Bridget knew. But it sounded believable—then again, she was an actress.

Bridget then switched her focus to Imogen. “And it’s lovely to see you again, Imogen. Although I think I might owe you an apology.” Bridget glanced at Amy before looking back at her.

Imogen wondered if she looked as surprised as she felt. “Yeah?” She waited. Oh, you better believe she was going to make her say it.

There was a tiny falter in Bridget’s schooled features. Imogen doubted she doled out many apologies. “I’m sorry about the photo thing.” She flipped her hair. “Now, do you sell champagne in this establishment?”