Page 33 of Better than Famous

My momentum carried me backward. I tried to step back to catch my balance, but the heel of my sneaker caught on an exposed cypress knee—a knobby, hard root protruding from the ground.

Gravity took over.

I didn’t just fall. I went down with flair. My feet flew out from under me, and I landed flat on my back in a low-lying patch of ground that the recent rains had turned into a mud pit.

Splat.

The sound was wet and decisive. I lay there with the wind nearly knocked out of me, staring up at the gray sky through the leaves. Cold, slimy mud was seeping through the back of my shirt and soaking into my shorts. It was in my hair.

"Oh, come on," I groaned.

Then, something scaly, green, and roughly the size of a cat shot out of the brush directly next to my head. Startled by my fall, a massive iguana scrambled across my stomach, its claws scrabbling for traction on my T-shirt, its tail whipping against my leg as it launched itself toward the safety of the nearest tree.

I shrieked, thrashing as the miniature dinosaur used me as a springboard. The iguana disappeared up the trunk of a palm tree, its claws scratching loudly against the bark. I froze, lying in the mud, adrenaline spiking in my veins. I waited for the panic. I waited for the tears. I waited for the crushing humiliation of being a world-famous pop star lying in a swamp with reptile footprints on her stomach.

But the tears didn’t come. Instead, laughter rose in my chest.

It started as a giggle, then grew. It rumbled up my throat and exploded into the air—loud, barking, hysterical laughter that shook my entire body. It was the absurdity of it all. The contrast between the red carpets of last month and the mud puddle of today. The sheer, ridiculous reality of my life.

I laughed until my stomach hurt. I laughed until I was gasping for air, wiping mud from my cheek and only succeeding in smearing more across my forehead.

"Sutton?"

The voice came from above. I choked back a laugh and shaded my brow to look up. Ben was standing on the edge of the roof, peering down over the gutter. His eyes were open wide. He must have heard the shrieks and assumed I had broken my other ankle or been attacked by a bear.

"I’m okay!" I wheezed, waving a mud-caked hand at him. "I’m fine. Just... nature."

Ben stared at me. He took in the mud, the sprawled limbs, the wild hair, and the fact that I was cackling like a maniac. The tension holding his body rigid all day finally broke. The harsh, clinical assessment of a paramedic vanished from his posture. His broad shoulders relaxed, and the clenched line of his jaw smoothed out. The corners of his mouth surrendered to a slow smile, all the more devastating because it was so rare.

Laughing, he swung himself onto the ladder and slid down the rails in a move that likely would have killed anyone who didn’t work with ladders for a living. His laugh was deep and unguarded as it rumbled from his chest. "You look like a swamp monster."

"I feel like a swamp monster," I agreed as I propped myself up on my elbows.

He jogged over to where I was lying, but he didn’t immediately reach for me. He stood over me, his hands on his hips, a slow, lopsided grin cracking his face wide open.

I squinted one eye as I stared up at him. “An iguana just used me as a launchpad, Ben. A literal dinosaur ran across my stomach."

"Yeah, they do that. They have no respect for personal space." He reached a hand down. "Come on. Let’s get you up before the ants find you."

I reached up and took his hand. His grip was firm and warm, his calluses rough against my palm. He pulled me up effortlessly, taking my weight until I was steady on my feet.

I stood there, dripping mud as I studied him. The cold wall he had erected after the kiss was gone, demolished by the sheer ridiculousness of the moment. He wasn’t treating me like I was a celebrity or a problem. He was staring at me with an affection so palpable a warm ache spread through my chest.

"You’ve got a little..." He gestured to his own face.

"Everywhere?" I guessed.

"Pretty much." He shook his head, still smiling. "Come on. The hose is around the back. We need to hose you down before you go inside, or you’ll never get the deposit back on your room."

"There’s a deposit?" I teased, falling into step beside him as we walked toward the spigot.

"Huge deposit. Very exclusive rental."

We reached the side of the house where a green garden hose lay coiled like a snake. Ben picked up the nozzle and turned the spigot handle.

"Ready?" He pointed the nozzle at my feet.

"Absolutely. Do your worst."