Page 49 of Better than Famous

I didn’t argue. I turned and walked toward my truck, my boots feeling lighter on the concrete than when I’d arrived.

The sun was making its dramatic descent behind the mangrove line by the time I pulled into my driveway. The sky painted the Gulf in lush shades of violet, burning gold, and a deep, arterial red that bled into the horizon. I parked the truck and a quick scan of the house revealed it to be empty. I headed down the back porch steps and toward the water. I found Sutton exactly where I hoped she would be.

She sat on the rough, weathered wood of my tiny homemade dock, her legs dangling over the edge and the heels of her bare feet hovering inches above the high tide. She wore a very flattering black shirt and a pair of denim shorts. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy knot. The Sutton Vale mask was gone completely.

I strolled down the wooden planks and sat down beside her.

She leaned her head against my shoulder without looking away from the water. “How was the cleanup?”

"Good." I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her close. “No major damage to the resort. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

She nodded, her gaze drifting toward a narrow, choked-out gap in the dense wall of green to the north. "Where does that overgrown path lead?"

"Old county fire road," I told her. "Nobody uses it anymore. It just dumps out onto a hidden dirt track near the Main Street."

A brown pelican swooped down from the sky, a clumsy, prehistoric shape against the clouds. It aimed for a piling nearby but misjudged the landing speed with spectacular incompetence. It skidded across the wood, wings flapping frantically, talons scrabbling for purchase before it finally managed to hook onto the post, ruffled and indignant.

Sutton burst into laughter, a bright, unselfconscious sound that carried over the water. "Graceful. I think I did that exact move at the VMAs in 2019. Except I was wearing five-inch heels and there was no piling to catch me. Just a very expensive stage floor."

"You fell?" I asked, smiling at the image.

"Face planted," she corrected with a grin. "Right in front of Beyoncé. It was the most humbling moment of my life until the iguana incident."

She turned her head to catch my gaze. Her eyes were clear, blue, and calm. She looked like she belonged exactly where she was sitting. I wanted to lock this version of her into place, to make sure she didn’t have to run for cover the next time a truck drove down the lane.

I pulled her tighter against my side. "I laid some groundwork at the resort today. I told them."

Sutton blinked. Her laughter faded into a soft, surprised expression. "You told your family? About me?"

"I told my brothers and Harper," I clarified with a shrug. “We were hauling tree branches, and I, uh, just dropped the news on them."

"What was their reaction?" she asked, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "Are they worried about the press?"

A smile pulled at my mouth. "Eli laughed at me. Austin and Braden immediately went into tactical protection mode. And Harper yelled at me for feeding you frozen pizza and plain bread. She said I was a disgrace to the family."

Sutton let out a breathy, relieved laugh. She rested a hand on my chest. "She yelled at you about pizza?"

"She was horrified. But she took charge." I brushed a stray hair away from her cheek. "We’re doing a bonfire on Thursday down at the beach. Just the siblings. Hot dogs and beer. Low stakes. They want to meet you too."

Sutton blinked a few times, her eyes catching the fading sunlight. She appeared overwhelmed by the simple, easy acceptance. "They really don’t mind?"

"They’re excited. They’re your perimeter now, too."

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against my chin, a soft, trembling sigh escaping her lips. "Thank you. For letting me in."

"You kicked the door down," I murmured, kissing the top of her head.

My pocket vibrated.

The sudden, mechanical buzz against my thigh felt violent in the quiet evening. It wasn’t just a notification. It was a long, demanding vibration that wanted to rattle my bones. My spine stiffened automatically. Threat assessment. I shifted my weight, reaching into my pocket to grip the phone.

It could be Hunter picking up paparazzi chatter on a scanner. It could be a breaking news alert. Every logical synapse in my brain screamed at me to pull it out, to assess the variable, to secure the perimeter. That was my job. I pulled the phone halfway out of my pocket. The screen had gone dark, but the weight of potential bad news sat in my palm like a stone.

I glanced at Sutton. She hadn’t noticed the vibration. She was watching the water, her shoulders relaxed, a soft smile at home on her lips. She was looking forward to Thursday. She was happy just as she was.

If I opened this phone, that expression could vanish. The lines of tension could return to her jaw, becoming the hunted asset again. So I made a choice. It was reckless. It was the choice of a man who was tired of holding up the sky and just wanted to look at the stars. I pressed my thumb against the power button on the side of the case. I slid the dead device back into my pocket. I would handle the world tomorrow.

Tonight, I was going to be selfish.