“I think you’ll find that you like being part of a couple name,” Maggie said, her voice filled with teasing. “I’ve already filed for the trademark and am setting up a website for merch and—”
My jaw fell open. “You didn’t.”
More laughter, though this time, it wasn’t paired with laughter of my own. “Of course, I didn’t,” she said, “but it is good news.” She went on to explain about the hashtag and photo boycott, how the paparazzo had been booked on charges of criminal trespassing and had apparently been exiled from the group of camera-toting men and women outside the gate. “There are even fans outside with homemade signs emblazoned with Free Talmy.”
Tal pulled up the feed on his cell, and we both stared, dumbstruck at the line of people with neon-colored posterboards blocking the paparazzi.
“Free Talmy, Free Talmy,” Mags chanted lightly. “It has a ring to it.”
I shuddered again at the name but felt inexorably touched by the gesture. “Yeah,” I said, “it has a ring to it, if you’re a whale.”
Talbot snorted, setting his cell aside. “So, we’ll be free of this mess soon?”
I moved to the fridge, started getting out ingredients. I could feel his gaze on me, but I just kept gathering what I needed, setting the eggs, milk, and butter on the counter then moving to the pantry for flour, baking soda, and sugar. Oh, and chocolate chips. Couldn’t forget the chocolate chips.
“I think it would be prudent to make a statement and maybe include a picture of you two on your Instagram and Facebook pages, especially since you two are together now.” A beat. “You are together, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know about Mr. Green,” I said lightly. “But I’m just here for the hot sex.”
Mags made a retching sound.
“Don’t even,” I said, pulling out a bowl and starting to measure ingredients. “I had to hear all about your hillside romp with Aaron in Tuscany, so you can certainly deal with a bit of my happy times with Talbot.”
“What are you doing?” the man in question asked.
“I’m making cookies.”
He glanced at the clock. “It’s seven-thirty in the morning.”
“And?” I raised my brows.
“And . . . nothing, I guess,” he said.
“What’s happening?” Mag asked, her voice slightly tinny through the speakerphone.
“Tammy’s making cookies.”
“Maybe I do need to come over for our mid-morning emergency meeting.”
“Maybe, you do,” I called, cracking several eggs into the bowl. “It’s your recipe.”
Mag sighed. “You play mean, Conners. I’m curled up with my fiancé, and you’re tempting me out of my nice cozy bed.”
“Well, by the time you pried yourself out and made it through traffic, I doubt there would be any left.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m making them for the Free Talmy people out front.”
Talbot froze, his face a comical mask, shock written across every pretty line.
Silence from him . . . and from the call on my cell.
Then Maggie started chortling, right around the time I began mixing in chocolate chips.
“What?” Tal and I asked at the same time.
“She’s good, Tal. She is good.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Ignore me,” Mags said. “Deliver the homemade cookies. Just bring a security guard with you.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary—”
“It is,” Tal said.
“Yes,” Mags added. “Listen to your big sexy man.”
“She’s glaring at you now,” Tal stage whispered.
“She’s scary when she does that,” Mags whispered back.
I sighed. “I’m going to have to watch it with you two.”
“She’s got angry eyes,” Tal said.
“Ooh, extra scary.”
I snorted, tried to hold on to those angry eyes, but I couldn’t do it. Not with these two jokers teasing me, not with the love I felt for both of them in my heart. “I’m ignoring you,” I said, scrounging until I found a cookie sheet and beginning to scoop out the dough, and since I didn’t do this quietly, it wasn’t long before Tal slipped into the other room to chat about business things instead of teasing me about my scowling.
Which was just as well.
Without interruptions, I quickly got the cookies in the oven, and soon the house smelled like sugar and butter and chocolate.
The best smell ever.
Luckily, I made a double batch (with my years on the force, I wasn’t stupid about how much junk food humans, especially those at work, could fill their stomachs with), and before long, I had security team members drifting into the kitchen, looking longingly at the cookies cooling on the racks.
I parceled them out, giving plenty to the guards with the longing eyes, and the rest I put on a platter before grabbing a stack of napkins.
Poking my head into the other room, I held up the tray as I met Tal’s eyes.
He was still on the phone, although he’d switched cells, since mine was on the coffee table, and it sounded like he was also no longer talking to Mag, since his tone was far more serious and the conversation far more involved. Slipping out, I grabbed one of my cookie-bribed guards to watch my back, made sure I was fully dressed—no more pants-less pictures please—and headed out the front door.
The first thing that surprised me was the noise.
I’d been inside so much, and outside only in that small, secluded garden, that I hadn’t realized the baseline amount of noise a crowd of people made. Noise that increased in volume when the remaining paparazzi spotted me, lifting their cameras, that strange whirring of their shutters clicking filling the air.
Then the voices joined in—a hum turning into a drone, excitement drifting up from the gate.
I strode down the long driveway toward the crowd, thinking this was probably exceptionally stupid, even if Mags and Talbot hadn’t vetoed the idea. Still, I thought it was sweet that they were protecting Tal, and by extension, me, and I knew how much a small gesture like this could make a person feel wanted.
And that, more than anything of these last couple of days, was the thing I wanted to take away from this experience the
