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  Irritated that it meant I'd have to leave. And with myself that I hadn't told Elias everything. I hadn't been honest with him. I hadn't told him I'd need to go back.

  Elias walked to the window naked, and peered outside. "It's just photographers," he said. "And it's only a few. They're in the driveway. It's not like they're inside the house."

  "Get away from the window!" I said. My voice came out loud, louder than I intended. "They'll have telephoto lenses. Do you want to be naked in all the tabloid magazines?"

  Elias turned around and grinned. "Eh," he said. "Do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

  "I'm not kidding," I said. "Put some clothes on."

  "Why are you being such a nut about this?" he asked. "It's a couple of photographers. It's not the end of the world." He crossed the room, slid his arms around my waist. "We could just go back to bed and ignore them."

  I pushed him away. "Easy for you to say."

  "Seriously?" Elias passed me as he walked to the bathroom. "Suddenly you give a shit what the media thinks? You didn't seem to give a rat's ass before." The door closed behind him. When he came out, he was stony-faced, pulling on clothes. "If you're embarrassed to have anyone find out you're fucking me, then say so. Otherwise, I don't see what the big deal it is that there are a handful of photographers outside the house."

  "This isn't a movie or something," I said, tossing him his shirt. "This is my fucking life. You'll get a photo in the tabloids and get congratulated and high-fived by every guy in America for boning me. The magazines will write articles about how I ran off to Colorado slutting it up after I ran away from my wedding."

  Elias opened his mouth to respond, but a loud crack reverberated through the air.

  ***

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ELIAS

  It was the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being fired.

  "Fucking hell." I reached for my piece in my bag and went straight out the door, looking over my shoulder. "Stay here. Don't move."

  "You have a gun?" I heard River say, but I ignored her.

  Racing down the stairs, I opened the front door. I had no idea how psychotic these reporters were, but whoever the hell just fired a shot was going to get himself shot.

  When I walked outside, Cade was standing in the meadow between the houses, his shotgun in hand. June was a few feet behind him, brandishing a shotgun in one hand and a baby monitor in the other.

  Cade walked toward the driveway in long strides. "That was the only warning shot I'm firing," he said, nodding toward the photographer who was brazen enough to hold up his cell phone to capture the scene on video. "Record this shit all you want. Share it with your friends. Post it on the internet. But this is private fucking property, and not a single one of you is welcome here. So I'd thank you kindly to get the hell off my land."

  I walked out behind him, and Cade grinned. "Brought your own, huh?"

  "Shit, man," I said. "I thought someone was out here getting shot."

  Cade laughed, nodding toward the reporters who'd pulled back to the main road. "Nah," he said. "Just giving those bastards a little scare, is all."

  "Think any of them shit their pants?" I asked.

  Cade laughed. "Hope so." He looked up, and I turned to see River on the front steps.

  "What the -?" she asked, her mouth open.

  Cade turned. "We've got to get back to the house," he said to me. "Before little Stan wakes up. Don't think they'll bother you for a little while now, at least."

  I walked back inside and shut River in the house with me. Her eyes went from me to the weapon.

  "You came here armed?"

  "I've got a permit for it," I said.

  She shook her head. "I don't know what the hell to think about you."

  "It's Colorado," I said, unloading the magazine and setting the weapon on a shelf in the living room. "It's all ranches out here. Everyone's carrying."

  "Those reporters are probably going to sue or something," she said. "Is Cade crazy?"

  "Firing a warning shot like that?" I asked. "What are they going to sue for? Nobody got hurt. He's just protecting what's his."

  "And you," River said. "You punched the reporter back in Vegas already."

  "So?"

  "So, do you not do anything civilized?"

  I leaned against the wall and raised my eyebrows. "Are you complaining about Cade chasing off the same people you were just terrified of not ten minutes ago?"

  "No. I'm trying to figure out if you're a total psycho who's going to run around threatening anyone who dares to get near me."

  I walked up to her, pulled her toward me, and felt her inhale sharply. "I will fucking promise I'll do more than just threaten anyone who hurts you."

  "You can't do that, Elias," she said, but her voice was breathy, her eyes large.

  "Why?" I asked. "Because it's not civilized?"

  "It's not..." Her voice trailed off.

  "Well, I've got news for you," I said. "I'm not fucking civilized. Cade's protecting what's his, and I'll do the same damn thing."

  "You think I'm yours?" she asked.

  "You're mine whether you know it now or not," I said, interrupting her when she opened her mouth to protest. "Don't even say it. I know I don't own you and shit. I'm not a caveman. But nobody fucks with you. You're mine, and I'm not going to fucking apologize for it, so you can just deal."

  River's mouth opened again, but she didn't say anything. So I kissed her, hard on the mouth, and felt her melt against me. "Now," I said. "Before we got so rudely interrupted this morning, I was having a little dream about you."

  "About what exactly?" she asked. She ran her tongue along the top of her lip, and it made me instantly hard.

  "Come upstairs and I'll show you," I said.

  ***

  River slid into bed beside me.

  "I don't know why you're sneaking up to that window, all stealth-like and shit," I said.

  "I just wanted to see if they'd left."

  "I'd just assume they didn't."

  She slipped into the bed beside me. "It's frustrating."

  "I would guess so," I said. "But maybe stop taking it so damn seriously."

  She rolled onto her side, propped her head up on her hand. "It is serious."

  "No," I said. "It's not. Getting shot at is serious. Getting blown up, that's serious. Missing your kid's first steps because you're deployed, that's serious. Photographers following you around because they want to talk about your breakup? It's not fucking serious."

  River exhaled, averted her eyes. "I'm one of those spoiled Hollywood brats, something I never thought I'd be. I'm like, a total dick."

  "Nah," I said. "You're not a total dick. More like half a dick."

  "I've been really selfish," she said.

  I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Happens to the best of us."

  She was quiet, her forehead wrinkled in the middle. "It's weird, all of this, you know? The whole fame thing. I never thought I would be famous. It just happened. And it was amazing, back then, you know? Going from not knowing where my next meal was coming from to having more money than I knew what to do with."

  She scrunched her forehead, was quiet for a minute.

  "But then, it didn't actually change anything, with my mother and my sister, you know? Like, it didn't change who my mother was, the kind of person she was. It just gave her more funding."

  I didn't say anything, just waited for River to talk.

  "The magazines, they sell this story about me - it's this fairytale version of me, you know? Rags to riches, it sells. But it leaves out all the shit parts, the parts about what it was like growing up in a hick town, with a mom who brings home pretty much anyone, who doesn't give a shit what asshole guys get near her kids."

  I realized the implications of what River was saying, the kind of hell she was raised in, and felt a surge of empathy for her. I just didn't know what to say, especially after I'd basically called her spoiled.

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