Page 34 of Claim to Fame

“There’s a newsletter?” Hannah asked, glancing between Ethan and Cheryl.

“The Kemp Report,” Cheryl said, nodding. “I think she has more subscribers than the local paper, last time I checked anyway.”

“Of course she does,” Ethan muttered.

“Mama,” the little boy on the floor whined, tugging on Cheryl’s shirt.

“Yes, sugar bear, we’re going. It was so nice to meet you, Hannah. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Cheryl took her son’s hand and led him out of the diner in a whirlwind of hollered goodbyes and blown kisses to the woman wiping down the tables.

Hannah stared at Ethan in shock, not quite sure what exactly she should say in the aftermath of extravagantly named roosters and a town-wide bet on when Ethan would get married.

“Anyway, that was Cheryl,” Ethan said, pulling his milkshake closer with a shake of his head and taking a long sip from the straw.

“She seems nice.”

Ethan barked out a laugh that made Hannah smile despite herself. “She’s very nice. Just like her husband and most of the people in this town, who have apparently been betting on my dating life.”

“I guess we’ve both had our love lives put under a microscope recently.” Hannah took a sip of her milkshake.

He frowned, stirring his milkshake with his straw. “How long do you think it will be before the press leave you alone?”

“I don’t know. We’re releasing a statement tomorrow that will probably fuel the fire for a bit, but hopefully it’ll die down after that.”

“A statement?” He glanced up at her, but quickly looked away again. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

“Mmhmm. Saying we broke up a few weeks ago, before the pictures were taken of him on vacation.”

“So it doesn’t look like he cheated on you,” Ethan said.

“Exactly. If he didn’t cheat, there’s no story anymore. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.” She snagged a French fry off his plate and dragged it through her milkshake. The salt and sugar hit her tongue and she seriously regretted her choice to order a salad for dinner, but old habits die hard.

As if he could read her mind, Ethan pushed his plate closer to her. “And then you’ll go back to New York?”

“Are you sick of me already?”

She’d meant it as a joke, but as the words landed between them, she realized how nervous she was to hear his answer, to be reassured he wasn’t trying to figure out how quickly he could get her out of his house—out of his life.

Stupid. You were the one who turnedhimdown, remember?

“No chance, Han,” he said softly, nudging his plate even closer. “Don’t like the idea of people saying shitty things about you, that’s all.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Ethan, the things the tabloids write aren’t even the half of it.”

“What does that mean?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s forget about it. I don’t want to think about the keyboard warriors right now.”

“Hannah—”

“What should I do tomorrow while you’re working? Tell me all the sights I should see.”

He seemed to debate letting her deflect, his eyes roving over her face, before he finally leaned back in the booth, bringing his milkshake with him. “What are you interested in?”

“I don’t know. Everything,” she laughed. “I promised Tessa and the girls I wouldn’t hit the shops without them, though. We’re apparently having a girls’ day out on Thursday.”

“There’s some good museums in town, a historic farm, some old mansions, that kind of thing. It’s kind of cold for the beach but—”

“Museums sound great,” she said. “Can I walk to them?”

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