Page 14 of Pretty Wild

She returns the gesture. “Jade. I like that. Well, Jade, hope to see you tomorrow, but if not, maybe I’ll see you around. Enjoy your stay in Pine Village.”

“Thank you.”

I pull out my wallet and retrieve a larger than standard tip, considering my bill is about twelve dollars. I always tip generously, but Ellie was a delight. She was efficient, friendly, and her recommendations were on point.

Taking one final sip of my sweet tea and gathering my bags, including my leftovers, I head for the front counter with cash in hand. “Hi there,” the older woman greets when I approach. “How was your meal?”

“It was delicious, thank you.”

“Happy to hear. I’m Frannie, the owner,” she says, pulling change out of the old cash register.

“Nice to meet you, Frannie. I’ll definitely be back,” I tell her.

As I make my way toward the entrance, a small group of teen girls are walking in. I lower my head and avoid eye contact, but just as I try to slip through the door, I hear one of them gasp. “Oh my God, that’s Ryan Marcotte!”

I keep my gaze down, hoping to slip by them without any inquiries, but unfortunately, luck is not on my side. “Excuse me, are you Ryan Marcotte?” one of the other girls asks, stepping in front of me and blocking my escape.

I look up, startled. “Me?” I ask before giggling in a voice that doesn’t sound like mine. “I wish! I get that all the time though.”

The four girls all eye me skeptically. “You really look like her,” one chimes in, her eyes narrowing as she takes in my appearance.

I wave off her comment and share a closed-mouth smile, doing everything I can to not make myself look or sound like…myself. “If I were, would I be vacationing in Wisconsin?” I ask, rolling my eyes playfully. “If I were Ryan Marcotte, I’d be in like Grand Caymans, Fiji, or Paris.”

The first girl seems defeated. “Yeah, you’re right. No way would the real Ryan Marcotte come here.” She eyes me up and down. “You dress just like her though. You must be a superfan.”

Instantly recognizing my mistake, I realize I need to make a wardrobe change and fast. “Oh, yeah, these are knockoffs. No way could I afford the clothes she wears on her reality show and podcasts.”

The fourth girl gives me a harsh once-over. “Yeah, those definitely aren’t designer,” she informs the group, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. “I’m pretty sure her hair isn’t naturally blonde and she’s bigger than Ryan,” she adds, zeroing in on my waist.

I almost roll my eyes at her assessment and blurt, “Ryan’s hair isn’t naturally blonde either,” but that will only ensure I give away my real identity. Instead, I go with, “Well, have a goodday.” I move around them, determined to get out of the diner and away from critical, knowing eyes.

The moment I toss my bags into the back and climb into my rental, I pull down the mirror. Of course people would recognize me. It was completely naïve of me to assume they wouldn’t, just because I was in Small Town, Wisconsin and the first few people I encountered had no clue. I need to do better at disguising myself if I’m going to survive this entire month without anyone finding out who I am.

The first thing I need is to stop wearing designer clothes in public. Considering that’s all I brought with me, that’ll require some more shopping. Next, hats. And not the big straw ones I would be photographed in while on the yacht. I need ball caps or those smaller sunhats they were selling at the clothing boutique I visited earlier.

I sigh.

Looks like I’ll be making another shopping trip soon.

But most of the shops I went to this morning are closed on Sundays and this coming Monday for the Memorial Day holiday, so it’ll be Tuesday before I can do a wardrobe refresh to make me blend in more. Until then, I’ll have to make do with what I have, ensuring I don’t wear anything too flashy and stylish, like what I have on today.

And I’ll just have to stay in my cabin.

For a few moments, I was actually considering taking Ellie up on her invitation. I’m not exactly sure why, but, well, I liked her. She was kind and polite and had no idea who I was. At least, I don’t think she did. She could be a great actress, but I don’t think so. I never saw recognition flit through her eyes, and I’m usually pretty good at picking up on those kinds of things.

For everyone except for Vaughn…

But we’re not going there.

He’s in the rearview mirror, remember?

And I’m only looking forward from here on out.

To hell with Vaughn Cramer, user extraordinaire.

I don’t need him.

I don’t need any man.

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