Page 26 of Saving Ian Pope

“Thanks, Tinkerbell.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. Someone who kissed hands like that couldn’t be a perv.

Chloe narrowed her blue eyes and hunched forward. “Why would someone do that? Your dick is currently on everyone’s lips.”

Ian made a choking sound while I gasped and coughed, pounding my chest with my fist, eyes watering.

Chloe flapped her hands in the air. “Metaphorically speaking.”

I recovered enough to ask, “You’ve seen them?”

“I have them.” Chloe folded her hands like a church lady in her Sunday best.

Spreading his hands in front of him, Ian, said, “Well, then it should be obvious that’s not me...mine.”

Chloe’s gaze darted between my face and Ian’s...crotch.

“Why would it be obvious?” I crinkled my nose.

Ian ran a hand through his long hair. “I’ll tell you later, but those arenotpictures of me, and I haven’t sent anything out to anyone.”

“Who would do that to you and why?” Chloe’s voice hadn’t lost the accusatory edge, but I couldn’t blame her. My first instinct was to believe Ian, but he could’ve sent the pictures earlier when he was—impaired.

Ian shrugged, and he dropped back against the cushions in a defeated posture. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and press my warmth into him—even if he was a perv.

“I have an idea who might be behind it, but I don’t have any proof. Just hoping people see how absurd it is and drop it. I’m not going to address it. Haven’t been on social media in over five months.”

“Ugh, that’s awful you have to deal with that.” I leaned over and planted a kiss on Ian’s chin before nestling my head on his shoulder. “Sheesh, Chloe. Do you believe him now? Give a guy a chance. You, of all people, know how this stuff can be manipulated.”

“I’m withholding judgment for now.” She jabbed a finger at Ian. “But you’d better watch yourself. You may not be guilty of the dick pics, but you’re no freakin’ angel, are you? And this girly right here is special. She doesn’t need a broken heart. She’s been through enough.”

My intact heart skipped a beat, and I scooted forward to the edge of the loveseat. “Okay. That’s enough. Can we just have a truce for right now? And you don’t need to worry about me, Chloe. I’m a big girl.”

“You don’t have to tell me how special she is, and I’m not gonna break her heart.” Ian brushed an errant strand of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “Is it safe now? I’d like to unpack a few things, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, baby. Do you want me to help you?” I captured his hand with both of mine. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“It’s all good, and I don’t need help.” He pushed up from the love seat. “Maybe you two need to talk.”

Chloe cranked her head around to watch him walk toward the entryway to retrieve his bags. As soon as he turned into the hallway toward the bedrooms rolling his suitcase, she spun around.

“What the actual fuck, Ivy. How did you get here?”

“I told you in my text. We met at the book festival. We just hit it off—he’s funny and smart and charming, and hot as hell.” I clasped my hands together, pinning them between my knees. “I like him.”

“Don’t forget rich and famous.”

“That, too.”

“Does he get mobbed everywhere you go?”

“He keeps a pretty low profile. The hat helps. The sunglasses help even more during the daytime. You know LA. People here are more blasé about seeing celebrities than elsewhere and tend to give them their privacy.” I twisted my fingers. “Was the dick pic thing bad? Do people actually believe he sent them?”

“I did. Maybe I still do.” Chloe lifted and dropped her shoulders quickly. “Of course, I have an ulterior motive for being pissed off about it after you told me he’s spending the next few weeks in your bed. People are savage online. You know that, which is why you avoid social media. And Ian Pope has not exactly been a saint the past few years. You do knowthat, right?”

“I looked him up.” I curled my leg beneath my thigh, unsure about how much of his life Ian wanted me to share with others. “He was in rehab for three months. Got out two months ago and has been clean and sober since then. He seems fine to me.”

“Rehab in some fancy celebrity place.” Chloe smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Sounds like a prescription for disaster for a new relationship, or...what is this?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Not sure, yet, but it’s nice.”

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