Page 29 of Sweet Obsession
Staring at her son’s dog, Alice’s spine stiffened.
Jillian shook her head. “Something’s not right.”
Everyone now on their feet, focusing on the dog, the source of Brady’s distress became clear. A figure, silhouetted against the graying dawn, crept across the front lawn, slowly approached the house, and foolishly pressed their nose against the living room windowpane.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Alice practically growled herself. Wiping her hands on her apron, she marched to the living room. Her expression anything but motherly. It was pure, unadulterated fury.
Blake thought she was going to open the door and let Brady take care of the unwelcome guest. He should have known better.Instead, the woman had gone straight to the gun cabinet, and retrieving a standard shotgun, cocked the loaded weapon.
Years ago, he could have seen Charlie Sweet doing exactly that to protect his family. No sane human being dared mess with the family of a rancher.
By the time Alice crossed the room and flung the front door open, her gun at her shoulder, aimed at the idiot, Kade had done the same, taking his gun with him out the back door, he softly told Blake and Jillian that he would circle around from behind. Another moment and Jillian had her hand gun out of her purse and at her side. The Sweets were ready to defend their hearth and home.
If it weren’t his fault the reporters were descending on the family, and he didn’t have to go look to know that the fool would be a reporter, he’d almost laugh at the synchronized reactions.
“Excuse me!” Alice’s voice carried across the yard with the authority of a drill sergeant. “This is private property. What exactly do you think you’re doing with your face pressed against my window?”
The man jumped like he’d grabbed hold of a live wire, tumbling backward. Even from where he stood, Blake could see the guy’s face go pale when he spotted Alice with the shotgun.
“I was just—”
“Trespassing,” Alice finished for him. “With a camera. On my land. Without permission. I’d take it kindly if you’d take your curious nose and that camera and get off my land before I’m tempted to rearrange it for you.”
The man didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and ran back toward the road, where the dark shape of a parked sedan was barely visible.
Kade on the corner of the front porch, Jillian now at her mother’s side, and Blake thanking heaven that the reporter wasn’t as stupid as he looked, they all watched the man leavebefore turning back inside and calmly returning their weapons to their rightful place.
“Honestly,” Alice huffed, “you’d think they’d have better manners.” The job done, she turned and headed back to the kitchen as if she’d done nothing more than shoo a stray cat off the porch.
“Well,” Blake poured a fresh cup of coffee, then smiled at Alice Sweet, “that’s one way to handle the press.”
“For now.” Jillian chuckled softly. “We may have to rethink how we get your grandmother to the doctor.”
The table now surrounded by Sweet family members, sighs and huffs and slurps of hot coffee filled the air, but no good suggestions were heard. Then, a slow grin spread across Kade’s face. He looked from Blake, to his siblings, then back again. “They’re waiting for Blake Kirby, rock star…”
Everyone slowly nodded, except Carson who rolled his eyes.
A mischievous glint had Kade’s eyes sparkling. “Maybe we should just give them what they’re looking for.”
Kade’s mischievous grin was contagious. One by one, the tension around the kitchen table began to dissolve, replaced by the familiar spark of Sweet family ingenuity. An idea, wild and audacious, took shape in a flurry of overlapping suggestions. With a few phone calls to key players, a quiet morning of dread had officially transformed into a mission.
“Okay, so Carson’s our primary decoy.” Already in strategic mode, Preston looked from his brother to Blake. “You two are the closest in build. They’re expecting Blake to leave from here.”
Carson, who had initially rolled his eyes, now leaned forward, a slow smile spreading across his face. “What am I wearing for my big debut as a rock star?”
“Something noticeable,” Rachel chimed in immediately. “Something they can’t miss.”
Twenty minutes later, the plan was in motion. From the living room window, Jillian watched as Blake, dressed in khaki pants and a bright pink button-down shirt with rhinestone cuffs, walked out to his rented SUV. At the driver’s side door, he slid the dark glasses in place, put his favorite ball cap on his head, and patted his pockets. With a long-suffering sigh visible even from the house, he turned and walked back inside. The bait was set.
A few minutes ticked by. Then it was Carson’s turn. Having switched clothes with Blake, he pulled on the dark baseball cap, slid on Blake’s sunglasses, and with his head down, strode purposefully to the SUV. He didn’t hesitate, just climbed in, started the engine, and pulled away, heading south down the main drive. Jillian held her breath, binoculars pressed to her eyes. Just as Carson reached the main road, two sedans with tinted windows pulled out from their hiding spots and fell in behind him.
“We have a follow!” she called out. A round of triumphant, hushed high-fives went through the room. Phase one was a success.
The real genius of the plan, however, was its scale. It wasn’t just about a single decoy; they needed to distract all the paparazzi. While Carson led his tail on a wild goose chase toward the southern county line, Alice activated the town’s formidable grapevine.
The first confirmation call came from Iris Hathaway, her voice crackling with conspiratorial glee over the speakerphone. “They’re on the move! Young Bobby Prescott just left his house wearing one of those ridiculous hoodies and a pair of sunglasses big enough to land a plane on. One of the reporter vans is right on his tail, heading east!”
“Okay,” Alice clapped her hands, “time to head to Sara’s. You two duck down in the back seat. I have a good feeling about this.”
