Page 4 of Holding On to a Hero
Chapter Three
Cole
I slammed the front door behind me. Intellectually I got why Jason wanted me inside. That photographer could have a gun. And Jason’s job was to protect me, so it wasn’t like he was behaving any differently than usual. Sometimes, though, I just wanted todosomething when there was a problem. I was so tired of sitting back and letting other peoplehandlethings for me.
Growling to myself, I marched to the front bedroom and pulled the curtains back a little so I could see what was happening. This was the best view of the part of the road where the paparazzo had parked his truck. Jason spun out of the driveway like he was in one of my movies and then almost immediately parked on the shoulder across from the paparazzo. Who started taking pictures of Jason as he got out of the truck.
Jason had hisdon’t-you-dare-mess-with-Colebody language going on. The photographer guy ought to be shaking in his shoes, but he actually looked pretty calm.
I watched Jason talk to him from across the road and then walk over to stand next to the photographer. I wished I had some binoculars. We should really get some for the house. We could hang them by the front door next to the shotgun.Not important, Cole!
Then the photographer handed Jason his camera, which I hadn’t been expecting. Were they negotiating already? Jason looked at the camera screen for a while and then started shaking his head. Here we go. Shit was about to go down.
Or not.
More talking and then Jason handed the photographer the camera back. They exchanged business cards –what the fuck?– and Jason walked back over to his truck. The photographer stood watching until Jason drove away. What the hell had he said?
The sound of my phone ringing in the kitchen made me jump back from the window. I dropped the curtain and ran to answer Jason’s call.
“What happened? Did he delete the photos?”
“Um, there weren’t any photos. Not of us. Not on the camera when he showed it to me at least.” Jason sounded unsure, though.
“What do you mean, no photos? He was obviously taking pictures. And we were watching him. He didn’t have a chance to delete any.”
“Well, he did take pictures. Of beavers. He’s a wildlife photographer, according to his business card. And he got a great close-up of Endora that he’s going to send me.”
“What? You believe him? Beavers?” There were no beavers on the ranch.
“He seemed sincere. I don’t know. But apparently, based on the photos, there are actual beavers in the pond across the road from us. He said that’s why he keeps coming here all the time. I’m going to take a look at his website and do a background check on him when I get to the office.”
No, no, no.That asshole had been taking photos of the ranch. And of us.Beavers?I wasn’t buying it. I walked quickly back to the master bedroom to put on some shoes. “So you’re going to trust him? You think he wasn’t tempted by the thought of a hefty sum from TMZ or whoever for pictures of me kissing a man? There might have been a way for him to switch out the memory card and we didn’t see it.”
“I can’t be 100% sure, of course, but I didn’t get the feeling he was lying. He said he’s gay and he doesn’t want to out anybody. He didn’t ask for money, and I gave him every opening to do it. I’ll run the background check on him, but if nothing suspicious comes up, I’m not sure what we can do other than trust him and hope for the best.”
Jason sounded resigned. Fuck that. “Well I’m not going to trust him. He’s been watching this place, and us, for weeks! He came over here. To our house. Our home. With his camera!” I was beyond upset. I opened the front door and rushed down the short steps to the driveway. The photographer’s truck was gone so I continued toward the road.
Jason sighed. I could tell he was frustrated also, but it wasn’t making me feel any better about the situation. “Yeah, he said he didn’t know you were the person who lived there and he just wanted to ask how long the beavers had been in the pond.”
“Well, I’m on my way over there to prove there aren’t any fucking beavers. Do beavers even live in Texas? They seem more like a northern animal to me.”
“He had photos of beavers, Cole. Lots of photos. Adults and babies.”
I looked both ways for nonexistent traffic and then jogged across the road. I strode through the grass and leaves and headed straight for the pond. “Let’s see what we have –shit!”
A loud slapping sound had come from the pond. A brown rodent-like head was moving across the pond toward a pile of sticks and mud on the far side of the water. Another creature – was that really abeaver?– waddled quickly toward the stick pile from the shore nearby.
Jason yelled, “What? Cole!”
“There are fucking beavers over here in this pond! And they’re huge! Do beavers get that big? Why are they so fucking big? That one was the size of your mom’s dog!” Jason started laughing.
“Fuck off!” I grumbled sourly.
I walked to the far end of the clearing and I stood in the spot where the paparazzo – photographer, whatever – usually ended up. I looked toward the pond and, fuck me, that had to be some sort of beaver house. It didn’t seem to be damming up any water, but it was easy to see they lived there.
And if you stood here and looked across the pond, over the tall grass and shrubs, the beaver house lined up almost directly with our house.Shit.
“So, you think he was telling the truth?” At least Jason had stopped laughing.
