Page 24 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
I rest my head in my hands at the ‘terrible taste in men’ part. This? This is what everyone thinks of me? I knew it.
“So this Kenna is a big fan of mine?” Rafe is smiling a little now, one eyebrow raised as he makes eye contact with me. Ken-NA. He said my name. God, it sounds so much cooler that way.
“Oh, come on, man, who isn’t? No need to get all conceited about it. I mean, she’s a fan of the franchise. Not some creepy stalker type. I can’t think of a more loyal, dependable person. I’d hire her to babysit my kids, if I had any. In fact, I think my brother, Eli, has hired her to babysit his son, Braden, on a couple of occasions.”
Lorelei raises her eyebrows at Rafe and smiles victoriously at me. “Okay. That’s all we needed. That and a rec where we can get some good burgers.”
“The Onion, although it’s a little gritty. You might want to send someone else in there to pick up your order. Not sure they deliver all the way out to where you’re staying.”
Lorelei makes an impressed face when Dean tells her the same place I did.
“Thanks, Dean.”
“Anytime, Lorelei. I still can’t get over how much Kenna looks like you.”
“Neither can we,” she says. “Thanks again, and see you next week, Dean!” Lorelei spins the phone triumphantly on the counter after hanging up and looks at the two of us. “There! You feel better now, Rafe?”
“Maybe …” He stares at the phone until it stops. Then he sighs and turns to me resignedly. “Any chance you could help me find a trainer for Princess while you’re here?”
“OMG. This is perfect!” Lorelei snaps her fingers. “Rafe can give you acting lessons and coach you on being me if you have to appear in public.”
“No. That is not a good idea. I strongly advise against her appearing in public dressed as you,” Rafe says.
“But you’ll do it!” Lorelei does a little victory hop that reminds me of an excited child, and I’m surprised to see her joy.
“What’s there to do?” Rafe sheepishly shrugs her off when she attempts to hug him from behind. “If what you mean is I won’t rat you out, fine. I’ll go along with it. But I don’t approve. And I really don’t get what’s in it for you.” He surveys me again. He still seems a little doubtful, despite Dean’s glowing reference.
“She’s getting a much-needed break,” Lorelei says. “Kenna here works like a dog. Plus, she had to put up with being called Poxy Moxie in high school. It’s payback time. She deserves a little R & R and star treatment.” She winks charismatically at me. I’m grateful she isn’t mentioning the camera and laptop that she offered as payment.
I look at Rafe. “I can help you find a local trainer. I’m sure Angie from the shelter, or Xander, the groomer who groomed her when she came in, can recommend someone.”
“Perfect!” Lorelei squeals. “Now you just need to teach me the secret handshake that you and your butler do, Kenna.”
“Pardon?” I look at Rafe for help, but he just shrugs.
“You know.” Lorelei rolls her eyes. “The handshake thingy …da da da da da-DA, da da da da da-DA.” She sings the tune fromThe Parent Trap. “What was the butler’s name? Martin?”
“Ha!” I laugh. “I hardly have a butler. If anyone had a butler, it would be you.”
“Rafe can play the butler,” Lorelei laughs.
“No, Rafe can be going home now.” He pushes back his chair as he stands to go. “I still don’t approve of this, but I’m not going to get in the way.” He looks at me. “Call me if you need anything. The food deliveries come to the main house, and you’re welcome to use the big kitchen there. Just shoot me a text so I don’t get surprised and attack you again.”
“It could be more serious next time,” Lorelei nods gravely. “He might grab a silicon spatula.”
“Right.” Rafe stands to go. “On that note, I’m out of here.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to bring the whisk with you, when you beat it?” Lorelei quips, cracking herself up. Who knew Lorelei Dupont was so punny?
After he leaves, Lorelei turns back to me, still smiling. “We have a lot of territory to cover, but I’m starving.”
“Well then,” I say, “let me call in our order to The Onion. It’s going to be a late night. I can teach you how to use the espresso machine after the diner closes.
lorelei
Kenna wasn’t kiddingabout this stupid coffeemaker.
“Who’s the diva here?” I grumble at the giant, imported coffee machine. It replies with a fart of steam, spewing hot droplets of liquid that threaten to scar me for life. “Fine, fine. Nice coffee machine. Good girl,” I speak soothingly to it, as Kenna suggested I do during our training session last night. The session that lasted till 3 a.m.
