Molly held the phone away from her ear. At 6:05 in the morning, Cal’s screech, as clear as if she was in the same room instead of five hundred miles away in Tennessee, was not helping her ease into the day. “I’ve not moved in with him. I’ve stayed two nights with Gage and Brady next door while the leasing agent I hired works on finding me another place.” Because if she knew one thing with certainty, she could not remain here. It was bad enough witnessing the Marine’s stoic consulting gig on the set. (Professional competence had always turned her on.) If she had to encounter the Wyatt Fox ’tude and badassery 24/7, she’d be a goner. “I was really scared, Cal.” Her friend made a sympathetic cluck. “I knew you were faking it when I called last. What about the security team?” “I gave them a couple of days off. It’s best to not draw attention, at least until I’m in a new place.” Given what had happened, that might sound counterintuitive, but nothing said X marks the famous person like tinted windows, dark suits, and security earpieces on quiet residential streets.
