Page 48 of Better than Famous

"Is she hurt?" Austin asked immediately, his voice dropping into a serious, tactical register.

"Sprained ankle," I answered. "It’s healing."

"Does anyone else know?" Braden asked, scanning the resort perimeter as if expecting paparazzi to parachute onto the beach. "Did anyone follow you?"

"Brenna knows," I admitted. "She walked in on us a few days ago with a lasagna. But otherwise, no. We’ve been locked down."

Harper dropped her clipboard onto the concrete. The plastic clattered loudly. She took two steps toward me, her eyes wide with a horrifying realization. The stressed-out general manager vanished, replaced entirely by the panicked older sister and hostess. "Ben. You’ve had a global icon locked in your bachelor pad for a week?"

"Not quite a week, but yes."

"What have you been feeding her?" Harper asked, panic raising her voice.

I blinked, thrown by the question. "Food. Groceries."

"Oh my God. What groceries?" Harper closed the distance and poked a finger hard into my chest. "Tell me exactly what you bought."

"Frozen pizza," I said, suddenly feeling incredibly defensive. "White bread. Peanut butter. The usual."

Harper buried her face in her hands, and a muffled groan escaped her fingers. "You fed Sutton Vale frozen pizza. You fed a woman with three Grammys generic white bread. I’m going to be sick. Our family is a disgrace."

Eli was doubled over, but he stopped laughing long enough to add, "Oh, this is priceless. Ben kidnapped a pop star and fed her freezer food. This is the best day of my life."

"I didn’t kidnap her," I growled, glaring at Eli. "And she liked the pizza."

Harper dropped her hands, her eyes flashing with renewed intensity. "This explains the missed dinner. This explains everything. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?"

"Because I didn’t know what she wanted." I dropped the defensive posture. I swept my gaze around the circle, letting them see the sincerity in my face. "I was trying to keep her safe. But she wants to meet you."

"She wants to meet us?" Braden asked, his eyebrows shooting up again.

Eli tilted his head. The teasing disbelief vanished, replaced by a sharp, knowing gleam. "Wait a second. Why would a terrified, hiding pop star want to meet her paramedic’s big, ugly family?"

I held his gaze. I didn’t shift my weight or look away. "Because she isn’t a patient anymore."

Austin let out a low, rough laugh. "Son of a bitch."

"You’re together," Harper breathed. She clapped her hands over her mouth, looking from me to the boys. "You are actually dating Sutton Vale."

"Yes," I said simply, staking my claim. “But she’s been hiding for a week. She’s overwhelmed. A massive Sunday dinner at the house with the kids screaming and fifteen people talking over each other is going to send her into shock."

Harper smoothed the front of her polo. The crisis manager was back online. "Okay. Okay, we can do this. We need low stakes. No pressure." After a few taps, she pointed her pen at me. "Thursday night. We’ll do a bonfire on the beach. Just the siblings and spouses. No kids. No Mom. Casual. Hot dogs and beer. It will be completely unpretentious." Then she froze, eyes wide. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I just said that. I cannot feed Sutton Vale hot dogs!”

"Relax. That sounds perfect," I said, a massive weight lifting off my chest.

Harper turned her gaze to Austin, Braden, and Eli. "If any of you breathes a word of this to anyone—if you tell a bartender, a dive customer, or a fishing client—I will personally drown you in the shallow end of the pool. Do you understand?"

"My lips are sealed," Eli promised, miming zipping his mouth shut.

"We’ve got your back, Ben," Austin added with a firm nod.

Braden grinned, picking up a palm frond. "I’ll bring the good beer. Not the cheap stuff you usually drink."

I looked at the four of them. The frame was holding. They hadn’t judged me. They hadn’t panicked about the press. They had simply adjusted their stance to protect the new person standing behind me.

"Thanks," I said softly.

"Don’t thank me yet," Harper warned, picking up her clipboard. "I have to figure out what kind of hot dogs a celebrity eats. Go home, Ben. We’ll finish the deck."