Page 31 of My Charming Rival (Stars In Their Eyes 1)
Thirty seconds. I had frozen him out.
I flipped my wet, cold head out of the water and took a deep breath. There. My hair was soaked, my face was wet, but my sanity had been restored.
Time to focus. I brushed the wet strands off my face, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and opened my books on the table. I finished my last biology assignment, studied for my French class, and reviewed chemistry formulas for fun. Satisfied with my schoolwork, I spent the next thirty minutes researching bridesmaid shops in Manhattan Beach. I found two and read all the online reviews, as well as magazine write-ups of the shops, but neither one felt like the kind of place Veronica Belle would rely on for her bridesmaids’ sartorial needs. I called up a map of the fanciest shopping section in the area and zoomed in on the stores, hunting for a boutique that might not scream bridal store but might, in fact, be precisely the type of place where a star, her girlfriends, and her younger sister would go for a final fitting. I located two possibilities and opened another tab to research them more when my phone alerted me to a text message from Anaka.
Future Oscar-Winning Screenwriter: Stop the presses. Ceremony’s not in Malibu AT ALL. That was a decoy!
Excitement rattled through my veins. I wrote back in seconds.
Well???? Where is it? I am on my knees praying, you know.
Her reply was swift.
Future Oscar-Winning Screenwriter: At a ranch in Ojai owned by a famous Oscar winner!
“And the answer is Chelsea Knox,” I said out loud, pretending to slam a game show buzzer with my victorious answer.
I grinned, big and wide and pleased because we’d cracked the code. Veronica Belle and Bradley Bowman were quite clever indeed to have planted the fake nugget about a Malibu beach wedding. They wouldn’t be the first Hollywood couple to sow the decoy seeds, but it was a time-honored trick for a reason. It worked. Paparazzi and the public would be hunting for a whiff of them off the cliffs in Malibu when they’d actually be walking down the backyard aisle of the twenty-acre ranch owned by Veronica’s close friend Chelsea Knox, a poster child for the vegan movement and the winner of an Academy Award a few years back for her portrayal of a paraplegic governor in State Business, a film she’d also directed. Chelsea Knox used her Ojai Ranch home as a haven for rescued llamas, ostriches, and pot-bellied pigs. She called it Knox Ranch.
I replied to Anaka: Have I told you lately that I love you?
Future Oscar-Winning Screenwriter: Tell me again.
I wrote back. So much that I have a photo of Lolanna Winnifred getting a pedicure.
Future Oscar-Winning Screenwriter: Cannot wait to see it when I walk through the door in 30 min.
With the gem of the wedding location tucked safely in my head, bridesmaid research was even more rewarding. I returned to the open tabs and mapped the distance between the two most likely dress shops. Fortunately, they were only three blocks apart, so I stood a good chance of being able to stake out both at the same time tomorrow from a yogurt store across from the two boutiques. Maybe I’d even get lucky and not only snare a shot of the bridesmaids—that would likely score me a cool one thousand dollars—but also learn a little more about the Ojai Ranch wedding plans.
Because that’s where matters grew complicated. Quite simply, Knox Ranch was a fortress.
Chelsea had bought the seven-bedroom, five-bath property with a ten-stall stable and a kidney-shaped pool three years ago. The address of the ranch home was a matter of public record, so technically, I could hop on my scooter and ride past the ranch’s front gates right now. The problem was the graveled driveway itself was one mile long, and the entire property was fenced in with steel gating designed to look like weathered wood.
Anyone could ogle the front gates. Hardly anyone could get past them.
Finding my way in would take more digging. But with the bridesmaid plan of photographic attack in place for tomorrow, I clicked over to my email. Scanning my inbox quickly, I spotted a note from my brother and opened it first. He’d sent me a dog meme, as we often did for each other, this one featuring a picture of a husky staring into the camera asking What do you call a dog magician?
Then I read Bryan’s words: Wait for it, Jess. Wait for it.
He made me scroll down further and further still in the email for the punch line. A photo of the same dog, as if he were laughing, with the punchline: A labracadabrador.
Snickering out loud, I read the rest of Bryan’s note.
It’s totally cheesy. But admit it—you laughed, right?
Anyway, how’s everything? I can’t wait for your graduation. Kat and I are excited to see you with your mortar board in June. Top of the class, I’m sure. Did you hear Mom is sending cute twin names to us? I replied to her latest with my suggestion—Spock and Kirk for boys. It’s possible she might not be speaking to me.
