Read Online The Inn at Laurel Creek by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson - Free Book Online Page A

all of those criteria, but toss in the famous-hotter-than-hot-to-every-woman-alive stuff and I panicked all over again. Would I have to buy a baseball bat to beat women off of the side of the car, or to carry around when we were out in public? That wouldn't be fun, and I'd probably end up in jail and in a new committed relationship with a woman named Butch. That, I couldn't handle.
    I slapped myself on the forehead. "Seriously, Carly. What's your problem? You didn't even know Ben was Bret until Lou told you. And she even said he's been living this way since his career started, and you've never once heard anything about Bret Bennett being someone else so why are you even thinking like this? It's stupid and illogical, stop it."
    Self-talks weren't usually positive for me, but I had to agree with that Carly. No one seemed to know Bret Bennett was really Ben Reynolds, so why was I worried? And the Ben I'd met wasn't at all what I imagined a celebrity to be like, so maybe I had nothing to worry about. Besides, I was a mature, professional woman. I could totally handle anything that came my way. Totally. I didn't beat Matthew up when I met his girlfriend so soon after we'd parted ways, and for a moment or two, I'd really wanted to punch him in the groin, but I didn't, so I doubted I'd feel the need to beat up any groupies.
    I Googled Bret Bennett on my phone and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that almost all of the links were about his music and not about him personally. I did read one article about how the singer didn't do interviews or make public appearances outside of his concerts because he was such a private person. He'd been quoted as saying early on in his career that he wanted to keep his personal life personal and he hoped the people that enjoyed his music would understand.
    The man had class, that was obvious, and it just made me want him more. I knew then that no matter who he was, I was going to be with him because my feelings were too strong to walk away.
    I scrolled back to the top and saw the advertised link, the one I never pay attention to at the top of the search results. It was a link to his website, with bold letters saying his national tour started in three weeks.
    Three weeks? Ben was going to be touring the country in three weeks?
    He texted me again. "Well?"
    "Well what?" I responded.
    "What if I never want to let you go?"
    My heart was going to pound itself right out of my chest and onto my lap.
    "Well, then I guess I'll have to get used to having you around," I texted back, my fingers shaking.
    "That works for me," Ben wrote. "Got my meeting moved up to first thing in the morning so I should be back by about one o'clock. Get some rest because we'll have to make up for lost time."
    My insides quivered. "Yes, sir," I wrote back. "See you tomorrow."
    "Looking forward to it," he wrote.
    I read his texts over and over, trying to convince myself I wasn't dreaming and they really were from him, from Ben, the sweet, sexy guy I'd met at the Inn, who was also Bret, the famous, sultry singer that any girl would kill to get her hands on. I swiped back to my Internet screen on the phone and clicked on images, checking out his face. The more I looked, the more I realized the resemblance was obvious and I chided myself for not noticing on my own. I wondered if his previous girlfriends knew? Did they figure it out themselves or did he tell them? Lou mentioned something about women wanting him for his celebrity, so some probably knew, but I wonder if some didn't and if they just never found out, or kept his secret? Could I keep that kind of secret? Oh God. What if I couldn't?
    Like I said, I was so screwed.
    ***
    Hours later I woke up, still in the chair and stiff from my contorted position, but feeling like a million bucks anyway. I checked my phone and saw I had six messages—three from friends and three from Ben.
    His first text, "Are you still awake?" The second, "I guess not," and the third, "Hope you're