Forget going to Quinn’s. I needed my mom.

Stand Up for My Girl

Tatum

I would have never imagined that Paige could look any hotter than when she was with me, but she did. Holy hell, she did. Her shoulder-length hair seemed to suit her way more than the long hair ever did. Maybe it was the new her? More self-assured, confident, and sexy as hell.

I ran outside, telling Paige that I had something to do. But what the hell I was trying to accomplish, even I didn’t know. My instincts had told me to confront the paparazzi, tell them everything they wanted to know, but now that I was outside and surrounded by them, it seemed like a completely foolish idea. There were too many of them, and I was convinced they’d twist my words.

“Why are you leaving, Tatum? Did Paige kick you out?”

“Did you two break up?”

“How long were you guys cheating before Colin found out? Does he know you’re in town?”

“How does it feel to be a home wrecker?”

“So Paige cheated first, huh? Never would have thought that America’s Sweetheart was really a dirty girl. Is that why you like her?”

“How’d you two meet?”

“How long has Paige been keeping you a secret, Tatum Montgomery?”

Holy hell. How Paige dealt with this kind of shit on a daily basis was beyond me. I wanted to pull my arm back and clock most of these assholes in the face for the things they were saying, the insinuations about her that they made, the lies they propagated.

Every one of these pricks knew who I was; they knew my first and last name. It was unnerving, to say the least. The whole scene made me feel like I was living in an alternate universe, but I was determined to stay cool, both for Paige’s sake and my own. She needed to know she could trust me to handle this kind of thing, and I needed to learn how to do exactly that.

My mom had warned me when I stepped off the airplane about the pictures in the press. I knew no one from Hanford meant to cause any harm, but it still happened. And now I needed to fix it. Sometimes I wish life came with a manual—I could sure as shit use one now.

Paige didn’t deserve to have her life in constant upheaval like this. She needed someone to defend her honor, and I wanted that someone to be me. I meant every word I said to her just then, and I wasn’t even pissed when she didn’t tell me she loved me back. I knew she did, even if she had herself convinced that she didn’t. I’d show her how wrong she was.

While Hollywood and this ridiculous scene might not be my most favorite thing in the world, I’d realized that Paige is. And she was worth all the bullshit I’d go through just to be with her. Unfortunately, I made her feel like she wasn’t worth it. My actions and words made her to feel like I didn’t think she was worth the trouble. But she was wrong, so very wrong, and I planned to prove just that.

With the paparazzi screaming in my ear, I watched as half of them ran to their cars when Paige slipped out the doors behind me and jumped into her car, sunglasses covering her eyes. Her head turned in my direction, and she gave me a little smile before making a quick right out of her complex. I stood there dumbfounded, feeling like a fish out of water as cars peeled out of the parking lot to follow her. My stomach churned at the sight, and I felt helpless as I realized she was being relentlessly chased.

Damn it, why aren’t superpowers real?

Scanning the single photographer left, I turned toward the guy, who looked to be about my age. I took a step in his direction, and his dark, beady eyes watched my every move as his fingers tightened their grip on his camera.

“So, why are you still here?” I asked, trying to keep my tone calm when my insides were anything but. “Why didn’t you chase Paige like all the others?”

He pulled a baseball cap from his back pocket and tugged it over his jet-black hair, his tanned face suddenly shaded as he nodded at me. “One of the other guys on my crew followed her, so I stayed here with you. Maybe you’ll tell me all about the cheating and give me an exclusive?”

I narrowed my eyes and swallowed the growl that wanted to escape at his accusations. “There was no cheating,” I said, my response clipped.

“So, why are you here, Tatum?”

“I came here for her,” I admitted before snapping my lips shut.

“Then why’d she leave without you?”

Good question. No, great question.

“Do you know where she was going?” I asked, wondering how much guys like this knew about her.

He shrugged. “Probably to Quinn Johnson’s house, but she could be going anywhere. To see her agents, or her parents in the valley. Who knows, really?”

“Thanks,” I said before walking away.

“Hey, wait!” he shouted, and I stopped. “Will you give me a quote? Tell me something? Anything?”

I sucked in a lungful of air before responding, “No.” Then I turned back toward Paige’s apartment building, and the guy from the concierge desk held the door open for me as I walked back inside the lobby.

“She left. You know she left, right?” the man asked, his accent so thick he was hard to understand.

I nodded. “I wanted to talk to you. I can’t trust that kind of guy out there.” I lifted my chin in the direction of the lone paparazzi. “But I figured that you, I could trust.”

He smiled and extended his hand. “I’m Samuel Montoya, but everyone calls me Sam.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Tatum Montgomery.” Our hands met, and he gripped mine tighter than I had anticipated.

“I know who you are. Read all about you this morning.”

“Right. So, about that—” I started, but Sam’s expression turned serious and his eyes grew wide.

“Mr. Montgomery?” he interrupted, and I dipped my head toward him, thinking he was about to divulge some secret. “Mr. McGuire is pulling up.”

“Mr. McGuire? You mean Colin? He’s here?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. That is most certainly his car.”

I turned around to see a sporty black Porsche pull up outside with blacked-out windows, black rims, and all-black wheels. What a douche. The door opened and Colin climbed out. Bracing myself, I hadn’t expected to see him again so soon. Or ever, for that matter.

Watching as he held up one finger toward the valet to signal that he would be right back, he entered the lobby where I stood with Sam. He pulled off his sunglasses before squinting at me, as if trying to place exactly how he knew me. I could tell exactly when he connected the dots, because his expression turned smug.

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. What the hell are you doing here, country boy? Come all the way to LA to face the music?”

Instinctively, I straightened my spine and pulled back my shoulders, reminding Colin just how much taller and bigger I was than him. “Face the music? What the hell are you even talking about? The real question is what you’re doing here. I’m pretty sure Paige doesn’t want to see you.”

“And how would you know that? I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to see you either, or you wouldn’t be sitting in the lobby right now. Am I right?”

Touché.

“Miss Lockwood gave me strict instructions. She does not want to see you, Mr. Colin,” Sam said from behind his desk, and I tried to hide the smart-aleck grin that spread across my face.

Colin looked me straight in the eye. “It’s good that you’re here. Now people will really believe the rumors about you and her. They would have had a hard time buying it before, but not now. Thanks for helping my cause, buddy. I’ll make sure the paparazzi know you’re in town and how heartbroken I am that Paige left me for you.” He started dialing on his cell phone before putting it to his ear, and I growled as Sam reached out to steady me.