together anymore. In another drawer I found a stamp pad and a date stamper. That would have to do.

I went table by table, checking driver's licenses. I was glad that I did because there were a few that were underage. They were requested to

leave immediately. It felt good to kick a few of his fans out.

Women packed my bar; it was indescribable. All ages, shapes, and sizes forced their way in. For what? For the hopes of getting a glimpse of

my boyfriend? The man who loves me with all his heart? It reminded me of the time his car was surrounded out in L.A. by screaming, hysterical

fans. My mood instantly morphed from stressed to pissed.

Marie approached a table of four women who were just sitting in anticipation. “If you’re not going to order something you have to leave!” I heard

her tell them. “No, water is not an order. We serve alcohol here. This is a bar.”

She slapped her serving tray on top of the bar. I could see she was just as pissed as I was. “This is freaking ridiculous, Taryn!”

“I know. I don’t know what to do,” I muttered in defeat. “I don’t know what I can do, besides stand up on this bar and tell them all that he’s not

here.”

I really wanted to tell them all that he was mine and they were delusional, crazy bitches; maybe end my rant with an “everyone get the hell out,”

but I couldn’t.

I was so busy carding people that I completely lost track of the time. My pocket started singing to me.

“Hi,” I breathed out, running for cover in the kitchen.

“Hey, everything all right?” Ryan asked.

“No. My bar is inundated with female fans. I don’t know what to do.” I felt like a panic attack was coming on. “If they see you,” I gasped. It was

getting harder to breathe.

“Shit, I was afraid of this. Okay, just stay calm. I’ll fix this. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Take care of your business. Stay out in the bar. Things will be a little hectic, but once they get what they came for they’ll leave.” He was in

business mode.

I nervously paced behind the bar, mixing drink orders to occupy my brain. I had no idea what he was talking about, and I had just about my fill of

dirty looks for one night. I knew what each one of them were thinking - why her? What was so special about me that caught his attention? I even

heard a few of them say that I wasn’t pretty enough to be his girlfriend. I felt like the neighbor’s dog just snuck into my house and peed all over my

carpets just for spite.

A black sedan pulled up out front and parked. I saw Ryan’s bodyguard open his car door and they walked to the front door of the pub. The

minute Ryan’s foot hit the carpeting the women started screaming. My shoulders instantly hunched up and I covered my ears with my hands to

muffle the sounds. Cameras were clicking everywhere. Girls even stood up on some of my chairs.

Ryan smiled and waved to the adoring fans while his guardian ushered him safely into the poolroom. I noticed one of the paparazzi also

followed them. Just then my cell phone played my favorite tune.

“I didn’t know what else to do. Don’t be mad,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“Ladies, ladies,” his bodyguard, Mike, called out. “Mr. Christensen will be signing autographs and providing photo opportunities for one hour.

One photo per guest only please.”

“It’s brilliant! I love you too!” I answered him.

In an instant, a line was formed. Actually the line started forming before Mike even spoke. I looked at my watch, it was almost seven. I filled a

large glass with soda and took it over to the poolroom.

“Ms. Mitchell,” Mike greeted me with a partial smile. He had his bulky arms folded across his chest to look even more intimidating.

“Hi Mike! Would you please give this to him for me? Can I get you something to drink too?”

Mike shook his head.

Marie, Cory, and I stood behind the bar, just watching. I noticed how none of the other paparazzi entered my bar, but some other menace did - a

reporter.

A well-dressed lady sat at my bar, smiling at me. I glanced down the bar to notice that gap-toothed psycho fan was anxiously standing in line.

“Ms. Mitchell, Sheila Moore from the Celeb Entertainment Network. I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions?” She flashed her shiny,

white teeth at me.

“I have no comment,” I answered quickly. “No interviews.”

“Just one question, Honey,” she goaded me. There was only one person on this planet that called me “Honey” and she was not it.

“No,” I said firmly. “Please leave now.”

“You know that attitude is not very good for his career!” She smiled her fake smile at me. I wasn’t falling for her tricks. Like answering her

probing questions would be good for his career.

She eyed Marie and I could see the little hamster on the wheel in her brain churn another revolution.

“No, you cannot interview any of my employees either,” I said sharply. “Now I would prefer if you left.” Her eye daggers were confirmation

enough of her unhappiness. I really didn’t care. I barely spoke to my closest confidants about my relationship; she was crazy to think I’d spill any

details to her.

My attention was diverted when new customers came into the pub. Thankfully it was some of my regular male customers. They were obviously

happy seeing the large selection of women. The guys quickly punched numbers into their cell phones; it was the modern day version of sending

smoke signals to the other tribesmen.

Ryan’s little plan seemed to be working. As the women got their meet and greet satisfied, they exited right out the door. The crowd was actually

thinning. Marie nodded her head in response to seeing some of the girls leave.

It irked me to hear some of the comments these women were making about Ryan. Most were gushing about their encounter with him; how hot

he was, how they’d like to “do him” as they put it.

Two young women sat at the bar in front of me, talking about his hair and his dreamy eyes, and how they can’t believe how lucky they got tonight

to be at the right place at the right time.

I was washing a few dirty glasses when one of the girls expressed her next observation out loud. She presumed since Ryan was here without

Suzanne that they must not be a couple like everyone thought. And since he was out prowling the streets of Seaport (and slumming with the locals),

he must be looking for a good time. She felt her odds just increased to getting him. She even came up with a few lines to let him know he could

have her. She decided that her “want to come back to my place and have sex?” line was the winner.

A few weeks ago statements like that would have drifted in one ear and right out the other, not affecting me in the slightest bit. But now I felt the

burn rip right through my heart. The red tailed beast called Anger welled in me. These women talked about him like he was a thing, an object, a

possession to be had. And the thing they desired was the man that I loved.

Marie studied my facial expression for two seconds before concluding that I was almost at the end of my rope.

“Go take a walk. Cory and I have this.” She steered me along by my shoulders.

“I’m going to see how he’s doing, then I’m going up to have dinner with him. I’ll be back a little later.” I couldn’t hide the anger any longer.

He had just about ten minutes left until his hour of people pleasing was over, and there were still about fifteen women in line. Mike smiled at me

and moved slightly so I could look in on Ryan. Two girls were chatting up a storm with him, tossing their hair, smiling, and flirting. It made me sick.

Ryan was standing there with his arms folded across his chest, trying to be nice. When he saw me he grinned, ran his finger down his nose, and