Alicia Martinez is determined to keep a low profile. After a tough year, she deletes all of her social media and retreats to the small coastal town of St Andrews in the hopes of starting over - and avoiding her tumultuous past.
Oliver Hogarth is a...
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"This is a terrible idea," Rory said.
Oliver glanced up. He was sitting in a salon chair, a black cape thrown over his shoulders. With the silver aluminum foil in his hair, he bore a strong resemblance to an alien role-playing a druid. Or maybe a druid role-playing an alien. He touched the tinfoil.
"Really?" Oliver asked mildly. "I think I'll look good brunette."
"Not the hair dye," Rory said, clearly exasperated. "Moving. To St Andrews."
"It's only for the month."
"It's insane."
"I like it there," Oliver said. "I always have."
He had spent summers there as a child, clambering over the sand dunes and eating ice cream on the beach. His cousin, Rupert, had even made a game out of identifying all of the different accents of tourists. Texan. French. Russian.
Yes, Oliver loved St Andrews. And most importantly, his security detail had approved the plan; apparently, Prince William had gone to university there, so it was easy enough to secure the area. Thank god.
Rory pulled a face. "But what will you do?"
"Swim. Golf."
"Golf?"
"I golf," Oliver said defensively.
"Mini golf doesn't count."
"Then I'll learn." He fiddled with the black cloak. "Besides, I have a good mate that's in town for a competition. Antony McIntosh."
"I'm sorry, did you just say Antony McIntosh?"
"Do you know him?"
Rory stared at him. "The most famous amateur golfer in the world? Yeah. Yeah, I've heard of him a few times."
Oliver smirked. Rory was holding a wide-tooth comb, his thumb frozen over the bristles. It was amazing that — even now — they all managed to get starstruck. Even Rory, who had been chased down the street by a rabid fan only yesterday. Hell, Rory's face was taped to the walls of teenage girls' bedrooms around the world. And probably some teenage boys' bedrooms too, come to think of it.
"Look, I don't know what I'll do." He shrugged. "But does it matter? I just want to have an adventure."
Rory gave him an odd look. "You? An adventure?"
"Yes."
"That's practically an oxymoron."
Oliver sighed. Rory was right; he was the definition of a homebody. The most adventurous thing he had ever done was burning down a sacred temple during a concert in Japan, and that was really Theo's fault. "Then I'll learn to be adventurous," he said. "How hard can it be?"
Oliver looked up as the hair stylist approached, his heeled boots clicking in the silent salon. One ringed hand lifted the aluminum.
