Now I’m cooking breakfasts for strangers? Rory couldn’t shake off the feeling of bitterness as she threw some bacon on the skillet. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this especially when she was so annoyed. Annoyed at this man and his car-crashing ways. Annoyed at Lizzy’s fascination with him. Annoyed that he had made her pretty little teacup into an ashtray.

Who the hell does he think he is?

As the bacon sizzled and the bread toasted, Rory’s curiosity got the better of her and she pulled out her phone to Google “Arsen Ford.”

Lead guitar player and the main songwriter of Insurrection. Hmm. She had heard the name of this band in passing before but never really paid them much attention. Three-time Grammy-winner and widely considered the best guitar player of his generation. This guy? She looked up from the phone screen toward the living room where he sat, as if she could see through the walls.

Apart from all the musical accolades that were thrown his way, there was also a ton of gossip surrounding him. From the news reports, Arsen seemed like your typically obnoxious, playboy rockstar. No surprise there, Rory rolled her eyes. Flings with countless movie stars and models, pictures of wild parties in Ibiza, punched a man in a bar once, and even stormed off the stage in Cabo Hall, Detroit.

Rory simply couldn’t understand why people like Arsen did what they did. They had such fabulous lives full of riches, fame, and adoring fans, and yet they managed to make a complete mess of it. What use are three Grammys when you’re being a jackass all the time? she wondered. Most of all she wondered why she was cooking breakfast for this guy.

Well, it’s not every day that you get to cook for a Grammy-winner. I wonder what the girls in NYC would think of this development.

The latest reports on TMZ showed paparazzi photos of Arsen and his band arriving on a private jet on the party island of Montcove. Party island? Montcove? It gave Rory a smirk of her own to realize how the media portrayed this quiet place.

The Italian herb bread from Martha’s bakery was done toasting up, and the fried eggs were glistening with bacon grease. It had been forever since she got fresh bread from Martha’s.

When Grandma Colleen was alive, she’d make a point to have plenty of Martha’s goodies to go around. She remembered one summer in Montcove as a young girl that she was fascinated by the idea of breakfast in bed. When she asked her granny for that, she was met with a simple reply: “If you want breakfast in bed, sleep in the kitchen.”

Rory wondered how her grandma would react to Arsen crashing his car and being in here. She’d probably help him out and then give him a stern lecture. What I wouldn’t give to see that? What I wouldn’t give to have her back in my life? She let out a wistful sigh.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee distracted her from her thoughts, making her stomach wake up. She couldn’t help but put a crispy piece of bacon in her mouth. Outside, Lizzy was laughing at short intervals, clearly charmed by the conversation with Arsen. He seemed like the kind of guy who would charm his way into the pants of a naive girl like Lizzy.

Putting the simple breakfast that she had cooked on a large tray, Rory stepped out of the kitchen. Once Rory entered the living room, the conversation in there instantly died. Lizzy looked nervously at Rory while Arsen just looked out to the porch. They were like school kids who stopped talking once a strict teacher entered the classroom.

“Breakfast!” Lizzy exclaimed and clapped her hands. At this moment, anything and everything was exciting to her as long as Arsen Ford was in the room. She quickly put together a plate and handed it to him, annoying Rory further. Jeez. Be more obvious, Lizzy, she thought sarcastically.

“Rory, this is great!” Lizzy exclaimed as she bit into the food. Arsen ate silently, totally focused on his plate. The man was starved and he still couldn’t come up with as much as a thank you? How rude.

“You’re both welcome!” Rory said sarcastically, looking Arsen right in the eye. He looked up, gave a little nod, and went back to eating. After they were done, Lizzy got up and took the dirty dishes to the kitchen.

“That was… good.” He paused. “My ankle, however, is not. It is fucked. Shit!” He grimaced. Rory wanted to go and punch the two deep dimples that appeared on his face as he did so. The thought of making him grimace some more, just to bring out that face, made her chuckle.

“Oh yes, that is a very astute medical diagnosis, Dr. Arsen.” She could be sarcastic too, when the situation called for it. Lizzy came back into the room and Rory saw that she had brought an ice pack. She carefully lifted his leg and put the pack around the ankle.

“Thanks, Lizzy. You’re a very sweet girl.” Arsen smiled as he complimented Lizzy, whose day was made now that she had got a compliment from a celeb that she adored. She handed Arsen the meds that were lying on the side table since last night. He gulped them without drinking any water whatsoever.

“When will… these people of yours be here?” Rory asked. She was getting sick of watching Lizzy fawning over this guy.

“Your friend really wants me out of here, huh?” Arsen said to Lizzy with a chuckle, and she giggled. Ugh, Rory wrinkled her nose.

“This is a nice house. Must be a hundred years old, at least,” he said to Rory, staring straight into her eyes. His look was intense and despite her disgust with him, Rory felt a little shaken every time he met her gaze. What is it about this man…

“Yes.” She cleared her throat.

“You haven’t seen the best part yet. Rory owns the book shop up front. It's the most charming little thing you will ever see. Do you want me to give you a tour?” Lizzy quickly jumped in.

“As much as I’d like that, honey, my ankle probably won’t allow me to.” He gently patted her knee.

Clearly, Arsen preferred talking to Lizzy than to Rory. He probably thinks I am some uptight bitch.

“Maybe then I’ll give you a tour once your ankle has healed. The ice pack will take care of that.” Lizzy wasn’t giving up.

“Yes, that’s a great idea. You’re full of great ideas, aren’t you?” Arsen smiled warmly at Lizzy.

Yeah, right. Rory thought. Lizzy and her stupid ideas. Rory was sure that Arsen had some interest in Lizzy. Of course he would. She’s a pretty girl. I have to make sure she doesn’t fall for his charm.

Arsen giving all of his attention to Lizzy was irritating Rory. She told herself it wasn’t jealousy. As Lizzy talked, he instinctively pulled out a cigarette from the pack but stopped, smirked to himself, and put it right back in.

Arsen was indeed attractive in a classic sort of way. Even the unkempt long hair fit his tall, muscular physique very well. He had strong hands, probably from years of playing guitar, and an even stronger gaze. The man virtually spoke with his eyes, which worked for him as he seemed like a man of very few words.

Rory hated herself for pondering over these thoughts and for finding him attractive. She hated herself for liking his deep voice and the dark beard along his sharp jawline. She could see why all those gorgeous Hollywood actresses would fall for him.

Some women will just fall for any dude with a guitar. The sarcastic side of her mind was balancing out all the nice things she thought about him, and as her eyes fell on Lizzy she was annoyed once again. I’m the one who takes him in, the one who cooks breakfast, and she’s the one he calls “honey?”

Her attention was distracted by the sounds of a car coming to a loud screeching halt on the back road. Not another accident, please, she thought. The other two in the room barely seemed to have noticed that. Lizzy was still going on and on about how awesome life must be in LA while Arsen just smiled and nodded.

A man dressed in chauffeur’s clothes walked toward the room. He stopped as he reached the door that led to the living room and his eyes fell on Arsen.

“Mr. Ford. I’m sorry, I just walked in—the gate outside was open.”

Lizzy left the damn gate open again, Rory thought and took another sip of coffee. The man then picked up his cell phone, waited for a beat, and then spoke. “He’s here, sir.” Then he hung up.

“And you are?” Arsen asked, apparently clueless to the identity of the man.

“I’m Mr. Nicks’ driver, sir. You might have seen me at the airport when you arrived in Montcove.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, sir, Mr. Nicks asked me to drive him here.” The man was about to say more when Rory noticed a man with long flowing blond hair, sunglasses, and what seemed like a layer of scarves around his neck walk into the room.

You didn’t need to be a genius to guess his profession. The man was the definition of a rock star—at least, he had the perfect look for it.

“Oh my God! This is the best day ever!” Lizzy screamed.