I took a seat, smoothing my skirt, willing my pulse to slow.
Vance sat across from me, the chair creaking as he leaned back. He folded his hands on the table, composed on the surface, but his thumb tapped lightly against his knuckle — a small tell that gave him away.
Kenzie set her tablet down with a clap, oblivious to the tension that filled the room. “Okay. So, Carol and I have the preliminary specs, but first we’d love to hear your vision for the space.”
Vision. Right. I needed to speak. To sound competent. Professional. Anything but the woman who’d kissed this man under the stars less than twenty-four hours ago.
I cleared my throat. “Well, I think the bones of the house are beautiful. It just needs breathing room. Light. Something that feels more like the ocean outside and less like a time capsule.”
Carol nodded approvingly. “Exactly what we were hoping to hear.”
I risked a glance across the table. Vance was watching me, eyes steady, the corner of his mouth barely lifting in something like pride—or maybe disbelief that I was really there. The warmth in his gaze hit me square in the chest.
“Sounds like you’re in good hands,” Carol said.
My voice came out softer than I intended. “We’ll make it beautiful.”
Carol led the way into the dining room, which had been mostly cleared except for a long folding table set up with laptops,printed mood boards, a pitcher of lemon water, and neatly stacked production packets labeled “Coastal Revival – Pilot.”
Kenzie plopped into a chair, practically vibrating. “Okay, so this is where the fun begins.”
I sat across from her, pretending my palms weren’t clammy. Vance slid into the chair beside me, close enough that I could smell his cologne. I avoided looking at him directly, too aware of how awkward this was.
Carol pulled out her glasses and a thick folder. “We’re here to go over logistics, tone, and schedule.” She looked at Kenzie. “Where the heck is Beau?”
“He’s on his way,” Kenzie said. “Got stuck in traffic.”
“Who’s Beau?” I asked.
“The contractor. The two of you will work together on and off camera,” Carol said.
“You’ll love him,” Kenzie added. “Super hot. You two will have great chemistry.”
My throat tightened. I didn’t look at Vance, but I could feel him shift beside me.
Kenzie leaned forward, practically bouncing. “We’re hoping you and Beau get the rumors started about dating in real life. Of course, it will all be pretend, but people eat that stuff up. The network wants real sparks—the kind viewers can’t look away from.”
I blinked. “What?”
Carol gave me a flat look. “That’s part of the hook. The banter. The process. People don’t want to just see drywall come down—they want a story. And that story’s you and Beau.”
Kenzie’s smile widened. “Trust me—I know what works. Viewers will eat it up.” She tilted her head, studying me. “After all, you want this show to succeed, don’t you? For your business? Your daughter?”
The way she said “your daughter” made something cold slide down my spine.
I swallowed. Okay. Well, I guess this is showbiz.
“What exactly will I be doing?” Vance asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“You’ll be in quite a few scenes,” Kenzie said. “Discussing what you want, telling Lila the history of the house and anything you want to preserve about your family’s legacy.”
“Great,” Vance said. “Can’t wait.”
The door opened behind us, and a man stepped inside, carrying a thermos and rolled-up floor plans. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sun-bronzed skin and just the right amount of scruff. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing strong forearms and a hint of a tattoo. His smile was lazy and confident.
“You’re late,” Carol said.
“Morning, all. Got caught up in traffic from the city.” Beau nodded to the room before his gaze settled on me. “You must be Lila?”
