"Yes,Ethan, it was."
Anderson widened his eyes dramatically. "Oh, a low blow, my sweet. You mustn't call me that dreadful name. Fine," he added with a theatrical gesture. "Kayla.Are you absolutely positive that beautiful man isn't my type?"
Kayla couldn't help a laugh. "Is anyonenotyour type, Andy? But Iamsure you're not his, sorry."
"You won't be too angry if I try to steal him away, though, will you? I mean, a man must try."
"If Jordan doesn't mind you flirting at him, I don't mind, but I do expect you to behave yourself if?—"
The director's assistant called for everyone to take their places. Kayla broke off mid-sentence as she and Anderson both stepped up to their marks, replacing the stand-ins who had been in place while the lighting was arranged. This was—in the way of movies—one of the final scenes in the show, but the schedule had it filming the morning after their characters had met. All the angst had been skipped, Kayla thought as she and Anderson walked toward one another as if mesmerized, as if pulled there by fate itself. He swept the winter hat off her head, revealing her absolutely awful haircut, smiled sweetly into her eyes, and murmured, "You've never been more beautiful," before lowering his mouth to hers for a passionate kiss.
Straight to the happy ending, Kayla thought. If only it could really work that way.
It does,her owl said.Tell Jordan you love him and then we get our happy ending.
It took everything Kayla had not to giggle into the kiss and ruin the take.It's not that easy, even for shifters! Especially when your mate doesn't know shifters exist! Now shush, I'm working.
The owl gave an insulted little hoot and settled into a fluff of feathers in her mind. Kayla and Anderson filmed their kiss another half dozen times as cameras were moved around for different angles, and finally Cyril declared himself satisfied. "Anderson, your scene with Marge is set up. Kayla…" The director eyed her distastefully. "You have a couple of hours free. Do try to get some rest, darling, you look peaky. At the very least, see Ruth in makeup before your next scene."
Her owl caroled,Muuuurrrrrr-duuuuuuur,in her mind, and Kayla, keeping a smile fixed in place, marched off to meet Jordan before she did something regrettable.
There had beenthree choices for coffee: Kate's Cafe, up on the church-end corner of the town square, Imelda's doughnut shop kitty-corner to that, and the ice cream shop down off the main drag. Kayla had no idea if they did coffee at all, but it was the most out-of-the-way choice of the three, so she'd suggested it, and made her way across the square and down half-familiar streets to find it for the first time in twenty-odd years.
Jordan and his ill-mannered but otherwise charming dog had arrived first. The one was sitting nervously at a booth, watching the window and smiling when he saw her; the other stood up from beneath the table, tail wagging hopefully, when Kayla pulled the door open and came in. "Oh, no," she said to the dog's big brown eyes and wide smile. "It's hard to stay mad at you, isn't it?" She crouched to ruffle the animal's fur, then lifted her gaze to smile at Jordan.
Her heart lurched with heady desire and adoration, surprising her. Jordan was a handsome man, though Kayla had certainly spent enough time in the movie industry to recognizethat wasfarfrom everything. She'd known so many beautiful, shallow men…but fate wouldn't connect her with someone whose appeal was only skin-deep. Jordan could be—would be—her everything, if things went right. They'd be there to support each other, to laugh over stupid jokes, to keep each other warm at night.
All she had to do was somehow explain that she could turn into an owl at whim, and negotiate her career versus his own, and get out of Virtue without drawing any more attention to it, or herself, than absolutely necessary.
No problem,Kayla thought with a sigh, and stood up with her smile still more or less in place. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Jordan Rhodes. Thanks for meeting me here," she added with a glance at the soda fountain counter. "I'm honestly not even sure if they do coffee."
"Everybody does at least a cup of black coffee," Jordan assured her. He stood when she did, offering his hand in a suitably formal 'hi, classmate from 20 years ago, it's definitely not weird to run into you again or anything' kind of greeting.
Kayla slipped her fingers into his with equal formal politeness, then groaned. "Oh my God, your hands are so nice and warm. I've been standing outside for three hours and the lights are melting the snow but my fingers are still icicles."
"Well, let me warm them up." Jordan sat down again without releasing her hand, and wrapped both of his around her cold fingers. A shiver zoomed up Kayla's arms, partly from the heat of his touch (metaphorical) and partly from the heat of his touch (literal). His hands were strong and while notrough, so much more textured than Anderson's that she shivered again. "You really are cold," Jordan said with concern. "I thought they were supposed to pamper the stars on set."
"It's mostly just my hands," Kayla promised, though she also made a face. "And sometimes we get pampered, but other times the director is a butthead ex-boyfriend and behaving like a…"
"Butthead?" Jordan supplied when she ran out of descriptors.
Kayla ducked her head and grinned. "Yeah, good choice of words."
"You need me to go punch him or anything?" he asked in the same tone of general inquiry, and when Kayla lifted her eyes, startled but grinning wider yet, Jordan met her grin with one of his own. "I'm not a violent person," he promised. "It's just that sometimes you need to offer to punch a dude."
"The offer is greatly appreciated," Kayla said cheerfully. "I feel like it would cause more trouble than it solved, though. It's mostly fine, anyway. Not really his fault we're filming in actual snow."
"Can I confess something?" Jordan leaned in, and Kayla's heart gave an unholythump, sending waves of anticipatory dizziness through her. Eyes wide, she nodded, and Jordan murmured, "I hate fake snow in movies."
Looking back two seconds in time, Kayla couldn't say what exactly she'd expected him to say, but it definitely hadn't been that. She blinked once, then again, and spluttered faintly before starting to laugh. "If you want to know the truth, so do I. If you grew up around snow you can really tell when it's fake, you know?"
Jordan nodded enthusiastically. "Especially if somebody's walking through it. Real snow gets that crust you break through and you get this weird little lurch in your step that fake snow just can't, uh, fake."
"Or sometimes it's not even the crust, it's that your brain is like 'oh, this is the surface!' and then you put your weight onit and you're like 'ack!' because the actual ground is four inches farther away than you think it will be!"
"Yes! Exactly like that!" Jordan unfolded his hands from around Kayla's now-much-warmer fingers and beckoned for her other hand.
The cold from her touch had chilled his hands a bit, but he was still far warmer than she was. She gave a happy little sigh, mumbled, "I'm melting now," and slithered down in the chair a little.
