Seven hours later, I have blisters forming on the bridge of both feet after a whole day standing around the castle atrium pretending to dish out canapes whilst sporting the most ridiculous pair of high heels.
‘What waitress works in heels?’ I whisper-shout to Nate as everyone winds up for the day. I quickly gathered from the polite, but formal tone he’d used all day that he doesn’t want the rest of the crew to suspect there’s anything going on between us, which is fine with me.
The last thing I need is any more attention right now. But tell that to the hummingbirds soaring through my stomach every time he casts a secret, sultry glance my way.
His hard body leans on the maple wood staircase. ‘Poor baby. I’ll give you a foot massage later, if you play your cards right.’
‘And there was me thinking I was supposed to be showing you some tenderness tonight,’ I murmur as everyone bustles around us, seemingly desperate to escape for the day.
He shrugs, casually raking his fingers through his inky dishevelled hair. ‘It works both ways.’
Wow. And I thought Nate Jackson was perfect before.
A pink-haired woman in her early twenties strides towards us carrying a big cardboard box. I recognise her as one of the production crew. She glances between Nate and me twice before her stare settles on Nate.
‘Delivery for you.’ She extends the box with long slim fingers painted the same shade of cerise as her hair.
‘Actually, it’s for her.’ Nate’s head flicks in my direction in a casual nod.
‘Me? I didn’t order anything.’ The words rush out like a stammer.
Pink Hair shrugs and swivels, dumping the box into my clammy hands before rushing back in the direction she came from.
His lips lift into a lazy smile. ‘Go on. Open it.’
‘Is it a first aid box? Because my feet would really thank you for that right now.’ I sit on the bottom step of the staircase, rest the box on my lap and tear at the seal.
‘It’s better.’ His eyes twinkle with a promise.
He’s not lying. Behind the outer packaging, a rich royal blue foil appears, with a Dior label plastered across the top. ‘What is it?’ I squeak with excitement.
‘It’s an Advent calendar. One without a grain of sugar.’ His fingers thrum over his quirked lips.
He isn’t joking. The images of iconic miniature Dior products displayed on the outside of the box hint at an array of luxurious treasures hiding behind each door; a mini J’adore perfume, mini Diorshow Overcurl Mascara. A full-size Addict Lip Glow.
My heart inflates in my chest. Not at the gift, which is divine. But that Nate went to the trouble of doing something for me. ‘It’s too generous. Too much.’
‘It had to be something special to make up for all the ones you missed. Don’t open it until the first of December.’ His head dips to mine. Warm lips ghost from my cheeks to my temple, in a quick fleeting gesture. ‘I’ll call over after seven.’
‘See you then.’ My heart flutters in my chest.
Tenderness loading.
ChapterSeventeen
NATE
1st December
Having Holly on set for the past week has saved me. It’s thanks to her that we’re on schedule. Every time I’m supposed to feel a longing for Olivia, all I have to do is sneak a glance at the unpretentious beauty in that waitress costume and that longing bursts into life.
It feels like I’m cheating.
Like I don’t deserve this part.
But there’s no way I’m going to admit defeat now.
If I can just get through this movie, I willneverever take on another type of role, other than action, again. I know my limitations, and floundering around in a cashmere ensemble pretending to be doe-eyed over another Hollywood princess is a hard limit for me.
