She gives me a look. “Who saysyou’renot the cheerleader?”
I recall the role-reversal they did in the last series and shrug. “Maybe I am.” Besides, they have male cheerleaders too. We set our gaze back on the screen.
4:30 Mandatory pool time (Yes, mandatory; get outside while the cooks enter their quarters to prepare dinner. This will be a daily thing so get used to it.)
6:00-7:00 Get ready for dinner. It’s formal wear tonight.
7:00 Dinner in the dining area.
10 p.m. Lights out
I can’t help but comment on the 4:30 activity. “Mandatorypool time—a daily thing?” I turn to Brinley. “Didyourequest that?”
She pulls a cringe face. “Request?”
I lean in and talk out the side of my mouth like I’m hoping no one else will hear. “The pool time. Because all you’ve got to do is ask…”
She shakes her head, but a grin sneaks through the corner of her lips. “It’s already two-thirty,” she says. “Guess we better find out where the studio is.”
“True.” I glance around, looking for a label like the one above the cat den. And that’s when I see Moonshine glaring at me through the gates of hell.
“Are you cold?” Brinley asks. She traces a finger over my forearm.
I’m not about to admit that her freaky cat gave me the shivers. “Just caught a draft, is all.”
“Oh, right here,” Brinley says with a point to a corner behind the kitchen area. There, right over a closed door, are the wordsStudio Entrancein gold letters.
We pull open the door to see that the so-called studio is a garage big enough to hold a yacht. It’s as homey as they could make it, with painted walls and finished flooring, but the massive garage door at the far end gives it away.
“Let’s find out who’s holding the pom poms,” I say.
I can’t exactly say I’ve got this one in the bag, but after ourwelcome basket and chilltime, I can definitely say the chemistry is still burning strong.
“Tell me something,” I say while pinning her with a look.
“Yeah?” Brinley says.
“Be honest,” I add.
Her expression turns as serious as my tone. “Okay,” she prompts.
“Did you…” I lean in and take it down to a whisper. “Did you take Moonshine off a certain movie set? One with other living dead things?”
Brinley smacks my arm and shakes her head. “Not funny.”
So she says, but the bounce of her shoulders as she walks ahead of me says otherwise. At least I can still make her laugh. I’m hoping I can do a lot more than that in the days ahead.
CHAPTER8
Brinley
A wave of nerves ripples through me as I step down the big, spiral staircase. The last thing I want is to look like I’m making some sort of grand entrance or big reveal in my swimsuit. This is why, after pulling on the only one piece in the rack full of swimwear options provided, I shrugged into myPanic at The Discoconcert tee. I also strategically draped a big, terrycloth robe over my arm along with a pool towel where they block any clear view.
I’m not ashamed of my figure, but even if I had aperfect ten bod,I’d never be one to flaunt it.
I lift my chin to take a glance out the window and find it steals my next breath. The view is even more stunning from up here. The turquoise pool reflects tall palm trees and the glistening sun. Above that, the sky’s friendly blue color is accented by golden sunrays and white, puffy clouds.
I’m about to settle my gaze on the spot between the water and sky—the vast view of the LA landscape—when something red catches my attention—Dawson’s swim trunks, which cover a mere twenty-five percent of his body. The rest of Dawson’s full, magnificent form is bare, tanned, and muscled to perfection.
