When I join Dawson at the table once more, I find the kitchen crew setting up a dessert bar complete with peach cobbler, bread pudding, and cherry pie.
“How about a sample plate?” Dawson says while rubbing his hands together. “I’ll grab one of everything and we can try them all.”
“Sure,” I say, glad I have an appetite for dessert. My gaze shifts to his full and masterful mouth, and a rush of heat surges through me. While I’d love to satisfy that craving as well, I force my gaze back to the desserts; I’ll have to settle for the sweets tonight.
CHAPTER14
Dawson
I plop onto the video diary chair and glance at the tablet. Not that I need to. It’s my third day answering these, and I know the drill.
“What pleasantly surprised me about today?” I say to start, thinking back on how I answered yesterday’s questions. I was still hoping to get a little lip action from Brinley at the time, since we hadn’t gone upstairs for the night yet, but that didn’t happen.
“The day’s not over,” I say. “So far, we’ve had breakfast, lunch, and pool time, but I’d say I’m pleasantly surprised by the effort Brinley is putting into her acting role. She brought her script while we were out by the pool and wanted to go over it with me before our official practice. I love that.
“And I think she’s letting go a little. Letting herself really get into the part.” I pause there, not wanting to say why I think she’s relating to Libby so well, but it’s stupidly obvious so I relent.
“I know they set it up so she has to figure out if she can trust Nick and she’s not sure if she does.” I shrug. “It’s lame because in the ways that count most—shecantrust me. So I guess that’s theunpleasant surprise of the day. The fact that she still struggles with that. It’s not fair, and I don’t even know how to fix it.”
The acknowledgment is a downer, but I still have time. I’m confident I can help Brinley see that, if she’ll give me the chance, I’ll make her my top priority.
Now that I’ve come to such a great place in my career, it’s not necessary for me to show up and schmooze the way I used to. I’ve paid my dues. If Brinley was being honest about her concerns during our breakup, that detail should put them all to rest.
The trouble is, Iknowthere’s more to it. There has to be another reason she blew the thing with Buffy out of proportion. Like she was determined to end things. Whatever it is, I’m close to discovering it. I can feel it—a bubble floating in my unconscious mind. One that drifts toward the borders of consciousness each time we talk, almost revealing itself.
Almost.
I hope I’m as close to discovering it as I think I am because if I can’t unveil the real issue before our time is up, I don’t know how we’ll move on.
I clear my throat and shift my focus to the final prompt. I’ve got to get out of this room before my head explodes.
“Chances of making it work, one through ten.” My mind shoots back to that kiss in the closet, but since I haven’t gotten any action since, I focus on whathastaken place. Killer companionship—when we’re not arguing about the script—and sizzling chemistry that doesn’t quit no matter how ticked off we are.
Yesterday, I guessed a six out of ten, just like I did on day one. I don’t want any bad omens by going for a third six, and since my overall confidence is starting to rise where Brinley’s concerned, I shoot for one higher, but only because I’m determined to pop that elusive bubble.
“Seven.” I hop up to exit the room when a buzzer sounds, followed by an announcement from Cy that I need to spin the wheel again.
I groan, not wanting another ridiculous mishap over the dumb challenges on that wheel. “Am I the only one who has to do this?” I ask, assuming I won’t get an answer. Brinley didn’t do anything off the wall yesterday.
I huff my way into the adjoining closet and spin the cursed wheel. I stare at it as the small space echoes with tinny ticks. I lean in to read the prompt.
“Pin Brinley against the wall and tell her to kiss you.”
The idea alone makes tempting heat flare low in my belly, but I’m also nervous about how wrong it could go. The timing on this one will have to be just right.
The fact that it’s part of a challenge means they’ll want to catch it on film. I purposely ravished Brinley in the comfort of her own private closet so she’d let go and give into the moment. I don’t want her to think this is all for the viewers at home. But I agreed to come on the show and I knew it meant I’d have to respect their end of the deal.
I leave the small room with the wheel, quietly closing the door behind me, then exit the diary nook too. Brinley should be waiting for me in the studio, ready to rehearse.
‘Kiss me,’I imagine saying to her. The vision of pinning her to a wall in the process has me anxious to give it a try, even if I get slapped for it.
Dang, I want her in my life.
I want to wake up to her and hear about the wild dream she had last night. I want to witness the passion she has for a challenging new job and kiss her after a hard day’s work.
I want. I long. I need.
The studio is staged and ready for the different sets we need for each scene. The university’s old cafeteria, two faux outdoor sets—one for day and one for night—and Nick and Libby’s shared room where Brinley is lounging on a battered mattress that rests on the floor.
