I didn’t want to approach her.
Not then.
I wanted to see how long it would take for her to realize it was me and that I washerein the same town we’d both be in for the next three months, working on the same movie set, and seeing each other every single day.
She was too in the zone to focus on anything other than the girl beside her or the one on the stage.
When Tate and I got back to our hotel, I’d casually asked him if he knew who she was. He shrugged and threw me a binder that all managers were given with a photo of every single cast and crew member for me to filter through. That’s when I found her name, phone number, and birthday. Anything else I wanted to know, the internet would tell me.
Jennifer Rogers, California’s most wanted hairdresser.
They got that right.
Hourglass figure, thick thighs, porcelain complexion and the softest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Pair it all with her ash-blonde hair, her icy personality, and her ability to make you forget how to breathe?
Snow.
I may or may not have played a part in getting Jude to select her as Mara’s replacement while we had to wait for her.
“They’re both blonde and about the same height, let’s get some practice shots in,” I told him, and he agreed almost too eagerly once he’d seen what she looked like, but I shrugged it off as if it were no big deal. As if I wasn’t getting the ball rolling on what I hoped would be a summer filled with the hottest sex of my life.
The universe may just be on my side after all.
Jude spent the next ten minutes directing us, telling me to caress her cheek while instructing her to just lean into it. Allow it to happen. Sink in.
Meltinto me.
Her blue eyes stared anywhere but into my dark ones, and I knew she was fighting the urge to quit her job, move back to wherever she came from, and hide away forever. But then something flashed across her face. Something I’d seen on night one. A burst of confidence, if you will. She took Jude’s directions with conviction, acting like loving me is the easiest thing in the world, until he yelled “Cut!” And the scene was over.
My heart was beating in my fucking throat at how close we’d gotten to kissing again.
“Is that all, Mr. Townsend?” she asks our director, batting her thick, long lashes at him, and his cheeks flushed like she’d cast the same spell on him the way she did to me the very first time we met.
“Uh, yes, that’d be all.” He cleared his throat, wiping his hands down the front of his dark blue jeans, his palm swiping across the front of his crotch to readjust.
Creep.
Nodding, she walks back into the direction she’d come from without giving me a second glance, ass swaying side to side, and it was at that moment I realized that these next few months were going to be heaven or hell.
No in between.
***
“Girlfriend?” Tate storms into my trailer, slamming the door shut and I flinch at the sound it makes, shaking the thin walls that keep us hidden, but not mute.
“It’s a little inside joke,” I tell him with a low voice. “If it were up to me, she and I would be married already,” I tease, watching him carefully when he whips around to face mine.
“Married?” He shouts, hands on his hips, nostrils flared out.
“Tate, relax. It’s just a little inside joke between her and I. We met at the F and T awards and got to talking. It’s no big deal.” I open the minibar, pull out a tiny bottle of water, twist open the cap and bring it to my lips. I purposely leave out how the night ended and how the following morning began.
“As yourmanager, Cole, I need to be aware if these are the type of stunts you’re going to pull, alright? You don’t work in that bar anymore. People are going to care about what and who you do. Who knows what’s going to show up in the paper tomorrow.” He crosses his arms over his chest and I almost spit out my water. My brother is the least serious person I know, until it comes to his job.
Only then, is he a fucking asshole.
“Chill out, brother. It’s all a bit of fun. Lighten up. We’re in this town for the next three months. You can’t be a miserable prick the whole time we’re here.” I close the lid, placing my bottle down onto the countertop.
He forces a deep breath. “Just…don’t fuck it all up, okay? I have a lot riding on this job,” he says, puffing air into his cheeks. His long, dark hair is tied up at the back of his head, his facial hair is slightly overgrown and well in need of a trim. Yet, somehow, he makes it work.
