The makeup artist blinked. “Really?” Her gaze bounced between them. “Isn’t she a little young?”
Zee leaned into Church, curling around his side like the gesture came as natural as breathing, and she brought a hand to his chest.
He got the sense she wasn’t only acting—she was holding him back.
He slipped his arm around her, cupping his hand around her side. God, she was so thin. A lot thinner than she had been when he last saw her. He was too aware of her ribs under his fingers. Grief had made changes in her.
The actor had already turned back to the mirror, chatting with the makeup artist about creating a smoky eye for an upcoming scene.
Seeing they were supposed to fade to background noise, he led Zee back out of the trailer. As soon as they took a few steps away from the trailer, he muttered, “I’ve been insulted by a twelve-year-old.”
Zee had pushed her sunglasses up on her head, and her eyes gleamed with amusement. “She probably started as a social media influencer. She could be thirty for all we know. Botox goes a long way, and she’s contoured within an inch of her life.”
“I don’t know anything about those things. Come on. Let’s find you a chair in the shade.” He walked over to the area where the food was set out and grabbed a folding chair. He set it up for her and returned to the table of food, snagging a pastry and a paper cup of hot tea.
When he held them out to Zee, she tipped her face up to him, that glimmer back in her eyes. Not quite happiness, but a step above contentment.
“Thank you, Church.” She pitched her voice low. “Uh—I guess I should call you Grant. You didn’t have to bring me food.”
He didn’t want to say she could use some snacks. That he knew she hadn’t been taking care of herself since Matt’s death. Between the hollowness in her eyes and the fact she needed to gain at least fifteen pounds, he could see the toll the last few years had taken on her.
She dipped her head. “Thank you. It was sweet.”
He offered her a smile. “I should stand in front of the trailer door. Act like a bodyguard.”
“I do think it’s part of your job.”
He paused. “You’re going to be bored sitting here.”
She met his stare, her eyes as deep green as the pines in the distance. “I don’t need to be entertained. Even though I am your daughter. I can look after myself.”
A groan escaped him. “Christ, do I look that old?”
She sobered. “To her? Yes. But to me…no.”
An unexpected warmth flickered in his chest.
And Church had a feeling pretending to be her husband was going to get complicated fast.
* * * * *
Zee shifted on the folding chair outside the trailer, stretching out one leg in front of her while she watched the bustle of the set.
The morning sun had climbed high enough to warm the ground beneath her boots and she slipped the glasses back over her eyes, partly to block out the sun and partly so she could watch the crew without looking like she was gawking.
Crew members moved past carrying cables, and a woman pushed a wardrobe rack with squeaky wheels.
It felt strange sitting still in the middle of the commotion. But Church had asked her to stay put. So she stayed put.
She lifted the cup of tea he’d brought her and took a small sip, letting the warmth settle in her stomach. She hoped the caffeine perked her up, because she didn’t sleep well the previous night.
She didn’t feel safe in the vacation rental, even though she’d spent several nights there. If she thought about it, she realized the last time she felt safe was on base as a military wife.
She fled the last apartment in a rush and left behind several belongings, including her security system. The cameras and the rubber door wedge she shoved under the door to prevent people from breaking in while she slept were things that helped her feel safe.
But that day when she came home from her retail job, she saw the door was cracked open.
At first she hoped maybe she’d forgotten to pull it shut all the way when she left. She’d stood there in the hallway staring at the gap, her brain trying to find an explanation even though she already knew the answer.
