“You know it.” He smiled at me and held open the door. “You ready for next week?”
I nodded, stepping into his trailer, which was set up entirely different than mine. His was a workspace, a conference room on one end, a secretary’s desk and separate office on the other end. Ben had already showed me the place where they reviewed daily footage and did the real work. I had reached out to touch a dial and had about four people jump to stop me. Now, in Don’s space, I kept my hands to myself, just to be safe.
“Head on into the conference room,” he directed. “Pam and Dennis are already in there, they’ll introduce themselves.”
Pam ended up being in PR; she ran me through a calendar of media training that would be happening in between filming. I smiled and nodded and took everything she passed to me, enough reading material to choke a horse. Dennis was introduced as my acting coach; he stood up from the table and gave me a hearty hug. I gripped his large girth and immediately felt at ease. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised.
“We both will,” Pam joined in. “Think of us as part of your team.” She smiled, and I felt ten times better. They informed me that my assistant, Mary, would arrive on Monday. I did another round of nodding and wondered what on Earth I would do with an assistant.
My back was to the door when Cole walked in, but I could tell you the moment his foot hit the carpet. My nails dug into my thighs, and I nodded at whatever words were coming out of Pam’s mouth—something about YouTube and a trailer—every sense focused on the man who was moving closer. Pressure hit the top of my chair, and I glanced over to see his hands gripping the back, his knuckles white as he leaned on the plastic.
His hands tight on my ass, his pumps fast and quick and barely controlled, the perfect rapid rhythm pushing me to a place—
“Excuse me,” Cole said warmly. “But I need to borrow Ms. Jenkins.”
“Of course, Mr. Masten.” Pam stalled her YouTube plans and stood, her hands quick as she gathered up her materials, Dennis following suit, his retreat slower, his heft out of the chair more cumbersome. I smiled weakly at him, waiting for the door to close behind him before I was out of my chair and away from Cole.
“Easy, Country.” He smiled, still in place, his weight still resting on the back of my chair.
“Stop calling me that.” I kept my voice low, well aware of the cheap construction of these trailers.
“What, you can call me City Boy, but I can’t call you Country?”
I said nothing. It was ridiculous to try and have a logical conversation with this man.
“Are you ready for next week?”
I met his eyes. “Of course I am.” Of course I wasn’t. I would never be ready to step in front of a camera with him.
“You know that we won’t film in chronological order.” The statement was said without a dose of asshole, and I shifted my weight to my other hip, my hands sweaty on Pam’s pages.
“No, I didn’t know that.” But it made sense. I had a flashback to Ben’s and my preparations, how we would book a week at one plantation or location. Of course. They’d film all of the spots at those points at once. It made sense.
“We’re working on a shooting schedule today. I’ll have a courier bring it over to you tonight.”
“Thank you.” I rubbed my bare arms, the room suddenly cold. The air conditioner really did work.
“Cocky tried to crow this morning.” His voice was sheepish and held a hint of pride.
“Who?”
“Cocky. That’s his name. Our rooster.”
Our. That hit hard, in a strange place in my heart. “He’s yours,” I blurted out. “I gave him to you.” Cocky. I would have asked who names a rooster, but I had names for every one of the Holdens’. Cocky’s mama was named Matilda, even if I was the only person who called her that.
“I was in the kitchen when I heard him out in the yard. I thought he was hurt, or getting attacked. He…” He made a hand gesture of sorts with his hands, and I laughed despite myself.
“I know.” I smiled. “I’ve seen when they learn. It takes them some time to figure it out.”
“It was pathetic,” Cole admitted, tucking his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “I was embarrassed for him.”
“He’ll figure it out,” I said. “And he’ll do it at all hours of the day. It only happens at dawn in the movies.”
Cole’s eyes smiled at me. “Gotta love Hollywood, right?”
I swallowed my smile. I had to. The warmth pushing through my veins right then… it was a dangerous thing. And this beautiful man before me, smiling at me like I was his? That was my downfall, wrapped in an expensive suit and cufflinks. I could smell my demise in his cologne and charm. And that was what he was doing. Turning on the charm and using every tool in his belt to do it, including cute little Cocky. The question was why? Why turn on the charm now? Or was this his normal magnetism, no effort required, that showed when he dropped the asshole bit? I studied his smile and tried to understand it. “Did you need me for something?”
He coughed, looking down. “No. That was it. I can drop off the shooting schedule myself, if that’d make it easier…”
“It wouldn’t.”
His shoulders rolled back. “Right. Then I’ll see you on Monday. Check the schedule to see where to be. I’m sure your assistant will help you find it.”
“I know the locations, but thank you for your concern, Mr. Masten,” I said stiffly, and he stepped forward, into my personal space, his face somber as he looked down on me, his eyes searching mine.
“Are we good?” he asked. I tried to step away but hit the table.
“Stay out of my way, and we’ll be just fine,” I snapped.
He coughed out a laugh and shook his head. “I don’t chase, Summer. I get tired of that real fast.”
“This isn’t a game.” I spoke louder, damn the doors, and his eyes flicked back to mine. “I’m not saying one thing and meaning another. Stay away from me.”
He stared at me for a long moment before shaking his head. “I was wrong about you.” He took the two steps to the door slowly, and I knew, before he turned back, his hand pulling open the door, that he’d have at least one parting shot. “You’re a terrible actress.”
I couldn’t think of a comeback, of a retort, of anything. I watched the white door close and felt a wave of nausea.
He was wrong on one thing: I was telling the truth; this wasn’t a game for me. The stakes were too high, and I didn’t know the rules enough to play. But he was also right; I was a terrible actress. He looked into my eyes and saw right through my lies, exactly how much I wanted him.
CHAPTER 61
I thought the Pit had been interesting before. Then, Sunday arrived. The Sunday before filming. I hadn’t been expecting it, had been at church when they arrived: the crew, the cast, the rest of everything. Hundreds of people. After my lunch, courtesy of the First Baptist Church potluck, I wandered over. Watched a swarm of bodies fill the empty spaces between trailers, everyone busy, everyone working. Ben found me and latched on, introducing me to actors and actresses whose names I could have rattled off with quick efficiency. The supporting cast. Playing under Cole and me. Such an upside down situation. I smiled and shook hands. Fought the urge to ask for autographs, smiled apologetically to members of the crew whom Ben pulled me away from.
It was an absolute zoo—the air thick with importance and money, every item unpacked expensive and complex, each new body striding out of vehicles stuffed with arrogance and energy. I found a corner and leaned against a wall. Let Ben run off to tend to things, and I just watched it all. Devoured it all. Was terrified but excited by it all.