“He’s not saying so yet, but I think he’s pretty much over the whole acting thing. It wasn’t meant to be a life choice, you know.”
“Yeah, I hear you. That shit’s fucked up, and I’m being serious when I say I don’t know how you do it.”
She swatted a fly away and turned on the rock to face Marsh.
“It’s all fantastic when a shoot is happening. The creative stuff is the best part, but the rest of it? Meh.”
“Maybe it’s your turn to shine. Ever think of it that way?”
Of course, she had, but the way Marsh put it was way too simple.
“Eh, it’s not about being a star, or any of that. For me, it’s about using my skills. Truly. It’s not even about money.” Paige laughed and nudged Marsh. “Your dad handles my, uh, investment portfolio.” They both roared with laughter. Portfolio was the new word du jour. “Anyway, I’m good. And marrying Mr. Moneybags won’t hurt.”
“Jesus, Paige. I saw the box office numbers for Dark Cloud and almost shit. They printing money yet with his ugly mug on it yet? I mean, what the fuck. He’s in the shitting-rainbows category now. Ya done good, girl. Real good.”
“So I’m told, but it's just money.”
“I hear that. Hey, mind if I ask what happened that sent you guys on a camping trip when you should be checking junk off your bridal registry and making all those fake assholes throw you engagement parties?”
Eek. She was so over it. “I could explain, but then I’d have to obliviate your memory and I don’t think Miriam would like that.”
“Mom and Dad were pretty torked about something when I called in a couple of weeks ago.”
“Ugh. Paparazzi bullshit. It’s handled, though.”
“This have anything to do with Shaw Me the Way?”
She cringed. Well, at least now that Phae was taking responsibility, that damn tape would vanish fast, so there was that. The little detail of her age meant it was officially in the underage no-no category. Marsh correctly read her reaction when he fervently exclaimed, “It isn’t him, you know.”
“Well, I know that now!” she crowed.
“Ah, so it’s like that, is it?” Marsh nodded with approval. For a brief moment, his eyes darted around before he boomed gleefully, “Oh, man! You held him off for six fucking years?”
He dissolved into a fit of laughter so joyful and infectious that she joined him. As their laughter rang out over the empty spaces, Marsh pulled her into a big hug then took her by surprise with a vicious noogie.
“Hallelujah! I’m not the youngest anymore. Welcome to the family, little sister.”
“Where is everybody?” Rose asked Edward when she came upon him all by himself in the kitchen. “It’s so quiet.”
"Everyone scattered first thing." He held the coffee pot in his hand up for her to see. “Coffee?”
“Immediately. Hot. Black”
“Coming right up. You grab a chair at the table, Mrs. Turner, and I’ll get you set.”
He was glad that she didn’t try to stand there and do small talk with him, realizing after she was halfway across the kitchen that he’d been holding his breath. Why the woman scared him shitless wasn’t much of a mystery. From the second the Turners had arrived, she’d been one hundred and ten percent redneck charming with everyone. Except him. Shit. She’d practically adopted Marsh and had his dad eating out of her palm, too.
Dammit. Where was Paige?
Loading a big tray with a coffee carafe, their mugs, and a plate of fresh baked blueberry scones, he silently crossed himself and prayed for some sort of divine intervention to help him get his future mother-in-law on his side. Or at the very least, comfortably adjacent.
“We’re in luck,” he told her with hopeful friendliness. “Mom’s in a baking frenzy. Dad says he’s put on eight pounds, not that he’s complaining about all the treats. Looks like blueberries are a theme lately. Hope you like a good scone.”
For someone who delivered carefully crafted lines for a living, you’d think he could have made that sound more eloquent than a rushed eighth-grade class report. The way she eyeballed him was a lot like a teacher who was grading and judging every word, breath, and action.
“Your mother’s a doll. We have some things in common. Although you couldn’t tell that by looking at this place.”
Edward carefully considered her every word. He watched her glance around the country kitchen with its cabin in the wilderness charm and saw it through her eyes. He knew the Turners lived in a one-story ranch home in Oklahoma that while comfortable would not be considered grand or up-to-date by today's crazy HGTV standards. Not all too terribly different from the home Marsh and he grew up in.
He wondered if the spectacular custom design he’d snagged for his parents was pretentious or came off as him having a serious bank account made them better than everyone else.
Holy shit. Nothing could be further than the truth. His parents were on their best behavior right now, but his oddball family unit would have shown a completely different picture a night earlier when his mom and Marshall belched out song lyrics.
“I think it’s every kid’s hope that someday they’d hit it big and be able to take care of their parents.”
“Oh, I’m not criticizing Gideon. It’s just a lot to take in.”
Okay. Now, what the hell did he do? She knew damn well that nobody called him Gideon. What the fucking fuck?
There was nothing but to be direct. “Mrs. Turner, I act for a living so believe me when I say that this air of disdain you’re passing my way is far and away a masterful performance. Care to let me in on whatever I’ve done to earn it?”
She calmly sipped her coffee and assessed his every breath over the rim of the big mug. Her expression gave nothing away. Not even the snarky challenge he just threw in her face got a reaction. He was starting to get where Paige got her balls. Nothing ever rattled her, and now he knew that she learned that shit from an expert.
He, however, had learned the art of patience on a battlefield. Hurry up and wait should be the Army’s motto. Mirroring Rose’s calm indifference, he sat across from her and drank his coffee. Waiting. When she finally said something, it was a doozy.
“You didn’t protect my baby.”
Whomp, whomp. She just chewed a huge hole in his ass.
“The press dragged her good name through the mud because of you.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but he understood why Rose saw things that way. He’d been the center of a scandal. With guilt by association being a theme in the media, Paige had been tagged. But so had a lot of other people.
“The minute she went on the radar, everyone in our corner took immediate steps to shut that bullshit down.”
“Is that why you got her to accept an engagement? Is this all about saving your career? Is my daughter’s name going to end up as a footnote in some tacky Gideon affair?”
Shock and horror propelled him from his seat. “Oh, my god. No. Is that what you think? Mrs. Turner … I adore Paige.”
“She’s your assistant. What you’ve done is sexual harassment.”
She was fucking kidding, right? He couldn’t let anybody think stuff like that about Paige. He didn’t care who it was. Not even her mother.
“Whoa, lady. Slow down a minute. You have this all wrong. For the record? Paige isn’t my assistant. She’s my goddamn best friend. And you should know that we had already admitted our feelings before the shit hit the fan. I don’t give a rat’s ass about my so-called career, so saving it was never a real factor in anything we did. I asked your daughter to marry me because I can’t live without her. She’s everything, and because we’re speaking frankly here, I have no qualms about informing Mr. Turner and you that absolutely nothing improper went on until after we were engaged.”