She jumps back. “Aren’t you going to answer it? It could be important,” she asks tentatively when I let it ring.
Nothing is as important as she is. Not blockbusters or awards or supermodels calling. But a second more and I’m going to kiss her, and possibly hurt her worse than I already have. I want to build her up, give her back a little of the confidence I stole from her as Remington. And I can’t do that if I selfishly take this further than friendship. There’s no future in us for so many reasons. I don’t want to risk her vulnerable heart for something so temporary.
I need to put distance between us.
So, as much as I hate it, I know this phone call is saving me from doing something stupid, something I’ve been trying to keep myself from, even as I want it with every atom in me.
I answer the call. “Hello?” I keep my attention on Olivia as she stands and walks toward the kitchen.
“Chase. I’m glad I caught you.”
“What’s up, Patrick?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m calling,” my agent chides. “You’re supposed to be in LA. Your meeting with the director is done, and you have a photo shoot scheduled for tomorrow. I’ve already rescheduled it twice. It’s for a cover feature in the biggest men’s magazine. It’s not something you can just blow off again. And we need to discuss the rest of your week.”
As I pretend to be interested in my agent going over a long list of appearances and meetings that are coming up, my brain is fixated on what almost happened. We almost kissed. I know what I need to do. I need to walk the line of making her feel like a beautiful, appreciated woman to undo some of the damage I did rejecting her as Remington, while keeping enough of a distance to not make things worse.
I can manage that. Maybe.
Just one more day with her. And possibly one more night.
CHAPTER 17
Olivia
I put on the kettle in the kitchen and try not to overanalyze what just happened. Did Chase almost kiss me?
I rummage through the cupboards and find, along with coffee and tea, a gourmet tin of hot chocolate, perfect for spending a rainy day with a movie star, I decide. When the hot chocolate is ready, I take two mugs back into the living room. Chase is still on the phone, but he catches my eye and smiles as I hold up his mug and set it on the coffee table.
I walk over to the large window, not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping, though, admittedly, I am.
“Send over the script and the schedule. Just don’t book me for anything more until I’ve approved it. And tell the magazine I’ll be there tomorrow to do the shoot with Cassidy.”
The slow love song about rainy days and crushes playing in my head screeches to a halt. He’ll be flying back to his glamorous life to do a photo shoot with Cassidy Reynolds, his incredibly beautiful costar.
But, a sneaky voice whispers, I already know he isn’t mine. If I acknowledge that this is just for now, why can’t I have fun? No questioning it, no second-guessing, no worry. Just living in the moment. Just taking risks, like I’m supposed to be doing.
Chase hangs up the phone and picks up his mug from the table.
He takes a tentative sip. “Hot chocolate? You know, I’ve never had hot chocolate before.”
“No way!” I say, shelving my inner musings for some other time. “How is that possible?”
“I didn’t have the typical childhood with hot chocolate and marshmallows.”
“Mr. Hollywood, hot chocolate is a prerequisite for any kick-ass rainy day.”
He sips the steaming drink, moaning a little when he tastes it, and I feel that sound reverberate through every nerve ending.
“Damn, this is good.”
It’s ridiculous how happy his simple compliment makes me. I try to contain my smile but fail.
“So, should we continue our game?” I ask.
He presses his lips together, as if debating. “Sure,” he says, but more cautious now.
I hope I haven’t brought down the vibe with my declarations. Did he just give me those compliments because he felt bad for me?
I set my insecurities aside. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And I’m determined to enjoy it to the fullest.
“It’s your turn, then.” I get comfortable on the floor, my back against the couch. He shifts and our knees touch. Electricity flows between us. “Truth or dare?” I ask, my voice breathless.
“Dare,” he says.
I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t choose truth. I’m dying to ask him if he has a girlfriend, just as he asked me about a boyfriend.
I watch him, considering. I have no idea what to dare him to do. My mind is crowded with inappropriate dares I’d never have the guts to suggest, ones that involve being naked. I’m oh-so tempted to ask for a kiss, but I’d need something stronger than hot chocolate to throw myself at him in that way.
And then I have it. The dare. It’s ballsy, but I’m supposed to take risks. My smile widens. He’s going to think I’m nuts, but I have to do this. For all The Wanderer fangirls in the world, I’m taking one for the team.
“Olivia, your smile is making me nervous.”
“Chase, it should. It really should. But before I tell you your dare, I want to make sure you’re truly feeling better.”
“Why? What are you going to make me do?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out. But I don’t want you to have a relapse.”
“I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’m fine,” he grumbles. “Whatever it was seems to be all out of my system. So, what’s the dare?” he asks warily.
I stand up and hold out a hand to him. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
He slips his hand into mine, and the feeling is as sweet as the hot chocolate.
I laugh, feeling younger and more carefree than I can remember. Maybe risks are fun after all. At least, this will be fun for me. Maybe not for him.
Fifteen minutes later, Chase glowers at me.
“Remind me again why we’re doing this,” he complains.
I grin at him. “Don’t even think about backing out of this. You chose to take a dare.”
“I promised, and I don’t break promises. But for the record, you’re evil.” He raises his voice, but not in anger—at least, I hope not too much anger. We’re standing under the overhang outside the hotel’s revolving door, and he’s yelling to be heard over the sound of the pounding rain.
Normally, the street we’re on is packed with cars and pedestrians, but now, the road is deserted. The weather has calmed some, but it’s still pouring. Everyone sane is inside, staying dry.
Wind whips rain toward us. I laugh in exhilaration at the cold shock, feeling more alive than I ever have.
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I mean, here we are, in a rainstorm. How could I pass up this opportunity? This is for all the girls everywhere!” I shout back to him, wanting to laugh at his expression, but fearing it will push him over the edge.
He lets out a long-suffering sigh and rips off his hoodie, one-handed. I watch in fascination as a white T-shirt and muscles appear from beneath the shapeless fabric. His shirt lifts a little with the sweatshirt, revealing a patch of smooth-looking skin, strong muscles, and a thin line of hair that I’m dying to explore.
“Lift your arms,” he instructs.
“Why?” I tilt my head.
“So you can wear my sweatshirt,” he says as if I'm a child.
“Oh, but you’ll be cold.”
“But you won’t be, which is what’s important.”
“That’s very gentlemanly of you.” I try to hold back my pleased smile but can’t.
“I am a gentleman. Even with evil girls and their evil plans,” he teases.
I think about refusing his sweatshirt because I feel guilty for taking it, especially since he’s probably still weak from being sick, but then I realize my shirt is so thin that it will be transparent if it gets wet. I’d rather it be his shirt that turns see-through than mine.
So, I lift my arms and luxuriate in the soft fabric that envelops me like a hug.
I can’t believe I had the guts to make him do this.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Let’s go!” I squeal and run out into the middle of the deserted city street. He follows me.
Rain beats down on us.
“It’s cold!”