“So tell me about it.”
“When they’re out in the field? Grazing? You don’t smell anything. Well, manure. You always smell manure, but you don’t notice it if you grow up with it. And when they’re corralled in the yard, waiting to be milked? Imagine a boy’s locker room after a game.”
Inside, she was cringing at herself like crazy. This nice, gorgeous lawyer was walking her home and she was talking about cows and manure. She resisted the temptation to thump her forehead with the heel of her hand and stared down at the sidewalk, settling for a wince instead. Diarrhea of the mouth was not uncommon for her when she was anxious or out-of-her-element, or, apparently, walking the streets of New York with scorching hot strangers, but this was a new low.
“Uh…yum,” he said lightly.
“I’m nervous,” she confessed.
“What? You mean you don’t usually lead with manure and locker rooms?”
She stopped walking and looked up at him. “You’re obviously very wealthy—”
“Why do you think so?”
She looked pointedly at his clothing. “You reek of it.”
“Are you saying I smell?”
“Yep. Of old money,” she said. “And you’re ludicrously handsome and you suddenly showed up in my dressing room out of nowhere standing next to Donny Durran and saying nice things and walking me home, and I just…”
She stood there helplessly, staring up into his gentle green eyes, trying to figure out what she was trying to say, and wishing to God she had been granted just a smidge more social grace, or had had the time to channel a smooth, sophisticated socialite before meeting Preston Winslow.
“You think I’m handsome, huh?”
“It’s an empirical truth.”
He considered her. “You’re an actress. I wouldn’t expect you to be nervous.”
“Why not?”
“Because it takes a lot of courage to get up on a stage and be someone else, and you do it very well.”
“Actually, I disagree with you. It doesn’t take any courage to be someone else. It’s much scarier to be yourself.” She scanned his face, wondering if she’d said too much. “Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” he said softly, reaching toward her face like he was going to push a lock of her hair behind her ear and then stopping himself at the last minute. As if to control them better, he stuck his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side and grinning at her. “Listen, I liked your performance. I think you’re intriguing. I don’t have to walk you home, but I’d like to. You don’t need to be nervous, because I don’t expect anything from you. We can talk or walk in silence, but it’s just steps. One after the other until we get to where you need to go. Nothing less. Nothing more.”
She swallowed, taking a deep breath, a little swept away and a lot reassured by his short, gentle speech. Her bunched-up shoulders relaxed and she nodded at him gratefully.
“I bet you’re a good lawyer,” she said, resuming their walk, inexplicably happy when his footsteps matched hers.
“I don’t know yet. I was supposed to be studying for the bar tonight, but I…got distracted.”
That made her smile, and she stole a peek at him, noting a small dimple in the cheek closest to her. It made her breath catch and her heart hugged itself like it had just learned a new secret about something completely wonderful.
“What kind of law will you practice?”
“Sports. Well, sports and entertainment, technically,” he answered. “I was—I mean, I used to row at school, in college. I loved it. But…”
“But?”
“I tore my rotator cuff,” he said, a slight bitterness entering his voice. “I had surgery to repair it, but the damage was too extensive. I had to give it up.” He paused, giving her a sly look. “The rowing, not the shoulder.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I was, too.”
“It was important to you.”
He nodded. “Very. I was on the national team, a few months out from the Olympic trials. Yeah, it sucked.”
Her eyes widened. Rowing hadn’t just been a hobby or pastime for him, but a passion, a huge commitment, a lifestyle…like the stage was for her. And he’d had to give it up? She didn’t know how she’d survive giving up something she loved as much as acting. Her sympathy for him was sudden and enormous.
“Wow. I…Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
“I was pissed for a while, you know? It was a real blow to be sidelined so close to making the Games, and I guess it didn’t help that my brother’s an Olympic sailor. He made it all the way and I couldn’t.”
“You couldn’t help it that you got injured,” she pointed out.
“I could’ve. I was training too hard. I wasn’t allowing my muscles time to repair themselves.”
“You were pushing yourself to be the best. I get that.”
“You do, don’t you?” he said, with a bit of wonder.
She nodded. “Acting’s my whole life.”
“And with tonight’s big break,” he said, “you’re about to explode.”