“You’re so lucky. I wish I had sisters,” Remi said with a sad look in her eyes. “Sometimes this life can get really lonely.”
“Aw, Remi. You can be our honorary sister.” Willow couldn’t resist reaching out and hugging her. Remi embraced her for a moment longer, and tighter, than she’d expected, making her glad she’d done it.
“Aiden’s coming Friday to see the last day of filming,” she said, fussing nervously with her robe, as if the hug had taken her by surprise, too. “He always tries to catch a day or two when his schedule allows. Maybe if you and Zane and Ben are up for it, we could have dinner then? You can bring your sisters.”
Thinking of how great it would be for Bridgette to meet a nice, responsible guy, she said, “We can be a little overwhelming as a group. Maybe I’ll bring just one.”
ONLY A FEW more days, Zane reminded himself as he headed for his trailer late Tuesday night. They’d had to film the last scene eight times because the other actor kept messing up his lines. It had been a long, grueling day, and Zane couldn’t blame him. The guy was sidetracked with thoughts of his wife wanting a divorce. The whole situation sucked, and on top of that, Zane thought they’d both made a mistake by taking this film. Acting in a romantic suspense role was incredibly different from acting in action movies. The scenes moved too slowly, every step felt measured, every breath overdramatized, whereas in action, there was barely time to think before he had to take someone down or blow through a building.
The lights were on in his trailer, which could only mean one thing. Willow was waiting for him. Patch had already taken off for the evening to meet Piper for drinks, and no one else had a key. He smiled to himself. He’d called her father today and planned to stop by after filming tomorrow, while Willow was holding a tasting for a potential new client. Filming was scheduled to end early, which should give them plenty of time to talk.
He pulled open the trailer door and stepped inside. It smelled like Willow, and his body pulsed to life.
She looked up from where she was lying on her stomach on the couch, and a smile lit up her glassy eyes. Her cheeks were pink, her legs were bent at the knees, her feet crossed at the ankles. A half-empty bottle of Kinky Pink sat on the floor, and he noticed five other empties on the table.
“Z, this is a love story,” she said with the slow speech of too much alcohol as he sat down beside her.
He noticed his screenplay lying open in front of her, and his chest constricted.
“I thought it was about a lost boy who finds his way in a gritty city against all odds. But it’s so much more. This is about family and friendship, and . . .” She flipped through the pages as she sat up. “I’m not done yet, but this part where he and his brother climb the water tower when he’s thinking about running away? That made my heart break. And the way he talks about that girl? Oh my gosh, Zane. I hope they get together. Do they?”
She was so freaking cute he pulled her onto his lap. “Yes, they get together.”
“Thank goodness, because I was worried that when he finally gets his life together he moves on without her.”
“Have you gotten to her date yet?”
“She goes on a date?” she said excitedly. “With him?”
He pushed his hand beneath her hair, rubbing her shoulders. “Are you tipsy?”
“Maybe. Did I tell you my oven broke? And they can’t bring a new one for four weeks.”
“Oh no, babe. Four weeks? Can’t you pull some strings?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m a mere mortal.”
“Well, I’m not. Let me see what I can do.” He made a mental note to check into it.
Her eyes widened, and she gasped. “I met Remi! We’re having dinner with her Friday night.”
He laughed at her non sequitur. Gotta love tipsy Willow. “Sounds great. She seems like a nice person.”
“Super nice. Do you know what a fluffer is? In porn, I mean?”
“Um. Is this the type of trick question girls ask to turn around on guys? Like if I say I do, then you get mad because I’ve probably watched porn?”
She grabbed his face. “No. I assume you’ve watched porn. But no one is fluffing you, got it?”
He rocked his hips beneath her. “You’re all I want or need, baby.”
“Good. As long as we’re clear.”
“Perfectly clear, sweet cheeks. But you can fluff me after I shower.” He pulled her T-shirt—his T-shirt, he realized—off her shoulder and kissed her there.
She wiggled her butt, fluffing him right up.
“Are you too tipsy to read a scene in the screenplay for me?” He’d decided to show the screenplay to the director, and he hoped to give it to him tomorrow. Steve Hileberg might be a hothead perfectionist, but he was without a doubt the best director in the business. Getting Steve on board with the project was the first step toward moving forward.
“No.” She watched him flipping the pages. “But I don’t want to skip ahead to the end.”
He’d covered his muse pretty well by mixing up the locations and particulars of the story. But he knew the girl who’d taught herself calculus by reading a book would see right through it. And he wanted her to, so there was no chance for miscommunication. He folded the screenplay over and pointed to the beginning of a scene. “Just read this scene for me, okay, beautiful? I’m going to shower real quick.”
She slid off his lap and pulled him down for another kiss. “I like Remi. I’m glad you have a nice costar.”
“Thanks, baby. I’m glad I have you.”