“You overslept.” His eyes didn’t waver from the screen, not even a glance her direction. “It’s nine thirty which I’m fairly certain qualifies as morning time. Your best writing time which means you should be in the main room. That makes the kitchen available right now.”
“But I haven’t eaten yet.” Ava tried to keep the frustration from her voice as she pulled out a skillet and placed two strips of bacon on.
“That’s not my problem. You’re the one who set the schedule and picked the times if I remember correctly.”
He had her there, but Ava wasn’t used to such a rigid schedule. Her book had deadlines, but how she got there never followed a strict guideline. She wrote when she felt like it, when the words came. “I did, but that was really more a suggestion of when my best writing time usually is.”
Justin did look up at her then - like she had grown a third head. “A schedule is just that, scheduled out blocks of time. Those aren’t suggestions.”
Okay, so he was a stickler for time. She’d make a note of that and set an alarm clock from now on. He was obviously not a creative mind like herself. “You know you might enjoy the world a little more if you relaxed a little.”
“I am relaxed.”
“Yes, I can see that from your appearance. By the way, you have an Alfalfa cowlick thing going on today.” She smiled as his hand shot to his head and patted his hair. “Yeah, definitely relaxed.”
He glared at her, but the bacon began to sizzle then, the heavy aroma filling the air, and she turned her attention to the skillet. When the strips were sufficiently brown and crispy, she transferred them to a plate to cool and then cooked her eggs. A few minutes later, she added them to the plate and returned to the table. There was just enough room for her plate. She said a quick prayer and then picked up her fork.
“What are you working on anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”
His response was an irritated stare. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m looking for new employment opportunities.”
“Why? Don’t you like being the host of a reality dating show?” Ava didn’t watch reality television. She rarely watched television at all unless she was low on ideas and needed some inspiration, but Justin seemed like the perfect host.
Every hair lay in place as if trained meticulously, his skin glowed that nice shade of brown that looked like the sun blessed him though Ava would bet it came from time spent in a tanning bed - she hadn’t seen any streaks, so if it came from a bottle, he was good at applying it. Plus, his teeth glistened in the same way the quartz rocks did she often found by the water. Veneers probably. She doubted anyone’s teeth were that perfect naturally. Her own dentist kept pushing her to do veneers, but Ava not only liked her slightly crooked bottom tooth, but hated the thought of sanding her teeth to a pulp only to put some artificial cover on them. In fact, maybe she needed to find a new dentist who didn’t pitch that offer at her during every visit.
“It’s fine, but I want something more, something bigger. When Peter and I first had the idea for the show, I thought I’d be there a year, maybe two and then it would springboard me on to a larger platform.”
“How long has it been?” Ava picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite.
“Ten years.”
Ava almost choked on her bacon. “Ten years? How does a dating show last that long?”
Justin shrugged and his eyes fell back to the screen. “I suppose there are a lot of people out there looking for love.”
Ava couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Are you?” She told herself it was research, nothing more, but she found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer.
“Looking for love?” His eyes flicked briefly to hers and then he shook his head. “No, love and I aren’t really on the same page.”
Ava wanted to ask why, but she kept her mouth closed. Was it because of his wife? Had there been love after her? Or maybe it went all the way back to his childhood. A divorce of his parents, an affair, a thousand different reasons raced through her mind. Whatever it was, her imagination was probably more interesting than his reality.
“What about you?” He stared at her again, this time with one of those expressions like he was trying to figure out what she was thinking. She almost laughed out loud. Her head was a dangerous place to be with all the thoughts and storylines jockeying for position. She doubted he would enjoy the experience.
“Me? Well, I’m a romance author, so I’m always looking for love.”
Justin snorted and turned back to his laptop. “Figures.”
Her grip tightened on her fork. “What does that mean?”
“It just figures you would write sappy love stories. You seem like an optimist.”
“And what’s wrong with being an optimist?” Her hackles rose up, the need to defend herself and her occupation taking over.
“Um, it’s not realistic. There are no happy endings just happy moments you might get to enjoy before life comes and slaps them away.”
Ava shook her head. “Wow, who stole the color from your rainbows?”
His face wrinkled in confusion. “What?”
“I just mean that’s a terrible view on life. How do you work on a dating show with that outlook?” He said nothing and the pieces fell into place. “Oh, so that’s why you want to leave, isn’t it? You can’t stand watching others find happiness.”
“Fleeting happiness,” he said rolling his eyes. “They usually only last six months before they break up.”
“All of them?” Ava found that hard to believe. Even on a dating show, there had to be a few who found lasting happiness. “None have lasted?”
He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe she would ask such a stupid question. That third head had probably grown a third eye. “Fine, two of them have.”
Ava smiled smugly. “And what did those two couples have that the others didn’t?”
“Who knows? Luck more than likely,” he said, but his eyes had shifted. He was lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth. He either knew or suspected what kept those couples together but didn’t want to share, and Ava wondered why.
“You better get to writing. It’s almost ten, and I can’t promise to be quiet after lunch.” Before she could respond, he shut his laptop and left the room.
Ava smiled as she finished her breakfast. He was right, and he’d spurred her creative juices enough she thought it would be a very productive couple of hours.
Chapter 7
Justin stretched out in the hammock and let the gentle rocking blow the troubles from his mind. How long had it been since he’d been able to do nothing and relax? He’d spent a month in Maui which most people would have considered a vacation, but he couldn’t remember walking the beach just for fun. No, he’d walked the beach looking for the best places to set up a camera or how the light affected a shot. He’d probably heard the gentle lapping of the waves behind him but he certainly hadn’t listened to them as he was now.
Each ebb and flow seemed to have a story. The sands would be arranged just right but then the water would wash ashore and sift them, change them, steal some back to its murky depths. He felt like the sand and life was his ocean.
When he’d first graduated from acting school, dreams filled his head. Dreams of making it big, of presenting visual stories that people would love, but then he’d met Carol. Suddenly his dreams of making it big shifted. He still desired that but even more he needed a steady income to offer her some stability. That’s when he met Peter. A reality dating show hadn’t sounded terrible and the audience appeared to be there.
But then Carol had died and his plans had changed again. He’d thrown himself completely into the show needing it to do well in order to keep busy and avoid thinking about Carol. The show’s popularity rose and with it his fame which was how he’d met Candy. He should have known with a name like that she wouldn’t last, but he’d been lonely and foolish. However, she had been the wave that took a piece of him back to h
er murky depth.
Now he felt lost, adrift in the sea of life without a compass. He hoped a new gig would give him focus, something to work toward but he wasn’t even sure of that. The only thing he was sure of was that he felt even more like the sand, like he was at the mercy of the waves, and at any moment, they might arise and tear down his carefully built castles.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and a terrible feeling it held a wave washed over him. Peter’s number on the screen came as no surprise, but that knowledge didn’t warm the chill that was slowly spreading through his veins.
“Hello?”
“Justin. It’s Peter. How is the stay going?”
“Well, it’s only day two, but I’m working on relaxing. Lying in a hammock right now listening to the waves. However, they made a mistake when you booked and I’m having to share the cottage with a woman.”
“A woman?”
“Yeah, some romance writer. There are no other cottages available and the contract says we have to wait three days before asking for a refund.”
“What is she like?”
“The woman?” Why on earth would Peter care what this woman was like?
“Yes, the woman, who else?”
Justin glanced back at the cottage. “She’s infuriating. Always looks for the positive, believes in love, and prays before every meal, so not really my type. Not that I’m looking for romance.”
“Is she pretty?”
Why was he pushing this? Hadn’t Justin told him she wasn’t his type? “I suppose.” In truth, she was pretty, and Justin had noticed. Her raven hair made her skin appear creamy and soft and her green eyes held just the hint of a challenge when she stared at him. “Why do you ask? I thought I was supposed to be relaxing and not thinking about some woman. At least that’s what my boss told me.” Justin made sure to put extra emphasis on the word boss.
“Partners, Justin. We’re in this together.”
Right. Except that Justin didn’t think he could send Peter on a mandatory pull-yourself-together retreat. There were clearly areas where Peter held the control, but that was an argument for another day. “All right, partner, what is this call really about? I don’t believe you called just to check up on me.”
Peter sighed on the other end of the phone. “It’s your image, Justin. Somehow, they caught wind of what you told Carl and the tabloids are blowing up about it. They’re calling you a humbug, a Grinch, and my personal favorite, the male Eris.”
Justin scanned his memory of mythology, but the name was just out of reach. “Who was Eris?”
“The goddess of discord. Not a great comparison for a dating show host.”
It wasn’t, but as Justin wasn’t sure he wanted to be a dating show host any longer, he wasn’t entirely sure it was as bad as Peter was making it out to be either. “Look, Peter, I know it sounds awful, but I think I might be done with ‘Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy.’”
“I think you’re missing the point, Justin. This isn’t about you looking bad on the show. This is affecting your brand. I’ve known you were thinking about leaving for a while, but right now you are damaged goods. No show is going to pick you up with this reputation.”
And there it was - the wave. He couldn’t lose his brand. He was known as the charismatic host, and he needed that to secure another job. “What can I do?”
“You need a rebrand, and you need it quickly. Look, I know you’re on personal leave, but you need to find a way to show the world you haven’t given up on love, that you aren’t starting a one-man crusade to destroy it.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?” Marketing had not been Justin’s strength in college and he’d taken no classes about remaking your image.
“I can really only think of one thing.”
Justin knew he wasn’t going to like Peter’s answer, but he asked anyway. “What’s that?”
“You need to get a girlfriend and quickly.”
Justin nearly dropped the phone. “No, uh unh, there has to be another way. I told you I was done dating after Candy.”
“I don’t mean for love, Justin. I mean for show. You need to find a woman, preferably someone who screams romance and you need to date her. In public. That will be the fastest way to fix your image. They can’t say you hate love when you are in a relationship. Then, after you’ve been together a while, you guys can amicably separate. Have your jobs tear you apart or something, but no big break ups. Do you know of a woman like that?”
A woman who screamed romance. He looked back at the cabin picturing Ava sitting in the big chair. “Like a romance author?”
“Now you’re talking. Do you think she’ll do it?”
“I don’t know; I just met her yesterday. How do I get her to agree?”
“Give her something she wants. Make it a deal she can’t refuse.”
A deal she couldn’t refuse. He had no idea what that would even be. He supposed it was time he started warming up to her.
* * *
Ava read back over her words with a sigh. They were fine, but that was it. They were just fine. There was no spark, no sizzle. She had thought coming here would help her be inspired, but though the words were coming, they weren’t doing anything fantastic. There was no dancing on the page or jumping out at you. They just marched in single file and stood at attention. Maybe Genevieve would have some insight. Ava pulled out her cell phone and punched in the familiar number.
“Hey you, how’s the writing going?” Gen had picked up before the phone rang twice in Ava’s ear. She was fairly certain Genevieve had a psychic streak. She always seemed to know who was on the other end before she picked up the phone.
“Not great. I mean I wrote a lot but the words aren’t magical. They’re just standing there doing nothing.”
“It’s because you need to experience. I told you that life isn’t perfect. You need to get out a little and date more.”
“I think it’s more because the rental lady double booked the cottage and I’m having to share it with a living Ken doll.”
“What?”
“Yeah, evidently there was some mix up and she booked me and this dating show host at the same time, and he is a piece of work. Doesn’t believe in love, listens to heavy metal, hates God. You know pretty much the opposite of me.”
“Is he cute?”
Ava shook her head. “Why? I just told you he’s the opposite of me.”
“I know, but hear me out, Ava. I forgot to remind you, but the annual romance gala is tomorrow night. It would be so much better for your image if you actually brought a date this year.”
Ava clapped her hand to her forehead. She had forgotten all about the gala, and she dreaded those events. Last year, she had attended without a date and received pitying looks all night. “Wait, are you saying I should take Justin?”
“If you could handle him for a night, then I think it would be better than going alone again.”
The front door opened, and Justin entered, looking a little like a cat who had eaten a canary. Ava wasn’t even sure what it was - the glint in his eye, the smile that looked almost genuine, the air of excitement that floated by his head, but something had obviously happened while he was out.
“I’ll call you back.” She pressed the end call button before Genevieve could say anything else.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s fine. It was just my editor. We talk nearly every day anyway.”
He bit his lip and nodded. “How’s the writing going?” It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask - she could tell by the way he shifted from one foot to the other. The shift was subtle, but she was a people watcher.
“It’s been better. I have words, but they aren’t doing anything.”
“Would you like some help? I’d be happy to read some.”
Ava’s brow furrowed. Why was he being so nice? “You? The man who hates romance?”
He shrugged. “Maybe the fresh air is doing me good.”
“I don’t
think so. I think there’s something else, so why don’t you tell me what you really want.”
Justin sighed and held up his finger in a ‘give-me-a-minute’ gesture. He disappeared into the kitchen and then returned with one of the chairs sitting it a little too close for Ava’s comfort.
“What’s the one thing you want most in this world?” He reached for her hands but then seemed to think better of it and folded them in his lap.
“You mean besides world peace?” What was wrong with him? Had he found wild mushrooms? Someone selling special brownies?
“I’m serious. If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”
“Chocolate mousse from Paris. My friend went once and she said it was divine.” Frustration creased his face and he sat back and ran a hand through his hair. Ava rolled her eyes. She didn’t know what bug had bitten him, but he was wound tighter than Dick’s hatband as her momma used to say. “Okay, fine. I guess I’d want to be a successful author. Have more people read my books and maybe change their hearts.”
He leaned forward so fast she thought he might fly out of the chair and this time his hands did find hers. She doubted he even noticed though because his eyes danced like a flickering candle flame and his features were more animated than she’d thought possible from him.
“That’s what I’m talking about. Now, what if I could make that happen?”
He had gone off the deep end. Ava gently removed her hands from his and leaned away from him. “Are you a genie now granting wishes? I don’t see your lamp anywhere.”
“Of course not. I only play one on tv.” He flashed a teasing smile. This was a side she hadn’t seen of him, but then she’d just met him yesterday. He probably had many sides she hadn’t seen. “But seriously, if I could make that happen, would you do me a favor?”
Ah, now he was getting to the real question though what favor she could do for him she had no idea. “I guess it depends on what the favor is.”
The Producer's Unlikely Bride (The Blushing Brides Book 6) Page 5
