by Skylar Moore
Not Mine to Love
Skylar Moore
Not Mine to Love
Copyright © 2019 Skylar Moore
Cover design by Paper & Sage
Editorial Services provided by Rooted in Writing LLC
Copy Editing by Christi Martin
Interior Design and Layout by Amber Helt
Proofreading by Kristen Bickerstaff
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Not Mine to Love
Chapter 1
Exhausted from serving beer and flirting with her customers until the morning light had struggled through the foggy windows, Jane exited The Tap. She marveled at the fresh snow that covered the usually grim neighborhood in a thick blanket of white. She breathed in the crisp winter air, pulled her light coat tight around her, and checked her phone. The audition for Hill Street started in an hour, so she had no time to change at her apartment. Her tight blue jeans and black staff shirt, which was way too big for her small frame and made her English skin look impossibly pale, would have to do.
She got on the bus and paid the fare with the tips from last night, easing the pressure in her overflowing, dark blue money pouch. The Glasgow Warriors had won some cup, leaving their fans in ecstasy and loosening their wallets. The tips were more than she usually made in a month, and she looked forward to finally renewing her membership at the Mitchell Library.
With the morning rush hour already over, the bus was nearly empty, and she slumped in a seat near the back of the bus. She had been working nights for three years, but every year it got harder. Her whole body ached, and her head throbbed. Lost in her thoughts, she watched the tenements crawl by. The low humming of the bus engine lulled her into a trance. Her eyes were glazed, and Glasgow passed in a blur.
The bus stopped abruptly and jerked her awake. She took in her surroundings with wide eyes. Gleddoch station. Shit, I must have dozed off. She was two stations too far, and she panicked. She could not miss this audition. She sprinted down the aisle and got off shortly before the doors closed again. Just as the bus drove off and turned into the main road, she realized that she had left her purse. And there goes my money.
Without her phone, she couldn’t tell what time it was, but she was probably running late already. She jogged through the industrial area of Glasgow in her heeled ankle boots. She had always wanted to be an actress and had studied drama and theatre at Oxford, but with every rejection she had gotten more discouraged until she had stopped auditioning at all. As she had waited for her career and life to begin, they had passed her by. At thirty-two, she was now too old for most leading roles.
When she had heard that they were producing Hill Street, a television drama based on the Scottish book series by the same name, she had wanted to give acting one last try. She was a huge fan of the books, which followed detective William and private investigator Rose as they fell in love while competing to solve murder mysteries in the sixties. There was an open audition for the supporting role of Anne, who was the older sister of Rose and looked remarkably like Jane.
After several long minutes, Jane reached the studio totally out of breath and with a bad case of side stitch. The entry to the studio was just behind a chain-link fence that seemed to stretch down the entire street. The fence wasn't much taller than her and had those rectangular holes she always tried to stick her hand through as a kid to reach wild strawberries. She didn’t have the time to find the gate, so she put her brown hair in a messy bun and climbed the fence. If you’re climbing in heels, you know that desperation has hit you. Hard.
Just as she swung one leg over and almost lost her balance in the process, a young man came around the corner of the building. He noticed her immediately and stopped, sizing her up. He didn’t say anything—just smirked and sipped his coffee. She ignored him, brought her body around to the inside of the fence, and jumped down onto the snow-covered grass. The landing wasn’t as graceful as she had intended, but at least she hadn’t fallen on her butt.
She blew her long bangs out of her eyes, marched to the entry, and swore under her breath when she couldn’t open the door.
“Yeah, because nothing says open like a metal fence,” the guy said with a delicious Scottish accent.
She turned and shot him a death stare. The tall Scot just chuckled.
“Do you have the time?” she asked.
He checked his phone, which looked ridiculously tiny in his big hand. “Twenty-five past ten.”
This cannot be happening. She had missed the entire audition. Gone was her chance to work on Hill Street. Her smile slipped. “Thanks,” was all she could get out, and she turned away from him so he couldn’t see her disappointment. “Could you point me to the gate?”
“Did you come to audition for Anne?” His voice was rich and smooth.
She nodded.
He stroked his scruffy five o’clock shadow. “I’m sorry you missed it. The audition for Rose starts in five minutes if you want to come watch.”
“Thank you, but I don’t know if I should.” It was not like she hadn’t seen a thousand auditions before, but she would love to see Rose and William come to life. She had dreamed of William too many nights while reading the books.
“There’s good coffee,”—he pointed at his cup—“and you can warm up a little. I can see you shivering.” Without saying goodbye, he walked around the building and tossed a quick glance back to her, encouraging her to follow him.
Coffee did sound good. She shoved her stone-cold hands in her coat pockets and hurried after him. He swiped his access card and held the door open for her. Once they reached the set, he poured her a cup of coffee. “I’m Matt, by the way.” He flashed her a smile and self-consciously raked his hand through his medium-length copper hair. He was very young—probably not more than twenty-five.
Before she could say something in return, a guy pulled him away onto the stage and in front of the directors who were already seated behind screens. Matt shot her an apologetic smile and gestured to an empty chair. As Matt took off his jacket, shook out his muscular arms, and stretched his neck in front of the camera, it dawned on Jane. Matt was Scottish, handsome, and unusually tall—he must be playing William. Her heart skipped a beat—her book boyfriend was even hotter than she had imagined.
A pretty girl was brought in front of the directors and greeted them. Unlike Rose, she was blonde, but this could be fixed once she got the part. Seeing the desk on the set, Jane knew which scene they would play. In the book, Rose and William arrived at the crime scene at the same time and tried to collect clues without the other person noticing. They distracted each other with their bodies and talked about things that had nothing to do with the case, which made it an entertaining and very hot scene.
One of the casting directors introduced herself as Marice and explained the scene to the blonde. “There’s no script—we want to see your interpretation of Rose. We will also focus on the chemistry between your characters.”
The scene was painful to watch as the blonde j
ust inattentively rummaged through the desk and looked straight into the camera.
“Cut.” After just a few minutes, a bearded man—the producer by the looks of it—waved his hand dismissively.
The next girl—with beautiful black hair and just as pretty—engaged William in a conversation and touched his arm every now and then, but there was no heat. It was like watching siblings fight over leftover food.
After watching three more cringeworthy auditions, Jane had almost finished her coffee, and the directors called a break. Matt headed in Jane’s direction and gulped down some water. His huge Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and she couldn’t help but stare at it. “You didn’t tell me you played William. That’s huge—congrats.”
“Thanks. And you still haven’t told me your name,” he said, biting into a bagel.
Maybe it was the caffeine, or maybe it was his boyish looks—probably both—but she felt playful, so she just looked at him coyly and bit her lower lip instead of answering. She loved toying with men. It came easy to her and made her feel powerful.
Intrigued, his eyes lit up and he smiled. “So, what do you think of the audition so far?”
“Honestly, I’m a little underwhelmed. This is William and Rose—if it doesn’t sizzle, you’re not doing the books justice.”
He crossed his suntanned arms, making his biceps strain the seams of his white shirt. “Oh, have you read them?”
She took the last sip of her cold coffee to distract herself. “All five of them.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”
“Have you?”
“I think I need to buy the audiobooks, or I’ll never make it through.” His honesty made her smile.
Matt had to get back onstage, and the audition continued. When Jane caught him glancing at her, she quickly lowered her gaze. The next time she caught his eye, she held his gaze longer with a hint of a smile on her lips.
“What did you think of this girl?” his eyes asked, and she rolled hers in reply. He shook his head and chuckled.
As soon as the next girl left, he talked to the directors and then approached Jane, smirking and with a dangerous look in his eyes. “You do it.”
She froze. “What?”
“You heard me. Do it.” He took her hand and dragged her in front of the cameras.
What? He wants me to play Rose? She had meticulously studied the role of Anne, but she was in no way prepared for this. Her hands trembled and her mouth went dry, but she didn’t want to disappoint Matt and waste the directors’ time, so she closed her eyes, exhaled deeply, and imagined herself as Rose. This would be her first and last time in front of a camera, so she had better make it count.
Before she was ready, William stood before her, tall and strong. His tight shirt accentuated every indentation in his sculpted chest. “Rose. Didn’t expect you here tonight.” His voice was lower than before with a thicker Scottish accent, and his body blocked her view of the desk.
In the books, Rose was portrayed as intelligent and thoughtful with a hint of mystery about her, so Jane didn’t want to give too much away. She stood straight and looked into his eyes. “I was in the area,” she said with the best northern English accent she could manage.
Recalling the scene from the book, Jane pretended to take something out of his hair. It was incredibly soft, and he leaned into her touch. “Spiderweb,” she whispered into his ear, suppressing the sudden need to taste his earlobe. “You should watch where you’re going,” she uttered, both seductively and threateningly.
William self-consciously tried to get the spiderweb out of his hair. Rose used this opportunity to slip past William, scan the room, and head toward the desk. She was just about to take an intriguing piece of paper from the desk when William grabbed her hand and turned her toward him. He caressed her index finger with his thumb. “Got a new ring?”
Her cheeks flushed at his touch. “It was my grandmother’s.”
“Beautiful.” The way he looked at her, he didn’t mean the ring.
Rose got lost in his eyes, blue like a perfect summer sky. Before she knew it, his impossibly warm body had pinned her to the desk. Bloody bastard flattering her to get the upper hand.
His cocky grin confirmed that he had flustered her on purpose. Oh, Matt, you’ve seen nothing yet. She twisted away and cleared a spot on the desk to sit on, simultaneously stealing a contract she had spotted. She stuck the paper in her back pocket and hopped on the desk. Come get it.
With his hands flat on the tabletop, he caged her in. She inhaled his musky scent and ogled the thick vein throbbing in his neck. She bet he would taste salty. When he eyed a notebook on the desk, she took out her hair band and shook out her hair. It fell just below her breasts and wasn’t particularly full or shiny, but still caught his attention. The way he stared made her blush, but she coolly pulled her shoulders back and held her chin high. “How’s McCombie?”
Her breath caught as his eyes narrowed. “Never been better,” he said, voice guttural. His hand brushed dangerously close to her breasts. Entranced, she didn’t realize that he had taken the notebook until it was gone.
“Cut,” the casting directors said in unison.
This is bad. Instead of approaching the audition like a professional, she had gotten carried away and had played out her fantasy of meeting William. Her face flushed, and she hopped off the table, bumping into Matt’s body, which was like crashing into a brick wall. He was even stronger than she had thought.
His arms steadied her. “Are you okay?”
Her cheeks burned even more. “I’m . . . fine.”
She staggered over to the directors and thanked them for their time. When she grabbed her coat, she looked back at Matt. Thank you for this opportunity, her eyes said. He smiled in response, and she bolted out the door.
Chapter 2
The night after the audition, Matt exited the taxi in front of The Tap in search of the mystery woman who had left him speechless. Hopefully the staff shirt she had worn was really hers. Not only did she understand Rose’s character and look just like her, but the chemistry between their characters had been off the charts. The producers didn’t have her contact information as she had only come for the open audition, and Matt had volunteered to go find her.
Dogs barked in the distance, and he had to step over shredded glass to get to the door. Its surface was cracked and chipped, revealing multiple old layers of paint. A sharp smell wafted toward him when he entered. The pub was packed with men in tracksuit bottoms and hoodies drinking from heavy beer mugs. Matt’s stomach dropped—this dive made him want to burn his clothes afterward, and was certainly no place for a classy woman like her, or any woman for that matter.
He sat down at the bar under a marquee that said, “Beer is like duct tape—it fixes everything.” Not that these guys needed any drinking encouragement. He ordered an expensive whiskey to get on the good side of the bartender and said, “I’d like to speak to the lady who bartends here.”
The guy laughed. “Doesn’t everyone,” he said, and turned away.
Matt scanned the bar for half an hour, but she was nowhere to be seen, so he asked the guy again. “Please, is she here? I need to talk to her.”
“Thirty quid,” the guy said with a serious voice.
“Excuse me?”
“That would make me talk.”
Greedy bastard. But Matt had to find her and get her out of here for good, so he paid up.
“She’s in the back.” The guy directed him to a room that was accessible from behind the bar.
The fact that this guy was so easily bribed made Matt even more scared for her. The room, which most likely used to be a garage, was stuffed with freezers and coolers and filled to the ceiling with cardboard boxes of beer. The yellowed linoleum floor squeaked under Matt’s weight as he traipsed around the boxes until he saw her. With her long auburn hair in a ponytail and a T-shirt way too big for her tiny body, she looked just as cute as she had this morning. She had her bac
k to him and was putting beer on shelves that almost couldn’t bear the weight. He didn’t want to scare her, so he kept his distance. “Um . . . hi.”
She turned around, and it took her a minute to realize who he was. When she did, her face lit up. “Hi.”
“So, you do work here?”
Her smile faded. “It’s only temporary,” she said apologetically.
His heart ached for her. “Marice and Robert loved your audition.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “They did?”
“Yeah, they want to see you again tomorrow morning.”
She stopped stacking beer cans and beamed at him. “Really?”
He walked closer and looked into her blue eyes. “You were incredible.”
She blushed and started stacking again. Even though it was much colder in the garage than in the bar, her temples and neck were deliciously sweaty from the strenuous work.
“Well, the bad news is you have to memorize a five-page script by tomorrow.” He handed her a stack of paper along with the invitation for the callback. “Marice will be reading Mrs. Brook’s part.”
“The casting director with the big hair?”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
Her delicate hands flipped through the pages. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. “They unloaded half a truck of beverages this morning, and I can’t go home until they’re all put away.”
She didn’t seem like the type of girl who would ask anyone for help, so Matt sat down on one of the kegs and started reading the script out loud.
“Matt, you don’t have to—”
“—Interior. Mrs. Brook’s living room. Night. Mrs. Brook wears a seedy nightgown and sits in her Barcalounger. Rose sits on the edge of the couch, still wearing her coat. The only source of light is the muted TV.” He looked over at Jane to see if she was listening. She was unpacking a cardboard box of Elemental Dark Ale, but the way she tilted her head toward him told him she was interested in the script, so he continued. “Rose whispers: ‘It’s ten o’clock.’ Mrs. Brook looks out the window: ‘Is it?’”
