Safe. Thank you, God. She was safe. He rested his head on the hard concrete. “Good.”
“Are you?”
He couldn’t answer. As much as his back ached from the impact of the fall, it couldn’t compare to the blessed feel of her in his arms. And as his heart thudded hard against his chest where she lay, he wondered how much more it would hurt to let her go.
Chapter Seventeen
Two days later, Blue tapped a pattering rhythm on her thigh. At her side, the passenger window had fogged up an embarrassing amount. How heavy was she breathing anyway? Thomas’s window was fine. He clearly wasn’t as affected by her as she was by him—the story of her life.
For the hundredth time, she replayed in her mind the moment he’d saved her at the Christmas Stroll. He’d moved so quickly and been so strong. And afterward, even as he walked tenderly, he’d asked her again and again if she was okay. Meanwhile, he’d taken two days off work because of his back. And still, he’d wanted to drive her to the Bozeman airport. Funny, since he’d been in such a bad mood for the past two days.
As always, she’d tried getting him to talk, but he’d been stone silent.
“When’s your return flight again?” he asked.
“December thirty-first. My parents gave me a guilt trip about not seeing them in a while, which I don’t get because I’m living in their house right now. I’m like Kevin McCallister in Home Alone, but my parents have no desire to come back.”
No response. Not even a smile.
“I guess that means if burglars scout out the house, it’ll be up to you to fend them off with your BB gun and hot iron.”
Still nothing. He had never been the most talkative, but this was getting absurd. How can you be friends with someone who doesn’t speak? And yet, some silly part of her still wanted to be more than friends with him. Foolish notions were the bane of her existence.
He veered away from the departures lane and turned instead into the parking lot.
“You can just drop me off.”
“I want to see you to security.”
Such a hero. Ensuring her safety all the while making her feel guilty about it. Maybe that explained his bad mood.
He parked the Bronco, then hastened to get to her suitcase before she did. The back of the truck groaned as he opened it.
Oh no, he wouldn’t. She didn’t need him to hurt his back any more on her account. She reached for the handle of the large suitcase.
So did he, resulting in a wrestling of hands that would’ve been cute in, say, a Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks romantic comedy, but not in the true story of a brooding fireman and a frustrated screenwriter. “I can get my own bag.”
“I’ve got it.”
“No way.” Blue shimmied her body between him and the suitcase. “Not after you hurt your back. You’re under strict lifting restrictions.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. I wrote a scene with a chiropractor once, so I’m kind of an expert.”
He mumbled, but the sound of an airplane taking off drowned out the words.
“Mumble that again?”
“I said that you’re an expert at something.”
“What’s that?”
He shook his head.
“Go on.”
“An expert at annoying me.” He gave her a decently hard nudge with his hip, blocking her from the luggage. Before she could make a new strategy, he’d yanked her bag down onto its wheels with a grunt.
Blue hooked the strap of her laptop bag onto her shoulder. Now that the script was mostly written, except for a few troublesome parts, she’d type it all out and revise, revise, revise until it was made perfect. Then she’d allow him a read-through upon her return, and he wouldn’t have to deal with her annoying ways any longer. He could be free of her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What’s wrong? That’s rich.”
His brow furrowed. Was he honestly confused as to why she was upset? The guy was clueless when it came to women. No wonder he was still single.
“You called me annoying.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. Like ten seconds ago.”
“I said you’re an expert at annoying me. I didn’t call you annoying.”
“Same difference.”
“You do these things—never mind.”
She dropped her head back and groaned. Hopeless.
Together they crossed the parking lot to the terminal. The Bozeman airport was small. Too small with the two of them standing in it right now. What happened to armrest Thomas? Choreographed dance Thomas? Kiss a frog to make her happy Thomas?
Maybe she’d run him off. She was good at that. Tears prickled her eyes. Fortunately, the gate agent beckoned her over. Once she’d gotten her ticket and checked her bag, she looked at Thomas, who stared at one of the many mounted animals on the wall. “I’m ready for security.”
He gave a firm nod and followed her to the end of the short line.
“Don’t worry about picking me up. I’ll get a ride.” Blue paused, giving him one last chance to spit out anything that would make this sensible.
Thomas’s glower forced her to turn away. But a hand caught the crook of her arm. “You’re not annoying. You just get under my skin.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is that why you’ve been a jerk the past two days?”
“A jerk?” He dropped his hand to his side.
“You didn’t have to save me. I would’ve seen the car and gotten out of the way in time. I didn’t need you to grab me, throw yourself on the ground, and hurt yourself in the process. Clearly, you regret it.”
“You think I regret saving you? Blue, I would’ve let that car run over me to save you. Even then, I wouldn’t regret it.” Thomas blew out a breath. He didn’t like being out of control. That she knew. “I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I just don’t want you to leave.”
Here it was—the famous airport scene. The quintessential “choose me over (insert new job, new city, new adventure)” scene when the heroine finally learns that the hero loves her enough to flee airport security, jump turnstiles, or buy the ridiculously overpriced ticket. She might even get a serenade along the lines of The Wedding Singer. And what would she do then? How would that affect her plan to reclaim her career? More importantly, could she trust Thomas to not hurt her again?
Thomas took a deep breath. “What if something happens, and I’m not there to rescue you?”
All hopes diminished. He didn’t love her. It was only his savior complex kicking in. Her stinking fanciful imagination had gotten the best of her again. “I’ll be fine, Thomas.” She spun to move ahead in the line.
“Wait. Can I . . . hug you?”
Oh, great. Another side hug. Just what she needed. Still, she faced him. “Yes, you can hug me.”
This time, there was no awkward shuffling to a side-by-side position. Without hesitation, he closed the distance and enveloped her in his arms. It secured her, locking the swinging doors in her soul that creaked and groaned all day and all night. Such a small gesture, but it was enough to remind her that this friendship of theirs could be trusted.
But that was all it was—friendship.
* * *
* * *
Blue tugged at the sleeves of her mother’s dress. Although it fit her mother’s pinup girl figure marvelously enough to catch people’s eye, it hung on Blue’s curveless body like a bag. Perhaps if her parents had informed her they’d be attending a Christmas cast party, she’d have brought something more flattering for her. Not that she was trying to impress anyone over here in Germany.
“Cecelia Theodora Walker, you stop fidgeting,” her mother advised.
“Mom, I don’t know anyone here.”
“But everyone here knows who you are. You’re still a name in this industry.”
“Exactly. They all know I’m the woman who got dumped by Hunter Dean Lawrence. It’s bad enough that everyone in Hollywood thinks I’m pathetic. I don’t need that to spread to . . . where are we again?”
“Landstuhl. Now, go mingle with the cast. Most of them are about your age.”
“The guys maybe. The girls look around sixteen.” The cast was precisely what she’d expect for a television series called The Dragon’s Lair. The men were ruggedly handsome with their trimmed beards, which must be nice and warm when they filmed those wintry scenes on the bluffs just outside of town. The fair-haired girls were delicately beautiful with their porcelain skin and lithe limbs. Hunter would be in heaven here for sure. Blue had never felt particularly ugly, but in an industry that valued physical appearance almost as much as talent, she’d seen her fair share of traditional beauty.
“Now stop fidgeting, lift your chin high, and go introduce yourself.”
Blue hesitated until her mother gave her a playful swat on the backside. Twenty-nine years old, and her mother still treated her like she was ten sometimes.
She headed toward one of the largest groups of people. But the boisterous laughter and slogging of beer steins gave her pause. Nothing like barging into a big group of friends.
Instead, she steered herself toward a group of extras—all women. Summoning the more feminine topics of conversation to the forefront of her brain, she prepared herself for an awkward introduction. One of them glanced her way, then whispered to the other two. Just like that, Blue felt as if she was in Mean Girls, it was a day other than Wednesday, and she’d worn pink. No, thank you.
An older woman sat alone at the tavern’s bar. Ursula Hemming, Blue remembered. She played the mean caregiver to the young heroine, always trying to keep her chaste despite the hero’s pursuit.
“Ursula, right? My name is Blue. I enjoy your work on the show.”
The woman gave Blue a sidelong glance, then leaned over her glass, coughing into it hard enough to make waves in the amber ale. She tilted the drink back and, through an endless series of gulps, downed the entire thing.
Blue expected the woman to release a massive movie-sized belch once she’d slammed the drink onto the bar top. At least then, Blue could have given her a nice slow clap or something. Instead, Ursula slid the glass back to the barkeep, motioning for a refill.
“Cecelia Walker?” The voice behind her had the low timbre that was essential for a swoon-worthy leading man, perfectly lilted with a German brogue. A spin of her stool revealed her assumption to be true. Erik Braun lifted a corner of his lips into a smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting your conversation.”
Ursula turned her back on Blue.
“Now, you’ve done it,” Blue said. “We were just about to start sharing secrets and braiding each other’s hair.”
“Wouldn’t want to stand in the way of that. Unless you’ll let me join. Although, I have to say that if this devolves into a pillow fight, I have a mean right whip.”
“And you’ve told me your secret, so you’re toast.” She held out her hand. “My friends call me Blue.”
“It’s no wonder why. I’ve seen your eyes in pictures, but still frames do them no justice at all. Beautiful.”
Even as a blush carried heat to her cheeks, small flares signaled inside her.
“I’m Erik. Can I get you a drink?”
“Maybe just a Coke.”
“That’s not much fun.”
“Still recovering from jet lag.” She wasn’t much of a drinker, but her reasons dug too deep for a passing conversation.
“Hal,” he called to the bartender. He leaned across her body, forcing her to swivel her seat. He bent over the bar. His cologne forced her eyes to close ever so briefly. “My date would like a Coke, and I’ll take a Hefeweizen.”
Erik had been a veritable newcomer before landing the lead role in The Dragon’s Lair. And while her divorce had spread like poison ivy across every supermarket tabloid cover, his hot, budding relationship with the show’s heroine had been the footer.
Melanie Ambrose. The same heroine that now shot fiery swords out her eyes at Blue from across the room.
“How do you like Germany so far?” Erik asked.
“It’s nice. I’ve been here before. My ex-husband filmed a few scenes for his superhero flick down in Heidelberg.”
Erik nodded. “What did you see?”
“Not much. My daughter was only a few months old, so we stayed close to the hotel for nap times.”
“What a waste. I’m from a little town near here. I could take you around to see the sights on my next day off if you’d like.”
“Something tells me Melanie Ambrose wouldn’t like that very much.”
“She won’t mind. We broke up before the new season started. What do you say?”
“Oh, I’m busy, actually. I’m working on another screenplay.”
“That’s what I heard. If you need another set of eyes, I’d love to read it. I’m a big fan of your work. Teddy Woodward is my hero for giving you this job. Tell me. Has casting been completed? I’d love to visit Wyoming.”
“Montana.”
He stared blankly as if he hadn’t heard the distinction. But Blue knew better than to assume that everyone outside the United States knew the country’s geography.
“I’d be honored to speak the lines you wrote,” he said.
She tried to imagine him playing Thomas. They weren’t dissimilar in appearance. The man’s long, dark locks reminded Blue very much of the way Thomas had worn his hair for his entire childhood. Yes. Erik could certainly play Thomas Beck in the movie.
Erik stood, then perused the room. He placed a hand on Blue’s shoulder, his thumb caressing her clavicle slightly. “Would you like to get out of here with me?”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.” Again, Thomas’s face appeared in her thoughts. Yes, they looked alike, but Thomas didn’t smile like that. His expressions tended toward stoic and pensive. Whereas Erik’s every movement, from the way he leaned over her, inviting himself into her space, to the way he now bit his bottom lip between his teeth like a dog who’d been caught chasing the cat, seemed calculated and well practiced. Yet, Blue couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.
“On my honor, it will be perfectly innocent. There’s a chocolate shop a few streets away. I know the owner. I bet I could call him up, and he’d let us fill our bellies with the finest chocolate in Europe. We’ll call it a toast to our breakups. After that, if you’ll allow me, I’ll walk you back to your parents’ house. And I won’t give you a good night kiss. Not even if you beg.”
Chapter Eighteen
Heard from Blue?” Robbie filled the lines between the bathroom tiles with pewter grout. While Robbie’s business specialized in new builds, occasionally he took on side projects like remodels that allowed him to keep his hands a bit dirty. More often than not, he invited Thomas to join him. For this particular job, Thomas was conflicted. The current remodel was on Stuart Ashcroft’s former home. Teddy Woodward had purchased it for a high-end vacation rental. Because all the town needed was more rich celebrities to come through.
“Just by text.” Thomas lifted a glob of the grout and scraped it over the tile again and again, making sure all the air bubbles had been pushed out.
Robbie snickered. “I don’t get it. Why aren’t you two together? You’ve been in love with her since high school. Ask her out.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is. You like her. She likes you,” Robbie said.
“You don’t know that.”
“Blue couldn’t hide her feelings if they were dressed in camouflage and wearing an invisibility cloak.”
Thomas shook his head.
“I’m just saying that you two should consider moving out of the friend zone.”
“Not possible.”<
br />
“Why not?”
Thomas’s muscles burned. His arms seemed to be filled with mounds of wet ash.
“Because of Ella.”
Robbie sat back. He propped his elbows upon his knees, awkwardly, thanks to the kneepads he sported. “For the hundredth time, you did what you had to do. You followed all safety protocols to protect the integrity of the dam. There’s a reason the investigation’s report came back clear.”
“I could have done more.”
“Like sound the alarm?”
Thomas squeezed his eyes closed. The alarm would’ve warned everyone downriver that the water levels could rise sharply. Hunter would’ve known to pull Ella away from the shoreline.
“The release wasn’t enough to warrant the alarm. You know that. And that summer, the new alarm system had so many false alarms that no one would have taken it seriously anyway. And there are signs all over the river warning that water levels could rise without warning. You need to give yourself some grace here.”
“How can I do that? It was my decision and my hand that released the water that drowned her. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that. Every time I look at Blue and see the sadness she’s always trying to hide, I know I caused it.”
“If you’re convinced of that, there’s nothing I can say to change your perspective. Only God will be able to do that. I assume you’ve taken this to him?”
Only every day.
Robbie shrugged his shoulders slowly. “What if you could do something about her sadness? You’re already giving her back her career. But maybe you could show her what a solid, healthy relationship looks like.”
Unlikely. Not with his DNA.
“Tell her how you feel about her. She needs to know.”
Robbie’s phone pinged. He wiped his hands on his jeans, then grabbed his phone from the counter. As he looked at the screen, his face fell.
“Everything all right?”
“Not exactly.” Robbie held the phone out for Thomas to see the text from Keira.
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