“Of course not.” Thomas worked his lips like he was deciding on what else to say. He’d been doing that a lot recently. “But it’s too bad, because I’ve been thinking of how we could make him wish he’d never let you go.” His smirk reached inside her and performed a glissando down her vertebrae—its sound as pleasing as a Gene Kelly serenade.
“I’m up for trying some stunts. As far as everyone knows, you’re my friend and the subject of the movie that I am writing, but a little tongue-wagging might build some interest. So if you ever wanted to put your arm around me or, I don’t know, re-create that New Year’s kiss, I’m game.”
Thomas coughed and dipped his chin.
She’d probably overstepped. Her mind jostled with ways to walk that comment back. Oh dear . . .
The gate agent opened the door leading to the Jetway. Blue shivered as the outside air raced up her arms. She shouldn’t have stuffed her coat in her checked bag.
Thomas eyed her. “You cold?”
“A little.”
“Welcome to Flight 1451 to Los Angeles. We’ll begin the boarding process in a few minutes,” the gate agent said into the microphone.
Thomas stood. But instead of gathering his belongings, he unzipped his sweatshirt and slid it down off his shoulders. Once he’d removed it, he spread it out to her and nodded to it.
Wearing her most appreciative grin, she rose and pushed her arms through the sleeves. It wasn’t designer—just a simple black cotton sweatshirt that could be found at any big-box store. But it carried his warmth, and that made it the most luxurious garment in the world. She turned to face him while she attempted to zip it.
“It’s tricky.” He took the two ends from her, and their fingers danced in the exchange. He aligned the zipper and jiggled it. When that didn’t work, he shuffled his feet closer, pulled the material taut, and tried to force the zipper to move. His face was close to hers as he worked, and Blue had half a mind to peck his cheek—a reward for his chivalry. Finally, the zipper climbed up to her neck, and his eyes met hers.
Blue lifted the cuff of the sleeve to her nose. “It smells like you.”
The skin around his eyes crinkled. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Very good. It’s a combination of woodsy cologne, laundry detergent, and the tiniest bit of Eau de Labrador.”
His responding laugh set her heart to bloom, and she was no longer cold.
* * *
* * *
You’re sure she’s been getting enough water, right?” Thomas asked over the phone. “And her morning walks? Oh, and watch her near the river.”
“Thomas, we know how to take care of a dog. She’s having the time of her life with Anabelle. They’ve been out rolling in snow together,” Robbie said. “Hey, how’s that flirting going?”
The tailor patted his elbow. Thomas switched the phone to his left hand and stuck his right arm out for the tailor to inspect. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“I know we’re giving you a hard time, but you know Blue better than all of us. And what you two have is really cool. You don’t need gimmicks or anything like that. Just be you. And don’t let fear get in the way.”
Thomas ended the call and tossed the phone on a couch that looked like it was worth more than his Bronco. He hated that anyone would gift him a six-thousand-dollar tuxedo that he’d never wear again. But he’d been warned. All eyes were going to be on Blue and her date at this awards show. The thought made his palms slick.
Soon, though, it would all be made right when he reunited with Blue. He had yet to see it, but he knew she’d chosen a light blue gown, just like her prom dress. He wouldn’t mess up this night the way he’d messed up that one.
Once the tuxedo was finished, the limo would head to Taylor Grand’s estate. As the host of the show, he’d have already left, but he’d allowed Blue to use his home to get ready. Thomas arrived with ten minutes to spare, armed with a package of Chips Ahoy. If this adult world got to be too much for Blue, he’d be prepared with their old standby. Thomas stepped out of the car and climbed the steps to the front door. Before he reached the top step, the door opened. Out walked the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
He searched for the words he had practiced in his mind again and again. But as usual, all sense disappeared. He remained frozen mid-step with his eyes trained on her, unable to look away.
She touched her hair, which had been curled and pinned back, showing off her lovely neck. The few blond curls that framed her face also brought light to her striking eyes. Blue glanced down at her dress—sky blue on the bodice, and lightening in color as the skirt flowed down—and smoothed the front of it. Was she insecure about the way she looked? No, he didn’t want that. He needed to say something. Too bad there were better odds that Molly, back in Montana, could speak at this moment than him.
Actions would have to do. He finished his steps and met her at the top. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. The moment his lips touched her skin, it was as if an electric current passed between them, so he let the kiss linger several seconds until it got awkward. Robbie said he should be himself, after all. He was nothing if not awkward.
Her soft laugh prompted him to break the kiss, but he wasn’t ready to back away entirely. She looked up at him. “Do I look pretty enough?”
He offered her the world’s slowest nod. Hopefully, she could see the answer to that question in his eyes. There was a better word than pretty, though. “Stunning.”
Her lips turned up, and the color in her cheeks deepened. She put her hand around his waist and drew him against her. Not so much a hug as it was a promise. They were in this mess together, for better or for worse. Beck and Blue. And if it were in his power, he wouldn’t let anything or anyone separate them. As if to etch the promise in stone, he linked his pinkie with hers.
* * *
* * *
When the limo pulled into the drop-off lane, Blue heaved as big a breath as her dress would allow. Out her window, a carpeted alleyway cut between scores of fans, cameras, and media personalities. A flurry of emotions as varied as the hues of gowns outside whirled within her. A well-dressed man stepped in front of her door and opened it wide.
Blue squeezed Thomas’s hand once more and then slid her foot out, letting the folds of silk chiffon drape down past her high heel to the ground. As she accepted the valet’s hand and emerged, a blitz of photographers shocked her. She nodded her thanks and reached back for Thomas.
If shell-shocked had a face, it would be Thomas Beck’s when he saw all the camera lenses. But rather than freak out, he set his jaw and took Blue’s hand. He remained close as they strolled past throngs of people. For her protection or his, she wasn’t entirely sure.
When they encountered a jam of people, they paused. A few people yelled, “Cecelia!” and she offered a polite smile. Once the crowd moved, Blue leaned nearer to Thomas. “Up ahead, there’s a TV interviewer. She might want to chat with me.”
“I’ll just follow your lead,” he whispered. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.”
That certainly left the field of possibilities wide open, especially with the new ideas popping into her head as she felt his warm breath against her ear and neck. His cologne was strong this close, and the scent transported her back to the Montana forest, at the edge of Glory Falls. Despite the madness around them, peace swathed her.
Thomas’s fingers grazed her arm, from her bare shoulder down past her elbow to her wrist, finally taking her hand once again. Who was this man?
A friendly photographer from Cultural Chic magazine called her name.
“Thomas, we’re going to pose now. Put your hand in your pocket, and smolder.”
“Smolder?” he asked.
“You know. The face you make when you’re in a bad mood.”
He lowered one brow and raised the other.
“Yep! That�
�s the one!” She struck a pose befitting one of those starlets that made it onto every best-dressed list. He placed one arm loosely around her waist and stood close. Marvelously close.
A small stage had been constructed where Trellis Harlow from the television channel Fame filmed her live pre-show.
She waved Blue over. “Ladies and gentlemen, I can’t believe it. It’s Cecelia Walker. At twenty-four years old, she was the youngest-ever winner of the Clyde for Best Original Screenplay. Come on up here, Cecelia.”
Blue grinned at Thomas. “I’ll be right back.” She lifted her dress a bit and carefully climbed the stairs. The last thing she needed was to pull a Jennifer Lawrence on camera and stumble. “Hello, Trellis.”
“Cecelia, I think I speak for everyone on the red carpet tonight when I say we’re ecstatic to see you back on the awards-show circuit. You’ve inspired an entire generation of young women to pursue screenwriting. Tell me. Do you have any advice for them?”
“Keep your eyes on the prize. There are a lot of temptations to lead you astray, but if you know what goal you want to accomplish, you work hard, and stay teachable, you’ll get there.”
“Just avoid falling for your leading man, am I right?”
“Your words, not mine.” Blue looked back at Thomas where he stood in hero stance, ready to swoop in and save her the second she needed him.
“I must ask. Who is the tall drink of water you brought as your date?”
Blue debated a moment. He’d have to get used to the spotlight sometime. “Thomas Beck. He’s the inspiration behind my latest screenplay, a project that has been green-lighted by Seek Media. It’s called Uncommon Courage.”
“Yes, there is a lot of buzz over that movie. A real-life superhero, and isn’t he delectable? Be honest. Is this another case of love on the movie set for you?”
Stay composed. “Thomas has been my best friend since I was four years old. It’s an honor to write his story and share it with the world.”
“And how do you feel about this afternoon’s announcement that Hunter Dean Lawrence has been cast to play the lead in Uncommon Courage?”
Blue’s lungs forgot how to work. In fact, blinking was apparently the only thing her body remembered to do. Hunter got the role? That wasn’t possible. Teddy wouldn’t do that. Not to his goddaughter. It must be a mistake.
“Cecelia?” Trellis asked. “How do you think it will feel to work alongside Hunter Dean again? Might we hope for reconciliation?”
Work alongside Hunter? Hope for reconciliation? A bead of sweat dripped down the center of her chest. How long had she been standing here, not speaking? Fortunately, a hand found the small of her back. She looked back to see Thomas. “Cecelia is a professional and takes her work seriously. She’s the only person I’d trust my life to. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Cecelia is needed inside.”
“Here comes Hunter Dean Lawrence right now.”
Thomas guided her away from the interview stage but not quickly enough. There was Hunter, waiting for her to descend the steps. But he wasn’t alone. And he wasn’t with Ilsa, either. On his arm was none other than Josie Delacourt—the actress who’d played Glory in Blue’s movie. She’d been a gangly fourteen-year-old when the film had premiered five years ago.
Josie squealed and hugged Blue. “Hi, Cecelia. I haven’t seen you in ages. I’m so glad you’re back. Did you hear about Hunter’s next role?” The young girl turned and patted Hunter on the stomach, but his eyes narrowed on Thomas. To him, Thomas was more than Blue’s closest friend. He was the face of River Canyon Dam.
Meanwhile, Thomas ignored the man, holding out his hand to Blue instead, and she welcomed the invitation.
“Blue, wait!” Hunter called after her as Thomas led her away and into the theater.
Once the doors shut out the sunlight, photographers, and ex-husbands, Blue curled herself into Thomas’s arms. Just like he had after her nightmare, his shushing spoke to her the way words could not. Why would Teddy do this to her? Why hadn’t she heard? How could Hunter be dating a child—the girl who played his little sister? Where were all the people who’d promised her that she and Hunter would not have a run-in on the red carpet?
Without answers, there was only one thing she could say. “Thank you for being here. I thought I could do this on my own, but I was wrong. And I think the night’s just beginning.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
As she stood backstage, Blue tapped the envelope for the Screenwriting award against her thigh. The crew member had already explained the upcoming minutes. After the commercial break, Taylor would do a short bit about the behind-the-scenes players that make movies come to life. Then, the announcer would introduce her, and she’d head to the microphone stand at the center of the stage while the theme to Mississinewa Glory played. After Blue read a brief explanation off of the teleprompter, the announcer would read the names of the nominees. She’d open the envelope and announce the winner.
Piece of cake. A hair and makeup artist moved to smooth her hair, but Blue waved him off. No last-minute fixes would help her win a prize for beauty—not in this crowd. Besides, for her career, it was far more important she get her words and presentation right than awe the crowd with her appearance. And Thomas found her beautiful. That was the only opinion she cared about tonight.
“Blue.”
She glanced over her shoulder to find Hunter emerging from the shadows. “Not now, Hunter,” she said. Way more polite than the diatribe of R-rated swears curdling inside her chest.
“We need to talk. You won’t return my calls or my texts. What else am I supposed to do?”
“Please. This is a big moment for me. Don’t ruin it.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Charm lifted the corner of his lips into a lopsided grin. He’d made a whole career molding those lush lips into various smiles to get what he wanted. Once, that had been Blue. But now those lips mesmerized her for an entirely different reason. Ella had inherited them from her father. And what he’d used for personal gain, Ella had used to eat sliced bananas, drink milk from a sippy cup, and say, “Wuv you, Mommy.”
Wuv. At twenty-eight months, she hadn’t yet learned how to say the L sound. She never would.
She tugged at the bodice of her dress. When had such a simple act as breathing gotten so hard? Blue stepped forward and steadied herself on the table that held bottles of water for the presenters. She checked the table to make sure there was no spilled water before she set the envelope down. Wouldn’t that be great? Holding a sopping wet envelope on stage?
Hunter’s fingers skimmed the side of her dress. “Blue, I miss you. I’m not right without you.”
“Do you say the same thing to Ilsa? Or Josie? Ugh. She played your little sister, Hunter.”
“It’s not like that. She’s had trouble with an obsessive fan, and because we share a manager—”
Blue threw her hand up.
“I made so many mistakes, and I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for which one? Leaving me to mourn our daughter alone? Sleeping with another woman? Breaking my heart with the divorce papers?”
“All of those and more.” He stepped behind her, curling his hands around her hip bones. “I want to start over with you.”
“It’s too late. I’m here with Thomas.” She skirted away from his touch, nearly bumping into the crew member who shushed her. The commercial break was over, and the orchestra began to play the theme song for one of the Best Picture nominees.
“That’s another thing. Thomas? Did you forget where he worked? What he did to our girl?”
“You make it sound like he killed her with his own hand. Read your script. He’s a hero through and through.”
Hunter drew close. If she backed up any more, she’d be visible to the crowd and cameras too soon. “Be honest. You can’t tell me that stick-in-the-mud makes you feel what I can.”
On the side stage, Taylor spoke about the men and women off-screen who bring movies to life.
“Don’t you remember how much passion we shared?” Hunter teased a curl along the side of her neck.
The announcer’s voice boomed across the theater. “Presenting the award for Best Original Screenplay, the screenwriter of Mississinewa Glory, Cecelia Walker.”
The crew member gave her a stiff nod.
Hunter leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I want to feel that passion again.”
Blue broke away from him and stepped into the spotlight. So many eyes stared at her, awaiting her words. Thank you, Lord, for teleprompters. All her mind could think of was Ella and Hunter and how happy they’d once been. Well, mostly happy. Hunter had his flaws and so did she, but they’d made it work. If the accident hadn’t happened, they’d still be together. Without the break in their family’s walls, Ilsa never would’ve gotten in. But where would that have left Thomas? Without the guilt of finding Ella too late, would he have married Hallie or Val? Would he never have switched to firefighting? And what would that have meant for Andrea and her sweet children?
All the faces in the theater spun, like the landscape surrounding a carousel. She felt woozy. The words she was meant to read moved up and down, up and down.
Then she saw him. Thomas. Past the teleprompter, three rows back, near the center aisle. He sported a big smile—the same exaggerated one she always gave him after a joke to reassure him that no one was against him.
Just like that, the carousel slowed. She’d made it back to this world as she’d hoped. All thanks to him. The thought was enough to hitch some added emotion to her words if she wasn’t careful. Instead, she focused on the teleprompter’s feed.
“Without a screenplay, there would be no exciting moments to bring us to the edge of our seats, no plot twists to bend our minds, and no lines of dialogue to still our hearts. The nominees for this year’s best original screenplay are . . .”
Glory Falls Page 20
