“Awesomely terrible. It took me a while to get my sea legs under me. I remember coming home exhausted. Standing in front of thirtyish kids every hour and ten minutes was like being onstage six hours a day while fielding questions and trying to keep the audience from falling asleep.” The air conditioner kicked on, so she pulled the quilt up to cover her bare shoulders. “You must know what that feels like.”
“Being onstage, yes, but having to do it for six hours straight would be exhausting.” A smile dawned across his face. “I bet you make every single lesson exciting. Besides Potato Cannon Wars and mummifying a hen, what other over-the-top things do you do?”
“I try to do interesting things for every new chapter. Like when we discuss matter—solids, liquids, and gases—I fill a plastic kiddie swimming pool with equal parts water and cornstarch. The mixture is both a liquid and a solid. We roll up our jeans and take turns walking on water. Also, we make ice cream out of liquid nitrogen.” She thought about it. “We make bread when we talk about biochemistry. When we talk about kinetic versus potential energy, I cover one wall floor-to-ceiling with Velcro and we take turns running and sticking to the wall. At the beginning of the year, to teach the scientific method, I encourage my students to come up with the most outlandish and destructive experiments; nothing is off-limits except that the components must be legal to own in the United States. I learned to add that little caveat my first year. As long as they follow the scientific process, we choose three as a class and do them all in the parking lot on the last day of school.”
“My tutors never let me do anything fun like that.” He shook his head. “I feel cheated. I wish you’d been my teacher.” He peeked under the quilt at her bare chest. “Then again, I’m not sure I would have learned anything. I wouldn’t have been concentrating on science unless it was an up-close-and-personal biology lesson.”
“Can I ask you a favor?” Since this might be a one-night thing, she didn’t know if it was okay to make future plans.
“Yes, you can have your way with me.” He winked.
“I’d already planned on that. That’s a given.” Her heart rate kicked into overdrive. “Would you mind coming in to talk to my class sometime about environmental engineering? I saw that your major area of study was algae as an alternate fuel source. I think my students would love to hear about it … you know, from cousin Stewart.”
“I would love to, but …”
“But we shouldn’t make future plans because this is a one-night stand.” She grimaced. “Sorry, I’ve never done this so I wasn’t sure of the rules.” Yep, this was awkward. She had thought it would be okay to bring up the classroom idea, since they’d had the monogamy talk. She should have known he’d been joking around about monogamy. The tickling should have been a clue. Weren’t one-night stands usually monogamous anyway?
“A one-night stand huh. So, what … sex with an actor was on your bucket list?” He seemed to be angry.
“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” She had no idea what was going on. Did he not want to come to her class?
“That’s the problem. You don’t know you said the wrong thing because you only see this as a short-term arrangement.”
She was completely lost. “I don’t understand.”
“Exactly.” He scrubbed his face with his palms. “I want more.”
She was guessing that asking “more what?” would be a bad idea, so she waited for him to go on.
He took several deep breaths. “I like you … a lot. I’ve never had that happen. I don’t want a short fling. I want to see where this goes.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “I just assumed—”
“That I’m shallow and only good for a night—”
“No. I just don’t look like the women you usually date. I wanted to give you an out. I like you a lot too, and that never happens to me. So far, you don’t do anything that annoys me. I like getting to know you, but …”
“But what?” He ground out the words.
She still wasn’t sure why he was so angry.
“I’m a realist. I’m not a hearts-and-flowers kind of girl. I’m not the type who already has our two kids’ names picked out. Growing up, I hated fairytales. I mean, come on, there is no way a pumpkin can turn into a carriage. The physics don’t work out.” She wasn’t explaining this very well. “We both know that at some point, you’re going to leave.” It was time to big-girl-pantie it up. “I don’t want to get my heart broken. I care about you, which means it’s going to hurt when you leave … a lot. Each minute I spend with you, I like you even more, which will make things harder when the time comes.”
Her heart was beating so fast that cardiac arrest was a real possibility.
He took a full minute to think about it, and all of the tension left his body. “Charles and Eden.”
She waited for more of an explanation, but he continued to stare at her.
“Who are they?” Were they friends of his? What did they have to do with the subject at hand?
“Those are the names of our two kids. Charles and Eden.” He pulled her on top of him. “I am the hearts-and-flowers type.” He kissed her softly, almost reverently. “I’m not going anywhere.” He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Except that I need to be in makeup in a few hours, but I’m coming back tonight, if that’s okay.”
Her pulse dialed back, and the dread pounding through her system evaporated. “I’d love it. I’ll be home by five. I’ll make dinner.”
“I’d love to come and talk to your class. I have to admit, it’s the first time anyone has asked me to talk about something other than acting.” He rolled her onto her side and cuddled up behind her.
“I guess I don’t see you as Great Dane the movie star. I just see you as Dane.” She snuggled into him.
“One of the many things I love about you.” He kissed her hair.
She tried not to read anything into his last statement, but even though she didn’t believe in fairytales, she was still a girl. It was hard to overcome all of the eons of evolution that made females love being in love. She guessed she had a new boyfriend, or did she? He didn’t want a short-term thing, so did that mean she was his girlfriend? Feelings were super complicated.
“Stop overthinking things. I can hear the gears turning in your brain. They’re very loud. We need some sleep.”
“Technically, are you my boyfriend?” She just needed to get it straight in her head.
“Yes, I’m your boyfriend. Now go to sleep.” There was laughter in his voice.
She wanted to high-five herself, but that would require moving, and probably an explanation.
* * *
Chapter 12
* * *
Dane felt like he could walk on water. With a huge smile on his face, he pulled open the door to the hair-and-makeup trailer and marched up the steps. For the first time in his life, he was falling in love. The world looked a little brighter, and he wanted to hum a happy song.
“You look like a Disney princess after she got her happily-ever-after.” Rachel sat in the first of two makeup chairs. “I got your text yesterday.” She glanced at the two makeup artists discussing something in the tiny kitchenette.
He winked. “Everything worked out to my satisfaction.”
For them, the only way to keep things private was to only speak in the company of trusted friends.
He wanted to gush about Susie, but even though the makeup artists had signed a confidentiality agreement, his love life would still end up on the front page of the National Enquirer. He didn’t mind that, but Susie didn’t deserve the relentless hounding she would receive just for being his girlfriend. He liked her way too much to do that to her. He refused to think about the day when their relationship would become public.
Rachel nodded toward the vacant seat. There were typed pages stacked on it.
“Rewrites for today.” She rolled her eyes. “They make the barn scene slightly less turdy, but I’m still not sure how my agent talked me into ma
king this film.”
“It’s going to be a Valentine’s Day blockbuster. The turd of a book the movie is based on has sold twenty-five million copies worldwide.” But he knew what she meant. He’d read the book, Allergic to Love, and to say he hadn’t been impressed was putting it mildly. The characters weren’t sophisticated or complex. The only reason he’d signed on for the movie adaptation was because of how highly he respected the director. The man was an auteur. He could polish a turd into a million-dollar sculpture. Dane picked up the pages and sat. “Most of the time people say the book is better than the movie, but this time it’s going to be the other way around.”
“I don’t get how this book has sold so many copies. The dialogue reads like it was written by a third grader.” She thumbed through her copy. “On page twelve, all of my character’s dialogue rhymes. It’s not even intentional.” She turned to a page and pointed to several lines of text. “‘Did you see that tumbleweed?’ ‘Are we agreed?’ ‘Have you peed?’ Who would write this? That’s not even the part where I hallucinate … that’s on page twenty-three. Thank God the hallucination scene didn’t make it into the script.”
“Did you know that tumbleweeds are only seen in far West Texas?” He was totally taking a prop tumbleweed home to Susie so she could see her first Austin tumbleweed. She’d probably been to West Texas, but it would be her first time seeing a tumbleweed in Central Texas.
“Wow, you’ve got it bad.” Rachel stole a look at the two makeup artists, who were still chatting in the kitchenette. “That’s it, we’re going to dinner tonight at the, um, place you found yesterday. I need to see this, um, amazing restaurant for myself.” She slammed the paperback book on the hair-and-makeup station in front of her. “I’m texting Angie. She needs to check this place out too. You know Romero’s in.”
Romero was Angie’s brother. Rachel, Angie, and Romero were the closest thing Dane had to family. His mother didn’t count. He only heard from her when she needed money.
“I’ll text the, uh, restaurant and see if I can get a last-minute reservation for four. Don’t get your hopes up. It’s very popular.” He couldn’t just show up on Susie’s doorstep with three extra guests. And they sure as hell weren’t riding with him, because he was staying the night. He guessed that he shouldn’t assume that, but wishful thinking did wonders, or so he’d heard.
Angie was Rachel’s partner. They were like sisters to him.
“You should do that.” Rachel pointed to the phone in his hand. “Now. I want to see how the chef responds.”
He texted Susie. “It might take the chef a while to answer. She starts work early.”
His phone buzzed with a text.
The more the merrier. I can’t wait to meet your friends. FYI, Uncle Milton might show up. Warn them that he’s crazy and I’m not responsible for him.
“Uncle?” Rachel mouthed.
He sent Rachel a text.
Milton is her great-uncle and they sort of get along. He lives the next farm over. You’re going to love him. Great character study. They have a love/hate relationship. He looks like Jed Clampett from The Beverly Hillbillies. He’s got a plan for the zombie apocalypse.
She pulled out her phone and her thumbs whizzed over the screen.
His phone buzzed.
Can’t wait to meet him. Can’t wait to meet her. Zombie apocalypse?
The door to the trailer slammed open and Romero Colbert, hair stylist to the stars and brother of Angie, stomped up the stairs. His café-au-lait complexion hinted at Latin American or African or Middle Eastern ancestry. Or possibly all three.
“Ladies, I’ll take over.” Romero waved in the general direction of the makeup artists, held the door open for them, and waited for them to leave. Then he closed the door and locked it. “Okay, spill. Angie said Rachel said you met someone.” He checked out the window. “They’re gone.”
“Her name is Susie and she’s amazing.” Dane glanced at his watch. Five o’clock in the evening couldn’t come fast enough.
“Look at you, you’re glowing.” Romero loved a good love story.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone. She’s awesome.” Dane shook his head. “Y’all aren’t going to believe what I did yesterday.”
“He said, ‘y’all.’ Did you hear that?” Rachel clapped her hands. “He’s already going local.”
Loud banging started up at the door.
Romero looked out the window. “It’s just Angie.”
He unlocked the door and opened it. “Get in here. He just started telling us.” He locked the door after her and grabbed a couple of barstools from the kitchenette.
Tall, willowy Angie with her black hair, mocha skin, and ready smile was a perfect balance to the always cynical Rachel. “I’m so happy for you.”
“I was just telling them how it happened. Early yesterday morning I got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere …” He told them everything.
“I want to play with a potato cannon.” Romero twirled around on his barstool.
“It was a lot of fun hanging out with Susie.” Dane felt like a teenager with a crush. “Her watermelon cannon was epic.”
“I invited us to dinner tonight, and she was gracious and warned us about her crazy uncle,” Rachel said. “She didn’t complain or whine or sound the least bit put out.”
“I like her already.” Angie pulled her barstool closer to Rachel’s chair.
“So how do I look?” Rachel picked up her continuity shot from Friday afternoon. She held it next to her face in front of the mirror so Angie could see them side by side. “The makeup is spot on, I think.”
Angie winked at her. “You look gorgeous, as usual.”
Rachel winked back. “Thanks.” She handed Dane’s continuity shot to Romero. “His hair needs some work.”
Romero glanced down at the photo and jumped back. “You look like a cross between Jack Nicholson in The Shining and the Cowboy from the Village People. What’s the setup?” Romero had been working a commercial shoot the previous week and hadn’t been on set.
Dane skimmed the day’s call sheet. “We’re shooting scene three again. I’ve been working on the farm, riding around on my tractor, um …” He had no idea what he was supposed to have been doing on the tractor—that part hadn’t been in the script, but maybe it was in the rewrites. “Maybe I’m cutting grass or something? Anyway, Arianna—Rachel—the evil IRS agent drives up and lusts after me while I’m on the tractor. She’s here to take my family farm away to pay back taxes.”
Romero looked closer at the photo. “Your hair is supposed to be windblown? How fast were you going on that tractor?”
“The hair’s not even close to being the worst part.” Rachel picked up her phone and clicked something on the screen. “Here’s what they have him wearing.”
Romero’s eyes went huge. “Jesus. Who did you piss off in wardrobe?”
“It’s not that bad.” Dane glanced over at Rachel’s phone and cringed. “On Friday, you could have mentioned that I looked like a male stripper.”
Romero shook his head. “And not even a high-rent one. We’re talking some cinder-block club on the edge of the county line with bars on the windows and a sticky floor.” He grabbed a spray bottle and wet Dane’s hair.
Rachel snickered. “I didn’t know grown men wore cutoffs. That is a lot of leg you’ve got showing. I like the cowboy hat and boots. They really add some class.” She scrolled to the next picture. “Although, I really don’t have room to talk.” She held her phone up so everyone could see the picture.
“That power suit looks like something from a 1980s rock video. Those padded shoulders make you look like a linebacker.” Romero grabbed the curling wand and added windblown curls to Dane’s hair.
“Hush, I think she looks beautiful.” Angie smiled at Rachel.
“That’s because you’re in love with her.” Romero scrunched up Dane’s hair. It was beginning to look exactly like the headshot.
“Wait until you see what I’m
wearing at the end of the movie.” Rachel rolled her eyes.
“I bet it’s some form of a cotton dress.” Romero ran his fingers through Dane’s hair. “You white girls always end up in cotton prairie dresses in these small-town drama movies.”
“You’re right. It’s pale pink. I did talk them out of gingham.” She sat back. “Why is it that I always end up in tiered cotton dresses when we shoot anything in the country?”
“It’s because Hollywood has no imagination. They think that all country women hang around in cotton dresses and cowboy boots.” Romero shook his head. “Where do they even find those dresses? I haven’t seen a store here called Boring-White-Lady Cotton Dresses. Or Child-Bride-of-a-Cult-Leader Cotton Dresses.” He turned to his sister. “Have you?”
“No. Maybe that’s what Hollywood thinks the female happily-ever-after looks like.” Angie shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever owned a prairie dress. But I’ve never lived on the prairie.”
“Me either.” Rachel looked at her face closely in the headshot. “Does that look like Lady Danger?” She glanced back at Romero.
He flipped over the continuity shot to read the makeup artist’s notes. “MAC Lady Danger with a topcoat of Dazzleglass. Because apparently your lips need to be seen from space.”
Rachel took the photo back and set it against the mirror. “Pfff. The only thing the astronauts are going to be noticing is Dane’s legs in those cutoffs.” She nudged Dane playfully in the side with her elbow.
Dane nudged her back and looked around at the closest thing he had to a family. “I can’t wait for you guys to meet Susie.”
“Do you have cutesy nicknames yet?” Rachel studied him. “I bet you’re Snuggle Muffin and she’s … Sweet Cheeks.”
“No names yet but stay tuned.” He shrugged. “Actually, her name is Susie Sweet, which already sounds like a nickname.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Romero and Angie said in unison.
“Very funny.” Dane would have thought his cheek muscles would be tired of smiling by now, but here he was still smiling.
Sweet Susie Sweet Page 10
