by Melody Grace
Then he stopped returning her calls.
Ellie felt a flush even remembering it now, how stupid she’d been. She was just a summer fling to him, a fun way to pass the time while he was there vacationing with his family. He’d never meant to stay in touch, or make long-distance work. As soon as his car crossed the Sagamore Bridge back to the mainland, she had faded from his memory the way tan lines fade after just a couple of weeks out of the sun. She spent months crying over him, sending confused letters and leaving heartbroken voicemails, until at last, she had realized, it was only ever going to end that way.
Guys like him always left, and local girls like her got left behind.
Ellie saw a figure waving in her headlights up ahead, snapping her out of her memories. It was Dash, waiting by the house. He looked cold—and glad to see her.
“A million times, thank you,” he said, after he yanked open the door and clambered into the Jeep. He rubbed his hands together, shivering. “I had visions of freezing to death out here, and nobody around to write a decent obituary.”
Ellie laughed, glad at least he still had a sense of humor. “I’m sorry I told you to go hiking,” she apologized, turning the heater up all the way. “I should have warned you about the trails. They get confusing in the snow.”
“No, please, it’s my fault.” Dash shook his head. “I was the only Boy Scout never to pass the orienteering badge. I led my whole troupe ten miles out of the way. They had to send a search party after us.”
“You were a Boy Scout?” Ellie asked, turning back onto the road.
“Yes, ma’am.” He tried an American accent—and failed miserably. “My mother was trying to get me away from the TV. I spent my whole childhood inside watching movies,” he explained, “so she thought the great outdoors would be good for me.”
“And was it?”
He chuckled. “Well, I did manage to recruit my troupe into making a horror movie on my old handheld camera. We made fake blood from berries and got our uniforms completely ruined. After that, my mom left me to watch in peace.”
“How did the movie turn out?” she asked, amused.
“Wonderful. It won second prize in the Ardingly College Year Eight Summer Project contest,” he announced proudly.
“Only second?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I was narrowly beaten by Susie Booth’s essay about her dead Labrador, Bertie, but I still say it was a fix. I saw that dog in the best of health on parents’ day, so she made the whole thing up. Little suck-up.”
Ellie laughed. “Not that you hold a grudge.”
“Me? Never.” Dash smiled over at her, his handsome face even more striking in the dim, shadowed light. “I’m biding my time until our twenty-year reunion, then I’ll waltz in there with an Oscar and show little Susie who’s boss.”
“Well, as long as you’re in the industry for the right reasons…”
Dash grinned. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: ninety percent of Hollywood is trying to get back at everyone who wronged them in school. You’ve never seen a town so full of insecure people acting like they’re God’s gift. Actors are the worst,” he added.
“Not writers?” she asked innocently.
He snorted. “Touché.”
Ellie was approaching the turn back to the inn, but Dash still looked pretty cold. After trampling around outside for hours, it seemed almost cruel to send him back to that freezing, bleak cabin. So she was almost relieved when he piped up, “Say, is there somewhere around here to get a drink? A hot drink,” he added.
“The pub does a great Irish coffee. I can drop you there,” she offered. “It’s not far. And their fish and chips is pretty good too. Although, it may not be up to your English standards.”
“I’m willing to take one for the team,” he said as she continued down the road towards town. He looked around at the houses bedecked in holiday lights, sparkling brightly in the dark. “Wow, you really weren’t kidding about the festive spirit around here.”
“I told you, Sweetbriar takes the Starbright Festival very seriously.” Ellie turned past a house with a six-foot Santa on the roof, complete with reindeer and a flashing Rudolph nose. “There’s a contest for the best house light display, I’ve seen people come to blows over the prize.”
“You’re joking.” Dash laughed.
“Well, Aunt June still claims Larry slipped on ice and she never pushed him, but he still had to go to the ER with a broken ankle.”
Dash shook his head. “If I put this in a script, the studio would tell me to tone it down.”
“‘Toned down’ doesn’t really fly here,” she agreed. “We like our tones bright red and green, with some mistletoe and a Christmas angel on top.”
In town, the stores were all lit up and the sidewalks were busy with festival-goers wrapped in coats and scarves, admiring the gift shops and cafes. The gazebo and church were trimmed in little twinkling lights, and a massive Christmas tree presided over the town square. Ellie pulled up in front of the old pub and put the Jeep in park. “Here we are. Ask Riley to call you a cab when you’re ready to come back,” she advised him. “No more walks.”
“I’ve learned my lesson.” Dash grinned. He opened the door and climbed out, then paused, leaning back in. “I don’t suppose you want to join me? My treat,” he added. “It’s the least I can do after you came to my rescue.”
His invitation was tempting, but still, she hesitated. “I should get back to the inn. The guests—”
“Are all right here for…what’s that?” He looked across the square.
“Carol-singing and mulled wine,” she answered.
“So, you have plenty of time. Besides,” he added, looking bashful. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I may have been somewhat…prickly when I arrived.”
“Somewhat?” she echoed, arching her eyebrow.
“Fine. Very.” Dash’s smile was infectious: boyish and tempting all at the same time. “Let me make it up to you. One drink. I promise, I won’t bite.”
Ellie’s heart caught. Biting wasn’t what she was worried about. No, those lips of his were far more dangerous…
She opened her mouth to politely turn him down, but instead, to her surprise, a totally different answer emerged.
“OK. One drink.”
Where was the harm in that?
4
Once, Dash’s Hollywood friends roped him into doing a charity ice-dunk: stripping down to their skivvies and plunging into a pool of ice-filled water in the name of a good cause.
This was colder.
After wandering the woods for hours, he was frozen through. Luckily, the Shipwreck Pub had a roaring fire in the grate, beer on tap, and a bristly pine tree in the corner decked out in hand-carved ornaments. Ellie found them a table by the fireplace, and by the time Dash had finished his first coffee and the barman brought him a plate of piping hot fish and chips, he had just about warmed up.
Almost.
“How do you put up with this bloody cold?” he asked, hugging his hands around the hot mug, his bones still feeling like ice. “Maybe I’ve gone soft after too many years in California, but this is inhuman.”
Ellie smirked, reaching over to steal one of his chips. “This is nothing. Last year, it was five below for weeks. It got so cold the pipes froze, and the water kept shutting off. We tried to tell the guests that ice water was great for the circulation, but it didn’t go over too great.”
He smiled, glad he wasn’t the only one who’d thawed out tonight. Ellie had warmed up a couple of degrees too, revealing a mischievous grin beneath all that sarcasm. “Last year I spent the holidays on the beach.” He give a sigh at the memory. “It was seventy-five with an ocean breeze.”
“So why did you come here? Don’t they have writing retreats by the beach?” she asked.
“I…thought the change of scenery would do me good.” Dash tried not to think of the blank page still waiting for him back at the cabin. He had days left to be inspired. Plenty of time
.
“If I lived out there, I’d never leave.” Ellie’s voice turned wistful. “Sunshine… palm trees… I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf.”
Something in her voice made him look up. “Have you ever been?”
She shook her head and took a sip of her cocoa, almost hiding behind her silky blonde hair. “I’ve never been anywhere. I mean, I’ve gone into Boston, and New York too on a trip with my sister, but I’ve pretty much spent my whole life here on the Cape.”
“You didn’t leave for college?” Dash asked, still studying her. Watching people was what he did: character inspiration, and just plain curiosity. He never knew what would wind up in a script one day.
Ellie looked reluctant. “I never went. I test badly.” She shrugged. “So my scores were never high enough to get a scholarship. I’m saving up to travel, one day…” She trailed off, an unreadable expression on her beautiful face.
His curiosity grew. A girl like Ellie seemed an odd fit in a sweet small town like this: she was too sharp, too vivid. He would have thought she’d packed her bags the first chance she got for the bright lights of a bigger city, somewhere she could put that quick mind to work building an empire or taking over someone else’s.
What was keeping her here?
Ellie looked up and found him staring. She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.” He quickly flashed a smile. “Just thinking.”
“About that script of yours?” She looked amused. “Writer’s block must be a bitch.”
“Don’t remind me. I like to think of my muse more like an uncooperative woman.” He gave her a wink. “You need to tempt and seduce her out of hiding.”
Ellie snorted, reaching to steal another chip. “And how’s that working out for you?”
He paused. “Not so great,” he admitted finally. “I have a big script overdue, and I’m totally stuck.”
Instead of sympathy, she smiled. “I guess you’re not so tempting, after all.”
“Well, thanks,” he laughed, surprised. “That’s really supportive.”
Ellie gave him another of those looks. “Maybe your muse doesn’t need to be flattered and charmed, she could just use some old-fashioned work. You know, like real women do.”
“I don’t know,” Dash teased her, “women back in LA seem to like the charm just fine.”
“I’m sure they do,” she shot back. “Or do they like your premiere tickets and movie roles?”
“Ouch.” Dash clutched his chest. “Are you suggesting women don’t date me for my intelligence and good looks?”
“Well, it’s definitely not for your modesty.”
He laughed. Ellie was sitting closer to the fire, and her cheeks were flushed pink now from the warmth. She peeled her ugly holiday sweater over her head, revealing a simple navy tank top underneath. Then she leaned over to take more food, and Dash realized there was nothing simple about it.
He pushed the plate closer and tried not to stare at her tempting curves. “You said you weren’t hungry.”
“I’m not!”
“Please, you’ve eaten half already.” He looked around and caught the bartender’s eye as he passed. “Another plate of chips, please. And do you have any vinegar too?”
He made a face. “You Brits. Next thing, you’ll be asking for that awful HP sauce.”
Dash brightened. “You have that here?”
Ellie laughed. “Ignore him,” she told the bartender. “And when are you going to get me your accounts?”
The man groaned. “Look at you, cracking the whip. All you need is some leather, and you could charge double.” He winked, gathering empty glasses, and Ellie laughed again, her eyes sparkling in the firelight.
Dash looked back and forth between them, trying to figure out if they were friends – or something more. “Nice guy,” he remarked, when the bartender had left.
“Hmm? Oh, Riley’s great. Terrible book-keeping though,” Ellie added. “His girlfriend, Brooke, is more organized, at least.”
Dash relaxed. With the fire, the whiskey, and a beautiful woman sitting across from him, things were starting to look up. Now, if only that muse would come out of hiding and help a guy out.
“Do you miss it?” Ellie asked suddenly, gazing at him over the table. “England, I mean. You’re a long way from home.”
“Sometimes,” Dash answered slowly. “But not as much as I thought I would. I moved over when I was twenty-two, I didn’t know a soul. I’d just signed with a manager off one of my short films, and suddenly, I was right there in the middle of it all. Hollywood.” He remembered how green he’d been, just a wide-eyed kid with his dreams finally in reach. “As soon as I was off the plane, they sent me out on a bunch of meetings. That’s how it works,” he explained, “you go meet all these producers and studio execs, chit-chat, and try to pitch to get a job.”
“Were you nervous?” Ellie asked, still watching him closely. “Starting over like that, somewhere nobody knew your name.”
“Petrified,” Dash admitted. “I was way over my head, I didn’t have a clue. I would babble on about the wrong thing, or wind up insulting a movie they’d worked on. One of the guys I met even called up my manager, said I seemed to have some talent, but they shouldn’t let me near another meeting until I’d taken some Xanax!”
“They didn’t!” Ellie laughed.
“Yup,” he shook his head. “But, that’s how it works, I guess, you stumble around for long enough, and eventually you figure it out. I managed to scrape together some financing for my first movie, this small indie thing, and then when that got some attention, I was able to level up for the next one.”
“I saw it,” Ellie said, her voice even.
Dash paused. “Do I want to know what you thought? Remember, my ego’s easily bruised.”
He was only half-kidding. That movie meant a lot to him, they all did. When you pour your heart and soul into a story for years, obsessing over every word, and every scene, it was hard not to take it personally. He’d toughened up when it came to the critics, he knew he couldn’t please everyone, but this was different.
He’d only met her a few hours ago, but suddenly, her opinion mattered.
She thought for a moment. “I liked it.”
But there was a note of hesitation in her voice. Dash narrowed his eyes. “You’re just saying that.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Believe me, I wouldn’t lie. Your ego doesn’t need any help from me.” She grinned, and even though it wasn’t exactly true, Dash laughed along. “I liked that it felt…real,” she said finally. “Sometimes in movies, it’s just like a spectacle, pure escapism, but those characters seemed like real people.”
Dash exhaled a sigh of relief. “That’s the biggest compliment you can give a writer,” he confided. “Thank you.”
She shrugged, but there was a small smile teasing on the edge of her lips.
He wanted to kiss it right off.
Down, boy.
He quickly took a gulp of his drink, too fast, and coughed as the scalding liquid hit his throat.
“Are you OK?” Ellie looked concerned as he spluttered.
“Uh huh.” He swallowed, recovering. “Fine. Just dandy, thanks.”
Dandy?
He pulled himself together, and inhaled the rest of his food, trying to focus on anything other than the beautiful woman across from him—who was looking more kissable by the minute.
Where the hell was this coming from? Sure, she was gorgeous and smart, and funny—but Ellie clearly couldn’t be less interested in him if she was waving a neon sign saying, “Back Off.” She’d sent him out in the woods to freeze to death rather than spend another minute talking earlier, and even though she seemed to have warmed up a couple of degrees since then, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t push him into a snow drift if he even tried to slip his hands around that slim waist and pull her closer…
Never mind hypothermia, she’d probably cut his hands off.
And then how
would Dash write his script?
They finished up their food without Dash doing anything stupid—and potentially life-threatening—and headed back outside. It was pitch black and cold out, but with the festive lights around town and the whiskey still warming his bloodstream, it was a good kind of chill. Dash pulled his coat tighter, and took a look around. The sound of carols was coming from the square, with people gathered around the massive Christmas tree.
“Want to take a look?” he asked, nodding towards the festivities.
“I’ve seen it every year,” Ellie replied, but she still fell into step beside him, making their way carefully over the salted sidewalks, past store windows crammed with Christmas trinkets.
“I guess even a winter wonderland loses its appeal after long enough,” Dash asked.
“No,” Ellie said quickly, “I love it, I do. Just…it would be nice to spend the holidays somewhere else for a change. To be somewhere else at all.”
She slipped suddenly and grabbed his arm for balance. Dash held her in close for a moment. “You OK?”
Her body was warm against his, and Dash catch the scent of her shampoo for just a second—something citrus and light cutting through the scent of roasting chestnuts in the air. Then she stepped away.
“I’m fine. Thanks,” she said, sounding breathless as she found her footing again. But she didn’t drop his arm; she kept her gloved hand nestled in the crook of Dash’s elbow, and somehow, it felt so natural, he didn’t even think twice. They kept strolling, but every few steps, someone stopped to say hello.
“Ellie, sweetheart, how are your parents getting on?” an older woman with a walking stick asked, beaming affectionately.
“They’re great, thanks, Debra. Enjoying the sun!”
“They deserve it. You know they’re forecasting more snow tonight?”
Ellie looked up at the sky. “They’ve got the right idea, off in the Caribbean.”
