“Really?” I whisper, wishing I could take it back when anger flashes in his dark irises.
“Yes.”
He hesitates as if he wants to say more, but instead draws his chip into his mouth and takes a hearty bite.
“I’m sorry, Devyn. Truly. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It’s fine. I know that you didn’t. I’m guessing you took a chance to look me up?”
“Sorry,” I tell him bashfully. I’d hate to think of someone digging through all of the dirt in my life. I was more curious than anything about why this beautiful man would end up in our town – an answer I still haven’t found. “Is any of it true?”
“Probably. I don’t read what’s written about me, but the media have an odd way of figuring out things that people want to keep private.”
I contemplate his type of life while I eat a few more chips, wondering how invasive it must feel to have your life splashed onto a magazine.
“Is there any privacy? I mean, why continue acting if you hate having your life speculated about and torn apart?”
Devyn leans his elbows onto the table, his forearms stretched out toward me as he takes my hand without the chip into both of his. It’s my left hand, the normal one, the undamaged one with the only blemish being a few freckles from the summer sun.
“The funny thing about being a celebrity is that you both crave and despise the publicity. I love acting, it’s all I’ve ever known, and I was given great power in my name and talent. There was nothing I couldn’t do or a place I couldn’t visit. But the moment you slip up the world turns its back on you and treats you like vermin. It’s a tough job. But I can’t imagine doing anything else. I take the good with the bad.”
The way he rubs the pads of his fingers across my palm leaves a wake of electricity with each pass.
“I don’t know if I would be strong enough to handle that. I worry that one of my neighbors is going to get my medical bill by accident and then tell everyone.”
“Medical bills?”
A false giggle emerges from between my lips as I start to trace the back of each of his fingers as a distraction. “I wasn’t born with these scars.”
Beneath my fingers I feel his hand tighten into a fist, his arms grow rigid and tense at my claim.
Fury spreads from his body in waves. I can feel the pulses against my skin. “Did someone hurt you?” he growls. I look up and watch his eyes darken, the color turning almost black in his ferocity to protect.
“Not the way you’re thinking. Don’t worry. Let’s talk about something else, or we can play another round?”
“Larsen,” Devyn bellows as if he assumes his gravelly voice should have me quaking in my seat. If he were anyone else I probably would, but Devyn doesn’t scare me.
Standing up, I snag another nacho and make my way back down to the lane while shoving it into my mouth, savoring the cheesy goodness. I grab my ball from the return and turn back to Devyn who still stares with a fiendish expression.
“Come on. Let’s play another.”
It takes a minute but he stands from the table, his chair scratching against the linoleum floor, the noise echoing in the cavernous room even though it’s filled with people. Devyn struts toward me until his body stands only an inch from mine. I try not to appear frightened as he leans forward, bringing his nose and eyes to my level. I’m certain I fail.
“You’re going to tell me what happened.” He says it as a command, as if he’s used to everyone falling at his whim.
“No, I won’t. You’re only here for a day or two then you’ll be off doing whatever it is you do. No need to worry yourself over someone that you’ll forget about soon enough.”
He leans closer and I think he’s going to kiss me and I mentally prepare myself for the brush of his lips, but I’m left wanting as he slips his mouth past my cheek and heads for my ear.
“I couldn’t forget about you if I tried,” he murmurs before taking a step toward the return for his own ball. “Now come on, friend. Let me show the teacher how well I learn.”
He isn’t a liar, that’s for sure. It was as if those first two rounds were just practice. Devyn manages two turkeys in a row. The only other person I’ve seen do that is Uncle Jeff. A crowd grows around us; mostly the league members in awe of watching a celebrity grace our lanes.
I wait at the shoe rental station as Devyn signs a few autographs. I’m actually surprised at how many people know who he is. The few articles I read said that he pretty much fell off the Hollywood map once he landed himself in rehab the first time. A lot of his fellow actors claimed that he was difficult to work with. Other than a few indie films here and there he hasn’t done much of anything. He still has a large fan base though. The show he starred in as a child runs in syndication all over the world.
Savoring the limelight, he stands in the middle of the gathering. His body is relaxed, taking it all in. One of the women cozies up close to him, whispering in his ear, but he immediately lets her down. I watch in fascination as he looks up from the printed score sheet that he’s signing and catches my eye. Devyn grins in a way that is both an apology and a promise. I don’t struggle against my returning grin, couldn’t even if I tried. Those chocolate eyes of his glimmer in pleasure before he goes back to finishing the autographs.
A funny feeling grows in my gut, a flickering of nerves. Not quite the butterflies I’ve heard so much about, more like a small spark of a flame, but instead of one, it’s hundreds of them.
“Oh, I know that face,” Thomas, the man that runs the bowling alley, says from behind the counter.
Spinning around, I look over at him in confusion. He answers my silent plea to explain more.
“Yep, I remember both of my girls with that silly grin on their faces. You got a thing for that boy.”
Trying to situate my invisible shield back in place, I shake my head in response. “No, we’re just friends. He leaves in a few days once his car is fixed.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t be more. Seems to me like he’s interested, especially after all the trouble he went through tonight.”
A puff of air escapes between my lips in a sarcastic chuckle. “Have you seen the kind of women he dates? A supermodel I am not.”
With the kind of face a granddaughter would cherish, he looks over at me with a loving but sad smile. The kind where the corner of the eyes crinkle, but the lips pucker as if he’s eaten something sour. “No, you’re not, Larsen. You’re so much more than that – beautiful inside and out.”
He reaches over and squeezes my hand that rests on the top of the counter. The fluttering in my stomach moves behind my eyes as I fight back the tears building on my lids.
From behind I feel a strong arm wrap around my waist, pulling my attention away from Thomas. “Hey, ready to go?”
Looking up at Devyn I wonder if I could let myself fall for him, if I could let myself be engulfed in his existence, in his warmth. His presence is so large and attention-seeking that I know I’d lose myself in its weight.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
On our walk back to the apartment building, I tell him how I’ve been studying to become a nurse and he seems surprised at my field of interest.
“Those nurses are the reason I’m here today. I want to be a savior for someone else. And with the community, the hospital in the neighboring town is looking for new recruits.”
“I could see you as a nurse. You seem like someone willing to stand up for someone else. You have a lot of courage.”
A laugh bubbles up at his assessment. “I am not courageous at all, believe me.” My eyes fix on the pavement beneath my feet. Each step I take seems to turn me in a new direction that I’m not familiar with, a new path I have never imagined. A path that leads me to Devyn.
“I beg to differ,” he whispers as he reaches for my hand. I can feel his eyes on me; the feeling of his touch isn’t unwelcome.
We make it up to the landing of my floor and he escorts me to my door.
“I
had fun,” I tell him, unable to look him in the eye. Instead, I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans and stare at his chest. I can make out the definition of his muscles beneath his shirt and that flickering I felt earlier returns.
“Me too. Hey, you know what I forgot?”
Curiosity getting the better of me, I pull my stare away from his center and look him in the eye. I lick my lips when my gaze lands on his intense stare trained on me. I’m fairly certain I hear a growl vibrate from him, but I’m not positive. The sound of my heartbeat is too loud, echoing in my ears, muffling the noise.
“What’s that?”
“I forgot to feed you.”
“Oh. That’s okay, we had nachos.”
“Maybe you could let me inside and I can scrounge something together?”
“Are you inviting yourself inside my apartment?” I jest as my body relaxes.
His shoulders move up and down in a shrug as a reply.
“Do you even know how to cook?” I ask, wishing I could take back the words once they leave my mouth. At first, I think he’s going to be angry, me bringing up his falling out with his parents, another story I read about in an online article, but he surprises me when he laughs instead.
“I would starve on the nights my cousin Tessa works late if I didn’t have some culinary skill.”
“So what is it that you can make?” I inquire as I turn and slip my key into the lock and gesture for him to come inside my sacred place. I rush over to the couch after closing the door and rustle around the blankets and pillows.
“Grilled cheese.”
With a pillow in my hand, I gaze at him over my shoulder. “What?”
“Yeah, I make a mean grilled cheese. That’s about it.”
I can’t help but laugh loudly, the feeling almost foreign, and I’m left catching my breath after the giggles eradicate themselves from my body.
“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I swear it.”
“Sure, sure,” he admonishes as he moves over to my kitchen and opens the door to my pantry.
“No, really. I’m laughing because grilled cheese is my go-to meal too. It’s the easiest to make when it’s just you, you know?”
“Exactly.”
I watch him grab a loaf of bread, then I remember the loaf of thick sourdough that I have in the fridge. Leaving the pillows on the couch, I step up to him and grab the bagged bread from his hand and put it back in the pantry before opening the fridge door and grabbing the loaf of sourdough. “Here.”
His eyes light up as if I’ve just given him the keys to his dream car. “Nice.”
“I have Munster, Swiss, Provolone, and American cheeses.”
“Yes,” he replies and I laugh again before grabbing all four kinds of cheese and a tub of butter. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was doing anything that he can to get a chuckle from me. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t felt this comfortable around anyone in such a long time.
“Here you go, Chef.”
“Thanks. Take a seat; I’ll whip these up for us.”
Situating myself on one of my barstools I watch him move around my kitchen, even with his large frame and muscles he seems to fit in the cramped space. It could just be wishful thinking on my part, but I like having him in my place, and he seems to feel the same.
When he’s done with the sandwiches, we move over to the couch. I turn on the television, but instead of watching a movie or television show, I find a baseball game playing.
“You like baseball?” he asks, and with a mouthful of cheesy goodness, I shrug my shoulders.
“Never watched it.”
“I like it in person. I used to go to a lot of Dodgers games back home. When I’m filming, I’ll probably try to go see a few Cubs games.”
“Chicago?”
“Yeah, that’s where we’re filming a lot of this movie.”
“Cool, what’s it about?”
“I’ll play a CIA operative that is undercover as a racecar driver. He’s going after this rival racing family that runs a custom car shop. There is talk that they smuggle drugs under the floorboards and between the car panels. He ends up falling for the daughter of the family.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, it’s looking to turn into a franchise. Fingers-crossed. I’m excited about it. The full storyline is new and different. And they’re going to let me race some of the cars. I can’t wait for that.”
His entire body lights up as he talks about the production and I can tell he will embody this role with everything he has.
“I’m sure it will be amazing.”
“I need it to be,” he confesses, his tone dropping like a chill in the air.
My sandwich forgotten, I pull my legs up onto the cushions and tuck my feet under my bottom as I turn in his direction.
“Why is that?”
“It’s kind of my first big break back in Hollywood. No one wanted to work with me for a long time. I have to prove myself all over again.”
“Well, I believe in you,” I tell him honestly. I can see the determination in his eyes as he speaks about the project. He won’t fail them.
“Thanks. That means a lot, Larsen. Most people would rather I’d hide back in the shadows. Go back to the Hell I had been living in.”
His confession both surprises me and doesn’t. The world, in general, would rather see people suffer than help lift them up to their potential. I’ve only met a few that embrace strangers with open arms.
Wordlessly, I lean my head onto his shoulder in comfort and reflexively he wraps his arms around my shoulders, holding me close. The feeling is different, but not uncomfortable. I hadn’t allowed anyone to hold me this close since I lost my virginity as a stupid teenager wanting to feel more grown-up before my mother took us across the country. No one’s been able to step beyond my personal shield, until Devyn. For some reason, he’s powered past all of my defenses, and I’ve let him. It isn’t because I am stunned by his beauty or dazzled by his celebrity. Just something about him seems familiar on a cellular level.
My lids peel back from my eyes when a beeping noise startles me awake. I look around the room with a fuzzy haze disturbing my vision until I realize that I’m still on my couch with Devyn pressed against my side, his head resting on the back of my couch with his mouth wide open.
If I had a cell phone, I would absolutely take a picture of this moment. Not only is it hilarious, but it’s probably the only way I could prove that the Devyn Dane was in my apartment. I do my best to slip from beneath his arm, but just when I think I’ve escaped his hold without waking him up, his eyes flicker open.
“Hey,” his throaty voice welcomes me this early morning.
“Hi, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“That’s okay. I don’t think either of us meant to fall asleep last night. What time is it anyway?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I check the time on the microwave. “Ten.”
“Wow. I haven’t slept in that long in a while.”
“I need to get ready to work the lunch and dinner shift. You’re welcome to hang around.”
“Can I join you?”
I stand rooted in place. My eyebrows practically meeting my hairline raised in surprise. Devyn Dane wants to come work in our little diner? Surely, he must be kidding.
“Larsen?”
“Why would you. . .I mean. . .you don’t. . .”
“Larsen, I want to help. It could be fun and I have nothing else to do.”
I ignore the shot of thrill that zips through my veins at getting the chance to spend another day with him. I had imagined that I would get off from work this evening and find the apartment he’s renting barren. It’s not like he has a real reason to stay. I’m sure he has a lackey or enough money to find a way to bring his car back home.
“Um. . .sure, if you want. You’ll probably get bored.”
“I could never get bored with you,” he whispers and I wonder if he meant for me to hear it.
&n
bsp; He leaves the apartment at the same time I slip into my bathroom to cleanse myself from the night and of my thoughts of Devyn. I need to remember that he leaves in a few days. I’m not part of his world, nor would they accept me. Hollywood is full of women doing whatever they can to look as young and perfect as possible.
The hot water washes over my skin, and while I lather myself with the soapy suds, I let myself dream of a fate that doesn’t involve Devyn. And that’s the kicker, really. He isn’t supposed to be part of my life. We met by chance, a twist of fate that shouldn’t have happened. He’ll move on, and perhaps after a year or more, I’ll be a distant recollection, one that involves a friendship and a fond memory.
Shady Pines is a place that visitors recall passing through, that one place you forgot you visited until you see it in an old picture or recall a trip and think about that one diner you stopped in to grab breakfast. It’s a blip on the radar, an insignificant place that holds no meaning unless you were raised here.
The town reminds me of looking in a mirror, its features so much like my own. Nothing special, nothing outstanding, an inconsequential memory that only evokes itself when it’s attached to something marvelous.
I’m not sure how long I’ve stood in the shower, but when I notice my wrinkled fingertips I decide that it’s been long enough. Wrapping a towel around my hair and then my body, I step from the shower and walk into my bedroom. The trek to my dresser is routine and it’s not until I open one of the drawers and grab a pair of panties that I startle at a man’s voice.
“I like your room. Not too girly.”
“Holy shit!” I scream, reaching for the panties as they drop from my hand while simultaneously trying to clasp the towel twisted around my chest to keep it from opening and reaching up to keep the towel on my head in place. I lose the battle with the towel on my head and my wet hair falls all over my face as I bend over to grab my underwear from the floor.
“I was really hoping it was the towel around your body that was going to fall first.”
Looking up from my perch on the floor, I send him a glare that I hope sends the feeling of fear through him.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.”
The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance Page 7
