A Bluewater Bay Collection

by Witt, L. A.

  I burst out laughing and smacked his arm. “Shut up, Levi.”

  He snickered but quickly sobered. “In all seriousness, she must want to be with you, or she wouldn’t be.”

  “I keep telling myself that, but then I wonder if I was just the nearest warm body the night she and her ex split up.”

  “Maybe you were.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s why you two hooked up that night. But it doesn’t explain why she’s downstairs with my cat in her lap waiting for us to come back with drinks.”

  I started to speak but deflated. Slouching against the island, I released my breath. “Okay, you got me. I know it’s probably irrational as hell, but I’m still worried about it. Her being bi, I mean. But . . . I don’t know. I really like where things are going with her. I mean, I don’t even think about the fact that she’s bi when we’re actually together.” Most of the time.

  “Then maybe that means it doesn’t matter.”

  I drummed my fingers on the counter. “If it doesn’t, why does it still bother me so much when we’re not together?”

  “Because that’s you, Anna. You overthink things. It makes you nervous, so you’re dwelling on it, and you’ll keep dwelling on it until it turns into something bigger than it really needs to be.” He nodded toward the theater. “If you let it get too big, you’re going to lose Natalya.”

  My chest hurt just thinking about that. I didn’t say anything, though, and Levi didn’t push the issue. Silently, we refilled drinks and munchies. Then we gathered everything and went back down to the theater.

  Zelda hadn’t moved, so Natalya hadn’t either. We arranged the drinks, the munchies, and ourselves as best we could without disturbing Her Majesty. Once we’d settled, Zelda peered at us as if to ask if we were quite through with all this fidgeting. Then she started licking her paw, probably to let us know exactly how little she cared.

  Natalya draped her arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple.

  I lifted my chin and looked up at her. “You having a good time?”

  She smiled. “Very much. You?”

  “Definitely.”

  She kissed me softly.

  Then we settled against the plush cushions, drinks in hand and cat sprawled across her, and watched the opening credits of whatever movie she and Carter had decided on. I slipped my fingers between hers, and though my gaze was fixed on the screen, my attention was decidedly not.

  I really could get used to this. All of it. Days like this would be few and far between as long as the four of us were at the mercy of a grueling production schedule. And our time alone as two couples meant all kinds of rules and guidelines because of our bodyguards, but I hoped this wasn’t the last time we would be able to shed our personal security, hunker down with the cats and couches, and watch movies.

  I could see us doing this every chance we had. Or if we couldn’t swing a one-day double date staycation in Levi’s theater, I was perfectly content curled up on my own couch with Natalya. We could be watching movies, sitcoms, or dumb reality shows. Or just sitting there enjoying each other’s company. Anytime, anywhere, just let me listen to her breathe instead of whatever was being said on the screen.

  Maybe that meant Levi was right. Maybe Natalya’s sexuality didn’t matter.

  But that scared me too. Was it really not a big deal, or was I just letting my guard down? I’d decide I was comfortable dating a bi woman, I’d settle into being with her, feeling fully secure that she wanted to be with me too, and then bam! Prince Charming would fall out of the goddamned sky and remind her what she was missing.

  I couldn’t resist, though. Natalya was too much of exactly what I needed and wanted in a woman, even if I knew the other shoe would eventually drop. This wasn’t forever. It couldn’t be.

  But for now, it was good, so I intended to enjoy it while it lasted.

  Because this was the life.

  Chapter 14

  It was a damned good thing we’d all taken advantage of that day off, because life in this business was busy as hell. Levi’s role was getting bigger as the season went on. Carter was in damn near every scene of every episode. The stunts were getting crazier and more elaborate. And as always, I was working on eight million episodes at a time—planning, directing, producing, editing . . . and all the while trying not to murder one of the other producers.

  Natalya and I still carved out time when we could. We hadn’t yet had the opportunity to take that ride on the beach we kept talking about, but at least we spent time together. Sometimes it was just the two of us, and sometimes we dragged our tired corpses over to Levi and Carter’s for movies.

  The majority of our time, though, was spent at work. Today, we were shooting on location, and we had to start way too fucking early. Every time I scheduled a shoot for the crack of dawn, I hated myself for it. In the end, the scene would look amazing because of the atmospheric lighting—particularly out here in the Olympic National Forest—but goddamn, the hours sucked sometimes. They especially sucked since we tried to use as few people and as little equipment as possible to minimize the damage to the environment, which meant those of us who did come were busting our humps from start to finish.

  We had to be ready to shoot by sunrise, so we were on location and setting up at one in the morning. Now, with dawn less than two hours away, everyone was hurrying to make sure we were ready to shoot the instant the sun was where the cinematographer wanted it. The only asses in chairs were actors getting made up. Everyone else was constantly on the move. Grips carefully arranged cords and generators to make sure no one tripped or fried. Assistants jogged from person to person with folders and clipboards. Radios crackled. Generators grumbled. Tripods and stands clanked and clattered as they were set up between bushes and trees.

  And though there was a palpable sense of urgency in the air, no one was in a panic or running around like a headless chicken. Typical of a set, this was the very definition of organized chaos. I may have been tired and just a little bit stressed, but I lived for this.

  Through it all, though, I kept stumbling today. Every time I caught a glimpse of Natalya, I lost my stride and my train of thought for a split second.

  Not for the usual reasons, either. Of course she was still hot enough to make my breath catch, but today, my double take came from elsewhere. Specifically, concern. Something wasn’t right.

  Natalya was as focused as ever—a job like hers couldn’t be half assed, or people got killed. All the while, though, an invisible weight pushed down on her strong shoulders. Her gait was slower, heavier, like she was trudging through mud instead of across sparse undergrowth. When she spoke to people, she was subdued, giving orders but not barking them. Yes, she was focused on her job, but there was definitely something working against her, trying to tug her away from the job at hand to . . . what?

  In turn, her distraction kept tugging at me. Like a nagging feeling in my gut, a worry about something I’d have to deal with later, it kept prodding me even when I was concentrating on something else. Throughout setup and shooting, it was there, tucked in the back of my mind but just present enough to keep reminding me I needed to find out what was bothering her.

  Like her, I had a job to do, and I pushed my uneasiness as far down as possible while I worked. We only had a narrow window, after all, before we lost the optimal lighting. The cinematographer was finicky as hell when we used natural light, and no one—myself included—would be pleased if we dillydallied, missed our window, and had to come back out here another day to shoot again.

  Despite a preoccupied stunt coordinator and distracted director, the scene was in the can with thirty minutes to spare. We didn’t break down the set, though—there was another scene to be filmed in the same setting. Normal daylight worked for that one, plus some extra artificial light to compensate for the sun’s movements as the day went on.

  While the lights were rigged up and costumes and makeup were modified for the new scene, the rest of us broke for lunch.

  And finally, I ha
d my opportunity to pull Natalya aside.

  She’d taken a seat on a moss-covered log a few yards from the set and was nibbling a sandwich in between sips of coffee.

  “Hey,” I said. “You mind if I join you?”

  She met my gaze, and with the dark circles under her eyes, I could have easily blamed her weirdness on being as exhausted as everyone else. Something told me it wasn’t so simple, though.

  “Sure,” she said flatly and scooted over to make room.

  I sat beside her and balanced my coffee cup on my knee. “You’ve been a little out of sorts today. You all right?”

  Natalya shrugged tightly. “Distracted.”

  You don’t say. “By . . .?”

  She held my gaze for a moment, as if debating whether to open up or tell me to fuck off. Then she blew out a breath. “I spoke to my brother in Russia yesterday.”

  “Bad conversation?”

  “Not bad, no. But not . . .” She sighed. “Arkady’s trying to come to America, but the paperwork, it’s . . .” She snarled something in her native tongue. And when she spoke English, her accent was sharper than usual, as if either her frustration or talking to her brother had taken the American flatness off her words. “I don’t know why it has to be so difficult. He’ll live with me until he has work. I . . .” She rubbed a hand over her face. “He needs to leave Russia. I just don’t know how to bring him here so he can stay.”

  “Ouch,” I said, feeling completely useless with no idea how to help or even make her feel better.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Every time, we talk about him coming to America, but it’s so damned complicated. Our parents want to help, but they don’t have that kind of money. It’s . . .”

  “What kinds of jobs can he do?” I asked. “Maybe the studio can hire him on.”

  “I’ve spoken to a few people.” She shook her head. “With the unions, it gets complicated. He could work as an electrician, and I know he’s smart enough to learn about cinematography. He could even do security. But my calls and emails . . . they’ve led nowhere.” She blew out a breath and waved her hand. “I should be patient. It will get sorted. Eventually. Immigration is never fast.”

  “No, I suppose it isn’t.” I paused, searching her eyes and trying to read between the lines. Was she hurt? Angry? Both? “You two are . . . close?”

  She nodded but didn’t speak. For the longest time, we both stared out at the shadowy trees, and I thought she was going to let the subject drop. Then she went on. “We’ve always been close. Even when I was in training and rarely saw my family. We wrote back and forth, called when we could. It’s been easier now that we can email and Skype, but I still miss him.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

  “Three years,” she said without hesitation. “The last time I went back to Russia. But we speak as often as possible. I go crazy if we don’t.” She paused and took a deep breath. Slowly turning toward me, she said, “Arkasha is the one person who’s always seen me as me. Natalya. Not a stepping stone or a commodity.” The bitterness in her voice seemed to sharpen her accent even more, and it added an irritated curl to her lip as she spoke. “And he’s the one person I can’t seem to help, no matter how hard I try.”

  God, I couldn’t even imagine. And I made a mental note to call my own brother soon. “I’m sure he knows you’re trying.”

  “Still. It’s not getting him out of Russia.” Eyes closed, she rubbed her neck, as if massaging away some stiffness. “I’m used to people who take me in until I’m no longer useful to them. Then they spit me out.” She laughed bitterly. “It goes all the way back to my gymnastics coaches. From the time I was a small child, they only cared about me when I could win. When I got hurt? They didn’t care about anything except how it affected my competitions.”

  “I’ve heard that about some coaches,” I said softly.

  “Me too. But it didn’t stop with them.” She brushed away a few strands that had come loose from her ponytail. Then she leaned back, resting her hands behind her on the log, and stared up at the trees. “I dated a woman who thought I could get her into the acrobatics show. As soon as I left that show to go into stunt work, she was gone. Before Tommy, I dated a guy who didn’t give me the time of day until he found out I was going to work on Wolf’s Landing. And when he realized I wasn’t going to give his head shots to the producers . . .” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Gone. Besides our parents, my brother, he’s the only one who’s always been there no matter what. But there is something he needs, and I can’t . . .” She exhaled hard, her shoulders slumping. “I can’t help him.”

  I put my hand over hers. “You’re doing everything you can. Maybe . . .” I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to raise her hopes when there was no guarantee anything would come of it. Still, she needed some kind of hope. “Maybe we can talk to some of the companies the studio works with. I know security is always hiring.”

  She pursed her lips. After a moment, she nodded. “I suppose it’s worth another try. He won’t be happy working in security, but it could get him his visa.”

  “Let me know if I can help.”

  “Thank you.” She was quiet for a while again. This time, she squared her shoulders and pulled in a deep breath. “Everyone is coming back. We should get to work.”

  I glanced over, and sure enough, the cast and crew were materializing beside all the equipment. Turning to her again, I said, “Are you sure you’re—”

  “I’m fine.” She smiled and touched my hand. “Thank you. For letting me talk.”

  “Anytime. And I mean it—if there’s anything I can do to help with your brother, let me know.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  We shared one more long look, then rose to head to the set.

  Chapter 15

  Lining up our days off was about as easy as running in high heels. We grabbed whatever time off we could find—we went to the gym together when we could, and we took our lunch in my office whenever possible—but carving out more than that was hard as hell. Such was life in our industry.

  About three weeks after we’d brought up the idea of going riding together, the planets finally aligned and we had an entire afternoon off. And the weather was decent. We both had to be on set that night for a late shoot, and we’d probably regret it tonight and tomorrow if we didn’t use the afternoon to sleep, but oh well.

  Jeremy drove us down to the stable in Kalaloch. There were a few other cars in the little gravel parking lot, so apparently we wouldn’t be riding alone.

  “You said you’ve ridden before, right?” I asked Natalya as we walked toward the green-roofed barn.

  She laughed. “I was a stunt double, remember? I’ve probably ‘fallen’ off more horses than you’ve ever ridden.”

  “That sounds like fun,” Jeremy muttered.

  “And yes,” Natalya went on, “I’ve ridden too. It’s just been a long time.” To Jeremy, she asked, “What about you?”

  He shook his head. As we walked past a paddock with a small herd in it, I thought he paled.

  “Jeremy,” I said. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I think.”

  Natalya and I exchanged glances. Her brow was pinched, but her lips quirked too, as if she were equal parts amused and concerned. I just shrugged. If Jeremy really wasn’t comfortable with it, he’d put his foot down.

  We paused beside the paddock. The horses were still all shaggy with their winter coats, which made them look like fluffy stuffed animals. When they noticed us, three of the horses broke away from the small herd and plodded over, ears up and eyes wide. They probably thought we were bringing treats, so when they stuck their noses through the fence, they inspected Natalya’s hand and mine for any tasty morsels.

  “Sorry, guys.” I grinned, excited just to be around horses again after way too long. “No treats yet.”

  Jeremy eyed them warily.
He watched us for a moment, then held out his hand too, and a muddy white mare sniffed his palm. He was okay with that, but when she started searching his hand with her upper lip, he laughed and jerked it away.

  I laughed. “Relax. She’s not trying to bite—just looking for food.”

  “Uh-huh.” He wiped his hand on his jeans. “No food here. Sorry.”

  “You three ready to ride?” An older gentleman approached, smiling beneath his wide-brimmed hat.

  “Well, we are.” Natalya turned to Jeremy. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  The man studied him. “Inexperienced?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” The smile broadened. “Why don’t you all come up to the barn with everybody else, and we’ll match you up with some horses.”

  Jeremy swallowed, but didn’t protest, so we followed the guy to the barn.

  Several horses were already saddled and bridled. They were tied to the hitching posts, and most of them were snoozing—a back foot cocked, eyes closed, lower lips drooping.

  The guide led Jeremy to a sleepy-eyed Paint.

  “The only problem you’ll have with this guy,” he said, “is getting him to go.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Jeremy said. “And it’s got good brakes, right?”

  “Brakes don’t matter if the gas pedal don’t work.” The guide chuckled and patted the horse’s neck, flushing out a cloud of dust. “He’s just the right kind of lazy for a rider who doesn’t want to go fast.”

  “Perfect.”

  Nodding, the guide untied the Paint and put the reins on the horse’s neck, just in front of the saddle.

  Taking a deep breath, Jeremy eyed the sleepy, furry gelding. The uncertainty in his eyes—not quite fear, but getting there—made my gut clench with guilt.

  I stepped closer and spoke so only he could hear me. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  “Actually, I do.” He scowled. “If you go, then—”