by Leah Ashton
But it was still heady, still an abrupt contrast to the beigeness of the rest of his days—and certainly the blackness of his nights.
And even her presence hadn’t been enough to take him away from that.
But later, maybe even the first time she’d been in this room—when she’d been willing to do anything to get her job done, to get him to set—what he felt had shifted.
Oh, the lust was still there. There was something about Ruby, something about her smile, her laugh, her eyes...
But now there was more. Now there were moments of quiet that were the opposite of awkward. Times he looked at her and felt more connected to her than he could ever remember being with anyone. More comfortable but simultaneously completely off balance by his lack of familiarity with the emotions he felt around her.
‘A distraction,’ Ruby said, very, very softly.
Automatically he reached for her, but she moved, and his hand slid from her hip. ‘In the very best possible way.’
Her lips curved into somewhat of a smile, and he knew he’d made a mistake.
‘You’re more than that, you’re—’
But she cut him off.
‘So what happens next?’
He needed a moment to refocus. ‘With my depression?’
Her gaze flicked towards the ceiling. So she didn’t like that word. He was the opposite—the label, in its own way, was powerful.
‘The doctor gave me some pamphlets to read, and told me to have a think about it, and we’ll meet again in a few weeks’ time.’
‘When The Land wraps.’
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘That sounds...’
‘Anti-climactic?’ Dev said, and she nodded. ‘Kind of. We talked for a while, and even though I’d already decided to visit my mum, what he said just made it even more obvious. Depression is the symptom—I needed to resolve the cause.’
‘And you think you have?’
Dev shifted his weight a little. ‘Maybe. I hope so.’
Would he sleep tonight? He had no idea.
He expected Ruby to ask more questions, but she didn’t. Instead they just lay there together, not touching.
More than anything he wanted to touch her, to pull her close against him again.
But if he did, she’d leave. He could as good as hear her excuses in his head.
It made no sense, none at all.
But Dev wanted her here, even at arm’s length—so he didn’t reach for her, and he didn’t say a word.
And, eventually, he slept.
Ruby didn’t sleep. She might’ve dozed, just a little, but mostly she just lay there, watching him.
Could it really be that easy? One visit to his mum, one battered leather notebook—and Dev was all better?
She didn’t believe it.
Something had changed, though. A switch flipped, a corner turned...something like that. Not once tonight had she glimpsed a bleakness in Dev. No more little moments where he’d leave her, leave whatever they’d been doing, and retreat to wherever it was where his sadness, his regret, his guilt and his doubts lay. A weight had lifted.
She was happy for him. Thrilled. For him. Watching him sleep like this—really sleep, a true, natural sleep—was kind of wonderful.
No, just straight wonderful. Now she knew what she’d seen before, that drugged nothingness masquerading as restfulness—and the difference was undeniable.
What confused her was how she felt.
She felt restless, and she fidgeted as she attempted to sleep, her legs tangling in the quilt.
Finally she gave in to the compulsion to move, and climbed out of bed, walking on silent feet out of the room to avoid disturbing Dev. In the kitchen she automatically poured herself a glass of water, but she didn’t drink it—just set it down on the granite bench top and walked away.
Her laptop sat on the dining-room table, from when she’d needed to make some changes to the script for Paul. She settled in front of it, flipping it open and blinking at the sudden brightness of the screen in the darkened room. She’d barely noticed the darkness, the moonlight flooding through the open kitchen blinds more than enough illumination for her to find her way.
She reopened an email that had arrived yesterday. A contact in London, who’d recommended her for a role. A great role, on a huge movie—big budget, already one confirmed big-name star.
She had to smile as she realised she was excited at the prospect of working with such a famous actress, given she had an even more famous star sleeping no more than ten metres from her right now.
Funny how quickly his job became irrelevant. At least—when they were together.
Other times, it seemed it was all he was. A movie star.
On set, or at Unit Base, that was who he was. Devlin Cooper, Hollywood star. Heartthrob. Sexiest man on earth. All those things.
But alone, particularly tonight, but at other times too—he was just Dev. Just a normal person. Far from perfect. The opposite of perfect, maybe.
That should be a good thing, right? That he was as normal as everybody else. As normal as her.
She sat back in her chair, stretching her legs out in front of her. It was cool, and her skin had goose pimpled where it wasn’t covered by the oversized T-shirt she wore. She should really go back to bed.
She let her eyes blur, so she couldn’t read the actual words of the email. But she knew them all, almost off by heart.
A request to send her CV. Such a simple thing. In this case, it was little more than going through the motions—if she wanted this job, it was hers.
And yet yesterday she hadn’t sent it. Not today yet either.
Her eyes flicked to the time on the microwave. Well. Now it was tomorrow, and still she’d done nothing.
Pre-production began in three weeks, after The Land wrapped. The perfect amount of time to get herself sorted, maybe book herself into a hotel room for a week somewhere fun in Europe—France maybe, or Croatia—before she needed to get to London. She even knew where she’d stay—a tiny shoebox of a room at a friend’s place that she rented whenever work took her to London.
It was beyond easy. Exactly what she wanted.
She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself, her chin propped where her knees touched. And just sat like that, thinking.
There was a noise, the sound of a tree branch scraping against the tin roof. It was loud in the silence, and her body jolted.
She was being ridiculous. What was she waiting for? For Dev?
Now there was a waste of time. He left in two weeks too, back to LA, a place where the unions could make it tricky for a foreigner to work—even if she was silly enough to daydream about things that would never happen. And that she didn’t want to happen anyway.
She loved her life; it was perfect as it was. Dev just didn’t fit.
And as if Dev would want her to fit into his life either.
If that thought rang a little hollow she ignored it.
Instead, she leant forward in her chair, and made the few clicks necessary to reply to the email and attach her CV. Then another to press send.
She walked back to Dev’s bedroom. He still slept, flat on his back now, his chest rising and falling steadily.
She’d wanted to leave, before. She wanted to leave, now.
She should, she knew.
Dev didn’t need her. He had his life back on track—there was no more need for her. No more need for her to be his distraction.
Had she ever thought she was anything more?
Yes.
That was the problem. That was why she’d tried, and failed, to keep her distance.
But she wasn’t about to disappear in the middle of the night.
Tonight she’d sleep in his arms—just this once.
Because, she didn’t really want to leave. That was the problem.
THIRTEEN
The flash of blonde hair was unmistakeable.
Dev tripped, the toe of his boot catching in t
he uneven dirt, and he took a moment to steady himself.
‘You right, mate?’
Dev nodded. A moment ago he’d been in the middle of a conversation with the young actor as they led their horses in readiness for their next scene. Now he had no idea what they’d been talking about.
He smiled. This was crazy.
He watched as Ruby flitted amongst the crew, as busy and efficient as always.
And, as always, not as much as one glance was thrown in his direction.
His smile dropped. Up until today it hadn’t bothered him, her obsession with keeping their relationship private. Of course he understood.
But after last night, it just didn’t sit right.
This wasn’t just some fling; he knew it.
So what was it, then?
His horse shoved his head against Dev’s side, rubbing his ears against his shoulder.
It yanked his attention back to what he should be doing—running through his lines.
Right now he needed to focus. Tonight, he’d talk to Ruby.
He ended up talking to her a lot earlier than that.
Dev opened his trailer door in response to angry hammering, and Ruby flew into the tiny space. She stalked straight past him, and then kept on pacing, not even catching his gaze.
‘I thought we were past this?’ she asked, agitation oozing from every pore.
He held up his hands in surrender. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’
She spun about, getting right up close to him. He knew she was frustrated, but his reaction to her closeness, to the fire in her eyes, was obviously not what she’d intended.
She shoved one of his shoulders. ‘This isn’t funny!’
‘I have no idea if it’s funny or not,’ he pointed out.
Ruby took a deep breath, then one big step back.
‘The Australian Film Association Awards? Does that ring a bell?’
He nodded. ‘Sure. Paul spoke to me about them about an hour ago.’
‘And?’
‘I said I’d get back to him.’
She put her hands on her hips, and just stared at him—as if that explained everything.
Ruby sighed. ‘Do I seriously need to remind you about your contract? You walking the red carpet at the awards is all about generating early buzz for The Land.’
She then muttered something about arrogant overpaid actors under her breath.
He reached out, wrapping his hand around Ruby’s. ‘I said I’d get back to him. And I will—once I speak to you.’
She blinked, then glanced down at their joined hands. ‘What do I have to do with it?’
He squeezed her palm, but she didn’t respond. Her gaze was now wary, and he watched as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.
He grinned. ‘Normally I’d hope for more enthusiasm when I’m inviting a woman to a red-carpet event.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what you’re doing?’
He nodded.
‘Why?’
This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected when he’d had the spur-of-the-moment idea. He’d forgotten all about the awards night, but once Paul mentioned it it seemed perfect.
‘Because I want you to come with me.’ Then, he added, before she could say what he knew was on the tip of her tongue, ‘I want people to know we’re together.’
She tugged on his hand. Hard. He let her go, but he didn’t understand why she was doing this. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to kiss her. To tell her how amazing it was to realise what he had right in front of him—what he had with her.
But she didn’t want to hear it.
Ruby wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her fingers up and down the woollen fabric of her oversized cardigan.
‘What if I don’t?’
‘Why wouldn’t you?’ he asked, slowly. Confused.
She rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t know, maybe because I don’t want people to know about...’ she threw her hands out in front of her, vaguely encompassing them both ‘...whatever this is.’
‘What do you think this is?’
She shrugged. ‘Something fun. Temporary. Private.’
He shook his head. ‘How can you believe that? I’ve spent more time with you in the past few weeks than I’ve spent with another woman ever.’
He ignored yet another eye roll, his blood starting to simmer in anger. Why was she doing this? Why would she deny what they had?
‘I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone. I’ve revealed more of myself to you—given more of myself to you—than I thought I was capable of.’
More than Estelle—or anyone—had thought him capable of.
She was staring out of the window, through a tiny crack in the curtains.
‘You’ve gone through a tough time,’ she said, as if she was choosing her words carefully. ‘I was just the girl who happened to be here. The distraction.’
‘That’s just a word,’ he said. ‘It’s meaningless, and it isn’t true when it comes to you—not any more. Not since that morning you came into my room prepared to bodily drag me onto set.’
She wasn’t listening. ‘When you go through really emotional events, it’s natural to attach yourself to someone—’
‘You’re just making this up as you go along,’ he said. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
She crossed the trailer, putting more space between them. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I think I do. This was never supposed to be anything serious. And it isn’t.’
‘Is that the issue, Ruby? You don’t want serious, so you’re ignoring what’s happening right in front of you? I didn’t think I wanted it either, but I can’t pretend this isn’t happening. I won’t.’
Ruby just shook her head, still avoiding his gaze.
‘You told me on the beach the other week that you learnt you didn’t need anyone, years ago. I get that. I definitely get that. But I’m not like the men from your past. I won’t let you down.’
Now she turned to him, her gaze suddenly sad. ‘How, exactly, will you manage that?’
‘To not let you down?’ he repeated.
She give a sharp nod. ‘Yes. What exactly have you planned for us beyond this film, and beyond this awards night?’
He was silent. Honestly, he hadn’t thought beyond that. He just knew he wanted Ruby.
She smiled, very slowly. Dangerously. ‘Let me guess—we’d go back to Beverly Hills.’
‘I guess—’ he began. It made sense, he supposed.
‘And I would work where?’
He knew this wasn’t leading anywhere good, but found himself helpless to change the direction of the conversation. ‘I don’t know. I live in Hollywood. So—’
‘So that’s where I’d work.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Damn it, Ruby—I was just inviting you to the AFAs. That’s it. We don’t need to plan out every second of our future together.’
‘That wasn’t what I was asking you to do,’ Ruby said. ‘Not at all.’
She walked towards him—past him—to the trailer door.
He couldn’t let her leave, not like this, and in two strides he was in front of her, blocking her exit.
‘Ruby, I’m new to this, too. I don’t know what I’m doing.’ He managed a dry laugh. ‘Obviously. But—I just know that things feel right with you. Different right, special right. I haven’t felt this good in for ever. And don’t you dare attribute that to my dad.’ She snapped her mouth shut. ‘I can’t describe it, Ruby, but I’m not ready to let it go. I can’t let you walk away from this.’
She caught his gaze, her eyes a richer brown than he’d ever seen them. ‘Try and describe it,’ she said, so softly he leant closer to catch the words.
‘Describe it?’ he repeated, then, gradually—he understood what she was asking.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Describe what we have, what it is that you expect me to give up so much for—my privacy, my independence, the career I love, a lifestyle that suit
s me perfectly.’
Love.
That was what she was asking. Was this love?
His mind raced, whipping about in circles but coming to no meaningful conclusion. It was a word he rarely used, that he’d never said to anyone but a blood relative.
Was it even possible to love someone after so little time?
Little vignettes of their time together mish-mashed in his brain. At the beach, in bed, alone together on set, talking, laughing, loving.
He cleared his throat. ‘I never said I wanted you to give up anything for me.’
She twisted the door handle, and it clicked open loudly in the heavy silence.
Then, without a word, she left.
And Dev was powerless to say the words that might bring her back.
Ruby walked briskly back to the production office, deftly handling the standard peppering of questions and minor dramas that always accompanied her progress across Unit Base.
She sounded totally normal. Totally like herself.
And why wouldn’t she?
She’d known they’d reached the end of their thing. Their fling.
Fling. Yeah, that was the perfect word. Disposable.
Love.
Ruby dug her fingernails into her palms as she jogged up the steps to her office.
No, it wasn’t love.
But still, it was the word she’d been waiting for him to say.
How silly, how delusional.
Besides, she should be angry with him. Angry with him for not understanding how far she’d come, and how important—how essential—her independence was to her. She could never give up her career, or her nomadic lifestyle. Not for anything, and certainly not for anyone.
At the doorway to her office she paused. Inside, her team were working busily away. They didn’t even look up, all so used to the frantic comings and goings of the office.
Everything was just as she’d left it. As if Paul had never called her into his office, as if she’d never stormed over to Dev’s trailer, and as if she’d never so vehemently refused his invitation.
And yet everything had changed. Right in the middle of all that, right in the middle of doing what she knew she’d had to do, what she’d known had been inevitable, she’d paused. For that one moment she’d reconsidered, she’d tossed everything up in the air that she’d worked so hard for, waiting on bated breath for Dev to say the words that would...
