“No. Not sure what I’d say to Samantha.”
“She broke off her engagement, you know.”
“I heard.”
“Always thought the two of you would—”
“Yeah, everyone did.” Boone cleared his throat. Looked to Vivien, who gave him a rolling-hand signal to keep going.
Great.
Beth scooted up next to him. “How about we get each other through these next few days?” She reached out and took his hand, gave it a squeeze, and looked him in the eyes.
Just acting. “I always thought there’d be more time.”
She gave a sardonic laugh. “We all did.” She leaned in, pressed herself against his shoulder. “So, what do you say?”
Boone looked at the script, then to Beth. “Yeah. I could use a friend like you. It’s good to see you again.” He glanced back at the script, where the italicized stage directions. They almost kiss stood out.
Oh boy. He hadn’t thought this through. He glanced at Vivien.
And by the look on Vivien’s face, she hadn’t actually thought this all the way through either.
The show must go on.
He leaned up to her, stared in her eyes. Not the pretty blue of Vivien’s, but pretty all the same.
Beth’s eyes widened.
A beat, and then she pulled away and kept going.
He had to be blushing—he could feel the heat scorching his entire body.
By the end of the first scene, he was ready to flee the county. Seek refuge in the pages of his book. He’d had to snuggle up again to Beth as the romantic scene continued.
And they rolled straight into the second scene, which, oh, joy, had a duet.
And required holding hands.
He tugged at his collar. Someone needed to turn the heat down in the place.
Vivien’s voice cut them off abruptly before the end of the scene. “Okay, everyone, rehearsal again tomorrow night at seven.”
Boone bolted from the classroom. He needed a lot of work if he was going to pull this off for Vivien.
Adrian stood in the foyer, his back against the wall, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Hey, Clooney, nice job.”
Boone waved his script. “You’re welcome to the part.”
“Oh, no, thank you.” Adrian held up his hands palms out. “I’m here for Ella. Purely here as support.”
“I’m a last-minute fill-in. Vivien needed me.”
“You know, Boone, you just might have a type.” He nodded toward classroom.
Boone looked over to where Vivien entered the foyer, flapping her arms, deep in some animated discussion with Ella and Courtney, who were doubled over. Possibly crying, their laughter sounding more like oxygen-deprived gasps. “Is that…the chicken dance?”
Adrian tilted his head, squinted. “I don’t know for sure. I mean, maybe?”
Boone ran a hand through his hair. “Please let them not be laughing at me. I didn’t look like that playing the part, did I?”
Adrian laughed. “Seems like your lady friends are always getting you into a bit of trouble.”
“Oh, thanks for that.” Boone crossed his arms. “You know, if you want to talk about getting into trouble, we can discuss the fact that your Porsche isn’t an amphibious vehicle. I distinctly recall hauling it out of the lake with my truck.”
Adrian pointed at him. Laughed. “Touché—though I still say that road should have some signage. I think Ella finally found the right combination of cleaners to get the smell out.”
Boone glanced at Vivie, who was still laughing, and when she caught him looking, she winked.
Adrian was wrong about Vivie being trouble. Just because she’d roped him into a car show and parade the day he’d rolled into town, had gotten kicked out of the local playhouse, and then had set him up on an apparent blind date that had landed him in the icy waters of Lake Superior…
Did crazy dances in the church foyer and didn’t care who was watching…
Okay, maybe he did have a type. But she made him laugh. Added enthusiasm to his day. And she also made him feel like he belonged.
If only he wasn’t leaving.
Chapter 11
Heaven shined down on Vivien because she’d pleaded her case to the school board during their Monday morning work group meeting and, even though Gordy’s vote was a seemingly reluctant “yea,” they’d all agreed to let her back into the Arrowood Auditorium. Which meant more clout for the community theater event. Which meant maybe she could hold on to some piece of her dream without returning to New York City.
She paced her small living room. Now, she just had to figure out how to handle the Boone-slash-Beth debacle. Or non-debacle because, well, they had real chemistry onstage. And who’d seen that coming?
Especially since Boone hadn’t made any move to kiss Vivien since the whole post-lake-tumble clench. She needed a celebrity gossip scoop so she could figure out exactly what was going on behind those pale blue eyes. Maybe—probably—they were just friends. He was a bit older than her—not that age had ever mattered to her. And Beth was the same age as her, so it couldn’t be that. But now, what if he was developing one of those awful show-mances? How many times did the leading man and lady fall for each other?
She’d stupidly done it herself. She let out a croak.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ree sat on the couch crunching on carrot sticks, watching Vivien.
She wrinkled her nose. “What have I done?”
“Ummm?” Ree shook her head, shrugged her shoulders.
Vivien threw her hands into the air. “They almost kissed, Ree. Beth and Boone, right there in rehearsal.”
“Isn’t that in the script?” Ree took the last bite of her carrot stick and snagged another one from the plate on the coffee table. In her denim shorts paired with a tee that read “Take a hike!” in loopy script, she was the poster girl for carefree summer. Yeah, well, she had her love life all organized—as indicated by the ring she proudly wore on her left hand.
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Vivien paused and looked in the wall mirror. She began fluffing her waves. “I knew I shouldn’t have cast Beth—she’s too sweet. Too adorable.”
“Wait. What?” Ree dropped her carrot onto the plate, picked up the script lying next to it, and began flipping the pages. “See? Right here. The near-kiss is in the script. ‘The couple leans in, looks into each other’s eyes, and they come close to kissing.’ It’s just like in the auditions—you know, when we all thought you and Boone were going to start kissing in front of everyone?”
Vivien snatched the script from Ree. “We hadn’t done the blocking yesterday. It was the first rehearsal. There was absolutely no reason for her to be that close to him. I told him to move naturally.” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh no.” She turned to Ree, dropped the script. “What if that’s what felt natural to him?”
“Whoa. Hold on. As I recall, you set them up just days ago.” Ree twirled a carrot in her ranch dip. “There was a whole little escapade in the lake with the kayaks? The big setup and the soggy letdown?” Ree chomped through the carrot.
Vivien crossed her arms. “That was a mistake.” A shiver crept up her spine. “And now, I have to figure this out.” She grabbed a carrot. Crunched it.
“Figure out what? Is there something you want to tell me about Mr. Hottie?”
Vivien rolled her eyes. “You’re going to haunt me with that day for all time, aren’t you?”
“Well, it was the first time I hid behind a vintage car to spy on a man. I just want to know exactly what’s going on with you and handsome Detective Boone Buckam. You seem very out of sorts over this rehearsal thing.”
So not answering that. “How am I going to fix this?” Vivien rubbed her temples. “Just—let me think. I’m getting a headache. The show needs to go on. But not at the expense of Boone’s peace of mind.”
“Boone’s? Or yours?” Ree waggled her brows at her.
“I can’t put him under more stress
.” Vivien frowned before she continued pacing the floor, the creaks and groans echoing her own distress.
Ree picked up a couch pillow and chucked it at Vivien.
“Hey!” Vivien blocked the shot. “We have to figure this out.”
“There’s a reason they’re called throw pillows. Come on, Vivie.”
Of course Ree was right, but Vivien was more concerned with her current predicament. How exactly she was going to put the brakes on the Boone-Beth train she’d set into motion.
“I know!” She held up a finger. “They need costumes. Stay here.”
Vivien ducked into her bedroom, dragged her desk chair over to the open closet, and climbed on top of it. She chucked the Roman robes, wise men crowns, and broken angel wings onto the floor.
They were there. Somewhere. And they’d be perfect.
“I’m not sure what this we thing is about.” Ree called from the other room. “I don’t know that I want to be a party to whatever plan you’re hatching.”
Vivien rummaged through the top shelf of her closet until her hands secured two rounded costume heads. Bingo.
She pulled the pig face over her head, tucked the opossum under her arm, and waltzed back into the living room. She had to tilt her head in order to see out the misaligned eye holes.
Ree choked on a carrot stick, coughing and sputtering. “Oh, this you need to explain.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, put her face in her hands, and peered between her fingers. “What are you doing with that pig head?”
“It’ll be like Animal Farm. You know. Allegory.”
“It’s a love story, Vivie.” Ree wiped her lips and wiggled her nose between her fingers. “I think I snorted carrot up my nose.”
“It can be an animal allegory love story. Petunia Pig and Prince Possum.” She gave a curt nod. “Minor rewriting.” She adjusted the bulbous head. “I can handle that—and, you—you’re a writer. You can help.”
“Um. No.” Ree blew her nose. “Okay. I think I’m all right now. Thanks for your concern.” She shot a side-eyed look at Vivien.
“Oh, come on. What’s wrong with an ungulate and a marsupial?” The head shifted forward, blocking everything but the view of the floor.
“Where did you even get these?”
“From the vacation Bible school skit. I had the high schoolers make them during drama club. This one kind of smells like mustard, though.”
“Eww.” Ree snatched the pig head off of Vivien and chucked it onto the couch. “Would you just go see him? Talk to him. You’re being ridiculous.” She tugged the opossum head from Vivien’s hands. “And leave the animal heads here.”
“Can I take your car?”
“Sure—Seth’s picking me up in a couple minutes. He’s going to show me his current build.” She tossed the Subaru keys to Vivien. “Make sure it has enough gas.”
“It would be terribly unfortunate if it broke down at his place and he had to give me a ride home.” She placed the back of her hand against her forehead in her greatest damsel-in-distress pose.
“Go.” Ree pointed to the door.
“Do I smell like mustard?”
Ree leaned in. Took a deep whiff. “No. You look and smell ravishing.”
Vivien winked. “You’re the best.”
Ree was probably right. There was nothing to worry about—Boone was acting. And she was just being a drama queen. Of course he didn’t have feelings for Beth.
Except, he hadn’t kissed Vivien since his grand apology. Hadn’t made a single move out of the friend boundary. But, maybe he was just being a gentleman by not kissing her.
When she arrived at the cabin, she pulled up the drive that wound around to the back of the cabin and parked next to a dark gray Dodge Durango with a temporary tag. She didn’t recognize the vehicle.
Hmm. Maybe one of the guys got some new wheels?
She stepped from the Subaru and heard a giggle floating on the breeze. Definitely not Seb. Or Caleb. Or Kyle. Or any other man in town.
She froze. Who—?
She glanced back at Ree’s car. Bail? Except curiosity got the best of her just like it had that night outside the Harry Cipriani when she’d found Ravil romancing Joslyn.
She tip-toed around the corner of the sidewalk, her heart pummeling her chest.
Nope, Boone wasn’t alone.
On a blanket in the grass on the far side of his cabin sat Beth Strauss, a little too close to him, at that. And she was laughing at something he said.
Vivien took a step back, ready to flee, but Beth looked up, their eyes connecting.
Why hadn’t she brought the pig head?
“Viv.” Beth smiled. “Hi.”
Play. It. Cool. Smile. “Well, hello. Whatcha up to? Looks like you have a new car?”
“It’s my brother’s,” Beth answered. “He decided it was time for an upgrade.”
Boone took a drink of his Coke. “Thought we’d spend some time practicing so we don’t waste your time at rehearsal.”
Right. Except, they sat on a picnic blanket, the lake as their backdrop. And enjoying a lunch spread of grapes and crackers and cheese and—a baguette? A fresh baguette from the Flashy Fox Bakery? With spinach and artichoke dip?
He stood, brushing the crumbs from his lap. “Would you like to join us?”
Beth opened her mouth. Closed it. Smiled.
Vivien was no idiot. She knew a date when she saw one. She rubbed her fingertips against her collarbone. Well, wasn’t that originally her whole idea? Get Boone to fall for Beth? Someone calm and sweet?
Except—no. That really was the dumbest, most idiotic scheme she’d ever entertained. And Ree was right. She only had herself to blame for the entire debacle. She couldn’t just drop a man in front of Beth and then take him away. What kind of matchmaker was she?
Just call her Emma Woodhouse. Yep. Exactly that. Because while she was busy working to help her dear friend Boone, her heart had been falling for him like her very own Mr. Knightley. So full of good sense and kindness. Generously giving to others.
She caught her breath. Oh, horrid day.
“I think we’ve figured out the scene,” Boone said, holding his script. She nodded, unable to speak.
Her Mr. Knightley was completely clueless, as evidenced by the fact that he saw nothing wrong with fraternizing with the likes of—of—starry-eyed Beth. And Vivien only had herself to blame.
“Here, let us show you.” Boone hopped up off the blanket and extended a hand to Beth, who accepted it faster than a free World’s Best skizzle fresh from the oven.
Vivien swallowed. Smiled. “Sure. I’d love to see it.” She pinched her lips together. If only Ree hadn’t convinced her to leave the costumes at the house. She put her hands on her hips. Because she’d love to shove the big, ugly, mustard-smelling pig head over Beth’s petite features and coquettish smile. And, speaking of coquettish—where did that look come from? And was she wearing lipstick?
Vivien narrowed her gaze. “Remind me—we’ll need to fit your new costumes.” And, really, it wasn’t like it would be the worst costume he’d ever worn. At least she wasn’t putting him in tights and pointy shoes.
Although…
“Okay.” Boone nodded. “Sure.”
Yeah, that opossum head would suit him just fine.
Boone grabbed chairs from the deck, placing them into position on the lawn.
“You didn’t have to follow me here,” Beth started.
“Have you—have you been—crying?” Boone reached out a hand to Beth and sat down next to her. “Whatever are you crying about?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Beth looked away, her gaze toward the shimmering lake.
Boone’s voice rode the summer breeze. “It does to me.”
Beth didn’t quite manage tears, but she was a far better actress than Vivien had imagined. And she was practically swooning over Boone.
“In two days, you’ll be gone and, well, I’ll still be here.”
Boone reached out, his hand
glancing down Beth’s cheek. “Is there any reason for me to stay?”
“Oh, that’s really great, guys,” Vivien interrupted before the scene could finish. Before she had to see more. Her stomach turned. What had she done?
It was just too awful to watch. Because she had to admit they were perfect for each other.
Boone turned to her. “You think it’s okay?”
“It’s perfect.” She smiled, as big as if it were opening night’s closing curtain on Broadway. “I gotta go.” The words came out hoarse and broken.
She climbed into Ree’s car and drove away. Didn’t even look back.
Boone walked down the sidewalk and watched the car disappear around the bend, the sound of its engine fading in the distance. How was it the women he cared about always left him looking at their taillights?
You know, Boone, you just might have a type. Adrian’s words dug their way under his skin.
No. Vivien wasn’t PJ.
Boone returned to the front yard and looked at Beth, whose face had drained of all color.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I think I need to go.”
She scrambled from the blanket, flushed. “Is there anything I can do?” Beth’s voice, small and faint, asked. “Is she—is she mad about something?”
“No, it’s okay.” He stacked the food trays. “I’ll talk to her. Probably just having a rough day.” He carried the trays into the cabin and shoved them into the refrigerator.
Beth followed him inside, bringing the blanket she’d folded.
“Thanks. You can set that on the couch.”
She dropped the folded blanket onto the arm of the couch. “I feel like I did something wrong.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, her green eyes bright with moisture.
How did his afternoon go from doing a good deed with extra rehearsal time to cleaning up a mess he didn’t even mean to make? “You didn’t.” He threw the garbage into the trash.
He hadn’t thought anything of it when Beth had offered to come by to rehearse. She’d shown up with a basket full of food—and it was lunch time, so, why not? He liked artichoke dip and baguette bread and grapes. And eating outside was better than in his tiny cabin.
Then Came You Page 18
