Chapter 7
Destiny
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I remembered seeingpeppers and onions when I helped clean up after breakfast so suggested Philly sandwiches for lunch. We discovered the perfect crusty rolls at the bakery and added those to our large box of whoopie pies.
The baker couldn’t believe Jorge had never tried one of the delectable treats, and insisted he sample one in the store. I enjoyed watching his enjoyment but when he licked frosting from his fingers, I had to clench my thighs together and look away. Imagining that tongue swiping over my skin makes my lady parts take notice.
Once we’re back at the ranch, it feels weird to be cooking in someone else’s kitchen. Jorge steps in as my prep cook, doing an excellent job making strips of the onions and peppers. Adding a few mushrooms and some spicy pepper jack cheese to the thinly sliced steak makes delicious sandwiches. Once our sandwiches share plates with piles of chips and a few healthy fresh veggies, we sit next to each other at the table.
A few bites in, I set my sandwich down and angle to face Jorge. “To continue our conversation from earlier...”
“Professional interactions.” One side of his full lips tilt upwards in a half-grin.
“Yep. Viewers are going to expect the bitch me. One thing I’d never do, is use your first name. So from right now on, you’re Chavez.”
He chuckles. “Been called worse. Do whatever you feel you need to do.”
“I suppose. What if I do or say something to damage your reputation?”
His eyes narrow. I’ve said something wrong or upsetting. I don’t have a clue what, so there’s no way I can even back up and recant my words. After a long moment he lifts his glass but instead of sipping the water, he continues to stare at me over the rim. My muscles quiver with the need to move, to shrink from the intensity in his eyes.
He blinks, and like he’s come to a decision, he sets the glass aside. “I doubt that will happen. And if it does, I’ve had a long career. I’m satisfied.”
“There’s nothing more you want to do?”
The intensity returns to his dark eyes. Drawn by the depths, I lean forward, holding my breath for his answer.
“Destiny, we’re human. Isn’t there always something more we want to do? To have? To experience? If we lose that... need... what’s left?”
The mood is too serious. I don’t want to think about philosophical ideas, I want to get to know Jorge Chavez. I want—it’s simple. I want him. I take a huge bite of my sandwich and grin around the mouthful as he watches me chew and swallow. His pupils fill the dark brown of his eyes, my body thrums in response. Damn, the man is a sexual dream. Why hadn’t I seen it years before?
Maybe it’s those years making him more appealing. I’ve never really cared for men my age, they’re often unsettled. Me, too, if I’m honest. I’ve only been here a couple of days but experiencing the family environment makes the idea of settling down in one place appealing. Especially if Jorge is a part of the deal.
I’m getting way ahead of myself. Need to slow down or I’m going to crawl over the table and jump the man’s bones. I wrinkle my nose and squint as though deep in thought. “I’ll think about all that and let you know.”
His expression lightens. “That’s all I can ask.”
“So, Chavez...”
“You’re really going to do that? What am I supposed to call you?”
“Yep, and Destiny will do. You want to know a secret?”
He leans back and crosses his arms. One eyebrow arches. “What?”
“Remember I said my design school classmates and I watched your show? I really liked them.” The other eyebrow lifts. “Except for one thing.”
“Do tell.”
“That solemn expression. Yeah, that one you’re wearing right now.” I don’t dare tell him how much more handsome it makes him now.
“I explained about that.”
“I know. And I understand. But that’s not the secret. The secret is what we called you.”
“And that was?”
“Cranky pants Chavez.”
He’s silent for a beat then bursts into laughter.
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t very nice.”
His laughter slows and he shakes his head. “Maybe not, but it was accurate. You need to tell that story sometime during this project.”
“That’ll really reinforce my brash persona.”
“Maybe not. You can use this season to gently move from who the network wanted to the person and designer you want to be.”
Hope fills my chest. “You think I can do that?”
“I do. I’ll do whatever I can to help. Even start out as cranky pants Chavez if that’s necessary.”
“Just Chavez will do. By the time the final show airs, you’ll be Jorge. But you know what, Chavez?”
He returns to the remnants of his sandwich. “Hmm?”
“You need to see a few episodes of my work. There’s a couple seasons on a streaming service.” I take a deep breath and a chance. “We could spend the afternoon watching a few episodes then work out a plan for this show.”
“Works for me, Des.” He uses the last of his sandwich to point at the bakery box on the counter. “As long as we take a few of those whoopie pies with us.”
We finish our meal and clean up the kitchen. There’s not enough dishes to run the machine, so I hand wash and he dries. With each dish, our bodies inch closer until our shoulders and hips touch. He sets the final pan aside, moves behind me, and leans forward so I’m trapped between his arms.
My heart sings a joyous yes as I turn to face him. “Chavez?”
“Des, I shouldn’t.”
I know but I need to hear him say the words. “Shouldn’t what?”
“Kiss you.”
“Please.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “Please,” I whisper again.
The gentle brush of his lips makes me sigh. I lift my hands to his shoulders, his palms rest against my hips.
“Hey, hello? Anyone here? I was told there’d be— Oops.”
At the snickering from the doorway, Jorge freezes then jerks his hands from my body and steps back. I scowl over his shoulder at the man shadowed by the sunlight at the open back door.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt. You Alice Wilson?”
Despite the disappointment of our interrupted first kiss, I paste on a smile and answer. “No, she’s in town for... family stuff. Can I help you?”
He actually puffs out his thin chest and I resist the urge to revert to bitchy Destiny and roll my gaze to the ceiling. “I’m here for the television shoot. I’m the director.”
Jorge turns, crosses his arms and practically snarls, “No, you’re not.”
“Ah, Jorge Chavez. Been awhile, man.” There’s an odd glee in the man’s voice.
“Pederson.”
Jorge’s tone is icy cold. I wonder what this smarmy guy did to piss him off.
Pederson focuses his attention on me. “So, Chavez. See you haven’t changed.”
His fists clenched, Jorge’s arms fall to his sides. His chest rises and falls rapidly. Hesitant, I rest my hand against the small of his back and feel his body relax a tiny bit.
Continuing as though we’re the only two in the room, Pederson holds out one hand to me as he speaks. “The original director became ill and I’m the replacement.” When I don’t shake his hand, he shrugs and keeps talking. “This is my opportunity to show the network they should have advanced my career sooner. I’ve got ideas. Plans. This project will knock their socks off. Especially with a beauty like you hosting.”
At Jorge’s jerk, I wrap my hand in his shirt to hold him in place. With no idea what’s going on between the two men, I’m not taking any chances. Wanting nothing more than to slap away Pederson’s snide grin, I ignore his slimy compliment. “I didn’t think the director was expected until tomorrow.”
He offers no explanation, only the grin and the way his gaze slips between me and Jorge. I’ve got to get rid of him.
“Alice has lodging arranged for everyone. I’m pretty sure she’s set up one of the empty ranch hand apartments for you. Let me check.” I carefully release Jorge’s shirt, give his back a soft pat then move toward the corner of the room where Alice set up a temporary office space dedicated to the production. Thank god she keeps paper records as well as using computer files. I find the reserved room, pull the key from a small drawer and hold the fob out to Pederson.
“Just follow the drive up the hill. The apartments are about a mile. You’re in number five. If you need anything, check with Georgia in the big house. They’ll get you settled.”
“Great, but what I’d really like—”
Jorge crowds into the space. “We’re done here, Pederson. I suggest you move on. Now.”
Pederson holds up his hands. “Calm the shit down, Chavez. I’m going. Meeting tomorrow at the construction site. Seven. In the morning. I’ll lay out the direction of the show then.”
He turns and strolls to the door. One hand on the frame, he speaks without turning back. “Watch yourself, Chavez. You won’t derail this production. I’ve got your number and I’m watching you.”
We stand frozen until the roar of the car engine fades and a plume of dust follows the grind of tires against the gravel drive up the hill. I face Jorge and plant my hand against his chest. “What the hell was that all about?”
“We’ve worked together before.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not angry.”
“Says the man with smoke coming out of his nostrils and flames shooting from his ears.”
“Let me rephrase. Not angry. Furious.”
“Talk to me.”
He shakes his head.
“Chavez, what’s got you so wound up?”
He angles away from me, turns back to face me then angles away again. Somewhere in the movement he makes a decision. “Thanks for literally holding me back earlier. Let’s get out of here. Go home. Uh, I mean back to our rooms.”
“Are you going to tell me anything?” I’m dying to understand, to help if I can, but I won’t push him away by forcing him to answer.
After huffing out a breath, he shrugs. In silence, we place a couple whoopie pies each onto a paper plate then drive the short distance to the cabin. I lead us to my side, start a pot of coffee then sit next to him on the couch.
Finally, he sighs and breaks the oppressive silence. “I don’t want... remember I told you there was an incident early in my career.”
I nod and take his hand.
“Pederson was involved.”
“With the way the two of you reacted to each other, I’m not surprised.”
“I can’t say more. Legally, I really can’t. This was never made public.”
His statement rachets my curiosity even higher while also telling me no matter how I might probe for answers, I won’t get them from him. “I understand. No, really I do. I have an uncle who’s an attorney. He’s hyper-focused on client privacy. I can’t say I’m not going to wonder, that my imagination’s not going to go into overdrive. For me now, all I know is you and Pederson don’t like each other. That’s enough. Being around the two of you won’t make for a pleasant filming experience, but I can deal with it.”
A hint of surprise chases the misery from his eyes. He attempts a smile. “Ah, Destiny. Thank you. I appreciate your understanding. I don’t want the tension between that bastard and me to affect our working relationship. What happened is in the past and needs to stay there. I’m done with it. Pederson showing up shocked me is all.”
What happened might be in the past, but he’s not emotionally over it. Such a—what? A betrayal? Yes, that’s what it feels like happened. A betrayal that he can’t even talk about would be nearly impossible to get past. At least it would be for me.
He eases to his feet. “Coffee?”
I’ll let him avoid the memory for now. Seeing Pederson and taking direction from him every day is going to be difficult enough. I’m sure the man is going to nitpick everything, and probably knows every button to push to put Jorge in a bad light. Even knowing what little I do now, I’m not going to take direction from him well either. Should be an interesting few weeks.
“Yes, please. And a whoopie pie. Shall I queue up a couple Destiny Designs programs?”
“Sure.” He busies himself pouring coffee into large ceramic mugs then pauses and speaks toward the wall. “Thank you.”
He’s thanking me for more than just turning on the television and doesn’t want further acknowledgement of the conversation. Determined to simply enjoy being close to the man I want, even when he’s closed off and distant, I settle into one corner of the couch. He sets the treats on the coffee table and after a moment studying the couch, sits close to me.
Lifting my legs, I angle to face him and tuck my toes under his thighs. He rests his arm on my bent knees. It’s enough. For now.
We watch one episode in silence then dissect two more. He seems to have a good grasp of who I am on the show. We discuss a few ways I can soften that persona over a few shows so the change feels natural. I appreciate his knowledge and encouragement, and I’m looking forward to trying out his suggestions.
It’s late afternoon when we finally receive a text from Alice announcing the birth of Dilyn and Micah’s baby boy. After a brief explanation of Pederson’s arrival, Jorge disconnects and tosses his phone to the coffee table. Lifting both hands, he rubs the back of his neck.
“Tense?” I ask.
“Yeah. One hell of a day.”
This is something I can help with so I rise, move behind the couch, and push his hands away. “Allow me.”
“Not necessary, Des. I’ll be fine.”
The tight knots of muscles at the base of his neck and along his shoulders say otherwise. I press the heels of my hands to either side of his spine and slide then along his shoulders. His groan makes me smile. “Just relax, Chavez. You’re in good hands.”