Chapter Three
I DIDN’T KNOW what I expected when I ventured out into the farthest reaches of the property, but Rowan casually relaxing in a hot tub wasn’t it. She’s got a book in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. She cocks her head, her blue gaze direct. Unintimidated. She’s not surprised to see me but not exactly thrilled either.
“You followed me.”
“I saw you heading out here after the shoot and…well, yeah. I wanted to thank you for—”
“It’s fine,” she says sharply and sets her book down. “I get it. I shouldn’t be here. Production liability and all that.”
“Hey, no worries. I’m not going to say anything.” I nod at her bag, the wine, the book. “Come here often?”
She gives me a pointed half-smile. “It’s a good place to unwind after watching emotional carnage play out in front of me, night after night.”
“That’s what I wanted to thank you for—”
“I didn’t do anything,” she says, her voice hard. “I said ‘scarf.’ You did the rest.”
I’m about to protest, but I’m distracted by how the light in the tub illuminates her skin from above, giving her a glow. Under the straight line of her bangs, her clear blue eyes watch me with shrewd intelligence. Not to mention, she’s in a tiny bikini, the triangles of black material covering her small breasts.
And I’m standing here fully clothed.
“Right. Well.” I glance behind me. I need to leave but I don’t want to. In a town full of people who mostly tell me what I want to hear, Rowan is bold. A low tolerance for bullshit. I like that. I need that.
She narrows her eyes. “Why are you acting weird?”
“Am I?” I chuckle and run a hand through my hair. “Well, several reasons, I guess.”
“Such as?”
“Power dynamics? Compromising positions?”
“Oh, I get it.” She takes a sip of her wine. “You’re scared I’m going to make up a story about you using your star power to lure me out here and take advantage of me.” She cocks her head. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Going to take advantage of me?”
“Fuck, no.”
Rowan shrugs. “Then you don’t have to worry. Even if you had nefarious intentions, I’m not interested in ruining your career.”
I frown. “If someone acts on their nefarious intentions, you should ruin their career.”
“Seems like a lot of paperwork.” When I don’t smile, she sighs. “Look, I just don’t want to lose my job. If that means giving up my hot tub so I don’t get fired, so be it.”
“Not necessary,” I say. “I’m not interested in ruining your career, either. I’ll leave you in peace.”
I start to go.
“Or…” she says.
I turn around. “Or?”
She presses her lips together. “Nothing.”
I flash her what I’m told is my signature, megawatt smile. “Tell me.”
“Emotional carnage is hard enough to witness,” Rowan says reluctantly, as if she’s fighting with herself. “Must be exhausting when you’re the one drowning in it.”
“I won’t argue with that.” My phone in my back pocket buzzes with a text. Eva’s screeching comes through loud and clear, even without sound.
Are we just not going to talk ever again??? After all we’ve been through? Is that your plan????
“Speaking of exhausting.” I turn my phone to silent and shove it back in my pocket. “My ex.”
“Ah.”
“Eva.”
Rowan nods. “I know who she is.”
“I figured,” I say. “Most people have read the tabloids or internet bullshit, but I prefer to act as if they haven’t.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I don’t start conversations with, I’m sure you’ve read all about me but… ”
“I get it,” Rowan says. “It’s not an actual conversation if you have to act like your own defense attorney before its even begun.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Yes, thank you.”
“You’re in luck.” Rowan smiles dryly. “I don’t read tabloids. Or anything on social media, actually.”
I lean against the tub. “That’s not something you hear every day. Especially not in this business. Or this town.”
She shrugs. “People talk, so I’ve heard some things, of course, but you don’t have to explain anything. This hot tub is a bullshit-free zone.”
I get the feeling everything with Rowan is bullshit-free. I’m already less on edge just by being near her.
“I appreciate that,” I say.
“Yeah, well, so get in already.”
I chuckle. “Such a delicate invitation. You sure?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“All right…if you truly don’t mind.”
I strip down to my dark blue boxer shorts, and climb in. The tub is big—there’s at least four feet between Rowan and me—but I still feel like I’ve invaded her space. And despite her promise not to make up a story, there’s no reason to trust her. The last few years with Eva have me on high alert.
I splash water on my face and rub my hand over my tired eyes. “I should’ve just left you alone.”
Rowan’s brow furrows. “Holy whiplash, Batman. You just got here. I think you need this more than I do.”
She glides across the water, closing the distance between us, wine glass outstretched. When I hesitate, she cocks her head.
“Do you need me to sign an NDA? I’m not going to cry wolf and you’re not going to get me fired. Right?”
I laugh ruefully and take the wine. “Thanks.” The first sip settles nicely in my stomach, loosening those knots. “I should point out that when a woman comes forward with a story from some asshole in this business, my first instinct is to believe her.”
Rowan arches a brow. “My hero.”
I burst out laughing; I can’t remember the last time I did that.
“I just meant, my caution with you isn’t because I believe that women make up stories. It’s more about…”
Eva. She drained all the trust out of me like a sieve.
“My own stuff,” I say. “Things have been complicated with Eva since…well, for a while now.” I take another sip and hand the glass back. “Like, I’m invading her space when I try to get close and when I back off, I’m an asshole who doesn’t love her enough.”
Rowan nods. She hasn’t retreated to her half of the tub but stands less than two feet from me. Up close, her eyes are astonishing: clear light blue, ringed with dark blue.
“So, you don’t know where you stand,” she states.
“I know exactly where I stand,” I say bitterly. “On eggshells or quicksand. Live that way long enough and it starts to fuck with your head. Makes you second guess every little thing. Like getting out of the hot tub I just climbed in to.”
Rowan studies the wine glass. “This is why I don’t do relationships.”
I smile. “Too much paperwork?”
“Pain.” She clears her throat. “Stress. Too much stress.”
“I’ve heard that if a relationship is done right, it doesn’t feel like stress. But I’ll just have to take their word for it.” I glance at Rowan curiously. “What is it about you that makes me want to repeatedly dump my problems on you?”
“I’m a PA. We handle problems.”
“Have you worked on many productions?”
“A dozen,” she says. “Give or take.”
“What else do you do?”
Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“I assumed this was a side job.”
“You know what they say about assuming,” she says, and now her voice has an edge to it.
“No offense,” I say. “All the PA’s I know do it as a side hustle or to learn the ropes before moving onto something else.”
Rowan arches a brow. “You hang out with PAs on the regular?” She snorts. “What am I saying? This is the same international movie star who introduced himself to me with his whole name.”
I grin. “I hate to assume …”
This gets a reluctant laugh out of her that makes me feel like I nailed a scene.
Her eyes narrow. “Your parents are still together, aren’t they?”
“Yes. How can you tell?”
She lifts one delicate shoulder. “Something tells me you were spared a dysfunctional childhood. You have a solidity about you.”
“Kind of you to say,” I reply. “Irony of ironies, you’re right. My folks are still together. They’re happy. They raised my brother and me with a lot of love.” I take the offered wine glass. “I waited until my twenties to dive into dysfunction.”
“Ah.”
“How about yours? Still together?”
“No,” Rowan says, her eyes darkening. “My dad died when I was thirteen and my mom went off the rails. I sort of raised myself after that.”
“I’m sorry,” I say gravely. “But that explains why you’re so capable.”
Ooof, real smooth, dude.
Rowan gives me an amused look. “Is that what I am?”
“Yes, and I would know,” I say lightly to salvage the moment. “I’m a keen observer of the human condition . Can’t you tell?”
Rowan snorts a laugh. “Where did you read that?”
“ InTouch Weekly .”
“Do you always quote what they say about you in magazines?”
“Of course. To impress the chicks,” I say, grinning now, offering back the glass that’s almost empty. “Is it working?”
“Oh, sure.” Rowan smiles at me over the rim. “Not at all pretentious or cringy. But I thought you didn’t put much stock in the tabloids.”
“The gossip, no,” I say. “The praise? That’s all true.”
She laughs. I had no destination in mind when I climbed into the tub but feel like I’m getting somewhere with Rowan. She’s a small woman—maybe 5’3” to my 6’2”—but she’s got fire in her and a solidity too. There’s a metric fuck-ton of phoniness and bullshit in this business, but she seems immune to it. Completely unimpressed by the sheen of “movie star” that’s been laid over me. She sees me …
And you’re a mess.
A short silence falls. Rowan’s clearly not one for small talk but I don’t want to stop talking to her, either.
“How did you get started in the business?”
“In the menial, mindless business of being a PA?” She smirks. “I answered an ad on Craigslist.”
“Nothing menial about it,” I say. “PAs are the grease in the wheels that make a production work. We’d be fucked without them. But—and feel free to tell me to mind my own business—why are you not doing something more challenging?”
She raises a brow. “You think it’s easy, being the grease in the wheels?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You’re trying to Good Will Hunting me,” she says. “I’m wasting my ‘genius’ on mopping the schoolroom floors when I could be teaching the class?”
“Something like that.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Rowan says, the humor fading out of her voice and mouth and eyes. “Not one thing.”
“That’s true,” I say. “But your idea with the costume—”
“Was a one-off,” she says, and now she’s back on her side of the tub. “I happen to like being a PA.”
She isn’t telling the truth. Not all of it, anyway. I was only half-kidding about being good at reading people. It’s a job requirement. This woman has layers and layers to her, hiding behind her bluntness. Like now. Her skimpy bathing suit renders her practically naked, but she’s actually covered in a suit of armor.
You sure about that, Freud? You haven’t been able to read Eva in years.
“You’re right,” I say. “I don’t know you and it’s none of my business. I should get going.”
A conflicted expression ripples over Rowan’s face, and then she shrugs one shoulder. “If you insist.”
“I insist.”
I’m not a big drinker. The wine and three solid days of “emotional carnage” are making me fuzzy. But I’ve got enough wits about me to know I should leave Rowan in peace. She doesn’t do relationships and while I’ve broken up with Eva—again— it’s not a clean break. I haven’t fully extricated myself from the mess we made.
“You’re a really good PA, Rowan, and your scarf idea saved the scene.” I hold up a hand when she starts to protest. “Nope. I’m going to thank you for that, and then I’m going to let you enjoy the rest of your night without my commentary, relationship problems, or unwanted career advice.”
We’re close now; I can see her pulse in the delicate hollow of her throat. Steady and even. The water leaves a silver sheen over her pale skin. Rowan tries to take the glass, but I don’t let it go. We’re both holding it like a chalice at a wedding.
“Fine. You’re welcome about the scarf.” She gives me an arch smile. “Happy now?”
My eyes drop to her mouth, her full lips that also look soft, and I have a pang in my chest. I don’t remember what happy feels like.
I relinquish the glass. “Goodnight, Rowan.”