Chapter 19 #2
He lifts the box’s lid, revealing one of my favorites—chocolate covered strawberries. They glisten even in the light filtered by gray clouds.
My mouth waters. How did he know?
It’s not a well-known fact. I didn’t even add it to the ridiculously long questionnaire I had to fill out before the photo shoot.
“I hope you like chocolate-covered strawberries. They’re a favorite of mine.”
I examine his face, looking for the trick. The manipulation. But all I find is honesty and warmth.
Okay, Universe, you can stop showing me how much I have in common with him.
There’s no endgame here. My only goal is to catch Scarlett.
Yet that reminder makes my chest pang.
“Mine too,” I admit.
He smiles, a crooked smile that reminds me of a younger version of Cy. “How about that? Something in common.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I grumble, even as amusement washes over me.
This time when he barks out a laugh, I join him, a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying lifting from my shoulders.
“Save these for later?” He closes the box and sets it off to the side. Then he digs out the last few items from the basket. A bottle of wine, two plastic cups, and two bottles of water.
“Wine? Water?”
“Water,” I say automatically.
He puts the bottle of wine aside and hands me a bottle. Then he cracks the lid on the other for himself.
“You can drink,” I tell him.
I won’t. I need to hold tight to my fucking inhibitions, and wine has always made me horny.
“This is good with me.” He lifts his water bottle and takes a drink.
As he swallows, I can’t help but zero in on the muscles in his throat.
Why are those sexy?
Something is fucking wrong with me. Shaking my head, I take the plate he offers me. Then the two of us open all the containers and load up, then toss the empty containers back into the basket so they don’t blow away.
“Great day for a picnic,” I tease him.
My fingers are partially frozen already. I wish I’d grabbed a jacket on my way out of the lodge. But it was sunny when we left, no clouds in sight.
Head tipped back, he examines the sky. “No one mentioned anything about a storm today. But those clouds are pretty dark.”
I follow his line of sight as another chill racks my body.
“You’re saying that you, a singer/actor can predict the weather?” I ask, focusing on my food to keep my teeth from chattering.
“I grew up on a ranch in Texas, BB. I could recognize a storm by the time I could read.”
Did I know that? I filter through what I know about him, but I can’t for the life of me recall that detail. Was it something he usually kept private?
Before I can ask, the camera guy rushes up. “Hey, guys, bad news. We need to reschedule this date,”
Hell no. Yeah, I’m freezing, but otherwise, I’m actually enjoying myself. I’m not ready to go back and hide in my room again.
“What? Why?” Cy asks.
“I got an error message as I was recording. Looks like the footage is no longer saving properly. That usually means that the camera’s internal system is corrupted, so it’s not likely that anything I’ve filmed today will be recoverable.
” He rakes a hand through his hair, frowning.
“I went to the car to get my backup but it wasn’t in the case.
Production says they’re good with us packing up now and rescheduling the date. ”
“All you need is a camera?” Cy asks.
He nods, holding up the one he’s been using. “Yeah. I’ll turn this one over to be repaired.”
“What if you run back to the lodge and swap cameras?” Cy asks. “Then you’ll get the footage from the end of the date, and we don’t have to reschedule.”
Cy and me. Alone. With no cameras.
Why does that sound like a temptation and a terrible idea rolled into one?
The camera guy grimaces. “I don’t know…” He glances back at the SUV parked at the edge of the clearing.
“It’ll take what? An hour and a half tops? We promise not to do anything film worthy until you get back,” Cy swears.
Nothing I want on camera, at least.
I wouldn’t mind a kiss that won’t end up being seen by half the world.
The cameraman nods. “Yeah. Just long enough to do the switch. I’ll call ahead and have one ready to go.”
“This keeps us on schedule too,” Cy tells him. “You know how much Brian hates when the schedule gets fucked up.”
Just mentioning Brian’s name is enough to raise my hackles.
I haven’t met one person who actually likes him.
“Thanks, man. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With a wave, he sprints for the SUV.
Once it’s pulled away, Cy turns his attention back to me. “Where were we?”
My heart thuds heavily in response to the simple question. It feels a whole lot more intimate than it would if he’d asked on camera.
“I showed you mine. What about yours?” he asks.
Without my permission, an image of him wrapped in that towel the other day swims to the surface of my mind.
I shake my head to dislodge the memory. “Sorry?”
He chuckles. “Mind in the gutter much, BB? I meant what about you? You know I could read storm clouds before books. Tell me something about you.”
Nerves skitter through me at the low timbre of his voice. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” he asks.
Being the sole focus of his attention sends a different kind of shiver down my spine.
It’s like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory.
“I’m an only. What about you?”
He looks surprised, like I’ve caught him off guard.
I know he has siblings. He talked about his brothers when he was with Boys Next Door. But I don’t want to know about Cyrus Darby of Boys Next Door. I want to know more about the man he is now. The one he’s become.
“I’m the oldest of four boys. Each of us is named for a country singer or group my mom loved to listen to when she and my dad were younger. Me, then Rio and Brooks, the twins, are next. And Cash is the baby. Billy Ray Cyrus, Diamond Rio, Brooks and Dunn, and Johnny Cash.”
A genuine smile overtakes my face. “That’s so fun. I’m not sure where my parents got my name from. I’ve never asked my dad.”
It’s never occurred to me, I guess. Yet now I’m eager to find out how he and Mom decided on Sydney. Unless it’s something gross. Then I don’t want to know.
“It sounds like you two are pretty close.”
“Very.”
A warmth fills my chest when I think about my dad.
The two of us have always been thick as thieves.
He would be waiting for me when I got home from school, ready to help with homework assignments and practice for the spelling bee.
He took me shopping for makeup for the first time.
He was the one who was prepared with all the supplies I would need when I started my period—chocolate included.
“What about your mom?”
Like it always does when she comes up, the warmth fades, as if blotted out by one of those dark clouds above us. Mom was there, but in a peripheral way at best. I never understood their dynamic or how they ended up together. That’s another thing I ought to ask Dad.
I shrug. “She worked a lot, so I spent most of my time with my dad. It wasn’t until I got my GED that Dad finally filed for divorce. Like it was something he had been waiting for. Like he stayed with her for me.”
Even though he initiated the divorce, he still loved her. I couldn’t say the same about her. For her, her career had always come first.
“Do you talk to her now?”
The last time we talked, she called to wish me a happy birthday as she boarded a plane to London.
My stomach churns around the food I’ve already eaten.
“Birthdays. Holidays. What about you? Are you close with your family?”
Cy opens his mouth to respond, but he’s cut off by a crack of lightning and immediate boom of thunder.
“Fuck, it’s close. We need to get out of here,” he says, standing.
I stand too and the two of us collect the basket and blanket.
“Head for the tree line,” he says, pointing as the first of the fat, frigid raindrops fall.
I grimace. “Is that safe?”
Another lightning bolt and echo of thunder, this one making me jump.
Aren’t the trees more likely to be hit by lightning?
“Safer than here.” He clutches my hand and pulls me behind him.
The rain is coming down faster now, stinging my skin and soaking my sweater.
Fuck, it’s cold.
Cy fares no better, his hair plastering to his skin and the ice-tipped water turning his henley a dark shade of gray. The trees provide decent shelter from the rain, but the temperature has dropped further, and my teeth are chattering, making it nearly impossible to talk.
“Here.” Cy wraps the blanket around my shoulders and tugs me into his arms, running his hands up and down my back.
Fuck, how did it go from chilly to freezing so fast?
“C-c-can you c-c-call the car b-b-back?” Silently, I pray he brought the cell phone he used at the animal shelter.
He drops one arm and shoves his hand into his pocket. When he pulls out a phone, relief floods me.
It’s short lived, though. “Fuck,” he grits out. “No signal.”
My stomach sinks. Shit. We’re stuck out here?
My fingers are already numb, stiff from the cold. The panic that ices through my veins doesn’t help. We have no way to contact anyone from the show. We’re going to fucking freeze to death out here. Or get struck by lightning.
Neither of which sounds like fun.
Ugh, think. What would Sawyer do? Or Cole?
They wouldn’t sit here and let hypothermia take over, that’s for damn sure. So I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with air that smells faintly of Cy’s spicy cologne, square my shoulders, and will the shivers away.
I’m mildly successful, especially with Cy’s heat wrapped around me.
“The camera guy is probably on his way back by now. We could start down the road and meet him on the way,” My suggestion comes with a whole lot more conviction than I feel, especially given the useless heeled boots and my already aching feet.
With a nod, he rests his hand at the small of my back, and we make the several-hundred-foot trek, staying beneath the trees. There’s no cover over the road and no sign of the SUV. Shit.