18. Isla #2
“You can grab it out if you want.” Davy turned toward her and opened the box.
Isla pulled one out with a grin. “I’m going to find Kyle. Let me know how it goes. Keeping my fingers crossed.”
Hurrying back toward the festival, she found Kyle near a sign announcing a rubber duck race. “Didn’t you get something to eat?” she asked him, holding out the muffin. “I stole this from Davy if you want to split it.”
Kyle smiled and pulled a large chunk of it from the liner. “Did you know you can win five hundred dollars if you win this rubber duck race they’re doing?”
“Oh yeah? You going to enter?”
“At ten dollars a duck, it’s a steal. How many ducks should I get? Ten?”
She shook her head at him, taking a bite of the sweet muffin. “No,” she said, then swallowed. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go to Vegas with me. You’re the type of person who gets stuck at the slot machines losing all their money because it’s ‘only a quarter.’”
Kyle gave a look of feigned insult. “I’ll have you know I can play poker with the best of them.”
“Don’t believe it. You wear your heart on your sleeve, Kyle Winnick.” Isla looped arms with him and tugged him toward the crew. “Speaking of which, how good do you think your acting chops really are?”
He let out an exaggerated puff of air, letting his lips vibrate. “Pork chops, I’m good at. Acting chops...not so much.”
“So clever with those corny jokes.” She took another bite of muffin. “The reason I ask is because we might have to actually do some acting here. Make our personalities shine a little brighter, given how small this town is.”
“Does that lady have a goat on a leash?” Kyle asked, eyebrows lifting.
Isla sneaked a glance, then pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “It’s not funny. We’re here to highlight this town.”
“It’s kind of funny.” Kyle tore another piece from her muffin.
“I think it’s great, too. All towns have their quirks.
It’s part of what I love so much about beach life in Samara.
Different beat of life—people like Juan at the pulperia who knows what I’m going to buy before I even walk up to the counter. ”
One of the assistant directors approached them with a clipboard. “Boyd wants to talk to you two.”
They followed her across the parking lot toward where the production crew had gathered. Tomas was already there, seated in a fold-out chair beside Boyd. Davy stood a few feet away but didn’t meet Isla’s eyes.
“Glad you could join us,” Boyd said, barely glancing up. He tapped his thumb on his clipboard. “Where have you been?”
“We were just checking out the festival,” Kyle said with a confidence that Isla didn’t feel. Boyd was clearly in a rotten mood. But Isla also knew he’d given Davy a dressing down and made her cry, so she wasn’t about to piss him off further.
“Well, don’t check it out too much. Given the lineup, you’ll have completed the whole festival before we get the cameras rolling.”
Ouch.
Davy seemed to wilt more.
Boyd stood, scratching his forehead. “All right. New plan. As suggested by our trusty producer, today’s segment will focus on the relationship dynamics between Tomas and Isla. I’m going to give everyone ten minutes while I sit and discuss this with the actors. Do not be late coming back.”
Isla bit her lower lip. No wonder Davy had been crying. Boyd was unapologetically rude.
As the crew wandered off, Tim snuck over to her side. “There a reason your equipment is off?” He moved around her to check the battery pack.
He had noticed. “Oh, sorry about that.”
“In general, don’t mess with the equipment. Especially on a day when Boyd’s ready to blow his top.” Tim said it kindly, but Isla shifted with discomfort.
What would a set be without drama, though? That went hand in hand with the creatives she’d always enjoyed spending time with so much.
Though maybe I never noticed it quite as much as I am now.
Isla moved closer to Boyd, then took a chair opposite him.
Kyle sat beside her. Thank goodness Kyle is here.
She appreciated him now more than ever. She’d enjoyed the carefree banter between them this morning, although it had cemented one extremely valid point.
And that was that sadly, Callum had been correct.
The banter she and Kyle shared resembled close siblings, and she doubted she could have sold their friendship as anything else.
Not that she’d tell Callum that, of course.
After a few heavy beats of silence, Boyd looked Isla directly in the eye. “Here’s what I’m thinking, but it might take some filming outside this Paris location. You’re going to London in a couple of weeks, right, Isla? Kyle, too?”
“Yes, but it’s for my brother’s and Kyle’s sister’s post-elopement party. We won’t be able to work,” Isla said, exchanging a glance with Kyle.
“What type of party?” Boyd asked. “Big? Small?”
Isla frowned.
What is he getting at?
“Something fancy. They had an intimate elopement over Christmas rather than a big wedding, so this is the celebration for the friends and family who didn’t attend.”
“That’s perfect, actually. Do you think your brother would let us bring a camera in? Something small and mobile in addition to the one on you?”
Isla’s jaw dropped.
This is not what I suggested.
“I-I have no idea,” she stammered. “He’s fairly private.” Understatement. “I doubt he’d want his personal business?—”
“The thing is,” Boyd said, glancing over at Tomas.
“I’m thinking we could start some drama in your relationship here.
Something that might not get solved right away, that will make viewers want to come back for more episodes after having been exposed to the dullness we offered them in exploring the town.
We’ll continue to escalate the drama in the next episode, film a quick segment of you and Tomas in London before the party, then cut to something like the two of you dancing at the party—happy once more—and then move onto the loveliness, hopefully , of Paris, Maine—then wrap with the two of you happily ever after in France with all the drama in the past.”
Isla’s fingers curled in her lap, a flush heating her face.
No.
Not a chance.
Callum wouldn’t be all right with that. She didn’t have to ask. He would hate it.
But Davy looks so miserable.
Then again, Callum owed her. He’d been groveling for the past week, asking what he could do to make it up to her. That he’d do whatever it took.
Maybe this might have to be what it took.
“Tomas isn’t invited to the party,” she managed weakly, her gut already screaming that this was a bad idea.
“The production can probably cover the cost,” Boyd said like that was the issue . “And he doesn’t need to be there for the whole thing. Just a quick shot of you two happily dancing the night away.”
Isla looked at Tomas, who held her gaze. His lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but close.
“I’m fine with it if you are,” Tomas said smoothly. “Callum’s a good bloke. I doubt he’d turn me out.” A flicker of something in his eyes— anticipation? Amusement?
Isla’s stomach tightened. Was he looking forward to pissing off Callum? Or did he like the idea of playing couple in a setting like that?
“Do we have to decide this right this moment? I think Isla would probably want to ask her brother’s permission,” Kyle said, leaning forward in his seat.
“My sister would want a say in it, too. You know, being the bride and all. I’ve heard they like some sort of input with things like their weddings. ”
Thank you. She offered him a grateful look, though both she and Kyle knew that Liddy wouldn’t be the holdup here, ironically. Even though Liddy was organized and disliked last-minute changes to plans, Callum was more likely to balk at something so intrusive.
“No, we don’t have to decide immediately. But we do need to plan. Whatever we film today will be largely dependent on that plan, so it will be good to have an idea of where we’re heading.” Boyd crossed his arms.
“Look, I know this isn’t exactly what we had in mind, but we need to make this episode work. You’re the star, Isla. If anyone can make something out of nothing, it’s you.” He smiled like it was a compliment, but it wasn’t. It was a challenge. “So, what’s it going to be?”
Isla didn’t like the sound of that. Or the way Boyd was making Davy shrink with every word. This wasn’t what she signed up for.
Boyd was treating Davy like a child who needed to be disciplined.
I could walk away. Say no. Stand up for myself and for Davy.
But then what? They needed this spring festival to film this episode, they didn’t have a ton of material to work with, and this was what Davy had pitched. Isla would ruin the plans, be in breach of contract, the network would frame her as “difficult,” and Davy would take the blame.
Boyd had already canceled one of their episodes with the stroke of a pen. Would he really scrap the whole show like Davy believed?
But she couldn’t really agree to this without Callum’s blessing, could she?
She stood abruptly. “I need a minute to make a phone call.”
Without waiting for Boyd to respond, Isla hurried away from the others, a sudden, crushing anxiety gripping her as she pulled out her phone. She unlocked the screen and stared at it, heart pounding.
Gulping a breath, she dodged behind a building, then leaned against the brick facade.
She wasn’t ready to talk to Callum.
Not yet.
Whatever line they’d crossed when he’d brought Tomas into the show hadn’t really started then, and the truth was she wasn’t ready to face the tension that had been creeping into her relationship with her brother. Because he was her only sibling, they’d always been close.
Fixing the inn together had brought them even closer—or so she had thought.
But for months now, she’d been stewing with resentment and unhappiness, and Callum had been an easy target. Whatever anger she had toward him about the Tomas situation was also laced with guilt about La Hacienda that made silence between them the easier option at the moment.
Because, deep down, she knew she needed to tell Callum that he was right about her having cold feet about their arrangement.
That she wasn’t happy.
And that I have no idea how to move forward.
She stared at the phone, clicking on her text messages as she ground her teeth. As she did, the message she’d sent to Aiden last night—still unanswered—caught her eye.
Her heart fell further.
If Aiden were here, she could ask him to step in. Surely, his money carried some weight, and he’d know how to handle someone like Boyd.
But he wasn’t here. And she couldn’t quite put her finger on why that bothered her so much. We’re not that close. Yet, given how fun it had been when he’d come to Texas , she’d felt closer to him than ever before.
Clearly, I have a vivid imagination.
Or maybe something else—twice now, his presence had been an enormous relief, both in Vegas when that man had harassed her, and in Texas when Callum had overstepped like he had.
I can’t expect Aiden to hang around and solve my problems. No matter how nice it had been to feel like she had him in her corner.
Leaning her head back against the brick, she closed her eyes.
But would it really hurt to get Aiden involved?
Aiden wouldn’t think it was strange if she reached out to him again, would he? He might be able to offer her some advice about this situation with Boyd’s proposal since he knew Callum better than most people.
Before she could overthink it, she dialed.
The phone rang once, twice . . . four times.
Then a woman’s voice came across the line. “Hello?”
Maybe an assistant? “Can I speak to Aiden?”
“Isla? It’s Lola. We’re at brunch, and he stepped away from the table, I’m afraid.”
Isla’s heart squeezed hard.
Oh.
Oh God.
Brunch? Why is he having brunch with his ex?
Unless— maybe —they’d gotten back together again? Maybe that was why Aiden hadn’t answered her text.
“I can tell him you called,” Lola said
Her chest burned as though someone had just stolen the oxygen from all her lungs, and she strangled, “No. No need. Thank you.”
She ended the call, face burning.
What the hell? Why had this hurt so much?
She’d seen Aiden and Lola together at Christmas. It hadn’t bothered her then, had it? But Lola was tall and gorgeous. Polished and elegant.
Her opposite in nearly every way.
And that’s the sort of woman Aiden’s into.
She shouldn’t care. She couldn’t care about it.
Yet her throat felt thick, her heart still encased in a painful grip.
“I have bigger, more immediate things to worry about,” she gritted to herself, then peeled herself from the wall. She fanned her face and squared her shoulders, determined to put Aiden out of her mind once and for all.
She had to help Davy.
Striding back toward Boyd and the others, she walked with a confidence she didn’t feel.
What’s the best foot forward here?
Was there really a choice?
She exhaled, pressing her lips together, then held Boyd’s gaze. “Fine,” she said, voice tight. “I’m in.”