Chapter 15
Aura
The nerves have been jangling around in my stomach all day, but as we near our destination, they’re solidifying into an intense pressure on my chest.
Quint’s warm hand lands on mine. “Hey, look at me.”
I turn, locking onto the warm golden flecks in his eyes.
“It’s going to be okay. But if the anxiety gets to be too much, let me know, and I’ll whisk you out of there so fast they’ll forget we were there in the first place. Over the shoulder, if I have to.”
The picture in my head steals a laugh out of me. “That wouldn’t end up on the front page or anything.”
“Hmm, maybe you’re right. I’ll have to rethink that method.”
“It’s just been nice at your place. You know. Even with the paps in town, I’ve still felt safe at the ranch. So it feels kind of like heading back into the real world. Even if it is just Calgary.
Even after our big press release last week and our social media posts, we’ve still been able to exist in our little bubble for the most part.
Safe behind the big iron gates guarding Hollow Hills.
Although we did move our daily riding lessons to the indoor arena to avoid any overeager photographers catching me in the saddle and realizing I’m not as accomplished as I’ve been pretending to be.
“That’s because you haven’t left the place. Let me tell you, it has been mighty inconvenient getting through the gate on my last couple of trips out.”
Yes, it was a bit difficult getting the car through on our way out today. I wrinkle my nose. “I’m so sorry. I told you it was going to get more difficult. But I know it’s been a pain in the ass for your family too. I never wanted to do this to them.”
Now that the secret is out, Belinda sent Miles over to act as driver/bodyguard for our Calgary “date.”
It’s amazing how quickly the big open fields dotted with animals and barns turned into a city.
It’s like the buildings sprung out of the ground fully formed.
One thing that hasn’t changed, and that I haven’t gotten used to, are the mountains.
They’re just…there. Any time I walk out the door or look out the window, they’re towering over me like I’m living in a postcard.
It really makes me feel my insignificance on this little planet of ours.
It took some sweet talking, but I convinced Janine not to fly out just yet.
It wasn’t as hard as I expected it would be.
She’s not that eager to leave behind her masseuse and manicurist, even for a few days, so she capitulated pretty easily.
Especially when I reminded her she’s coming out for a visit the first week of filming anyway.
I take a moment to close my eyes, dragging in a few deep breaths as the car pulls into the alley beside the restaurant. This is the last moment of peace we have before we step into the spotlight together. As a couple.
“Just remember to breathe. If you pass out in there, I will have to employ the over-the-shoulder exit, and that might not show off your best angle, like you said before.”
A laugh breaks the tension and pulls me away from the doomscrolling thoughts in my brain “Right, breathe. Thanks for the reminder.”
Quint slides out first, offering me his hand. The alley is dim and quiet. Apparently Janine got the timing down right, giving us time to get settled at our table in the restaurant before the carefully curated press arrives.
“And if you do start to panic, just picture that in your head. Me tossing you over my shoulder to make a quick retreat.” His gaze trails down my body. “I know I will.”
A pang of lust hits me out of nowhere. But the easy grin on his face doesn’t give away the innuendo in his tone.
“Quint.”
“Hey.” He holds up his hands. “I’m just getting in character.”
“Really? One flaw there. Nobody’s around to see us here yet.” I make a point of looking around. Nothing but dumpsters and some crumpled papers blowing toward the road.
“Practice makes perfect.”
I roll my eyes, but slip my arm through the crook of his elbow. Maybe he’s right. Might as well keep up appearances. At least, that’s what I tell myself I’m doing. Not that I enjoy his hands on me far more than I should.
Janine picked a trendy restaurant with huge windows looking out onto a street. People are bustling up and down the sidewalks. It’s kind of what I expected of Calgary, but also kind of surprising.
There are lots of people wearing the cowboy hats and boots I was fully expecting to see, but there are also people in standard business suits, casual dress.
The full spectrum you generally see in a big city.
It’s also very clean. Other than that one piece of skittering trash from the alley, the sidewalks are clean and well maintained.
The manager lets us in through the back door, taking us to our table. Prime real estate, of course. Right in the huge front window of the place. The spot you sit in when you’re planning to get photographed.
A woman walks up to our table moments later. She’s wearing a black mini dress, blond hair pulled back in a sleek bun. Another unexpected look. Feels like Janine could have maybe picked a place that’s a little more country, but I’m sure she had her reasons.
She gives us a cool smile, no surprise or fawning. I’m sure the entire staff has been informed of my presence. What a weird thing to think about. What they don’t get is that I’m just a human. A human with a job that makes my face instantly recognizable.
I had a video call with Lin to make sure my style was friendly, but on brand. I fiddle with the collar of the short denim shirtdress.
“You look gorgeous,” Quint says. It’s almost like he can read my mind. Or he’s just really good at picking up on body language.
“Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He nods. “To be honest, I haven’t been dressed by someone else since I was a kid. It was a little weird. Do you have to do that every time you leave the house back in LA?”
The server comes up to take our drink order and hands us some menus. Quint asks for some local beer, but I stick with sparkling water. No stains and a clear head.
“Not every time I leave. Actually, a lot of the time, I pick my own clothes. I’ve always loved fashion and makeup. Back in college I was the one people came to for wardrobe advice. Abby…” I trail off. I’ll have to call her tonight.
“Was that one of your friends from college?” He leans in, and I’m struck by how weird it is being out with someone who is actually interested in the answer, not just making small talk and waiting for his own chance to boast about his next role.
“Yeah, um, you’ve probably heard of her. Abby Fleet? Formerly McCloud. We were roommates.”
His mouth falls open. He knows who I am. He watched Paisley Creek, but apparently he hasn’t been doing a deep dive into my history. It’s pretty common knowledge how close we are. Or were. And will be again.
“Abby Fleet, the songwriter? Her husband is a hockey player, right?”
I nod. There’s a small curl of satisfaction that he acknowledges her first instead of going straight to fawning over Seb. “That’s right. In fact, if it weren’t for me, they might not have ended up together.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s one I constantly remind them of.
“Ah, so you’re a matchmaker?”
The server comes back, placing our drinks in front of us. “Were you ready to order?”
I look over at Quint and he nods.
I order the tilapia and he goes for the steak sandwich.
“What are you doing ordering fish here? You’ve got to go for the Alberta beef.”
I shrug. “I like fish.”
“Okay, but you’re missing out. I tell you what. I’ll pick up some steaks and we’ll cook you a real ranch dinner before the rest of the film crew gets here.”
“Sounds good,” I say, but I’m distracted, hyper aware of everyone in the restaurant and outside of it. There’s a small crowd gathering. It’s beginning. It starts with a couple of flashes and escalates. That’s when we start getting looks and whispers from the rest of the patrons in the restaurant.
Quint either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “You know, my grandma used to say those who matchmake are trying to avoid falling in love themselves.”
I focus my attention back on him. If he can pay attention to me despite the commotion we’re causing, I need to give him the same level of focus.
I’m the one who’s supposed to be used to this, after all.
“Well, she might be right, but that’s really the only time I indulged in that particular hobby.
They’d known each other since they were kids. I just gave them a little push.”
“Have you ever been in love?” he asks, chill as can be.
The question is startling. “Umm, I thought I was.”
“With that asshole who played Jay?”
I take a long sip of the sparkling water, enjoying the burn of the bubbles at the back of my throat.
“Yeah. I guess I was for a time. Turns out I was a fool to believe he returned the sentiment. I was just a convenience. I’m not sure love is even really possible in my line of work.
Once you hit a certain level of fame, you can’t really trust anyone’s motives. ”
“That’s sad. I’ve been looking for love since I figured out what it was.”
How is he six years younger than me and light years ahead in understanding what’s important in life. “And have you found it?”
“Yeah, a few times.”
“But nothing stuck.”
“No. Not yet. But I think that’s about to change.” The way he’s looking at me is terrifying. Like he thinks it’s me.
“Listen, Quint.” I place my fork down, reaching over to grab his hand.
“It’s not going to happen between us. I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.
This is all fake.” I wave my hand between us.
“Look out the window. This is a show. We live in completely different worlds. And you’re too nice of a guy to shatter your heart and leave the pieces behind when I go back to LA. ”
His smile slips. “I know. I just wish things were different.”
I glance out the window again. Sometimes I do too.
He finishes chewing a bite of his sandwich then leans across the table. “But you know just because we’re keeping things fake in the relationship department, doesn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy some of the benefits of our attraction to each other. If you know what I mean.”
My mouth falls open. This was not the conversation I was expecting to have over sparkling water and tilapia. “Are you suggesting a no-strings kind of situation?”
He ducks his head, and I could swear a hint of pink creeps up from under his collar.
“Yeah. I guess I am.”
I tap my fingernails on the table in a rhythmic beat, not sure how much I should tell him about my likes. Might scare him right off. On the other hand, it’s been way too long since I felt a man’s hands on my body. And I can almost picture how good those hands would feel.
“Look. While it is tempting, I’m not sure you’d be up for the kind of things I’m into. A lot of guys aren’t?”
His eyes widen and he leans in even closer. “Try me.”
“Well, I know most guys like to be the ones in charge. But that doesn’t do anything for me. When I’m with a man, I like to be the one in charge.”
“Oh, so you…” But instead of the shock I was expecting, his lips curl up in a slow smile. “I think I’d like for you to boss me around.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He tucks his lower lip between his teeth.
Now I’m the one leaning in, dropping my voice to the barest of whispers only for his ears. “So, if I told you to get on your knees for me, you’d say yes?”
“Absolutely.” His eyes darken to a rich honey color.
I lean in even closer. “And if told you to strip, you’d do it? Like a good boy?”
He takes in a sharp inhale. “Yes, I would.”
I slide one foot under the table, rubbing it up the side of his calf. He lets out a soft gasp. “And if I didn’t let you touch yourself, would you listen?”
“Yes, any of it. Please.”
He really is into it. How did this happen? How did I land right in the lap of this guy? Sweet, strong, and into the same things I am. Yet still perfectly unattainable.
“See what I mean?” he says, voice as rough as his hands. “It would work. We would work.”
I lean back in my chair, studying him to make sure he really means it. He’s not just going along with what I like. His pupils are dilated, neck slightly flushed. There’s no mistaking his desire for anything else.
“If we did this, it would be physical only. Friends with benefits, fake dating with benefits. Not sure how to classify that one. But that’s it. No feelings. You’d have to know it’s not permanent.”
“Of course. I’d give anything for the chance to be with you.”
I wet my lips, taking my time to lean in even closer.
Until our lips are hovering an inch apart.
Then I slide my hand around the back of his head and kiss him.
He lets me take the lead, leaning into the kiss but not taking over.
I tangle my fingers in his hair. I’m still aware there are photographers outside having a field day right now. But the thought is dim, muted.
His lips are soft and needy. Our tongues meet with a gentle swipe, but then I pull away. And he looks so good, sitting there gasping for breath.
“I’ll think about it.”