Chapter 8 #2
“Sweetheart,” he said in a low, gravelly voice as he leaned forward, “that’s not what I’m worried about. So, I believe I’ll stay right where I am.”
“Really?” Lila pretended to pout. “I promise to slap your hands if you try anything.”
Clint shook his head. “Just look at your menu.”
She held in a laugh. “I already know what I want. A baked potato with butter, sour cream and anything else they can pile on it. And maybe a small rib eye. Hey, wait.” She frowned at the menu. “They must have dessert.”
“On the back.” The woman who seated them had just stopped at the table. “Shoulda told you right off my name’s Irene. I can get your drinks while you’re still having a look.”
Lila asked for water with lemon, and Clint ordered a beer.
When more people entered the restaurant, another woman, younger, with reddish hair gathered in a ponytail, came from the kitchen to seat them.
Tempted to turn around, Lila kept her face averted. “If Jason or anyone you recognize from the set comes in, would you let me know?”
“Sure. So far it’s been locals.” He glanced around. “Is it a problem for you to be here with me?”
“No. Nothing like that. I’m really lucky to have this extra night off and I guess I just don’t want to see anyone.
Except Erin, of course.” She smiled, despite the sharp pang brought on by thinking about her friend.
God, she missed her so much. It wasn’t just about sharing her with Spencer, although that was taking some getting used to.
“You asked me about her mood earlier,” Clint said, studying her closely.
“Did I?”
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
Well, so much for her stellar performance. “It’s just that Erin hasn’t been herself lately. She’s been too subdued.”
“Subdued?” Clint laughed. “She must’ve been hell on wheels before.”
“Yep. That’s Erin.” Lila waited until after the redhead had set down their drinks. “When it comes to the job, she gives 200 percent. She has more enthusiasm and energy than anyone I know. We’ve been friends forever, so we’ve been through a lot together. There’s never been a taboo subject with us.”
Irene returned with a pad and pencil. “Did I give you folks enough time to decide?”
“I’m ready,” Clint said. “Lila?”
Her appetite had dwindled, but she ordered the potato and a small salad. So did Clint, along with a large cut of rib eye.
He studied her a moment. “Hey, how about we both slide in a little bit?”
Lila smiled. “Okay, but remember there’s no tablecloth.”
“Well, damn.” He pretended to be surprised, leaning back and checking under the table. “I’ll let you see my hands at all times,” he said, shifting toward the center of the black vinyl seat and getting a grin out of Lila.
She’d already been sitting farther in, so sliding a few inches put her within reaching distance of his arm and leg. “Now what?”
“Well...” He paused briefly. “Now you’re close enough to snitch bites of my steak.”
“Ah. I hadn’t thought of that,” she said and burst out laughing.
People were probably staring, and she didn’t care.
She noted the humor gleaming in his eyes, then looked at his large tanned hand resting on the table. She already knew his palm was rough, but his touch was gentle. And that his clever mouth could send her soaring all the way to the moon and back.
And Lord, he was patient, and considerate.
She’d sensed his disappointment back at the motel, but he hadn’t pushed even a tiny bit.
It had been Clint who’d applied the brakes, almost as if he knew she’d been feeling fragile lately.
Unsure about her career, unsure about what was troubling Erin.
And worried that sinking everything into this film would turn into a colossal mistake.
She hadn’t been intimate with a lot of guys, but the few she had hooked up with had never expressed concern about whether she’d been ready to take the next step.
She wasn’t stupid. Her looks had played a big part in their attraction to her.
Except for Jason. He’d shown an interest back in college.
At least he hadn’t been a jerk when she’d told him it was friends or nothing.
Clint moved his hand to cover hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze. She looked into his pensive eyes and smiled. How had he known that was exactly what she needed?
“Here you go, folks.” Irene placed a salad in front of Lila. “Italian on the side for you,” she said, then set down Clint’s, covered with blue cheese dressing. In the middle of the table she placed a linen-covered basket. “Your dinners should be up soon.”
They thanked her, and as she walked to the next table over, Lila peeked under the yellow linen napkin. Smelling the golden yeast rolls brought back her appetite.
“You think they’re homemade?” She sniffed and made a moaning sound that probably embarrassed Clint. “I bet they are.” She knew she shouldn’t... The potato she’d ordered was a huge splurge. What with her big role coming up...
“Go for it,” he said, grinning.
She hesitated...until she saw the glass ramekin of pale whipped butter. Her willpower evaporated like the steam from the warm rolls.
Lila grabbed the largest one. “You’re a bad influence,” she said as she slathered it with butter. “All these carbs are going to kill me.”
“You barely ate anything for lunch.” He tipped the beer to his lips.
“Don’t forget, we still have to work on your speaking part for tomorrow. You can’t afford to have me conk out on you.”
That wiped the humor from his face.
Lila swallowed a small piece of roll. “Although, since it’s a love scene, it shouldn’t be a problem. I’m guessing you’ll do very well.”
Clint stared back, looking shocked. “You’re joking.”
“I thought Erin told you.”
He pointed his fork at her. “You’re messing with me.”
“Why would I do that?” Lila asked, eyes wide, the picture of innocence. She could be a very good actress when she wanted to be.