Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JOSH
“Make yourself at home.”
Josh lined up his runners beside Cass’s fur-trimmed boots and stepped into the slippers he pulled out of his overnight bag. She strolled through the galley kitchen, shedding accessories like a cherry tree losing its petals in the rain. Purse dropped on the counter, followed by her keys. Jacket draped over the chair. Lights flicked on as she floated two steps farther into the living room, unwinding the eggplant and pumpkin plaid scarf to sling it over the arm of the couch.
He draped his jacket over top of hers and followed.
The clutter hadn’t changed since he’d left after bringing her home after that asshole had stood her up a few weeks ago. A string of lights added around an ailing tropical plant was the only festive touch, with a couple of near-empty rolls of Christmas paper beside piles of bright fleece fabric on a table.
“A few years ago I sewed fleecy beanies for the crew as a wrap gift, and now Terry has it as a standing request, and I’ve never been able to say no to them. And I forgot to not spoil my nieces again this year,” she explained, shuffling the fabric and rolls of paper to another random pile on a different surface.
Not exactly a paragon of tidiness. He hid a smile.
She brushed her hands on her thighs, sending a soft ripple over the fabric. “Does your sister have kids?”
“Nope.”
Grace had been counting on being fun auntie to his hypothetical kids before she’d had her own. One more disappointment he’d laid on his family. He didn’t even know if she was still dating that squarehead he’d met once two years ago. Probably. Seemed like a nice guy. He wondered if he’d get an invite to the wedding.
He rummaged in his overnight bag. “I have something for you.”
“You got me a present?” She took the box with a surprised smile. “Thank you.”
The cobalt silk scarf lifted from its wrappings like mist. Cass followed it unfurling with a soft expression, her fingertips caressing the delicate weave. He took one end and wrapped it once around her neck, adjusting its drape against her skin.
Good. The blue looked exactly like the shirt she’d worn the day they took photos. “There’s more.”
She pulled out a sachet. “Luxury Himalayan rose and geranium bath soak?”
“You said you liked nice, girly things. Figured this was as nice and girly as it got.”
Perhaps also more appropriate than the vibrator he’d mentioned to her months ago when she’d accidentally sent him the picture of Chauncy on her nightstand. He wondered when her birthday was and remembered he’d probably be back in Vancouver before it rolled around. He shoved the thought down.
She stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. “You remembered. Thank you.”
He let himself pull her into his embrace. She felt so good in his arms. Soft, warm, and pliant. Like she was meant to be there. She sighed a breath against his neck, and he stroked his hand down her spine .
“If you keep pressing your tits into me like this,” he whispered into her hair, “You’re going to make me hard again.”
“Josh—”
“I promised not to make a move on you. I never promised not to tease you.” He let his hand slide down her back to the curve of her hip and squeezed. “Your virtue is safe with me.”
It wasn’t a lie. Sex would never be the last thing on his mind with Cass near, but he was far too full of gravy and turkey to contemplate doing anything more vigorous than a movie marathon.
“Oh my god, you are the worst,” she said, pushing him away with a laugh. “I have something for you, too.” She ruffled through the piles of fabric and pulled out an oversized hat, midnight-black, complete with ear flaps and attached scarf.
He tugged it on and wrapped the scarf around his neck, the fleece instantly smothering the lingering chill from the outdoors. If there was such a thing as a perfectly fitted hat, he was wearing it.
“I just figured, since you’re always cold …”
“I love it. Thank you.” He’d wear it every one of the remaining days before he went home.
She nodded, rocking on her heels, and glancing at her bedroom. “I’m going to jammy up. Two shakes and I’ll be right out. You can wait until I’m done and get changed in my room or get changed out here.”
Jammy up? Fucking adorable. He smiled as he watched her disappear into the bedroom.
“You remember I’ve seen you naked, right?” he called after her. She stuck her head back out the bedroom door to blow him a raspberry. He stripped his jeans and sweater, pulling on a change of clothes and groaning in relief as his distended belly was freed from his jeans.
Thank god for elastic waistbands.
The sounds of closet doors opening and dresser drawers closing knocked through her closed bedroom door, so he wandered ove r to the wall covered in paintings. Barely an inch of wall was visible between the twenty-odd pieces. A few framed, most on stretched canvas. Some of them were very good. Deliberate, measured. Others were random bursts of colour and texture. No skill, but fun nonetheless. All done by different people, from the looks of them, but on a theme he couldn’t place. Bold colours he’d have never chosen, but bright and joyous.
“What do you think?”
Cass spoke from just behind him, and he crossed his arms over his chest without turning. He thought they made him feel optimistic. Oddly happy. About what, he wasn’t sure. “I think I want to know this story,” he said after a moment.
“Libby and my birthdays are a week apart, and when we turned thirty a couple years ago, we surprised each other with a whole day each. She always wanted to try archery, so I sewed her a complete Merida princess dress, and I wore a bear costume. I asked the armourer on the tv show we were working on to give her archery lessons.”
Josh huffed a laugh through his nose. Cass would have looked like a teddy bear. “Did she forgive you for making her wear a dress?”
“She’ll never admit it, but she loved it, though she was thinking more of Katniss energy than Merida.”
That sounded like Cass. Thoughtful and giving. Able to see past the surface to the unspoken thing someone wanted. “That’s not your story, though.”
He felt her rock beside him. “Libby had all our friends paint how I made them feel. She had an instructor give everyone a quick lesson. Then we all went to a movie, because there is a whole expression around watching paint dry,”—he loved that he could hear the smile in her voice—“ and then we packed up the paintings, came here to hang them, and played all my favourite songs on Guitar Hero for the rest of the night. It was awesome. I still remember who painted each one. That one was Libby,” she said, pointi ng. “This one was, well, you don’t know any of these people, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Who did that one?” he asked, pointing at one in the bottom corner. While the other paintings made him want to smile, this one made his chest feel empty.This one looked undone. Like someone lost interest halfway through.
“Oh. Just a guy I was seeing at the time. I’d finally convinced him to come out with my friends.” Her voice hollowed, and she shifted beside him. “He started dating a friend of mine he met that night. They got married last year. I was one of her bridesmaids.”
Jesus. She hadn’t been kidding when she said her track record was flawless.
“Why do you keep it up?”
“A reminder that even though one person didn’t love me, I still had a room full of people who did.”
“That—” he started, turning to her, and shook his head, “is not what you’re wearing.”
She glanced down in confusion. “Why?”
Frolicking kittens in Christmas hats festooned the matching two-piece set, but the fabric clung to her lush thighs. Never mind that the top buttoned right to her collarbones, completely hiding her cleavage. Knowing what was under it was worse than being able to see it. Almost. He wanted to stroke the material to see if it was as soft as it looked.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. It was physically impossible for him to not want to take this woman’s clothes off. “It’s too cute.”
“So?”
“It’s not even a one piece. It’s easy access.”
“Access to what?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you were full!”
“I’m also not dead.”
“Erg! These are the most coverage pyjamas I have!” she said, crossing her arms. He half-expected her to stomp her foot, and he twisted his mouth to hide his grin. “And they are Portuguese flannel,” she continued, unfazed. “Do you know how cozy this is?”
“You should take them off and let me try them on. I’ll let you know.”
“Do you want me to drive you back home?” she threatened. “I’ll do it.”
“No, I just thought if you were serious about me keeping my hands to myself, you’d have worn a muumuu or something.”
“Are you really making a ‘you should watch what you wear’ argument with me?” she asked, pursing her lips to hide the smile trying to break through.
Josh motioned to his clothes. “I know how hard it is for you to not ravage me, so I dressed accordingly.”
“What, like you are going to stand there in your grey sweatpants and fleecy hoodie and not look like you purposefully didn’t pick that, so I’d want to snuggle you?”
Nailed it. Enough women had told him about their obsessions with men in sweatpants. “So, you want to snuggle me?” he said, smile widening.
“You promised to behave tonight!”
That’s right, Lucky Charms. Let those good intentions fly right out the window . If she came onto him, excellent. If she didn’t, he’d still get what he wanted. Time with her. Whether or not their clothes were on.
Win-win.
“I’m not above telling you what you want to hear to get close to you. Plus, it’s very cold outside. You wouldn’t really send me home, would you?”
She covered her face with her hands. “Let’s watch a movie.”
She knelt in front of the cabinet under the television, one leg tucked under her, the other extended to the side, and flipped through cases. Her thighs spread like butter as they flattened against each other, and he reminded himself he was too full to think of anything other than laying still and digesting.
“Mind if I pick?” she asked, flicking through the dozens of DVDs and Blu-rays stacked in uneven rows.
“No streaming?”
“You never know when your favourite will disappear.”
True. “You pick. Just no extended Lord of the Rings marathon.”
“That’s tomorrow.”
She selected a disc, hit play, and settled back on the couch against him. At least she wasn’t putting up the pretense of space. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She smelled like flowers and dish soap, and she mellowed into the angles of his torso. Something creaked loose in his chest.
The title flashed across the screen, and he felt himself smile. “ The Mummy ?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It’s cheesy.”
“It’s a perfect representation of the action-adventure fantasy genre with a romantic subplot.”
“That’s specific.”
“Not only is it an underrated costume masterpiece, Brendan Fraser and Oded Fehr were my sexual awakenings.”
It didn’t escape his notice that Dawson, while not a physical dead ringer, had all the hero vibes as the lead actor on screen. It also hadn’t slipped his notice that Dawson had sidled up to Cass with that charming leading man energy on more than one occasion, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the photo ops. He forced his grip on her waist to remain loose.
“Fine. I always get a semi seeing Rachel Weisz in that librarian get up.”
“Same,” she said with a grin, and Josh tipped his head back with a snort.
He didn’t get the chance to tease her anymore. She detailed every genius costuming choice and every design flaw. Each anachronisti c set piece was highlighted, followed by a breakdown on why they still worked. When she wasn’t reciting the lines with the actors, Josh pointed out every continuity error while silently wishing he’d had this budget.
If he didn’t fuck up Sirius Darker , maybe one day he would. No one would trust him with a big budget if he couldn’t handle a small one. Weeks left and he would be stuck with what they had done. No chance to make it better.
Who was he kidding? It was going to flop.
“I can feel you tensing up,” Cass said through a yawn. “Don’t worry. They make it out of the temple.”
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s …”
It was everyone counting on him to pull this off. It was the thought that if he fucked this up, none of these people would ever work with him again. It was the fact that they had two weeks of filming left and he was running out of time.
He chewed the words, bitter in his mouth. “We’re behind schedule. We’re probably going over budget. I knew we shouldn’t have moved filming the end scenes to next week.”
He braced himself for Cass to tell him not to worry about it, to think positive, but instead she said, “Sure, we’re behind, but I think you made the right choice to delay filming the scenes.”
“You do?”
“Dawson and Brynne didn’t have the rapport yet to sell the moment, and you saw that. You made the decision.”
He’d made the decision because she’d pointed out the answer to him.
“Now they trust each other,” she continued. “It’ll be incredible. And we might go over budget, but Terry will keep it under control, and Stephen has a death grip on the schedule. You’ve got a good team.”
The credits were rolling up the screen, the triumphant music ushering the characters into the sunset. Josh forced a breath out his nose. “I’m used to doing all that myself.”
“This is different. You know that. No captain would be expected to steer a cruise ship by themself.” She sat up and stretched, the hem of her shirt lifting. His fingers twitched to run along the exposed seam of her belly, but he kept his hands to himself as promised, and listened.
“The projects you worked on in the past were tiny. You could do everything then, but even then, you said you weren’t happy with the result when you did it all. Your team trusts you. Everyone is doing amazing work. Both Dawson and Brynne are talented, but the performances you are getting from them are next level. People will notice, and it’s because you are focusing on what you’re brilliant at, not the other details.”
Cass was kind, but she wasn’t a bullshitter. Some of the turmoil in his stomach released. “Do you think so?”
“I know so. I see it every day.”
He clenched his hands. When he’d dropped out of his father’s law practice, his parents put on a show of support. Confusion, but support. His grandparents told him he was bringing shame on the family. And other people’s reactions ranged from disbelief to dismay to disgust. He’d been a good lawyer. Detailed. Consistent. He put in the hours. But he never would have been an excellent lawyer, not like his father, because every hour he had sat behind that desk had felt like one hour closer to death.
Every elective in high school and university he’d taken had been in performance and film. He’d figured out every argument. A background in the arts would make him look well-rounded, and law school would look favourably on his application. Drama classes would make him a better public speaker.
At least, that’s what he told his grandparents. Not like his father’s contract law practice would have him in front of a judge and jury.
He had tried to forget the rush he felt making short films between his law lectures on contracts and ethics. He’d even tried to specialize in entertainment law, to see if that would be enough to satisfy him. It hadn’t been.
Now he’d been in film and television full time for a handful of years, and here he was, already filming his dream project. He was an imposter.
But every time he felt like he was out of his depth, Cass helped him breathe again.
Getting used to that was out of the question.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Cass had leaned back on the opposite end of the couch, arms wrapped around her knees and the sleep retreating from her eyes.
“I’m wondering why you are sitting all the way over there. Do you want to watch another movie or go to bed?”
Cass looked like she was going to say something, then stopped with a closed smile. “Let’s watch another one. You pick.”
The chirp of his phone woke him, and he squinted into the darkness. The DVD logo bounced around the edges of the television. Josh peeled his head off the back of the couch and looked at Cass crashed on the other side, their legs tangled together in the middle.
He pulled his feet back, working out the stiffness from the awkward position, and reached for his phone.
Sure enough, through a slew of other texts that didn’t crack the Do Not Disturb filter, a message from his mother showed at the top of the screen.
Merry Christmas!
Oh shit sorry it’s late there
Call us later love you!
He checked the time. Middle of the afternoon in Melbourne. He knew she’d forget the time difference. It had been Christmas for a few ho urs in this time zone. Who knew when they’d fallen asleep through Gremlins .
A yawn split his face as he tapped out a reply.
Merry Christmas. I’ll ask Santa not to be woken up at 2 AM next year
Go surfing for me and don’t get eaten by a shark. Love you both 3
He hit send with a silent chuckle and read through the other messages, replying to a few as he went. A cousin. Friends. Skipped the messages from friends-with-benefits. And one message he must have slept through.
Merry Christmas
You should be here with us
Fuck. Trust his sister to drop a perfectly timed guilt bomb. He ran a hand through his hair and scowled.
Merry Christmas Gracie. You should come visit. I’d love to see you
Josh hit send and turned his ringer off. Cass slept soundly against the armrest, sunk low into the cushions. He could just make out the rise and fall of her chest under the blanket, pulled up to her chin, and his heart squeezed in his chest.
This was absolutely out of the question.
He gently shook her shoulder.
“Hey, baby.”
Nothing.
He knelt beside her, squeezing her arm. “Cass, it’s late.”
She didn’t stir.
All the tension that Stephen had been giving him shit for was washed away. Her face looked peaceful, and he let himself thumb the so ft skin along her neck. He leaned forward to whisper against her cheek. “Charms, come to bed with me.”
His arms were halfway under her sleeping form to carry her, when she murmured a quiet “umph” without opening her eyes, like she was trying to prevent the awake from sneaking in. She swung her feet off the couch and grabbed his hand to sleepwalk to the bedroom, feeling her way through the room with hands out like a blind man.
His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he climbed into bed after her, not letting go of her hand.
It had been years since he slept in the same bed as a woman without having sex first. He tried to tell himself he couldn’t remember when that would have been, but that was a lie, and something close to guilt wracked him again.
Cass curled on her side facing him, already asleep, her free arm tucked under her pillow and top leg bent towards him. The profile of her body looked like a mountain range, all curved valleys and lush darkness in the night.
He stared at the open door, where the couch waited a few steps away. Probably still warm from the hours they’d sat close. There was a blanket out there, and the couch wasn’t that small.
But she’d pulled him into her bedroom. And hell, if he didn’t want to be with her tonight.
Every night .
The renegade thought took root in his mind, and he hissed a quiet breath.
Fucking hell.
The mattress divotted under his weight as he eased in beside her. He pushed a rogue lock of hair back from her cheek, pulled the covers up to her shoulders, and pinned his other hand under his arm for safe keeping.
“Merry Christmas, Lucky Charms,” he whispered.