Chapter 7
“Come on. Let’s get some food in you. I bet you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“I have.”
“Espresso doesn’t count as a meal.”
She glanced over her shoulder and upward at him. “Says who?”
“Me.” He squeezed her shoulders. “And take your coat off. Stay a while.”
Her expression was unreadable. A lifetime as an actress meant Windsor didn’t often show her true emotions on her face. Whenever she did, it felt like a little victory to Bo.
Like a few minutes ago. He knew he’d gotten through to her. Which meant … maybe the crazy idea that they could end up together wasn’t as crazy as it had seemed yesterday.
“Thank you,” she said as she reached up to touch his hands on her shoulders.
“Of course. I’m glad you’re here, Win. This is going to be a great film.”
“And everything else?” she asked.
He looked down at her profile and smiled. “Better than great.”
“I’m willing to just … go with the flow. For now. Just to see how it goes.”
He brushed a kiss on her temple.
“I’ll take it. And your coat.”
He was sweet, and Windsor had no defenses for that. Inside, behind the layers of armor and chains locking down her heart, she felt something turn soft and melty.
Soft and melty? I’m practically a legendary Hollywood bombshell. I don’t do soft and melty.
She did seductress, temptation, untouchable, man-eater … but soft and melty was not in her repertoire. And yet, as he helped her out of her coat, while she was still staring at that damn river, Windsor knew she was in trouble.
If he’d simply shut the door and told her he was going to fuck her on the bathroom counter, she would have been better equipped to respond. But sweet and gentlemanly left her completely out of her depth.
As Bo strode into the dressing room with the hair and makeup station he had installed for her—another thing she didn’t know how to handle—Windsor couldn’t help but marvel at the cowboy version of Silas Bohannon.
She was surrounded by good-looking men with attractive physiques all the time.
She had lived in Hollywood her whole life.
Perfect exteriors were a dime a dozen. But in her experience, they were often the outer coating to someone who was fake, selfish, and looking for any opportunity to get ahead.
Those kinds of people didn’t make sure you had the nicest room in the house—unless it would benefit them somehow.
They didn’t thoughtfully build a dressing room more elegant and functional than you had in your own home on the off chance you might use it someday.
And they certainly didn’t share life-altering wisdom while overlooking stunning scenery, brush a kiss across your temple, and take your coat like a consummate host.
No, only Silas Bohannon is that whole package.
And even though it had been only moments since Windsor had agreed to go with the flow, she knew she was in danger of being swept so far down the river of life that she wouldn’t even recognize where she was.
Is that such a bad thing? The question floated in her mind, even as her ingrained reactions urged her to keep swimming upstream. Old habits didn’t die immediately, and recognizing the wisdom of his words didn’t mean that she wasn’t terrified to give it a try.
Silas studied her quietly from the doorway of the dressing room, as if giving her room for her thoughts.
She pasted a bright smile on her face. “Are you ready? I’m sure you must be starving. Just wearing those clothes must burn a million calories.”
“No.”
She used her patented laugh. “Okay, a few less than a million.”
He shook his head. “You think I don’t know when you’re acting?
Cut the shit, Win. You can be real with me …
even if you’re scared as hell. In fact, I’d prefer it.
Covering up what you feel … let’s just say, I see right through it, and the more you try to hide it, the more I assume you’re freaking out inside. ”
How dare he? Windsor stood straighter and taller as he slouched perfectly against the doorway, arms crossed and looking so comfortable while she was in danger of falling apart if she didn’t keep a tight lock on her emotions.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest to mimic his comfortable posture.
He pushed off the doorframe and took a step toward her with a shake of his head.
“Now you’re just lying. And I don’t have many rules, but I sure have one big one: don’t fucking lie to me.
Not to my face, standing in my own home.
Have the courtesy and respect to at least be honest with me.
And if you can’t do that, then we’re already done here. ”
His words crashed into Windsor with all the subtly of a car wreck.
“I … I don’t …” She looked down, away, at the tub, the window. Her stomach twisted and knotted, and she had absolutely no idea what to do, say, or how to respond.
Image, not honesty, had been drilled into her as a child. And standing in Silas Bohannon’s superb Montana bathroom, she realized just how fucked up that was.
“Then maybe I can’t do this …” She chanced a glance up at him to find his aqua gaze soft on her, not accusatory. She swallowed, terrified of drowning in him. “I honestly don’t know how. Or if I’m capable of it.”
She sucked in a breath and turned toward the mirror.
She pressed her palms against the countertop, and he reached alongside for the tap and flipped it on.
He grabbed a rolled washcloth from an artfully arranged stack and soaked it under the stream.
His big hands twisted and wrung the excess out before he handed it to her.
“That’s a start.”
She took it and patted her sweaty neck and flushed cheeks for a few moments before she met his gaze in the mirror.
“I just want real, Win. I couldn’t stand being constantly surrounded by fake people who never said what they really thought or meant.
It grates at the soul when you know you’re always being lied to.
” He flipped off the tap. “Out here, people are real. They speak their minds, even if you don’t like what they’ve got to say. ”
“Imagine that,” she said quietly, dabbing her chest through the V of her chamois shirt.
“Just don’t lie to me. If you’re freaking out, that’s okay. If you’re thinking about running for the hills already, I get it. But at least do me the courtesy of being real with me. That’s the only way I roll, and without it, I’m just not interested.”
Windsor swallowed a bird’s-egg-sized lump as she took his meaning, and a new reality dawned.
For the first time in her entire life, being beautiful and having a body that men the world over had literally fantasized about for decades didn’t matter in the least. No, it was something intangible that Bo wanted from her, and it would require terrifying vulnerability.
Windsor had never let anyone in. Not her parents, who had simply expected perfection on every visible level and for her to surpass their high bar of achievements.
Not her ex-husband, who had just wanted the fame, cachet, and the clout that came with being married to Windsor Reed of the Hollywood Reed Dynasty.
Not her friends, who were all in the industry. Not … anyone.
To Windsor’s mind, it would have been suicide in her world to let someone have that kind of power over her.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” she finally said into the mirror. Somehow, it was easier than meeting those jewel-toned eyes face-to-face. “And, yes, I realize how pathetic that sounds.” She let out a long breath.
His head shifted from side to side, ever so slightly. “Not pathetic. It was just never expected of you or valued in your world. It was the biggest reason I bailed on Hollywood. I got sick of it. Out here, life is simple. Be a good human. Help your neighbor. Don’t destroy nature.”
“If only life were that simple everywhere,” she said quickly.
“It can be,” he replied. “It isn’t really about the geography of where you are. It’s about who you are. Who you become. I couldn’t stand being expected to be a fake piece of shit all the time. It’s not how I’m built, and it sure as fuck ain’t who I am.”
“Thank God,” she whispered. “The planet really doesn’t need more of those people.” She was finally brave enough to face him, so she turned and leaned on her hip against the counter.
“No, it really doesn’t,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “It needs more decent folks, who are kind, honest, trustworthy, brave, and quick to forgive.”
“Wouldn’t that be a miracle?” she replied with a laugh. “I can’t say I know a lot of those.”
“I do. And some of them are pretty excited to meet you. All I ask is that you treat them with the same respect and courtesy they give you.”
“Of course. I don’t try to be a piece of shit either, Bo. I really hope you don’t think I am.”
His big hands slid under her elbows. “No. I don’t think you’re a piece of shit. I never have, and I sure wouldn’t have set all this up if I thought so.”
A sigh of relief left her body. “Well, that’s something then.” She looked him in the eye. “Why did you really set all this up?”
His half smile was more charming than basically anything she’d ever seen.
“You’re a smart woman, Win. Pretty sure you’ll figure that out.” His palms squeezed her elbows.
“I thought we were doing honesty here.”
His grin turned up to full devastation level. “Sweetheart, you aren’t ready for that much honesty yet. Let’s go eat.”