Chapter 6 #2
Dana paused, head tilted as she peered across at me. “Hey, what do you think of Austin?”
“He seems fine. Why?”
“He just… I don’t know...” Dana trailed off. “Never mind, we can keep going.”
“Okay.” I smoothed out my pages and grinned. “And by the way, you don’t need to read out the characters’ names before their dialogue.”
Dana chuckled. “Oops. I should probably also keep my thoughts about the script to myself.”
“That’s okay. I like hearing your thoughts.” My face heated as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
It was getting pretty hot in here. I glanced at the flames dancing in the open hearth and tugged at my collar.
Dana cleared her throat and continued reading Austin’s lines in a monotone, rolling her eyes as Austin’s character mansplained supply and demand.
“I’m really stressed about how I’m going to keep the farm going,” I said, finally getting to my lines.
“Hey, it’ll be okay. Austin reaches out and pats Molly’s hand—oh shit, sorry! I wasn’t meant to read that bit.” Dana shuffled to the edge of the couch and reached across to pat my hand.
I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh and tried not to focus on the sensation of Dana’s slightly callused, warm hand. Okay, this was very different from running lines with Lucia.
“Sorry, I’m not doing a very good job. Let’s try that again,” Dana said. “Actually, would you mind if we acted it out a little? I know I’ll be terrible but I think it might help me to get into it.”
“Of course. We could even go back to the dining table. It’s a bit more café-like.”
Dana nodded. “Good idea.”
At the dining table, we started from the top, with the grumpy waitress asking for our order.
I bit back a smile as Dana bounced between standing to play the waitress and then sitting at the table to run Austin’s lines.
Acting it out had only slightly improved her delivery.
Her brow dipped as she focused on reading out the lines, and my chest fluttered.
She was clearly out of her comfort zone, but she was trying so hard. It was… adorable.
We fell into a rhythm, allowing my character and imagination to take over. We were no longer in Dana’s kitchen, but in a bustling small-town café, brainstorming ways to save the Christmas tree farm. The grumpy waitress cleared our plates and Dana sat back down to be Austin again.
“Thank you so much for your help. I guess I’d better get back to the farm,” I said, pushing my chair back.
I took two steps and then, as scripted, tripped.
I lurched toward Dana, who was busy pushing her chair in rather than preparing to catch me as directed by the script. Shit!
I tried to steady myself, but I was already fully committed. Dana’s eyes widened as she turned and registered me flailing toward her. Her arms shot out and she caught me just before I head butted her stomach, her hands grasping my upper arms.
She tilted me back up so I was in a standing position. We stood, staring at each other, Dana’s warm, strong hands still holding me. Her eyes weren’t pure brown like I’d thought, but a chestnut shade, streaked with gold.
My heart hammered against my sternum. I fought the urge to lean in closer and feel the full warmth of her body pressed against mine.
I swallowed. Perhaps she had read the script after all, which specified that after Austin caught me, we were meant to look into each other’s eyes and share a moment of chemistry. I’d clearly underestimated her acting skills.
“Sorry, I got a bit carried away following the action lines,” I blurted, stepping back.
“The action lines?” Dana’s arms fell to her sides.
Just a second. Did that mean she hadn’t read that part of the script, which meant she wasn’t acting?
“Yeah. Uh, you know the bit where…where I fall into Austin’s arms and then share a moment.” I adjusted my top. Had it gotten even hotter in here? I might need to take my sweater off.
Dana cleared her throat. “Oh yes. Of course.”
“Would you mind if we ran through it again?” I asked. I had a script to learn. I couldn’t be distracted by potentially imaginary moments with Dana. “I promise I won’t fall on you this time.” As tempting as it was.
We ran through the script twice more without me falling into Dana’s arms and then called it a night.
“Thank you again for doing this. I’m feeling a lot better about the whole thing,” I said as we walked through the living room.
Dana stretched, revealing a sliver of toned stomach underneath her sweater. “No problem. Despite the shaky start, once I got into a rhythm I actually found it kind of enjoyable, although I don’t think I’ll be winning any acting awards any time soon.”
“I don’t know. I think Grumpy Waitress could be your break-out role.”
Dana chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I do think I surpassed the heights of Wise Man Number Two.”
I laughed. Dana was full of surprises.
As we reached the front door, my shoulders relaxed. The tree climbing scene was out of the way, I’d learned my new lines, and I was feeling more comfortable being back on set after two days of filming.
But there was still the whole ice-skating scene. I winced.
“Is everything okay?” Dana asked. Had she noticed the wince? I added ‘perceptive’ to the list of traits I liked about her.
“I just remembered I still need to learn how to ice skate and I’m running out of time. I called the rink to ask if they offered lessons and they don’t, but I figure if I watch some YouTube videos and then spend a few hours practicing, I should be fine. At least, I hope so…” I trailed off.
Dana frowned.
I stopped by the coat rack, a sinking sensation in my stomach. “You don’t think so?”
Dana slipped her hands into her pockets. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s a shame they don’t give lessons.” She paused. “If you want, I could try to teach you some basics?”
“Oh, wow. Are you sure? You’ve already spent more than enough time helping me.”
The memory of Dana’s eyes gazing into mine, her arms wrapped around my body, as she caught me earlier appeared in my mind. I shook it off.
“I’m happy to help. When would you like to go?”
I pulled on my coat. “I’m free Saturday night, if that would work?”
“Sure. I can pick you up if you’d like. Say, six-thirty?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” I turned toward the front door and then paused. “Hey, should we swap numbers?” I swallowed. Why was I feeling so nervous? It wasn’t like we were swapping numbers for a date. “Just in case anything comes up and we need to change plans?”
“Sure. Do you want me to type my number in your phone?” Dana asked.
I pulled my phone out and tapped the screen, noting another missed call from that journalist. I really should block her. I swiped the notification away for now and handed Dana the phone.
Dana typed her number into my phone.
Even with the Phillip reminder, my step was light as I walked to the car. I was looking forward to Saturday night already.