Chapter 5
The problem with Virtue was there was absolutely nowhere to go for coffee where the whole town wouldn't see them.
Especially since she only had forty-five minutes, so couldn't seek out the most remote coffee shop available.
And yet Kayla had texted Jordan as soon as she knew she had free time, because she was a huge dork, or an idiot, or both.
Jordan is our fated mate, her owl pointed out. Of course we want to spend time with him.
I know, but he doesn't even know about shifters! And I don't want to draw attention to myself! Or Virtue! And why would I be having coffee with him in public if I didn't want to make a thing of it?
The owl went silent for a long time, finally volunteering, …murder?
No murder!
Then food! Food was exactly the reason to have coffee out with Jordan, as far as the bird was concerned. The fact that she couldn't really argue with it caused Kayla to groan out loud.
The director, Cyril, and her scene partner, Anderson, both glanced at her. "Something else wrong, Kayla?" Cyril's nasally tones had never bothered her when they were dating, but once the breakup had happened, she wondered how she'd ever found his pinched, accusatory voice charming.
You're an actor, she told herself. Act.
She smiled brightly at the director. Cyril was tall, slimly built, losing his hair and resentful of it, but unquestionably attractive in a classic French kind of way.
At the moment he was also hunched in a warm jacket and big boots that did nothing for his usual European style, and he clearly hated every moment in which he had to choose warmth over fashion.
Kayla was sure he sported a striped Breton shirt beneath the coat, and could see his dark jeans were insufficient to standing up to the weather. She almost felt sorry for him.
Then she remembered they had a wig she could be using to hide her appalling haircut, and that he'd decided to have the whole front half of the film rewritten to make sure she couldn't do that. Her sympathy evaporated. "I'm fine," she said briskly. "Your nose is dripping, though."
He swiped at it, glaring, and Anderson chuckled very, very quietly beside her. "You're putting him in a mood because you know I'm the one who has to deal with him for the next two hours."
Kayla grimaced. "No, if I'd been thinking about that I wouldn't have teased him at all. Sorry."
"It's all right." He gave her the warm sparkling smile that devastated men and women alike. "It's almost the only scene you're not in, and it's a short one. Did I see you have a date planned?"
"You know you're not supposed to read other peoples' texts, Anderson?"
"Yes, darling, of course I know, but what fun would that be. One more take, and then you can go make swoony eyes at that extremely handsome man who crashed into you yesterday. Jordan, was it, Kylie?"
"Yes, Ethan, it was."
Anderson widened his eyes dramatically. "Oh, a low blow, my sweet. You mustn't call me that dreadful name. Fine," he added with a theatrical gesture. "Kayla. Are you absolutely positive that beautiful man isn't my type?"
Kayla couldn't help a laugh. "Is anyone not your type, Andy? But I am sure you're not his, sorry."
"You won't be too angry if I try to steal him away, though, will you? I mean, a man must try."
"If Jordan doesn't mind you flirting at him, I don't mind, but I do expect you to behave yourself if—"
The director's assistant called for everyone to take their places.
Kayla broke off mid-sentence as she and Anderson both stepped up to their marks, replacing the stand-ins who had been in place while the lighting was arranged.
This was—in the way of movies—one of the final scenes in the show, but the schedule had it filming the morning after their characters had met.
All the angst had been skipped, Kayla thought as she and Anderson walked toward one another as if mesmerized, as if pulled there by fate itself.
He swept the winter hat off her head, revealing her absolutely awful haircut, smiled sweetly into her eyes, and murmured, "You've never been more beautiful," before lowering his mouth to hers for a passionate kiss.
Straight to the happy ending, Kayla thought. If only it could really work that way.
It does, her owl said. Tell Jordan you love him and then we get our happy ending.
It took everything Kayla had not to giggle into the kiss and ruin the take. It's not that easy, even for shifters! Especially when your mate doesn't know shifters exist! Now shush, I'm working.
The owl gave an insulted little hoot and settled into a fluff of feathers in her mind.
Kayla and Anderson filmed their kiss another half dozen times as cameras were moved around for different angles, and finally Cyril declared himself satisfied.
"Anderson, your scene with Marge is set up.
Kayla…" The director eyed her distastefully.
"You have a couple of hours free. Do try to get some rest, darling, you look peaky.
At the very least, see Ruth in makeup before your next scene. "
Her owl caroled, Muuuurrrrrr-duuuuuuur, in her mind, and Kayla, keeping a smile fixed in place, marched off to meet Jordan before she did something regrettable.
There had been three choices for coffee: Kate's Cafe, up on the church-end corner of the town square, Imelda's doughnut shop kitty-corner to that, and the ice cream shop down off the main drag.
Kayla had no idea if they did coffee at all, but it was the most out-of-the-way choice of the three, so she'd suggested it, and made her way across the square and down half-familiar streets to find it for the first time in twenty-odd years.
Jordan and his ill-mannered but otherwise charming dog had arrived first. The one was sitting nervously at a booth, watching the window and smiling when he saw her; the other stood up from beneath the table, tail wagging hopefully, when Kayla pulled the door open and came in.
"Oh, no," she said to the dog's big brown eyes and wide smile.
"It's hard to stay mad at you, isn't it?
" She crouched to ruffle the animal's fur, then lifted her gaze to smile at Jordan.
Her heart lurched with heady desire and adoration, surprising her.
Jordan was a handsome man, though Kayla had certainly spent enough time in the movie industry to recognize that was far from everything.
She'd known so many beautiful, shallow men…
but fate wouldn't connect her with someone whose appeal was only skin-deep.
Jordan could be—would be—her everything, if things went right.
They'd be there to support each other, to laugh over stupid jokes, to keep each other warm at night.
All she had to do was somehow explain that she could turn into an owl at whim, and negotiate her career versus his own, and get out of Virtue without drawing any more attention to it, or herself, than absolutely necessary.
No problem, Kayla thought with a sigh, and stood up with her smile still more or less in place. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Jordan Rhodes. Thanks for meeting me here," she added with a glance at the soda fountain counter. "I'm honestly not even sure if they do coffee."
"Everybody does at least a cup of black coffee," Jordan assured her. He stood when she did, offering his hand in a suitably formal 'hi, classmate from 20 years ago, it's definitely not weird to run into you again or anything' kind of greeting.
Kayla slipped her fingers into his with equal formal politeness, then groaned. "Oh my God, your hands are so nice and warm. I've been standing outside for three hours and the lights are melting the snow but my fingers are still icicles."
"Well, let me warm them up." Jordan sat down again without releasing her hand, and wrapped both of his around her cold fingers.
A shiver zoomed up Kayla's arms, partly from the heat of his touch (metaphorical) and partly from the heat of his touch (literal).
His hands were strong and while not rough, so much more textured than Anderson's that she shivered again.
"You really are cold," Jordan said with concern.
"I thought they were supposed to pamper the stars on set. "
"It's mostly just my hands," Kayla promised, though she also made a face. "And sometimes we get pampered, but other times the director is a butthead ex-boyfriend and behaving like a…"
"Butthead?" Jordan supplied when she ran out of descriptors.
Kayla ducked her head and grinned. "Yeah, good choice of words."
"You need me to go punch him or anything?" he asked in the same tone of general inquiry, and when Kayla lifted her eyes, startled but grinning wider yet, Jordan met her grin with one of his own. "I'm not a violent person," he promised. "It's just that sometimes you need to offer to punch a dude."
"The offer is greatly appreciated," Kayla said cheerfully. "I feel like it would cause more trouble than it solved, though. It's mostly fine, anyway. Not really his fault we're filming in actual snow."
"Can I confess something?" Jordan leaned in, and Kayla's heart gave an unholy thump, sending waves of anticipatory dizziness through her. Eyes wide, she nodded, and Jordan murmured, "I hate fake snow in movies."
Looking back two seconds in time, Kayla couldn't say what exactly she'd expected him to say, but it definitely hadn't been that.
She blinked once, then again, and spluttered faintly before starting to laugh.
"If you want to know the truth, so do I.
If you grew up around snow you can really tell when it's fake, you know? "
Jordan nodded enthusiastically. "Especially if somebody's walking through it. Real snow gets that crust you break through and you get this weird little lurch in your step that fake snow just can't, uh, fake."
"Or sometimes it's not even the crust, it's that your brain is like 'oh, this is the surface!' and then you put your weight on it and you're like 'ack!' because the actual ground is four inches farther away than you think it will be!"
"Yes! Exactly like that!" Jordan unfolded his hands from around Kayla's now-much-warmer fingers and beckoned for her other hand.
The cold from her touch had chilled his hands a bit, but he was still far warmer than she was. She gave a happy little sigh, mumbled, "I'm melting now," and slithered down in the chair a little.
"Your director's going to be very annoyed with me for sending a puddle back to the set," Jordan said without a hint of repentance.
The ice cream shop employee, a kid in his late teens, came over with a notepad and an enquiring expression.
Jordan said, "Coffee?" to Kayla, and at her nod, said, "Coffee," to the kid, too.
"Two black coffees, please. Unless you do something fancier. "
"Not for coffee. We have great hot chocolate, though."
Jordan's brown eyes went round with interest. "Marshmallows and whipped cream?"
"And sprinkles," the kid said solemnly.
"Then I'll have a hot chocolate with marshmallows, whipped cream, and sprinkles," Jordan said decisively. "Kayla?"
Kayla, with what she felt certain was a dippy smile, said, "That sounds great," and when the kid left, said, "I'm not sure I've ever seen an adult man order a hot chocolate before."
"Man, you are not hanging out with the right adult men. My team…" Jordan paused thoughtfully, then nodded firmly. "Absolutely don't order hot chocolates either."
Startled, Kayla laughed out loud. "I guess we're both hanging out with the wrong guys. Your team? Do you manage an office team?"
"Ah. No. I. Um. Hm."
"Oh, man." Kayla's eyebrows shot up. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry! You don't have to tell me, obviously. I'm just some weirdo from high school you barely remember."
We are not! her owl said indignantly.
"You are not." Jordan echoed the owl's tone so perfectly that Kayla giggled.
"But you're not!" Jordan protested. "I remember you!
We did a couple of shows together in drama club.
You did, um, we did Chess, do you remember?
You sang Nobody's Side and it was incredible.
Your voice, I mean, wow. I'll never forget your voice.
That's what I recognized, honestly, before I recognized, like, you.
I mean, you still look like yourself, but—" He clamped his mouth shut, then, through his lips, said, "M'm gming hm hmmp haalking hmm. "
Kayla giggled. "You don't need to stop talking now. My voice has changed less than the rest of me has. But I can't believe you remember that."
"Oh my God," Jordan said, shaking his head. "How could I forget? You were terrific. I've seen a bunch of your movies. You're really good, Kyl—Kayla."
"It's so weird hearing someone call me Kylie," Kayla said, amused, but then her eyebrows rose. "Really, you've seen my movies? I mean, that's flattering, but guys usually haven't."
Jordan screwed up his face. "Would you think less of me if I said I went home and watched five of them last night?"
"You're kidding. You must have been up all night!"
"Until about three," Jordan confessed, squirming with embarrassment. "You were great in all of them, but you blew me away with Stopover Dream."
He liiiiiikes you, Kayla's owl caroled, and on one hand, well, Kayla thought, he should. They were fated mates, even if Jordan didn't know it yet. But on the other…
Wow, she thought. What a guy!