Path to Stardom (Southern Sunsets #2)

Chapter One

Beverly Adler

There’s nothing quite like the first sip of hot coffee on a crisp autumn morning.

When the school hallways are quiet, and the only sound in the library is the hum of the copier in the corner, flicking today’s kindergarten lesson into the tray.

I stroll through the aisles, sipping with pleasure from my stainless steel travel mug, which I brought from home.

The brief respite before my room is filled with rambunctious students is a gift.

Thank goodness I still have some time left before the first bell.

Mrs. Hash, the school librarian, smiles and waves at me from across the room. I grin back at her and continue my leisurely stroll, inhaling the redolent smell of old books with their musty notes of paper and ink, the bindings lined up neatly along the sagging shelves.

I peruse the colorful spines and slowly meander my way around the end cap of an aisle and stop, the distinct sound of a man’s mumbling voice giving me pause.

I concentrate on the baritone pitch, barely registering among the insulating materials in the library, and quietly follow the masculine voice until I peer around the corner and stop in my tracks.

My eyes grow wide at the sight of a grown man sitting cross-legged on the floor, his head buried in a binder.

At first, I’m wary of the stranger who shouldn’t be in here before regular school hours unless he’s a substitute teacher or a volunteer parent. But as I gaze down at his relaxed posture, I realize there’s something vaguely familiar about him that tickles my senses. I clear my throat.

He looks up, his dark bedroom eyes pinning me with his stare. “May I help you?”

A very unbecoming laugh that sounds more like a goose honk slips from my mouth. I slap my free hand over my lips and hold my breath.

Immediately, I recognize Hollywood heartthrob Ridge Wilson.

Ridge. Wilson. The all-American boy next door and Tinsel Town’s most eligible bachelor.

He’s in our school. Sitting on the floor. In the library.

I mean, how could anyone not recognize him?

His famous, rugged good looks have graced the covers of my monthly People magazine for years; the award-winning actor’s face splashed across all the magazines and movie posters.

His sandy-brown hair is tousled as if he has just rolled out of bed.

And don’t get me started on his biceps. The subtle flex as he shuts his binder and effortlessly rises to his feet has me trembling in my white sneakers.

“I, uh… I’m so sorry I disturbed you.” I glance over at Mrs. Hash—for what?

Verification? But she’s too busy to notice, her sweet gestures while giving instructions to a few early fifth graders returning books keeping her busy.

When I look at Ridge again, my head slowly tilts back as I take in his imposing, muscular frame.

The man is even more handsome in person, if that’s even possible.

“I was just finishing up,” he says. “Sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn’t scare me.”

He cocks an eyebrow, and his full, kissable lips lift into a half-smile.

The school bell suddenly rings, and I jump out of my lip trance.

My abrupt jolt causes an arc of dark coffee to slosh out of my open steel tumbler, right onto the bull’s-eye center of his shirt.

Horrified, I cover my mouth with my hand again and watch the dark liquid seep into the fabric.

Of course, his polo shirt had to be white.

“Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay.” He takes a step back and peers down at the mess I made, pinching the damp fabric away from his skin.

“Wow.” I squint, my eyes homing in on the stain. “The coffee on your white shirt looks like a heart. Do you see it? How did that happen? I’m not even a barista, but you can clearly see the pattern.” My nervous giggles keep coming.

Ridge looks at me and then at his shirt; the perplexed expression on his face is a sure sign that he’s not following me. Heart or no heart, his shirt, which probably cost more than a weekend getaway, is ruined.

“I mean, at least it’s not the face of the Virgin Mary on your grilled cheese, right?

Now, that would be weird.” I laugh again, clearly losing my grip being in the presence of someone so famous.

I’m starstruck, or it’s been way too long since I’ve had a one-on-one conversation with a handsome man.

Oh my goodness, my mom, a diehard Entertainment Tonight fan, would have a field day knowing I’m absolutely in awe and fighting the urge to bow in reverence before celebrity Ridge Wilson.

I clear my throat, trying to get a grip on my odd behavior. “Please, let me pay to have your shirt cleaned. It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t need to do that.”

“No. I insist.”

My world slows down as I notice the way he’s looking at me, his eyes starting at my feet and gradually lifting to my face, taking in my teacherly splendor. My cheeks heat, and I know I’m blushing. Who wouldn’t with a famous actor entirely focused on you?

Too bad I’m wearing my comfortable denim shift dress and sneakers; my casual Friday wear is a staple in my teacher’s wardrobe.

My hair is tied back into a low pony, and the only makeup I have on is a smidge of mascara.

I’m standing stick straight, the muscles in my shoulders and neck tense and uptight.

It almost feels like the Hollywood heartthrob is undressing me with his eyes.

“At ease, soldier. What’s your name?” He chuckles, bringing me out of my military posture. I’ve been standing at attention like a fighter waiting for a command, not an elementary school teacher having a conversation with a gorgeous film actor, if that was even a thing.

I force a smile, hoping it’s more sweet than maniacal. “Beverly. What’s yours?”

He chuckles again, the sound deep and warm, like a cup of hot coffee with a generous amount of delicious, sweet cream. My eyes flick to his shirt again, and I swallow hard. Yup. That stain is most definitely in the shape of a heart. I am not seeing things. It could be a sign.

“My name is Ridge.” He thrusts his hand out between us, and we shake, the simple gesture causing my stomach to flip. His fingers are hot, his actions gentle.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ridge.” I wait for him to let go first and motion with my head to the corner. “Why were you sitting on the floor reading? There are plenty of tables and chairs in the library.”

He casually glances at his vacated reading spot and shrugs. “Well, those miniature chairs are more appropriate for a school kid. I didn’t want to break one if I sat down. Mrs. Hash said I was welcome anywhere in the library. The spot in the corner looked the coziest to me.”

I nod like I completely understand, even though I don’t. “What are you reading?”

He holds up his binder. “My script. I have a big scene we’re filming today after school lets out.

When it’s a location shoot, I like to get a sense of the surroundings and a feel for the room before we start rolling.

My team cleared it with your principal, and Mrs. Hash said there wouldn’t be anyone coming into the library this early in the morning except to return a book or two.

It’s kind of why I hid in the corner, so I wouldn’t be a distraction if anyone came in and recognized me. ”

The way he’s standing there explaining himself has me reeling. The man doesn’t owe me anything, his transparency beguiling.

“So… when you say you’re filming today in the library, does that mean you’re… an actor?”

My voice lifts at the word “actor,” and my cheeks heat again. I avoid his gaze and look at the floor. Of course, I know he’s an actor. Duh. I’m a terrible liar.

A school-wide email was sent out last week explaining that our elementary school had been chosen as a filming location for a new movie.

We were assured that none of us would be displaced, as the film crews and actors would only be on set in the evenings and over the next two weekends.

No other details were mentioned, particularly regarding Ridge Wilson’s role as the lead actor in the film.

Wait until my teacher friends find out about this.

They’re going to go crazy over the news.

Ridge exhales a long sigh and tucks the binder under his arm. He politely waves me forward to walk in front of him through the narrow aisle between the bookshelves. “Yes. I’m a film actor. Are you a teacher here at the school? Or are you a parent?”

I glance over my shoulder at him as we casually walk along the rows of library books, his million-dollar smile zapping me in the feels. No wonder he’s such a huge box office draw.

“I’m a teacher,” I say. “Kindergarten. I don’t have any children of my own. I’m not married. But it’s not by choice,” I titter nervously. “I’d love to be married, especially at my age. I just haven’t found anyone special yet. And don’t get me started on the Atlanta dating scene. It’s deplorable.”

I face forward and roll my eyes. What is wrong with me? I can’t stop the floodgates of my mouth from spewing forth too much information. A famous man like Ridge Wilson doesn’t want to hear the dating woes of a lowly kindergarten teacher like me.

“Well, you’re young and beautiful. It’s only a matter of time.”

His comment shuts down my incessant chatter, and I demurely shoot him a genuine smile over my shoulder. Ridge Wilson thinks I’m beautiful? I suddenly feel all warm and tingly.

He laughs as if sensing my delight. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Beverly. You should come tomorrow and watch us film a scene or two. We’ll be in this library from late afternoon through the evening. Ask for Arthur, my assistant. I’ll let him know you might be joining us.”

My mouth falls open, and now I have no words. They’ve completely dried up, Ridge’s unexpected invitation leaving me speechless. Did Mr. Hollywood just ask me to watch him in action? But he probably does that a lot, asking random women to join him on set.

I’m mute and follow him to the circulation desk, where a beaming Mrs. Hash awaits.

“Did you enjoy the quiet?” she asks him.

His killer smile leaves me breathless as I watch him effortlessly lean his forearm against the checkout counter. He seems relaxed and totally at ease in his famous skin.

“Very much. Thank you, Mrs. Hash, for the use of your library. I may take you up on it again next week if that’s okay?”

She smiles sweetly at him and nods. “Of course, Mr. Wilson. Good luck this weekend. Or should I say, ‘Break a leg?’” she teases.

“Mrs. Hash, we’re friends now. Please, call me Ridge.”

Mrs. Hash’s face turns beet red, and she giggles like a schoolgirl. “Oh, yes. Of course, Mr… I mean, Ridge.”

Grinning from ear to ear, he turns his attention toward me again, my reticence overpowering me. “See you soon?”

My entire body is buzzing, and I stifle a meek squeak while managing a polite nod before I scowl and point at his soiled shirt.

“Don’t worry about the shirt.” He looks down at the fabric and palms his abs, a delicious smirk unfolding from his lips.

“And you were right. The stain does resemble a heart-like shape. I kind of like it.” He offers me another one of his devastating smiles.

“Every time I look at it, it will remind me of you.”

My eyes nearly bug out of my head, and I try to swallow. Unfortunately, my mouth feels like it’s been force-fed a bucket of sand.

Ridge winks. “Have a good day, ladies.”

“You do the same,” Mrs. Hash hums.

I watch Ridge smoothly stroll out of the library and into the sunlit hallway, his silhouette reminding me of the end credits in a romantic movie, with the words The End scrolling on the big screen.

However, I somehow feel that this is only the beginning.

As the door clicks shut, I look at Mrs. Hash, and I swear I can see little hearts popping above her gray head. We both squeal.

“Now there’s a handsome fella,” she swoons.

My reply comes out in an exhale of scratched longing. “You got that right.”