9. Chapter Nine
And the chef on TV said, “If you don’t make something of it, it will spoil and be tossed out and forgotten.”
* * *
With the salad I’d picked up for lunch in my hand, I lock my bedroom door and settle on my bed to eat just past seven o’clock. I never ate earlier, so I decide to make this my dinner.
Penny emailed me my schedule for the week. They’ll send the script to the next Love Is in the Air production next week, and we’ll do our read-through the following week.
I didn’t like him asking personal questions today. Sure, we agreed that “we’re dating,” but it doesn’t mean we have to spend alone time together. I was glad that he decided to Uber home. It felt as if he were looking around and judging me while he was here. It was nerve-wracking enough for him to know where I lived without me telling him.
Glasses on, and my hair pulled up atop my head, I aim the remote toward the TV and scroll through the channels.
I stop when I get to the Love Is in the Air channel. I can’t help but look to see what’s on.
It”s Grand Central Christmas. This was my first movie with Graham. I wince when I watch the scene where we’re having our first intimate conversation on a bench at the station.
I’ll never forget that day.
We’d been working together for more than a week when we filmed that scene. It was just enough time for me to decide that he was an asshole.
He’d called me out for what he said was excessive use of my perfume, and I’d come back at him for his language on the set. That only gave me a glorious rendition of the F-word used in its many, many forms.
It wasn’t long after that that he decided to start making our kissing scenes something of a challenge.
Our long-standing irritation with one another only grew more intense from there. He comes to set with his lines half memorized, whereas I have the entire script memorized, which includes everyone else’s lines too.
He shows up right on time, except for the first day of shooting when he’s there hours early. I don’t understand that thought process. Why only on the first day?
I’m always early. You can’t just walk on set and assume that everyone is just waiting for you. Sure, we might have the luxury of being the stars, but it’s the crew that makes the magic happen.
I hit the menu button on the remote. I can’t watch Graham and I act like we love each other a moment longer.
As I scroll through the channels, I see two of my father’s movies, and I zip right past those. I try not to watch commercials, not wanting to see my mother talk about her true love—her spas.
But I grin when I see Thor: Ragnarok is on. What are the odds?
Stopping on the channel, I set the remote next to me, pick up my fork, and start in on my salad.
I surely won’t understand anything in this movie. Seriously, I’ve seen Iron Man, but I still don’t know who Loki is. But only a moment later, I’m educated.
There, in all his glory, is Tom Hiddleston in an ornate costume. So, this is Loki?
I settle in against my headboard and watch. There’s humor, action, and I appreciate the handsome leading men.
I wonder if Graham’s dog is untrustworthy to receive a name like Loki.
Before I know it, I have sat through the entire movie, and I enjoyed every moment of it. I pick up my phone and scroll my contacts to Graham’s number, fully intent on telling him that I watched the movie and now know all about Loki, but I stop before I even start.
I don’t need to text him. I don’t need to talk to him when it doesn’t matter. What we’re doing is for show only, and there’s no one here to see me talk about an Avenger movie with Graham.
Setting my phone down, I turn the channel again and stop on the Food Network. This is how I’ll spend my time until I fall asleep—just as I do every night.
* * *
When should I pick you up?The text appears on my phone Thursday morning, and I squint to read it.
Sitting up in bed, I wipe the sleep from my eyes and try to comprehend what the text is about.
A few deep breaths and I look at the time. It’s nearly nine o’clock. I haven’t slept in that late in a very long time. Picking up the remote on my nightstand, I aim it toward the windows, and open the room-darkening drapes.
I wince as the light fills the room, and then I look back down at my phone.
Christina?Another text appears.
The last time Graham texted me was two years ago, according to the text thread that comes up.
The text he had sent me was scathing. The damn line is, “You’re extraordinary, Mr. Greene. If I weren’t betrothed to another, I’d marry you.” It’s not that damn hard!
I blow out a breath. Why had I not deleted this thread and blocked this asshole’s number? They’d nearly rewritten that entire script, and since I’d memorized the first one, I stumbled a bit, and he couldn’t help but call me out on it.
He texts again, Just call me Sherlock. I looked it up, the grand opening.The event starts at 1pm. I’m going to pick you up at 11 and take you to lunch first. See you soon, sweetheart.
I swallow hard. I don’t want to have to face my mother today, and I seriously don’t want to face her with Graham Crowley. I fall back into the pillows.
Penelope Mondragon. Her name rushes into my head, and I remember why I’ll tolerate Graham Crowley in my life. I want that movie so bad, I can taste it.
I’ll be ready, I text back and then toss my phone to the end of the bed and pull my comforter up over my head. This is an interesting kind of hell that I’ve fallen into.
* * *
At eleven o’clock, my phone buzzes, and I pick it up from the counter.
I’m here. How do I get in?
I grin down at the text. I could leave him outside and never answer.
I’ll buzz you in,I text back, deciding that I’d better just put up with this.
Standing, I walk toward the window and watch him drive into the lot and park after I buzz him through the gate. Moving to the front door, I pull it open and wait for him to walk up the steps.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says with a grin. His eyes are shielded by a dark pair of sunglasses. But when he pulls them off, those dark eyes shimmer as he looks up at me.
The strangest pulse goes through my body—like electricity.
I swallow hard and try to regain some composure.
“You don’t have to keep up the pleasantries when it’s just us,” I remind him as I turn back into my house and walk to the kitchen to gather my purse.
“I realize you find the sight of me appalling, but we’re both so greedy about getting what’s promised to us, perhaps you should just get over it,” he says as he follows me to the kitchen.
“Greedy?”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “And I said we’re both greedy, so don’t go getting on your high horse, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Then don’t act like that.” He crosses his arms in front of him. “Listen, we need a truce. It’s not like we don’t know how to act civil to one another. That’s sorta what got us into this in the first place.”
“No, people lying got us into this.”
“And we agreed to it so that we can get what we want,” he says, moving toward the island and pressing his hands flat on it. “I’m not a bad guy.”
“You’re opinionated. You’re egotistical. You sabotage our scenes.”
He holds up a finger. “I eat Doritos before I kiss you,” he says with some humor.
“Sabotage. Do you know how hard it is to make that seem real?”
“Then I guess it just makes you a better actress. Maybe you should thank me.”
I let out a low growl and pick up my purse, slinging it over my shoulder.
“This isn’t going to work. People are going to see right through this,” I say as I walk past him.
Graham reaches for my hand and stops me. I turn and look up at him.
There’s something in his expression that carries seriousness, and perhaps some regret.
“I want that movie,” he says. “I know it’s greedy, but I want it. I deserve it.”
“Fine.”
His fingers linger against my skin. “You deserve something more too.”
I lick my lips. I want that movie more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.
Graham steps in closer to me and my breath catches as I look up at him. “We can do this,” he says softly, his fingers grazing my arm gently.
I blink hard as he continues to close the gap between us.
“We can do this,” I say, my voice a bit airy.
Graham leans in. Instinct has me closing my eyes.
I’ve kissed this man hundreds of times, but this—this is different.
The air grows heavy as he leans into me. I can’t breathe.
It’s then I feel his tongue slide over my cheek before he steps back. My eyes fly open, and Graham slips his sunglasses back on his face as he laughs that maniacal laugh.
“Don’t tell me you don’t want me, doll,” he says, still laughing as he walks toward the front door.
I might just kill him before this scam is over.