18. Sierra
SIERRA
“ D o you want your subpar coffee grounds?” Finn asked, holding the package out to me as we worked through our morning routine, side-by-side, in the kitchen.
It had taken a couple weeks of awkwardly knocking elbows, but as long as I promised not to disrupt the organizational structure of the fridge, we’d reached a point where our morning routines were usually pretty seamless.
“They’re not subpar,” I said, giving him a flat look.
He barked a laugh. “Pretty sure you buy them from a gas station.”
“Yes, because they’re cheaper there.” Who didn’t love a deal?
Lips pursed, he arched his eyebrows. “And have you ever asked yourself why?”
“Oh my God, they’re not expired,” I complained, rolling my eyes. “They don’t expire.”
“They do go stale, though,” he said. “And when that happens, they smell like burnt toast when you brew them. ”
“That’s how I like them,” I muttered, reaching for the package as he snorted out another laugh. Our hands brushed momentarily, and heat spiraled through me. I turned away quickly, busying myself with my coffee machine.
Since that day in his sculpture studio a couple weeks ago, since that fiery kiss , my entire body reacted every time he touched me. Finn, on the other hand…Well, he didn’t seem all that bothered, making me wonder over and over again if that kiss had only been a big deal in my mind.
Maybe kissing people randomly was just what Hollywood bigshots did without even thinking twice about it.
Or maybe it was some strategy on his part, to make me more comfortable with the idea of public affection?
Honestly, I had no idea what he meant by it, since he hadn’t said so much as a word about it.
“Can you toss me the protein powder?”
I forced my expression into something neutral, something pleasant, and turned around with the tub of vanilla protein powder and handed it to him.
“Want some?” he asked, gesturing to the blender.
“Of that vile smoothie you drink every morning?” I teased, wrinkling my nose. “No, thank you. I can smell the green from here.”
“The green is good for you.” He pulsed the blender until the drink ran smooth.
“Jury’s still out on that.”
“Excuse me for trying to offset all that RevX you drink,” he said, pouring his smoothie into a glass before reaching down to give the clingy Lord Meowington a rub behind the ears .
I’d walked in on him this morning giving his highness what looked like a sponge bath. As hobbies and pets went, Finn sure knew how to pick them.
I shook my head, reaching for the pack of muffins on the counter. “You’d need more than a green smoothie to do that.”
He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter and eyeing me over the top of his glass. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
I shook my head, a small grin on my face as I opened the muffin pack, picking out a blueberry one. My favorite muffins had started showing up about a week ago. I usually kept a pack in the kitchenette at work.
Finn had told me to add anything I liked to the grocery list, but I’d never gotten around to it. There’s no way the housekeeper could have known that unless Finn had noticed and told her to buy it. I was trying not to think too hard about what that meant.
My phone buzzed where I’d left it on the island. Finn leaned forward, glancing at the call display. “Uh-oh, Mom . I’m gonna tell her you’re drinking energy drinks for breakfast.”
I took a quick sip from my mug. “I’m actually not, but nice try.”
“Don’t even pretend you’re not going to crack one open the moment you get to the costume shop.”
He had me there. “Shush,” I said, answering the phone. He grinned. A real, non-perfect, non-plastic Finn Lockhart grin. Sensation spiraled through me, coiling in my lower belly. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey! Am I catching you at work?” she asked.
Lord, please don’t let this be about her wedding dress again . “No, I was just about to head off though.”
“In my fancy, high-tech, Sierra-proof car,” Finn added .
“Quiet,” I mouthed, shoving at him and moving to the other end of the island so my mom wouldn’t hear.
Finn clutched his arm, pretending to be injured. I smirked at his dramatics, covering the speaker. I hadn’t told her about the…situation yet, because fake or not, I knew she’d freak out.
You’re sharing a penthouse with a gorgeous billionaire? He kissed you in his super private art studio? You kissed him back and it’s all you can think about but none of it is real? Mom would hound me endlessly for updates.
“What’s that?” Mom said.
“Nothing, nothing.” I said, turning away from Finn. “Just talking to Ro.”
“How’s she doing?” Mom asked.
“She’s really good,” I said. “Busy with work. The usual.”
“So good!” Finn piped up, his voice pitched into a squeaky falsetto.
I shot him a glare, eyes narrowed. “Knock it off!” I mouthed.
“Or what?” he mouthed back.
Boy, he was in a rare mood this morning. I tried really hard to find it annoying, but I couldn’t help being helplessly endeared by the chance to see the guy he was when no one else was looking. “Hey Mom, I gotta run. Can I call you later?”
“Sure thing, honey. Have a good day.”
I hung up, put my hands against the island, and clicked my nails. “Really?”
“What?” he said, all faux innocence as he sent off a message on his phone .
“I would like not to have to explain this complicated dynamic to my mother,” I said, gesturing between us.
“You don’t want your mother to know about your fiancé?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Does that make me your dirty little secret?”
“Are you going to make a habit of being this annoying in the mornings?”
“Only on days that end in Y , Cinderella.” He walked toward me, reaching for the file he’d left on the counter, momentarily pinning me in place as he gazed into my eyes. My blood ran hot.
Damn, he shouldn’t be allowed to smell that good, to wear that cologne that made me want to bury my nose in his neck and spend an hour or so just breathing him in. “It just really doesn’t feel like a good morning until I’ve made you huff in frustration at least once.”
I swallowed hard, my eyes falling to his lips for a second.
Then he grabbed the file and stepped away, and I could breathe again.
I stuffed half the muffin in my mouth to give myself something to do other than staring after him—and yet somehow, I found myself staring after him anyway, even as I chewed.
I couldn’t help it. I was always looking at him. And Lord Meowington was always looking at me. The cat sat on the counter across from me, giving me a slow, judgy blink. I rolled my eyes, thoughts drifting back to Finn.
Part of me had been content with becoming an old maid, working until my fingers were too arthritic to sew and my vision was gone. But I was starting to think that something like this—silly mornings and evenings spent discussing our day and steamy kisses—might not be so bad.
Not with Finn, of course .
This business arrangement was to make sure Every Day was a raging success, that I got to stick it to Trey, and that Ro got her big directorial debut. But someday, with the right someone…Maybe this sort of thing wouldn’t be so bad.
I swallowed a heap of emotion as Finn scowled down at his phone, sending off a flurry of messages.
Poor Brenna , I thought, more fondly than usual.
Then I caught myself. No fondness. Nope, not here.
Not from me. Because soon this would all be over, and I’d go back to my real life where there would be no more scripted kisses or Ro-directed dates.
“You almost ready?” Finn asked without looking up from his phone.
“Just let me pop the coffee in a to-go cup.” I turned to the counter only to find that he’d already done it while I’d been on the phone. My heart lurched against my chest. In many ways, he played the part of fiancé perfectly, even when there was no one around to see it but me.
And I kind of hated that.
Because watching him jump from this person to Mr. Bigshot with his fake smile and too-loud laugh made my stomach turn.
The world had no idea that Mr. Bigshot was actually this thoughtful man who insisted on making sure I had my favorite muffins in the mornings and who waited around the costume shop at the end of the day just to give me a lift home.
Finn was totally convinced no one would ever want that guy. Even though I liked that guy so much better.
The teasing grump who walked around our house?—
No, not our house. His house. I turned around to find Finn standing there holding my bag and his files in one hand, texting with the other.
Not ours , I told myself again. I couldn’t forget that.
We were putting on an act for the rest of the world.
I wasn’t supposed to be the one foolish enough to believe it was real.
“The Veritique,” Finn reminded me as I stepped out of his car outside the production building.
Right , I thought, reaching into the pocket of my bag. I found the ring and slipped it on. I’d been leaving the ring off when we were alone together to try to keep the lines clear for myself.
The ring was for the cameras only.
For the public.
But the truth was, it was getting harder and harder to put it back on. To feel that weight on my finger, reminding me this was all fake.
Finn walked around the front of the car. I curled my hand by my side and hiked my bag up my shoulder. “The stone is huge,” I joked. “I’m always worried it’ll get snagged on something in the shop.”
His jaw tensed. “I was told the emeralds had to be of a certain size in order to show the true depth of their—” His words broke off. “Try not to sew it into a costume.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said, forcing a smile despite my confusion. “See you later?”
He nodded and disappeared through the doors, taking some of the tension with him.
I stared down at the ring again. Wasn’t this supposed to be a family heirloom? That’s what he’d said to me that first night. So why had it just sounded like he’d designed it himself ?
I shook off that thought as my phone buzzed with a text from Paisley. There was definitely something Finn wasn’t saying about the ring, but that would have to wait.
By the time I reached the costume shop, I was fully in costume mode.
Paisley and Trin were steaming the delicate fabric of Shaw’s dress for the party sequence set to be filmed this week while Carter was letting out the pants on a couple of the background costumes since there’d been last-minute actor changes.
“What d’you think?” Paisley asked as she spotted me.
“I think we did gorgeous work,” I said, walking around the mannequin to make sure the dress was perfect from every angle. It really was stunning—crafted from a single bolt of authentic vintage fabric Paisley had been able to scrounge up from God-knew-where.
We were all a little afraid to breathe on it too hard for fear of damaging it, but it was just too perfect not to use.
Shaw was going to dazzle in this dress. “Get this crease here.” I checked the time on my phone.
“I have to pop out for a meeting with Cathleen and X, but Shaw should be here in ten minutes. Can you help her into the costume?”
Paisley nodded.
“Show her the clasp so she can practice with it a few times for the scene where she changes after the party,” I said.
“You’ll be on set for adjustments?” Paisley wondered.
“Yeah, I’ll head over right after the meeting.” The fabric was fragile, and there was no way I was letting that dress out of my sight while it was on set. “Carter, X needs two more extras dressed for the party sequence. Can you pull two more suits?”
“Color preference?” he asked, getting up from the industrial sewing machine to dig around the costume racks .
“Go with a navy and a gray. I’ll see you guys later.
Message me if you need me.” With that, I dropped my bag in my office, grabbed my coffee, and headed for the conference room.
I arrived, noting that Cathleen and X were already mid-discussion, heads bent close as they looked over some stills from the set.
“I think the bobbed hair is important,” Cathleen said. “The short haircuts were part of that whole liberation?—”
“—rejecting old Victorian standards. Yes, yes, you keep saying that.” X rubbed at his chin, but he didn’t seem annoyed, more amused, like he was teasing Cathleen a little, sharing an inside joke.
I’d noticed the vibe between the two of them softening in the time since that disastrous first meeting. Oh, they still bickered, but they were more playful about it than actually angry.
Cathleen dropped her hands to her hips, giving him an exasperated look that didn’t hide the way her eyes were twinkling. “I keep saying that because I’m waiting for it to stick.”
X glanced at her, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk. “Maybe we should just stick more hats on them.”
“Or,” Cathleen said pointedly, “get the wig department to have another go at the hair.”
“Morning,” I said, walking over, hiding a chuckle at the way they both startled. When they got caught up in arguing, it was like the rest of the world faded away. They always seemed surprised when they were forced to acknowledge they weren’t alone. “Wig troubles?” I asked.
X made a sound of uncertainty. I looked over his shoulder at the stills. “It’s…not horrible.”
“‘Not horrible’ does not get us nominated for awards,” X said. While we discussed potential fixes—new wigs, haircuts, cloche hats—I couldn’t help studying Cathleen, comparing her to that woman from Finn’s polaroid.
Looking at her now, vibrant and engaged and playfully sparring with X, it was hard to imagine this was the same woman who’d fallen apart when her husband had walked out. I liked Cathleen, a lot, and my chest tightened as I considered how deeply her experience had hurt her.
As the meeting wrapped up, she looped her arm through mine, pulling me close. “I’m hosting a family dinner at Liam’s place—that’s Finn’s older brother—next month. I’d love it if you could join us.” She reached down for my hand, her finger grazing the ring on my finger.
My insides flipped as the moment turned awkward.
“You know the engagement is fake, right? It’s only for the press.” I looked into her blue eyes. Finn had told me she knew about the arrangement. But receiving that invite, I had to be sure. “Cathleen, I’m not really going to be part of the family.”
She tittered, waving off my concern. “Yes, Finn told me everything. But it’s been so lovely working with you. And I’d really love it if you would come. Just think about it, yes?”
“Let’s see how the schedule shapes up,” I said, not fully wanting to commit, especially without talking to Finn first.
“Yes, of course,” she said as we headed off for the set. “I’ll send you details.”
As I watched her flit to X’s side, probably to point out more historical inaccuracies, I couldn’t help wondering if Finn knew what she was up to.