“Gee, thanks,” I mutter.
He laughs. “Seriously, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. If I get the role, then it’s because you helped me get it. Even going off-script played to our advantage. And the kiss? Damn, Reese. The director’s gonna eat that shit up.”
The kiss.
My gaze drops down to his mouth before I tear it away and stare out the windshield.
I liked the kiss. Loved it, actually. I loved that it made me feel alive. That it came from River. That I felt desirable. Wanted. All of it. But he’s right. It was for the director. It wasn’t for me.
It was acting.
Chewing on my thumbnail, I recount the moment for a few seconds, then wipe my fingers against my lips in hopes of dispelling the feel of his mouth pressed against mine.
It doesn’t work.
Desperate for a distraction, I ask, “So, why does this role mean so much to you, anyway? You said you’ve never really been interested in acting, but this opportunity kind of fell into your lap.”
The tapping on his steering wheel ceases, and he glances over at me again. “B.T. Henderson. Ever heard of him?”
“The director? Wait––that’s the director for the film?” My eyes pop with disbelief.
“That’s the one.”
“He’s huge, River.”
“Yeah. He’s considered one of the pioneers in the business. He’s also one of the most critical directors and snubbed my mom when she was at the peak of her career.”
I catch myself leaning closer to him, enraptured with the story as well as the man telling it. Realizing my behavior, I sit up a little straighter in the leather seat. “So, what happened?”
“When she was flying high with offer after offer, her agent put her up for The Stars in Our Eyes.”
“The one that won all those awards forever ago?”
“That’s the one. It got leaked that she was going after the part, and she was confident she’d get it. Personally, I think her publicist started the rumor, but what do I know? Then good ol’ Henderson responded to the rumors that he’d rather use a mannequin to star in his film than hire the infamous Monet Cavier because not only was she impossible to work with, she had less talent than a…I believe the word he used was…”––he tilts his head to the side––“a gnat?”
Jaw dropping, I cover my mouth and try not to laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. My mom was pissed. Actually, pissed is an understatement. After that, the jobs that were once flooding in dried up overnight. She had to claw tooth and nail, sleeping with who knows how many directors to steal a few roles. But she was never the same.”
“And yet you may or may not end up starring in one of the last films of his career,” I point out.
His eyes dart over to me, holding so much restrained hope and ambition that I want to offer him the role right here and right now just to see him smile. If only I could.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to the road.
“You know your mom will find out, though, right? There’s no way she doesn’t keep an eye on those kinds of things. Especially when it’s in regards to her nemesis.”
He laughs. “Nemesis. I like that. And it won’t matter as long as she doesn’t find out before B.T. Henderson watches that audition.”
“But if she finds out first…” My voice trails off, and I wait for him to fill in the blank.
“Then she’ll do what she does best and will meddle with the whole thing until Henderson probably won’t watch the audition at all regardless of Brett’s recommendation. If Henderson finds out I’m related to Monet Cavier before he officially offers me the role, then I can kiss the part goodbye. It’s that simple.”
“But…why?” I prod. “So, you’re related to Monet Cavier. It’s not that big of a deal, right?”
“Like I said, Reese. There’s a reason I’ve tried to bury all my connections with her. She accused Henderson of slandering her name and even tried to sue him for it. Thankfully, the judge dismissed the case, but it still pissed off Henderson and basically blacklisted my mom from every project worth having. Then it was just a downward spiral from there.” His knuckles turn white around the steering wheel before he adds, “She’s…she’s not a good person, Reese.”
Hesitantly, I reach out and squeeze his knee. I don’t know what makes me do it. Whether it’s the insecure little boy that peeks through anytime he talks about his mom or if it’s the big, strong man who has a habit of letting his guard down around me. Regardless, I like this side of him. The one that he hides from most people but lets me see. It makes me feel important. Needed. And maybe even special.
I’ve never felt special.
Or important.
Or needed.
Until him.
“I’m sorry, Riv,” I murmur over the rumbling engine.
He shrugs. “Don’t be. We all have our baggage, right? It’s too bad we can’t pick our families the way we can pick our friends.”
“Maybe not by blood, but I’m pretty sure Milo looks at you and the rest of his guys like his family.”
“Good point.” He pauses as if considering my comment before looking down at my hand that’s still touching his thigh. “He’s my family too.”
“Which means he can’t know about the kiss.” I lift my hand and place it back in my lap, hating the way my stomach tightens from the loss. But I’ll never forgive myself if I get between them. And there’s no way Milo would ever be okay if I kissed any of his friends. Even if it was for an audition tape.
River’s aviators cover his eyes as he looks at me again. But I’d give anything to see them just so that I could have a hint about what he’s thinking as he scans me up and down.
After a moment, he shrugs then turns his attention back to the highway. “We were acting, Reese. Not a big deal.”
Right.
Acting.
Then why did it feel so right?
Silence encompasses the cab for the next thirty minutes before River pulls up the driveway and parks his truck. “So what’re you doing tonight? Want to go out and celebrate with a few drinks for a successful photoshoot?”
I hesitate. This is not a good idea. I need space if I’m going to get my head on straight. But the chance to hang out with a guy I’m totally crushing on is almost impossible to pass up even though I know it’s a terrible idea.
Maybe I really am weak.
“You don’t have to,” he adds with a laugh. “I can call Melanie or Steph––”
“No, no, no. I want to. It sounds fun.”
The idea of waking up in the middle of the night to him humping away in the next room––again––is unbearable. Especially after our kiss. Even if it was meaningless for him, it stings just to hear him mention another woman’s name. I can’t imagine how awful it would feel to see him with one firsthand now.
No, thank you.
“Okay. Let me shower and see if any of the guys want to come. Then we’ll go. Sound good?” he asks.
“Sure.”
It would probably be a good thing if I wasn’t alone with him right now, even if I did just agree to hang out with him so that I won’t have to listen to a girl moaning all night. My emotions are already a frazzled mess, and if alcohol was added to my bloodstream, I’m afraid it would only be worse.