“A lot of money, clout, and contacts,” I said dryly. “And investors, so you diversify your risk. Also, a good sense of what’s on trend, what’s making money.”
“Is there much overhead? With your own company?” Charlotte asked.
“No. There doesn’t have to be,” I said. “I’ve seen production companies that were just two people and a small office in Beverly Hills. The producer and the admin, that’s it. Everyone else is hired on a project-by-project basis as contractors, or for a percentage of the profit.”
Charlotte pointed at Sienna. “You can do that. You got money, clout, and connections. And I’m sure finding investors wouldn’t be a problem. Heck, you got an investor sitting right here.” Charlotte shifted her finger from Sienna to me.
“That’s . . . true . . .” Sienna frowned at Charlotte, her gaze moving to the wall behind her. “Wait. Wait a minute.”
Charlotte and I traded a quick look. She couldn’t possibly—
“Oh my God, Charlotte!” Sienna half stood, reached across the table, grabbed Charlotte’s face, and kissed her right on the mouth. “Charlotte, yes! Yes.” Sitting again, she smacked the table. “Yes, that’s exactly right. That’s exactly what I should do.”
“What is the commotion?” Jethro popped his head in. “We got sleeping kids upstairs.”
“Sorry!” Sienna winced.
“Are y’all okay?”
“Yes. But I kissed Charlotte.”
“Well. I’m sorry I missed that,” he said, sounding and looking sincere.
Charlotte laughed, covering her eyes. Once more, her cheeks had burned pink. Interesting.
Sienna jumped up and skipped over to her husband. “Guess what?”
“You want another baby?” He stood straighter. “’Cause, if so, we should go upstairs. The kitchen is occupied.” He moved like he was going to leave and take her with him.
“No!” She laughed, hitting his shoulder lightly. “I’m starting my own production company. No more business meetings picking apart my scripts. All my movies will be made and managed by me from now on.”
“Oh. That’s great.” Grinning widely—and looking at his wife like he was absolutely crazy about her, like she was magic—he pulled her forward by the hips and kissed her, just once. It was a congratulations-for-being-wonderful kiss, and the sight made my heart ache so much, my palm reflexively lifted to press against my chest.
“It is great!” Sienna beamed.
“Let me know how I can help,” he said, then added quieter, “I’m so proud of you.”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose, looking at me and whispering, “They’re gross. I’m jealous.”
“Agree.” I nodded, unable to curb my smile as I watched Sienna with her Jethro. And I knew, with a certainty deep inside—to the center of my very being—that’s what I want.
I wanted someone who supported me like that. Who, no matter what, believed in me. Someone who looked at me like I was magic.
Our little party dispersed around 11:30 PM. Charlotte stayed over at the main house, and Jethro insisted on walking me the short distance to the carriage house. I had to smile at his excessive manners. Did all Southern men behave this way? Or only the bearded, handsome ones?
He paused at the door after doing a quick sweep of the interior. “Now lock up and use the alarm. Folks outside of Green Valley know where you are now. I’d prefer if you stayed at the house with the rest of us—at least until Dave and your other guard get here—but understand if you need your privacy.”
“Thank you. I will lock the doors and turn on the alarm.”
“Okay, then. Good night.” The tall man nodded once, smiling tiredly, then walked toward the big Victorian farmhouse, leaving me standing just inside the door.
But before he was out of earshot, I whisper-shouted after him, “Hey, Jethro.”
“Yep?” He turned.
I took a step past the threshold. “Why don’t you like Jackson?”
The side of his mouth curved upward. “Who says I don’t like Jackson?”
“Sienna.”
“Did she?” He sort of chuckled. “I reckon she thinks I don’t.”
“What did he do?”
“He arrested me.”
My mouth dropped open. “He what?”
“Don’t be mad at him. I deserved it. All twenty times.”
“Whoa!”
“But don’t tell him I said that. The statute of limitations on grand theft auto in Tennessee is fifteen years, I think.”
My eyes widened.
He laughed at my expression—a belly laugh—and sent me a wave. “’Night, Rae.”
“Good night,” I croaked, closing the door and locking it.
Grand theft auto? Twenty arrests? Uffdah! I decided I wouldn’t ask Jackson about it. Scratching the back of my neck, I crossed to the alarm panel and typed in the code, then walked to the kitchen, randomly in the mood for tea.
Also, Sienna had been right, men were weird and complicated.
Just like people.
Just like relationships.
I’d just placed the kettle on the stove and pulled out a tea bag and mug when I heard a light rap on the door. I stiffened. Who could that be?
Turning off the kettle, I walked back to the foyer and eyed the panic button. “Uh. Who is it?” I moved my thumb over the red rectangle.
“It’s Jackson.”
“Oh!” A pulse of excitement raced through me. I immediately disarmed the alarm and bounded back to the door, flipping the lock and opening it. “Hi!”
“Hi.” He was standing farther away than I expected, at least five feet from the house. “I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to stop by and see if you were okay.”
“I am. I’m okay. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He gave me a short nod, taking a step back. “Actually, I am. Things tonight worked out better than I thought they would, I guess.” He looked confused. Perhaps he didn’t know how to feel about the success of Jethro’s plan. “Anyway. I’ll just be—”
My heart leapt to my throat. I didn’t want him to leave. “You should come in. Come in.” I rushed forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the carriage house.
He dragged his feet. “No. No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I stopped pulling and looked at him over my shoulder. “Oh. Do you have work tomorrow?”
“No. It’s my day off.”
I turned for the house again. “Then you should—”
“Rae. It’s late.”
“I know, but—”
“Rae,” he ground out, using my hold on his hand to bring us back to a stop. I faced him, my stomach erupting in uncertainty butterflies as I encountered the stern line of his jaw and the glittering, frustrated spark behind his eyes. “We need everyone to believe we’re just friends, right? And if we go inside the house, I don’t think I’m a good enough actor to pull that off.”
My mouth formed an O, and I released him, folding my arms over my chest while I wrestled with a strange combination of disappointment and pleasure at his words. I wanted to spend time with him, talk to him, get to know this mystery of a man so I could understand my feelings better.