They stared back at her blankly.
“Never mind. You know what sea shanties sound like, don’t you? Imagine a packed bar full of courageous men who fear and respect the sea. Imagine them singing odes to the water. The ocean is their mother. Their lover. She provides for them. And everything in this town reflects that love of the sea. The salt mist in the air. The scent of brine and storm clouds. The knowledge in the eyes of the residents when they look up at the sky to judge the oncoming weather. In fear. In reverence. Everywhere you go there’s the sound of lapping water against the docks, cawing seagulls, the hum of danger . . .” Hannah trailed off when she realized Christian was staring at her like she’d swapped his cold brew for kitty litter.
“Anyway, that’s Westport,” she finished. “That’s how it feels.”
Sergei said nothing for long moments, and she forced herself not to fidget in the rare glow of his attention. “That’s the place. That’s where we need to go.”
The producers were shooting flamethrowers at Hannah from their eyes. “We don’t have it in the budget, Sergei. We’ll have to apply for new permits. Travel expenses for an entire cast and crew. Lodging.”
Latrice tapped her clipboard, seeming kind of eager for the challenge. “We could drive. It’s a trek, but not out of the question . . . and skipping the plane would save on funds.”
“Let me worry about the money,” Sergei said, waving a hand. “I’ll crowdsource. Put my own cash toward it. Whatever is necessary. Hannah and Latrice, you’ll work out the permits and travel details?”
“Of course,” she said, agreeing to a slew of sleepless nights.
Latrice nodded, shooting Hannah a wink.
More flamethrowers from the men who’d been silly enough to think they were in charge. “We haven’t even scouted locations—”
“Hannah will take care of it. She obviously knows this place like the back of her hand. Did you hear that description?” Sergei gave her a once-over, as if seeing her for the first time, and her toes curled inside her red Converse. “Impressive.”
Don’t blush.
Too late.
She was a cherry tomato.
“Thank you.” Sergei nodded and started collecting his things, draping a worn leather satchel over his slim shoulder, messing up his dark boyish locks in the process. “We’ll be in touch,” he called to Maxine, sailing out of the studio.
And that, as they say in the business, was a wrap.
* * *
Hannah escaped the collective glare of the producers and jogged from the room, already drawing the phone from her back pocket to call Piper. She ducked into the ladies’ lounge for privacy, but before she could hit the call button, Latrice popped her head in through the door.
“Hey,” she said, sticking a thumbs-up through the opening. “Good job in there. I’ve been dying to stretch my legs a little. Between us, we’ve got this.”
Thank God they’d hired Latrice to take location-scout duties off Hannah’s plate. She was a dynamo. “We’ve so got this. I’m starting an email to you as soon as I make this call.”
“You better.”
Latrice dipped out again, and, bolstered by the vote of confidence, Hannah dialed Piper. Her sister answered on the third ring sounding out of breath.
Followed by the very distinct groan of bedsprings.
“I don’t even want to know what you were doing,” Hannah drawled. “But say hi to Brendan for me.”
“Hannah says hi,” Piper purred to her sea captain fiancé, who’d obviously just rung her bell, which was a constant event in their household. A fact Hannah unfortunately knew all too well after living with them for a couple of weeks over the summer. “What’s up, sis?”
Hannah hopped up onto the counter beside the end sink. “Is your guest room free?”
A rustle of sheets in the background. “Why? Oh my God. Why?” Hannah could almost see the wild flutter of her sister’s hands in the vicinity of her throat. “Are you coming here? When?”
“Soon.” Then she qualified: “If we can get permits to film.”
A beat passed. “Permits to film in Westport?”
“Pretty sure I just convinced Sergei it’s the only place on earth that will work for his vision.” Hannah sniffed. “My powers of persuasion often go unrecognized.”
“Like hell a film crew is coming here,” Brendan said in the background.
Hannah’s chest squeezed at the familiarity of her sister’s ebullient nature set alongside her fiancé’s growly, no-bullshit personality. She missed them so much.
“Tell the captain it will only be for a couple of weeks. I’ll make sure to scrub the Hollywood stink off every precious cobblestone before we leave.”
“Let me worry about him,” Piper said playfully. “He’s forgetting what a good mood I’ll be in having my sister in town. And of course you can stay here, Hanns. Of course. Just . . . I hope you’re not planning for this month? Brendan’s parents are coming to visit soon. They’ll be using the guest room.”
“Ooh.” Hannah winced. “If we get a fast enough turnaround on the permits, it could be late March. Sergei is on a mission.” Hannah turned on the counter to check her reflection, wincing at the hair sticking out of the sides of her ball cap. “But don’t stress, I can just stay wherever they put up the crew. Getting to see you will be more than enough.”
“Can’t you stall Sergei? Maybe tell him Westport is extra moody in April?”
“How did you know he was going for a moody vibe?”
“His last film was called Fragmented Joy, wasn’t it?”
“Valid point.” Hannah laughed, pressing the phone tighter to her ear, trying to feel her sister’s warmth over the phone. “Seriously, though. Don’t worry about the guest-room thing. It’s no big—”
“You know, there is one poss . . .” Piper trailed off. “Never mind.”
Hannah’s head tilted at her sister’s hasty retreat. “What?”
“No, really. It was a bad idea.”
“Then tell me. I want to pooh-pooh it, too.”
Piper humphed. “I was going to say that Fox has that empty bedroom at his place. And as you know, he’s out on the boat with Brendan for long stretches. But, like, he’s also home for stretches, which is why it’s a bad idea. Forget I said it.”
Stupid, really. The way Hannah sprang off the counter at the mention of the devilish charmer’s name and started shoving pieces of her hair back under the brim of her hat. “It’s not a bad idea,” she said, automatically defending Fox, even though they hadn’t seen each other in six months.
There had only been the daily texts.
That she definitely wouldn’t be mentioning to Piper.
“We’re friendly.” Lower your voice. “We’re friends.”
“I know that, Hanns,” Piper said indulgently.
“And you know”—she dropped her volume even more—“I still have that thing for a certain someone.” Why Hannah suddenly felt the need to prove to Piper—and possibly herself—that she was, indeed, only friends with a man who went through women like nickels in a slot machine, she had no idea. But there it was. “Staying with Fox isn’t a terrible idea. Like you said, he’ll only be there half the time. I’ll be able to keep food in the fridge, which I won’t in a hotel room. It will slice a little off the production’s expenditures and earn me points with Sergei.”