They were still staring at her in silent shock, so Jane lifted her chin and asked, “Anything else?”
Amongst murmurs of no and dazed shaking heads, she buckled her backpack, and slung it back over her shoulder.
“Great. Then I’ll see you all tomorrow. Remember, it’s a shoot day. Bring your A game!”
Ray approached her as the others headed back to their rooms.
“So, I was just wonderin’…what did Miss Thing say about this vacation?” He used air quotes around the words vacation, his brown eyes unblinking.
Jane took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “She doesn’t know yet.”
“And when, ’zactly, are you planning to share this glorious news with her?”
“I thought the last minute would be best.” It occurred to her that she hadn’t told the crew to keep it quiet until then. “You think she’ll hear about it from anyone else before then?”
“Janie.” Ray smiled at her sadly. “You jump on the tracks and push us out of the way over and over again. Ain’t no one in this crew gonna say nothing to her. I know it ain’t your strong suit, but you can trust us, Janie Mays.”
“Thanks, Ray,” she murmured, squeezing his arm in gratitude.
“You got it. And on that note, I’m off to find greener pastures.” He slid his sunglasses back over his eyes as he headed out the door in pursuit of a man with a martini.
“Jane.”
She turned around to find Franco standing behind her, his hands by his sides and his expression thoughtful. When he spoke, Jane realized his usual flirtatious tone was missing, replaced with a respectful baritone.
“Mi sorprendi, Jane. You, ah, surprise me tonight.”
She and the handsome Italian trainer had never spoken much to one another aside from organizing workouts for Sara. “I’ll pay for it, though, won’t I?”
“Maybe.” Franco nodded at her. “But-a…maybe not. You don’t know this, but I have a sister. Back in Italy. She’s, ah, sorellina, ah, younger. A quiet girl. But, ah, when she have enough of the big brothers, she finally push back to us. The thing about pushing back, Jane? You have to-a mean it. You have to-a stick to it. Yes?”
Jane stared at him, then nodded in agreement.
He patted her on the shoulder, as she imagined he would his little sister. “It’s good you find a little spirit, Jane. La Samara?” His face transformed as his eyes darkened and his mouth curved slightly in what might have almost passed for a seductive grin had his voice not lowered to a soft growl that was more predatory than sexy. “Lei non sa che cosa ha bisogno.”
Jane cocked her head to the side in question. “What does that mean?”
“She don’t know what she needs,” he translated, holding Jane’s eyes for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, he turned his back to her, sauntering out of the room without another word.
Unsure of what to make of such a statement, Jane filed it away and concentrated on what he’d said just before: You have to mean it. You have to stick to it.
Walking back to Sara’s cottage, Jane felt the growing change in herself and embraced it. Even knowing she was going to go back to Sara’s to sleep on a hard couch wasn’t enough to dim her spirits. She’d made a strong decision, a good decision, and she intended to stick with it.
Jane didn’t know what in the world was coming over her, but she could feel a shift inside of her, as though she was reclaiming herself, refusing to be mistreated any more.
When she looked up, she was surprised to find herself passing the Prairie Dawn, and she slowed down, stopping to peek in the window of the coffee shop, her heart leaping with relief to see Nils and Lars sharing a table in the back. She was sure Sara would have called him, by now, demanding company after her bath…but maybe she hadn’t been able to track him down. Or maybe Lars had actually ignored her call. Jane stared at him through the glass, watched his face as he grinned up at his older brother then rubbed the stubble on his jaw with his calloused fingers. Or maybe he’d even said no, whispered her heart.
I’m not that guy.
It was a one in a million chance, she reminded herself, but couldn’t help watching him unobserved for a few more quiet, precious moments before turning into the darkness and walking back to Sara.
CHAPTER 7
An early morning knock on the cottage door surprised Jane, and she reached for her phone on the coffee table in front of her. 7:10 a.m. Too early for Franco, who wouldn’t be here for another twenty minutes, or Lars, who wasn’t expected until eight-thirty. She could tell Sara wasn’t up yet—she would have awakened Jane to make coffee.
Jane shook her head to scatter her dreams and put on her glasses, swinging her jean-clad legs over the side of the couch as the mystery guest knocked again. She had slept in her clothes, forgetting to pick up a pair of pajamas from her hotel room and too tired to walk back and forth to the hotel again once she’d reached the cottage last night. She ran a hand through her hair and padded to the door.
She was surprised, and completely delighted, to find Maggie on the doorstep, holding a cardboard tray of coffee cups.
“Maggie!”
“Heya, Jane. Brought coffee. That okay?”
“More than okay! A friendly face. You have no idea…”
“Goddamn it, Jane!”
Maggie’s eyes flew open, and she craned her neck in the direction of Sara’s voice. Jane cringed at Maggie, mouthing the word “Sorry!” as she peered over her shoulder at her cousin, who wore only a black camisole and black panties on her perfect body.
Sara glared at Maggie from over Jane’s shoulder, narrowing her eyes and scowling. “It’s fucking early, Jane. I still had fifteen more minutes to sleep, that I fucking needed, but no! I am fucking awakened by the sound of you and… and… and this person blabbing in the doorway! And I can’t find my goddamn lip balm.”
“Sorry, Sara,” Jane muttered.
“My name is SAMARA. Don’t fuck with me this morning, Jane. Who. Thefuck. Is. This?” She flicked her fingers at Maggie like she was shoo-ing away a fly.
“This is Maggie,” said Jane. “And she’s kindly brought us coffee. Do you want coffee?”
Sara pursed her lips, asking in an imperial whisper, enunciating her words carefully, “Where the fuck is my Burt’s Bees Island lip balm, Jane?”
“Calm down. I’ll find it for you. Do. You. Want. Coffee. Or. Not?” She enunciated her words just as carefully and bitchily as Sara had.
Sara approached Maggie. “Do you own a clock? Do you know how early it is to be knocking on someone’s goddamned door?”
Maggie’s eyes were so wide, Jane thought they might pop out of her head.
“Stare much?” Sara blew a raspberry at Maggie, and Maggie was jolted out of her trance. “Which one is my latte? Did you at least get my fucking coffee order right, Jane?”
Maggie tapped on the lid of one of the four cups, her finger lightly trembling.
“Thank, Christ.” Sara grabbed the coffee off the tray then sauntered back to her room, booming, “Burt’s fucking Bees!” in her wake.
Jane turned back to Maggie, whose mouth and eyes were frozen open in shock, and offered her an awkward smile. “She’s not a…morning person. Come on in?”