As soon as I turn a bend in the road and am out of sight from Sagebrush Ranch, I stop the truck and hit the wheel repeatedly.
“Perfect. Just flippin’ perfect.”
I let out an exasperated scream.
The last thing I need is to live under the same roof as Travis.
I hate small towns and I hate not being able to safely hide among the 8.5 million people New York provides.
I slam my hand on the steering wheel another time.
Nice going, Samantha.
At this pace, I’ll lose my mind before I make it back to the city.
I look at the time and start driving again. I’m already disastrously late, but I can still make it to Lake View Acres before the lunch break.
Good thing my presence is not indispensable. In fact, maybe I should test the waters with Winthrop to see if, now that everything is back on schedule and the mysterious delays have been solved, he’d let me go back to New York early.
I stop the truck again. The only good thing about being in a small town is that I can have as many mini-breakdowns on the way to work as I want. No chance of other cars honking at me from behind to speed traffic along. There is no traffic!
I grab my phone and dial Winthrop’s direct line.
“Samantha.” He picks up on the third ring, his voice echoing through the car’s speaker system. “I hear things are finally looking up in Emerald Creek.”
“Hi, Winthrop, yeah, everything down here is going great. It looks like we’ll be able to finish in time after all.” I stall for a second and then pluck up my courage. “That’s why I was calling, actually. To see if now that the production is sorted there’d be any chance I could come back to New York. I mean, I’m not really needed on set anymore. And if you’re afraid something else might go sideways, I could leave my assistant behind to supervise things,” I add as an afterthought. I’d be doing Celia a favor, anyway. She’d be much happier in Emerald Creek with her new flame than in New York.
The line stays silent for a few beats, and I wait with trepidation for my boss’s answer.
The first word out of his mouth is a dry, “No.”
I sigh and steady myself for the tirade sure to come afterward. It arrives pronto.
“Samantha, I’ve already told you, you’re overseeing this production until the last take. Look at how much you’ve already accomplished in three weeks.”
“Yes, but Winthrop—”
“No buts, Samantha, I’m sorry. You’re in for the long haul.”
I sigh. “Yes, sir.”
“Now that you’ve sorted the permits, I assume everything is going smoothly with the town’s government?”
“Going smoothly?” I ask, my voice rising, but before I can start ranting with my boss about the mayor kissing me but not wanting to go any further and now moving in with me, I take a deep breath and say, “Yes, everything is fine. Super.”
“That’s music to my ears. Well, if there isn’t anything else?”
“No, no.”
We hang up and I stare at the long and twisting country road ahead, flopping back against the headrest, the phone still in my hand.
I can’t believe the boss dismissed me so casually. Well, I tried. Nothing more I can do. I grab a bottle of water from the cup holder and gulp down a few mouthfuls.
Doomed or not, I can’t spend the rest of the day in the truck. I put the pickup back into gear and drive on. With every turn of the road, I curse the picturesque scenery. Stupid fields of tall grass and wildflowers. Stupid river. Stupid lake. And most of all, stupid waterfall.
If the town hadn’t been this quaint, the location scouts would’ve never picked it as the set of my movie. And the mayor of another city would’ve never delayed the shooting on purpose. I would’ve never had to move here. And I would’ve never met Travis.
But that’s just wistful thinking.
When I turn on the road leading to Lake View Acres, the security guard lets me pass with a nod and a wave. Five minutes later, I finally pull up in front of the community barn and park next to the same old line of electric golf carts. I grab my leather satchel with all my notes and, as I drag myself out of the pickup, I let out a resigned sigh. This is my life now. I slam the truck door with a loud bang.
The day is warm, the sun bright. As far from my stormy mood as it gets. The idea of heading to the canteen for lunch makes my stomach churn. No matter that I already skipped breakfast, the thought of food right now is absolutely repulsive.
Still, I make my way to the barn and join Celia in the dining area.
“Oh, hey, boss, you’re late,” Celia says kindly.
“I know, I had a hell of a morning.”
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing important.” I wave her off as I search for my notes in my bag. After rummaging blindly without success, I stand up and dump the entire contents of the bag on the table: my phone, my moleskins, makeup, pens, and my agenda. I push stuff aside until I find the loose sheets of paper.
Celia fiddles with the chain at her neck. “Err… I already ate, boss, but would you like something brought up for you?”
I’m tempted to say just coffee again, but I can’t survive on caffeine alone. “A sandwich, thank you.”
Celia stands up and quickly comes back carrying a tray. She falters next to the table, undecided on where to settle the food with all the clutter from my bag scattered around.
I swipe the items back into my bag with an arm, except for the notes, and make room for the tray.
I manage to swallow down half the sandwich while Celia updates me on the morning’s happenings. Ah, finally I can bury my head into work and forget all about the sexy mayor who’ll be waiting at home for me tonight.
* * *
I almost manage to. At least until I have to leave the set for the day. I all but beg Celia to come back with me, but of course, it’s Friday night and she wants to hang with the crew. She’s probably going to spend the night at Jerry’s again.
Despite driving at an average speed of under twenty miles per hour, I’m pulling up too soon next to Travis’s black truck at Sagebrush Ranch. When I tiptoe into the house, Travis is coming out of his mother’s room holding a bowl and a spoon.
He makes a finger-over-mouth shh gesture and whispers, “She’s sleeping.”
I follow him into the kitchen. “How is she doing?”
“Better, her temperature is down and she ate a little soup. I made extra, you want some?”
“Isn’t it a little hot for soup?”
I can’t really tell the temperature because whenever I’m standing this close to Travis, my heat levels surge. We could be in the middle of Siberia and I’d still be sweltering.
Travis shrugs. “No, you’re right. I can make something else. Join me for dinner on the porch?”
Say no. Say no. You’d better say no.
“Sure,” I say instead. “Just give me a moment to change.”
I rush up the stairs, hissing, “Idiot, idiot, idiot,” under my breath.
In my room, I toss the day’s clothes on the bed and ransack the closet for my sexiest, most casual clothes. I want to look good but not like I tried too hard. Before changing, I dash into the bathroom to freshen up. Twenty minutes later, I walk out onto the porch in jeans shorts, an off-the-shoulder white T-shirt, and low-wedge-heel flip-flops.
Travis has set the table for two with a white cotton runner on the short side. Between the plates, he’s placed an old metal can filled with wildflowers. I wouldn’t exactly call it romantic, but he made an effort.
The kitchen screen door creaks open and bangs shut. Travis turns the corner, holding two plates, and stops dead in his tracks when he spots me. The mayor is quick to recover, though, and says, “I almost didn’t recognize you not wearing stilts.” He drops the plates on the table and unleashes one of his lopsided smiles on me. “Dinner’s ready.”
I squash the butterflies in my belly and sit on the bench opposite him, taking in the three pretty tacos on my plate and the even prettier mayor across the table.
“Oh, I love tacos.”
“You mean you thought you loved tacos; wait until you try mine. Everything you had before will pale in comparison.”
I take a bite and almost have an orgasm. The chicken is soft and juicy, the seasoning on point with the right mix of flavor and acidity. Oh, gosh, if the mayor has sex like he cooks and kisses, maybe it’s a good thing we’re not doing it. Or he’d ruin all other men for me.
“So?” Travis asks.
“It’s delicious,” I say. Then I get distracted looking at his mouth and when I raise my eyes to meet his again, they crinkle knowingly. I blush. Next, I get mad because he caught me staring and my cheeks go even redder.
“What’s up, Baker?” the mayor teases. “Too spicy for you?”
“I’m not the one who has a problem when things get spicy,” I retort.
“Touché,” Travis says, his eyes getting even crinklier with mischief before he breaks eye contact.
“What’s the matter?” I say. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re smirking.”
“I’m not smirking.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m smiling.”
“It’s a smirk.”
“A smile,” he chuckles.
I sigh. “Sure it is.”
“I’m happy to stop if it bothers you.”
You have no idea how much it bothers me, I reply in my head. But I won’t let him know that. Best to change the subject.
“How was your day?”
“Long,” Travis says, pushing aside his plate. “I thought the days of working from home were over. Plus, I’ve been a little preoccupied.”
He’s been preoccupied. With me? No, don’t be pigheaded, probably with his mom.
“How’s your mom feeling?”
“Better, thanks to you. I hate that she’s out here alone, but she refuses help and I can’t move back in with my mother at thirty-three—at least, not permanently. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t here this morning. I want to say again how grateful—”
“You’re welcome,” I interrupt. “But there’s no need to thank me; I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
“You didn’t have to do anything. Just being present made all the difference.” Travis’s eyes search mine, and then he says, his voice soft and deep, “You were more than enough.”
I’m taken aback and I open my mouth to speak, but words fail me. Travis is looking at me with those hazel eyes again and it’s impossible to look away. The pull is irresistible, and it makes me uneasy, and a little angry.
I grab another taco, a hysterical laugh building inside me. If Willette doesn’t get well soon, I’m going to go insane.
We keep quiet for the rest of the meal. The silence is loaded and a little more than frustrated on my part. I can see Travis would like for the tension between us to ease, but he should’ve thought about that before he fried all my brain cells with that searing kiss.
When we’re both done eating, Travis reaches over the table. For a deluded instant, I think he’s going to grab my hand. Instead, he goes for the plate. “Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of them.”
“No.” I stand up, throwing away my napkin. “Absolutely not! You can’t do the dishes.”
Travis’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Why not?”
Words tumble out of my mouth without filters. “Because you can’t be a great cook, an even better kisser, and also be the kind of man who does the dishes.”
“I swear I meant no harm with my offer—you look like you want to slap me.”
“The problem is I don’t want to slap you, I want to…”
“To?”
“You know.”
His eyes darken for a second before the smuggest smirk of the night curls his lips. “Not gonna happen, Baker. Trust me, you don’t want what’s on the other side.”
Travis takes my plate and disappears around the corner of the porch.
I’m left ogling his spectacular behind and thinking the real problem might be that I want what’s on the other side too much.