8

We walk to his car and he asks where he should drive to.

“Whale Rock.”

I buckle my seat belt and brace myself for a few minutes of awkward silence.

As he pulls out onto the main road, he glances at me. “I want to apologize.”

“For what? You did a great job reining in Blaine today. If you hadn’t told him to put out his cigarette, I was going to shove it down his throat.”

A chuckle bursts out of him. It’s so goofy and joyful-sounding.

“No, that’s not . . .” He clears his throat. “I mean, thanks.”

Another few seconds of silence follow. I swallow.

“I want to apologize for how dismissive I was when we were talking about the Needles shoot getting canceled.”

“Oh.” On the inside I deflate just thinking about it.

“I didn’t realize you had such a history there. And that you wanted to honor your grandma.”

I turn to look at him. “How did you know that?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I was walking up the alley near the coffee shop and heard you and Haley talking the other day. I’m sorry for eavesdropping, but I want you to know that I think your idea of memorializing your grandma with an episode at the Needles is really thoughtful.”

When he turns to look at me, I see there’s softness in his eyes too.

“And I’m sorry for saying it wasn’t a big deal,” he says. “That was an asshole thing to say.”

He turns back to the road. I stay quiet for a bit as he pulls into the parking lot at the trailhead for Whale Rock. We park and I glance up at the massive, long, dome-shaped, sandstone rock half a mile away. It looks like a beached whale jutting out of the orange-red dirt.

“Thanks for saying that. I appreciate it.”

Drew clears his throat as he unbuckles his seat belt and turns to me once more. “I was able to call the ranger’s office at the Needles and get them to reschedule.”

I whip my head to face him. “You what?”

“I booked an overnight shoot there for this weekend. Saturday night into Sunday late morning,” he says. “If you’re okay with moving things around in the schedule, the Needles is yours.”

I gawk at him, speechless.

“I know it throws off the shooting schedule a bit. These first two weeks were supposed to be in Moab, and then we’d move on to Zion, then Bryce, then Capitol Reef. We’ll have to cut things short in Moab to make it work, but then we could tack on a couple of days back in Moab at the end of the shoot, if you’re cool with that. We’ll be going back and forth across the state, which I know isn’t ideal, but—”

I reach across my seat to hug him. I squeeze him so hard that he makes an “oof” sound.

“Oh my God!” I squeal softly into his left pectoral muscle.

He chuckles above me, and I take a breath. He smells like mint and pine needles. It makes my heart beat just a tad bit quicker.

A few more seconds of hugging him and it hits me just how inappropriate it is that I’m touching Drew like this. I lean back into my seat, embarrassed. But I’m too hyped up on excitement to stay embarrassed for long.

When I look at him, he’s fighting back a grin.

“How did you . . . I mean, you said . . . I thought it was impossible at this point . . .”

“I called in a favor.”

I let out a laugh. “A favor?”

“I promised the ranger I talked to that we’d put his name in the credits as a consultant for the series.”

I exhale and fall back into my seat. I’m smiling so wide that it starts to ache behind my ears. “You have no idea what this means. I’ve been dreaming about filming there ever since I got into travel production. I just . . .” I face him. “Thank you for making this happen. It means everything.”

A smile stretches across his face. “If I had known how special the Needles was to you because of your grandma, I wouldn’t have let the ranger’s office cancel it in the first place.”

“You’ve redeemed yourself. You really are as incredible as Brooke said you’d be.”

We jump out of the car, and I sling my hiking pack over my shoulder.

He raises an eyebrow. “Brooke said that?”

“Her exact words. She sang your praises.”

He flashes that flustered smile I remember seeing when he ran into Haley and me at the coffee shop. It sends a tingle from my fingers to my toes.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I sneak a quick peek. It’s a slew of messages from my parents in our family group text chain.

I beam when I see that they filmed a short video of themselves.

“Hi, anak!” my mom says while grinning. She holds a giant mug with a picture of Zion National Park on it. “We just wanted to say a quick hello and wish you luck while you film your series! We’re so proud of you!”

“Hope filming is going well, honeybun.” My dad waves and then tugs on the bill of the baseball cap he’s wearing, which has the word “Utah” stitched on it in bright orange letters.

He hunches down to be at the same height as my mom, who’s a foot shorter than him. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her against him before kissing her cheek. She beams up at him. That obvious look of love between them makes my chest ache. It’s the best feeling knowing that my parents are still in love with each other after more than thirty years together.

“We love you! Call us soon, okay?” Mom says in her singsong voice.

Underneath their video is a text from my older brother, Chase.

You two are ridiculous LOL. Way to go, sis. Proud of you.

Behind me I hear Drew’s low chuckle. “Your parents are sweet.”

“They really are.”

I make a mental note to call them tomorrow after we finish filming for the day.

“I don’t know if my parents would ever have the patience—or technological know-how—to film a video and text it to me.”

I laugh as I slather sunscreen on my face and neck. “Oh, it took them ages to figure out FaceTime. But once they did, it’s their preferred way to communicate with my brother and me.”

“My parents favor yelling on the phone because they still haven’t figured out that they can actually adjust the volume on their phones.”

We laugh, and I hand him the bottle of sunscreen.

He shakes his head no. “I think I’ll be okay. I’ve got a hat.” He slips on a baseball cap and I frown.

“I know that this is a short trail, but there’s zero cover so we’re completely exposed to the sun. Believe me, you’ll burn quicker than you think. And a baseball cap is terrible sun protection.”

I place the sunscreen in his palm and pull out an extra collapsible sun hat that I always keep in my pack. “This is way better. Your neck and the sides of your face are completely uncovered in a baseball cap.”

Drew sighs through a smile as he takes the hat, then applies sunscreen. “Damn. I didn’t know I’d be contending with the sun-protection police,” he jokes. “Especially someone with a tan like you’ve got.”

“My tan is all natural, thanks to my mom,” I say. “And protection from the sun is no joke on a wilderness shoot like this. I know better after years of working on outdoor shoots.”

He secures the hat on his head and looks at me, his face scrunched. “God, I bet I look like a grandpa wearing this.”

Even in the unglamorous design of a giant, floppy sun hat, Drew still looks dynamite—the exact physical opposite of a grandpa. All the unflattering protective gear in the world can do little to dampen his rugged handsomeness.

I do a quick once-over of him, hoping it comes off as casual and not at all like I’m struggling to process just how impossibly hot he is. “You look great. You want a snack or anything before heading out?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He chuckles.

“What?”

His hazel-brown gaze fixes on me. “It’s cool how you look after the crew. I notice you’ve always got plenty of snacks for everyone, and you’re always reminding us to drink water while we work. You’re such a den mother. It’s so cute.”

I lower the brim of my hat just a tad bit more so he can’t see, I hope, just how much I’m blushing at the sound of him calling me cute.

“You ready?”

We walk to the trailhead. As we make our way side by side along the red dirt path, I feel myself loosen. That same comfort and ease I felt when we chatted over drinks on our date comes over me.

Drew pulls a package of Snoballs from his pocket, rips open the plastic wrap, and chows down. “See? I’ve got snacks covered,” he says around a mouthful of that cream-filled snack cake. “You want some?”

I make a face and shake my head. I don’t see how he can eat that.

“What? It’s delicious.” Two bites later the first Snoball is demolished and he’s digging into the second one. “It’s yummy chocolate cake and cream inside of a coconut-dusted marshmallow. What’s not to love?”

“The processed flavor. And the chemically enhanced color.”

Drew lets out a laugh, then kicks a small rock off the trail with one of his sneaker-clad feet.

“What happened to your hiking boots?” I ask.

“Thought I’d give them a break.”

“Give your sneakers a break. If you want to survive this shoot, wear hiking boots. And moisture-wicking socks. Your blister-free feet will thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I laugh at his playful tone. “I wore only sneakers during a shoot at the continental divide. A million blisters and two destroyed pairs of sneakers later, I learned my lesson.”

“I’ve done a bunch of wilderness shoots, but never for this many weeks. I’ve got a lot to learn from you, Dunn.” He wags his eyebrow at me.

I smile down at my hiking boots. “So what’s your story? How did you get into this line of work?”

“It’s a long one,” Drew says with an exaggerated exhale.

I gesture to the half-mile-long trail ahead of us. “We’ve got plenty of time to kill, and we’re the only people on this trail.”

Drew explains how he started out working as a caterer and an extra for low-budget movies a couple of years out of high school.

“Wait, you wanted to work in films?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was twenty. I didn’t do great in school, like a lot of other kids. I was good at sports, but not good enough to make it a career. I was living at home, working endless dead-end jobs while taking college classes, which I hated. And then one day I saw an ad on Craigslist looking for extras on a random indie movie. I made friends with another extra, whose cousin worked on a travel series. That show needed a production assistant, and that’s what kicked it all off.”

“So that PA job hooked you?”

“Yeah, believe it or not. So many other people I met over the years hated starting out as a PA. And I mean, parts about it definitely were rough, but overall I liked it. Every day was different. I never got bored. I think that was my problem in school and my other jobs. I’m not good with routine. It’s tough, but I like all the random things that pop up when you’re filming. Every day is a challenge. I like having to problem solve and put out all the fires that come up.”

“That explains why you’re so good at handling Blaine.”

He shakes his head while rolling his eyes and grinning.

“Seriously. Brooke said you’re a jack-of-all-trades and she was right. You can do everything.”

“Not everything.”

The way he softly mutters his words makes me curious. “What do you mean?”

He stares at the ground, his footfalls getting heavier with each step. “I’d make a terrible host.”

I scoff. “Do you not remember how slick you’ve been every time you’ve had to spoon-feed Blaine his scenes? You’re a natural. A million times better than him.”

I glance at him, admiring his profile as he focuses on the trail ahead of us. My eyes follow the smooth, strong lines of his nose and jaw.

“It’s a different story when the cameras are rolling.” He pauses and for a few moments the only sounds are from our shoes hitting the dirt and rock. A crow flies above us and caws.

I want to ask him to say more, but I don’t want to pry.

“I actually auditioned to host a show years ago,” he says as we close in on the rock formation.

“You did?”

He nods. “It was for some online gaming series. I don’t even remember the name of it. But I do remember how badly I blew the audition.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” I try to laugh to lighten the mood, but he purses his lips and says nothing as he stares straight ahead.

“It was that bad. I have pretty severe stage fright. I’ve had it ever since I was a kid.”

“Oh.” I stop in my tracks. Drew stops too and turns to look at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of that. I wouldn’t had I known . . .”

“It’s okay, Alia. If people were to watch my tape and see how I froze up and stared wide-eyed into the camera for almost a solid minute, they’d probably have a good laugh. I mean, I spent weeks memorizing those lines. Hosting was something I’d wanted to break into since I started out in this business. But one look at that camera, all those producers and the casting director staring right at me, and poof. I forgot everything. I just stuttered, then ran out of the room.” He groans and rubs a hand over his face. “Kind of embarrassing to suck at something you wanted so badly.”

He starts to walk ahead, but I grab his hand, stopping him.

“Drew, no decent person would laugh at that. That was an incredibly high-stress moment. I mean, would you laugh at a person having a nervous breakdown or bursting into tears? You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Instead of answering me, he looks down at our joined hands. I immediately let go. “Sorry,” I mumble, my face fiery. Why did I think it would be okay to grab him?

But when I glance up, a small smile tugs at his lips. “No worries, Dunn.”

I continue walking forward, stopping right where the gigantic sandstone starts to jut up from the earth and form the whale formation.

“I’m sorry to hear how your audition went.”

Drew shrugs. “It was years ago. It just goes to show I’m not meant to be a host. I should have known given what a hard time I have controlling my nerves sometimes.”

The urge to argue with him hits my tongue. I’ve been on countless shoots, with more hosts than I can remember, and none of them possess the natural ease and charm that Drew has.

“I hope you change your mind someday,” I say. “I think you’d be amazing at it.”

Drew’s stubbly cheeks flush red as his mouth curves up. He gestures to my pack. “Here, let me carry that. It’ll be easier for you to scramble up the rock without it weighing you down.”

I thank him, quietly giddy at how he gestures for me to go first after explaining how much safer it is for him to be behind me.

And then he taps the small of my back and I get a flashback to that night at the Brazen Head when he pulled the same move as he walked me out, right before we shared that knee-wobbling kiss on the sidewalk.

I swallow as his hand falls away and he gestures to the rock.

“In case you lose your footing, I can break your fall,” he huffs behind me as we scramble up the steepest part of the rock face.

“If anyone’s losing their footing, it’s you in those sneakers,” I tease as I make my way ahead of him.

Behind me Drew’s low, throaty chuckle sounds. The rest of the way up we say nothing, just huffs of air and grunts. When we reach the top of Whale Rock, we stop to catch our breath.

“Damn, that’s pretty,” Drew says through an exhale. Canyons stretch in every direction. Bright green shrubs pop from the orange-red desert surrounding us.

“If we can convince Wyatt and Joe to hike up here with the camera equipment tomorrow, we could get some gorgeous shots to use as online clips,” he says.

“Joe will be all over it, but Wyatt might be a harder sell. I’ll probably have to bribe him.”

We walk along the top of the rock all the way to the other side and stop several feet from the edge.

Drew wipes the sweat from his brow with his forearm, then looks at me. “Wanna sit?”

“Sure.”

He lowers himself into a sitting position, then pats the spot next to him. For a long moment, all we do is sit and stare at the endless canyon in front of us.

“Tell me about your grandma,” Drew says.

“I owe my love of Utah, traveling, and nature to her. Both of my parents traveled a ton for work when my brother and I were little, so we stayed with her a lot.”

“What did your parents do for a living?”

“They were both in the military. We moved a lot because of it, so I was used to never staying in one place for very long. But there were a couple times when they were stationed overseas for months at a time, and they didn’t want to take us out of school, so we’d live with our grandma.”

“That must have been hard,” he says softly. It makes goose bumps flash across my skin, how gentle and caring he sounds.

“Saying good-bye was always so hard. I always cried when they left—they did too. But staying with my grandma was the best. She would take us on road trips almost every weekend. One time they were stationed out of the country for an entire summer, so Apong Lita took us on a road trip. We hit up as many national parks as we could in one summer. Utah was my favorite state that we visited.”

I pause, thinking about the first time I ever laid eyes on the Needles.

“It’s like being on a whole new planet,” Drew says while gazing ahead.

“It’s so different from New York. Everything from the landscape to the weather to the lifestyle. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I adore the city and how bustling it is with people from all over the world. And the fact that you can get any type of food at all hours of the day and night. You definitely can’t get that in Moab. But living in a crowded city can feel so stifling. I love being able to travel all over the place for work, and when I get to come to places like this, where it’s all open spaces and the landscape is practically endless, it’s like a reset. Even the air here is different. It smells like shrubbery and dirt . . . but in a good way.” I take a breath. “I get to miss New York for a bit while basking in this openness.” I scrunch my nose. “God, that sounds corny.”

“Not corny in the slightest, Dunn. I totally get what you mean.”

He turns his head to me, a sweet half smile tugging at his mouth.

“It’s probably weird that I dreamed up an entire travel series because of one vacation with my grandma.”

“It’s not. At all,” Drew says. “Honestly, I get so sick of working on shows where the only objective is to appease advertisers or executives. This series actually has sentiment and meaning.”

His words settle at the center of my chest, like a warm hug. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

“Just speaking the truth.”

“Well, truthfully, I wanted to pitch something else entirely—something a lot more ambitious.”

“Which was?”

“An international series in the Philippines.” Excitement bubbles in my stomach at the mention of the idea. “When I was little, my grandma would show me pictures of Palawan. She and my mom are originally from Northern Luzon, but their family loved vacationing on Palawan Island. The white-sand beaches there look so gorgeous. And there are all these rocky cliffs covered in this lush, vibrant greenery. She would talk about how growing up she had a blast exploring all these hidden coves and lagoons. When I was little I’d ask her to tell me about her adventures there over and over. We always said we’d go there for a family vacation, but we never got around to it. My parents were always busy with work and traveling. And then my grandma passed away when I was in high school.”

“I’m sorry,” Drew says quietly, his eyes fixed on me.

“That’s life. You don’t always get to do what you plan.” I clear my throat. “Producing a travel show in the Philippines would be another dream come true. Actually, having a travel series where I can highlight lesser-known vacation spots there and around the world would be the ultimate dream.”

Drew frowns. “So why didn’t you pitch that?”

“International travel shows are expensive. The network wasn’t going to give me, a producer who’s never been in charge of a series before, a generous budget and just let me have at it. They tend to only do that if you’ve proven yourself. And this Utah series is how I’ll hopefully prove myself.”

That excitement in my stomach turns to anxiety. If only I had a different host, I’d be one thousand percent confident of producing a killer series and blowing away the network execs. But Blaine is such a wild card. We’re not even two weeks into shooting and he’s already derailed so much. So far we’ve all been able to contain it . . . but can I really do damage control for almost five more weeks?

I push the thought aside just as Drew speaks.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I think what you’re doing with this Utah series is brilliant. Not only will the national parks in Utah get a boost from this show, but I think all the national parks across the country will too.” Drew pauses to clear his throat. “But you shouldn’t sell yourself short. You should have pitched your international idea to the network. I think they would have gone for it.”

“You don’t know the network execs.”

I think back on the patronizing lecture that Byron gave me the day I pitched Discovering Utah on the importance of taking risks.

“You’ll never know what will work out if you don’t try, Alia.”

“That’s nice advice in theory. But when your ideas constantly get shot down, you start to pick up on what will work for you and what won’t. But that’s par for the course in this business. The network executives—the people who say yes or no to everyone’s pitches—are all old white dudes who don’t seem to want to try anything different. They almost always say yes to the male producers’ pitches, though—more often than they do to female producers’ pitches.”

I mention the reality TV series that a male colleague pitched where a dozen people signed up to work at a horse-racing stable, then competed to see who was the best at breeding horses.

Drew squints at me. “Wait, what?”

“There were multiple episodes filmed where the contestants had to collect sperm from stallions and then inseminate the mares. That was the whole hook of the show.”

He stammers, then shakes his head when he gives up on trying to say anything.

“And then there was the documentary that another producer pitched about squirrels. Like, just following around squirrels all day, every day, for weeks. That was a snoozefest. And a ratings bomb. But he got another series idea green-lit because the execs thought he deserved another chance.” I swallow, trying hard not to sound too bitter. “Brooke has had to fight for almost every series she’s pitched. She’s won awards for her work and still her ideas get rejected a lot of the time. And she’s not the only woman at Expedition who goes through that. I’ll have to go through that too if I want to keep producing my own shows. I accept that. I mean, I’m not happy about it, but I’m not surprised that I have to do it either.”

Drew looks at me. “I’m sorry they’ve stifled you and made you feel like your ideas aren’t good enough. But believe me when I tell you that this series is one of the best I’ve worked on. The script is tight and well written. The ideas you come up with for opening and closing shots are brilliant. You have an artist’s eye. And the crew loves working with you.”

I stammer as I try to say thank you, blown away at the caliber of his compliments.

“It’s upsetting that you haven’t been given the opportunity to showcase your skills before this,” he says. “I know we haven’t worked together for very long, but I could tell right away how talented you are. You’re one of the best I’ve ever worked with. And when you finally get to make your international series, I’m certain people will love it.”

It takes a second for me to process his words. But when they finally register, I feel heartened in a way I haven’t before whenever I’ve chatted with guys about the frustrations of being a woman in this industry.

“Thank you,” I say. “That means . . . honestly, it’s hard to put into words how much that means.”

He flashes the most beautiful smile. For a minute we share another comfortable silence while taking in the scenery. Then we decide to hike back.

Drew pops up, offering his hand to help me up.

“Such a gentleman, even in the wilderness,” I joke as we walk back down to the other edge of the rock to meet up with the trail.

“I think it’s fitting that the subway gentleman be a wilderness gentleman too.”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at him. He wears a smug grin.

“Wait, you . . . you saw that photo?”

“Yup.”

“Shit.” I cover my face with my hands and groan.

Just then I feel Drew’s hands on my wrists. He gently pulls my hands down. “It’s okay, Dunn. I was flattered.”

“That’s a relief. But still . . . kind of embarrassing for you to see it.”

“Is it?”

He offers me his hand again as I make my way down the side of Whale Rock to the trail on the ground.

“Well, yeah,” I say after my feet hit the dirt and we head back to the parking lot. “When I took that photo, I didn’t think anything would come of it. I didn’t even know your name.”

“I saw it the night after we met up,” he says.

“You did?”

He nods. “When I saw the original tweet, I figured that was you. I was psyched. I thought I’d be able to message you, but your DMs were closed. So then I thought if I tagged you in a post, you’d see it and then I could get ahold of you . . .”

“You did?”

“Yeah, but you never responded. I’m guessing your notifications were blowing up.”

“Um, yeah, actually. I turned off the notifications on my phone and stopped checking my Twitter account because there were so many.”

“I figured. When I never heard from you, I was pretty crushed.” His expression turns sheepish.

“Why didn’t you mention this when we saw each other at the hotel again?”

“I was going to, but you seemed kind of upset about it still. I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it more than you had to.”

“Right.” I glance down at the ground. “I was crushed too,” I say softly. “I had such a great time with you. I was eager to pick up where we left off.”

I’m blown away at how candid we’re both being with each other right now. But that’s the beauty of hiking with someone. You’re either walking side by side or one person in front of the other. You don’t have to make direct, unnerving eye contact. It’s like being in a makeshift confessional out in nature. It’s so much easier to be honest when you don’t have to look someone in the eye.

“It was the biggest letdown when you never called,” I admit.

I pick up the pace, walking ahead of him. We reach Drew’s truck, he unlocks it, and we climb in without another word. We’re on the highway when he finally speaks.

“You don’t believe that I actually shattered my phone on the subway tracks, do you?” His tone isn’t accusatory. More like inquisitive.

“I didn’t at first,” I say, looking out the passenger window. “I believe you now, though.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“How you acted during the first day of filming. The way you stood up for Rylan and called out Blaine. A truly good person who gives a crap about those kinds of things wouldn’t stand someone up.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

“I guess I’ve just gotten burned one too many times in the dating and relationships department. I always jump to the worst conclusion until proven otherwise.”

It’s weird admitting that out loud to Drew just now. I’ve thought it a million times to myself over the past few years, but I’ve never said it.

I turn my head to look at him; he’s nodding along like he can relate to what I’ve said. Even though our conversation has taken a slightly serious turn, the comfort remains.

The next several miles to Moab pass in silence. Then as we pull into town, Drew clears his throat.

“You know, when I walked into the hotel meeting room my first day in Moab, I was shocked to see you. More than shocked, actually . . . I thought that maybe . . .”

I hold my breath, my heart pounding as I wait for him to finish his sentence. He pulls into the hotel parking lot and turns the engine off. He turns to me and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. A long second passes; then he shakes his head and turns away.

I have no idea what to say in this awkward, tension-riddled moment, so I grab my pack from the back seat. “Okay, well . . . thanks for scouting with me. And, um, for the ride too,” I say quietly. I open the door and hop out, but before I can close it, Drew stops me.

“Dunn, wait a sec.”

I stand just outside the passenger seat. He stares at me with a new kind of intensity. The longer I look at him, the more I question it. Intensity doesn’t seem like the right word. Maybe regret?

My stomach does a backflip, and I swallow. Damn. Just his gaze is doing things to me.

“I should have done everything differently the night we met.” The edge of his jaw bulges, and he rasps a breath.

“Like what?”

He’s twisted in his seat to face me, his arm braced on the top of the steering wheel. “I should have said screw it and gone home with you.”

His chest heaves, and he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. I have to bite my lip just to keep myself from diving across the seat and taking his mouth for myself.

My gaze fixes on his eyes and how wild they look when he speaks. “What would you have done when we got to my apartment?”

He swallows, his neck flushing red. “I would have waited until you shut the door behind you. Then I would have pressed your—”

A car honk interrupts us. We turn our heads in the direction of the sound, which is a few spaces away from the spot where Drew’s parked. Rylan waves at us as she hops out of Wyatt’s van. Both of them hold stacks of pizza boxes in their arms.

“Surprise!” she says. “Dinner! Haley’s treat. So nice of her, right?”

My mouth opens, but I say nothing. I step back from Drew’s truck and shut the door. On the inside, I’m a mass of invisible flames and arousal. I have to blink twice to get my bearings back.

A few seconds later I nod at them and holler “Oh great!” to Rylan. The smell of garlic and cheese hits my nostrils as she and Wyatt walk into the hotel.

But even the prospect of yummy food after a long day of shooting doesn’t hold a candle to the prospect of Drew finishing his thought about what exactly he wanted to do to me the night we met.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d be up for showing me now.

I turn around, ready to ask him, but he’s gone. Then I spot him walking into the hotel entrance without a second look back at me.