I approached the corner to my street, my foot hovering over the brake as I held my breath and scanned Shaw’s drive.
Phew. Empty.
It had been a week since my birthday, a week since Shaw had kissed me in my kitchen, and I’d been avoiding him like I avoided public places during flu season.
Last night, his SUV had been in the driveway when I’d come home from work. I’d parked and run inside like a bear was chasing me.
Four nights ago, he’d knocked on my door. I’d crept through my entryway like a ninja, barely breathing, and watched him through the peephole.
Suffice it to say, I wasn’t dealing with his kiss very well.
In the moment, it had been everything I’d wanted. That kiss had been hot and consuming and so incredibly passionate. I’d laughed and smiled because that kiss had blown my mind.
It was the best kiss of my life.
Cue panic attack.
After Shaw had kissed me, he’d gone about the night like it had never happened. The pizza arrived. Shaw carried the conversation, talking about the movie shooting they’d done that day. He told me about his three younger sisters and their collective brood of girls, his nieces. He showed me pictures and I recognized Matine from my Google search—the woman I’d thought was his girlfriend. We ate on the deck with our beers and when we were done, he went home. Not once did he touch me again. He didn’t kiss my cheek when I escorted him to the door. Shaw just waved and jogged down the steps.
Meanwhile, every moment that passed, I became more and more freaked out.
I loved that kiss. I wanted a kiss like that every day until I was in dentures. But Shaw was leaving. He wasn’t boyfriend material. He was a goddamn movie star.
What exactly had I been thinking? I was supposed to be protecting my wounded heart, not tossing it to a man destined to smash it to smithereens with his very capable hands. What the hell was he even doing with me?
Shaw Valance.
He was the Shaw Valance.
And I was . . . me.
I was a random woman from Montana with enough baggage to sink a cargo ship. Except Shaw didn’t make me feel random. He looked at me with those stunning eyes and I felt in the spotlight. I was in the room and I had his attention. Entirely.
He’d confided in me too, about the movie and the school bus. He couldn’t know how I treasured that trust. Shaw had told me there were feelings, and damn if I didn’t want them.
It had been so long since I’d felt that anticipation and excitement around another person. The anxiety that came with standing close, wondering if he’d touch me.
Had Jeremiah and I ever had that electricity? Or had I conjured a spark that hadn’t really been there? Jeremiah had been a constant. He’d been easy and familiar.
Shaw had pushed me so far out of my comfort zone I didn’t know how to act. Hence, my avoidance—something I couldn’t afford.
The days were ticking by too fast. Shaw would be gone before long and I was wasting time being a chicken, hiding in my own home.
But here I was, doing it again tonight.
I went inside, shutting the door behind me, and flipped on the lights. I went into the kitchen and my gaze landed on the spot where he’d kissed me senseless.
My fingers drifted to my lips. It had been a week and I could still feel him there. He’d tasted so incredibly masculine. His spicy cologne, sandalwood and musk, had disappeared days ago, but I searched for it in the air all the same.
Sweet lord, that man could kiss. His costars were lucky, lucky women.
I shivered and opened the fridge, searching for my open bag of baby carrots. I took a handful and began crunching. Then I wandered into the living room and plopped down on the couch, taking my phone from my pocket.
There was nothing interesting on Instagram. I scrolled aimlessly through pictures and then pulled up the search bar. I entered Shaw’s name, like I had every day this week, and looked at his latest post.
He was fishing.
When had he gone fishing? The post said yesterday. He was holding a fish with a wide smile stretched across his face. Sunglasses shaded his eyes and his baseball cap was turned backward. #Montana.
More like #sexy.
And this man, with over a million likes on that photo, had kissed me. Me.
I swiped through his pictures for the thousandth time, chewing my carrots. None of Shaw’s posts from the time he’d been here indicated anything about the movie. If anything, it looked like he was on a vacation. There were only five photos, three of his face, one of the mountains at sunset, and one he’d taken at the garage of the unfinished bike. It was from the day he’d shadowed Isaiah.
The bike was nearly done now. Dash had told me this afternoon I could call Shaw and arrange for him to pick it up next week. I’d avoided making that call too. Shaw was giving me time, he was being respectful—which I appreciated—but my time was running short. It was like an egg timer, winding down to zero. With every tick, you knew it was coming, but you’d still jump when it buzzed.
Shaw was getting close to zero, of that I was certain. Hunger. Excitement. Desire.
There was the threat of more in that kiss.
He wanted it.
So did I.
It was only a matter of time.
There was no way Shaw would finish this movie without seeing me again.
After Shaw had summarized Dark Paradise for me, I’d passed it along to the guys at the garage. We’d agreed that while the movie wouldn’t paint anyone in a great light, it also wouldn’t do much damage. Isaiah would ensure Genevieve stayed far away, not that she had a desire to go. It had taken her a while, but when she’d learned that her mother’s portrayal would be mostly positive, tragic but positive, she’d accepted it.
Her strength astounded me.
She had no interest in seeing the movie, but curiosity was a funny thing. It made you do dumb things.
Like kiss a movie star in your kitchen, just to see if his lips were as delicious as they’d looked.
They were.
The doorbell rang and I leapt from the couch, my phone falling to the seat.
It was Shaw. I was sure of it.
The egg timer was dinging, and avoidance was no longer an option.
I walked to the door and hovered behind the lock.
“Presley.” His voice carried through the door. “I know you’re in there. I can hear you breathing.”
I froze. Damn it.
“Not to sound like an arrogant asshole, but most women open the door if I’m on the other side.”
“Smug bastard,” I muttered. He was goading me, and I took the bait. I swung the door open and scowled. “Your ego is beyond comprehension. You should see a doctor about it.”
He grinned. “But I got you to open the door.”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and stood aside, gesturing for him to enter.
His deep chuckle filled the space between us as he strode toward the kitchen.
“Oh, no.” I stopped him and pointed to the couch. “You’re not allowed in my kitchen anymore.”
“And you think a living room with this plush, soft couch is better?” He sat down and threw an arm over the back like he owned my sofa.
This was the problem with movie stars. They commanded attention and we mere spectators were helpless to resist.
I stayed standing, making sure I wasn’t in a place where he could back me into a counter or a wall or a bed. Near the coffee table, I had an escape route on both sides.
Shaw glanced at my phone, which had landed face up where I’d tossed it. Face up with his face on the screen. Oh, hell.
He smirked. “Anything good on Instagram today?”
I stomped to the couch and swiped up my phone, then retreated to my safe spot. “How was fishing?”
“Awesome,” he answered. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Yep.” There was no use denying it.
“Care to tell me why?”
“Because you kissed me.”
He sighed, the bravado dropping. “Was it a mistake? Because it didn’t feel like a mistake, but if it was, I apologize.”
“No.” Maybe it wasn’t smart, but definitely no mistake. “Don’t apologize.”
“I like talking to you. I don’t want to lose that. I mean, I like kissing you too, but if I had to choose, I’d pick talking.”
“Really?” I cocked my head and studied his expression. It was so sincere.
“Every day of the week.”
I fought a smile. “I like talking too.”
Discussion with Shaw was different than with most people, especially the guys at the garage. I was a good listener, I was always available in the office, so I was the one Emmett or Leo came to if they needed to unload. Dash too until he’d met Bryce. But no matter what, I always felt like the guys held back, just a little, because they were in protection mode.
Shaw didn’t shelter me from his truths.
So I wouldn’t hide away in mine.
“I’m confused,” I admitted.
“Because of your ex?”
I scoffed. “No. He’s a memory. Because you’re you. You have millions of people who follow you. People across the world stalk your Instagram, desperate to feel some sort of connection with you. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fame.”
“It’s not real.”
“Isn’t it? Because it seems like you’re really famous.”
“The fame is real, but that guy, the image, isn’t. This is.” He waved a hand up and down his torso. “I spend more time working out than I want. I hate running, but I go at least four times a week. My signature on autographs is nothing like the one I put on your contract at the garage. I have two smiles: camera and off camera.”
“What’s your camera smile?”
He flashed it at me. It was the one I’d found on Google. The one I’d seen on social media.
“What’s your off-camera smile?”
He stood from the couch and crossed the living room, and my feet stuck to the carpet as he crowded my space.
I had these incredible escape routes, but did I use them? No, I stood there and let Shaw drop his confusing, magnificent lips on mine.
The kiss was short and soft. Not the best of my life—the kitchen kiss was—but this was the sweetest.
Then Shaw let me go, leaned back, and there it was. The most blinding, beautifully handsome smile in history.
“Oh, fuck,” I groaned and dropped my forehead to his chest. I only stood tall enough to reach his sternum. “You are killing me here.”
He chuckled. “You make me smile.”
“Shut up.” I pinched his side, making his laugh louder as I stood and soaked in that smile. “Maybe I’m confused because this seems too good to be true.”
“It’s not too good. If it was too good, you’d live in California and I wouldn’t have to say goodbye in a month.”
Reality came crashing down around us, sobering us both.
Shaw wasn’t a neighbor neighbor. He was fleeting. Soon, we’d say goodbye, and the only connection I’d have to him would be on social media and in the movie theater. I’d share him with the world, limited to the camera smiles.
But I didn’t have to share him tonight.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” I asked.
“We could go out.”
I scrunched up my nose. “What’s with you and wanting to take me out to eat?”
“My parents always had this thing.” He shrugged. “They’d go out to eat once a month, and only once a month. With one income and four kids, they couldn’t afford restaurants often, so it was a big deal. Mom would spend the day at home, cleaning and doing laundry for all of us kids. Then she’d get dressed up so when Dad came home, she was ready to go. He’d change out of his uniform and put on slacks and a starched shirt. Then they’d go on a date. I don’t date much, but I’d like very much to date you, at least once before I go.”
Hadn’t I told Genevieve weeks ago that I wanted to date? Hadn’t I wanted Shaw to be the man sitting across from me?
But I couldn’t do it. That was a step with Shaw I wasn’t ready to take. He’d put me in his spotlight, which was fine when we were alone. But in public? Not yet. And definitely not before I told the guys at the garage.
The entire town would know if I went out to dinner with Shaw and word traveled fast in Clifton Forge. Everyone would speculate that we were dating or that Shaw was my rebound or that I was his easy fling. It would probably be a combination of that and more.
I wanted to enjoy my time with Shaw on my own terms.
“No.”
His frame slumped. “Huh. I thought that story would work. I mean, I just made it up but . . .”
“What?” I smacked his arm. “Seriously?”
He laughed. “I’m just kidding. The story is true.”
“I don’t know if I can believe you.”
“Want to call my mom and ask?” He shoved his hand in his pocket.
“Put your phone away.” I scowled. I was definitely not calling his mother. “Would you like to eat here instead?”
“Sure.” He ran his thumb across my cheek, sending a rush of tingles to my toes. He didn’t make me explain my refusal, and he didn’t ask for a date again. Maybe he thought he’d have a better chance at another kiss if we were alone.
He would.
The two of us ended up on the deck after I’d whipped together some simple turkey sandwiches with potato chips. A no-fuss meal made special because I wasn’t alone.
“How’s shooting going?” I asked as we ate.
“Good.” He nodded. “We’re on schedule, which is important. There’ve been some long days, but we’re getting through. I just hope . . .”
“Hope what?”
He sighed. “I hope I’m doing a good job.”
It was strange to see insecurity on his face. “You are.”
“Maybe.”
“You are. You’re a good actor and I know this because I’ve watched every one of your movies at least twice. You’re doing a good job.”
The light in his eyes danced. “Twice?”
“Is this going to inflate your ego?”
“Most definitely.”
“Well, that backfired,” I muttered.
Shaw tipped his head back and laughed at the cloudless blue sky.
I hid my smile by chewing a chip.
His laughter was like music, and the more I heard it, the more I could make out different notes. Like his smile, it was different when it was real. It was huskier and came from deeper in his throat. It was raw and unrefined. It ignited a pulse between my legs that would stay long after our meal.
“Any word from your ex?” he asked.
“Nope.” I’d blocked Jeremiah’s number, so if he’d tried to call, I wouldn’t know, and he hadn’t tried to reach me at the garage.
The Warriors hadn’t contacted Dash since his phone call to Tucker, and we all hoped he’d managed to smooth things over. But I wasn’t blind to the risks. Leo had screwed up, and I suspected he spent his nights at The Betsy looking over his shoulder.
“You said something that day, the one where Leo was here after he kicked your fiancé’s ass. You said, ‘You’re stirring up trouble we don’t need.’ What did you mean? I’m missing something here, aren’t I?”
Yes, he was. “If I tell you something, can you promise me it won’t go into your movie?”
Shaw frowned and shot me a glare. “I’m kind of pissed you’d even ask.”
I cringed, replaying my words. “Sorry. That’s not— I trust you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” I held his gaze. “I trust you.”
But the Tin Gypsies and the Warriors had been our secret for so long, it felt strange to let the words loose.
“Jeremiah, my ex, joined a motorcycle club. The Arrowhead Warriors. Back when Draven and Dash were still running the Tin Gypsies, they were rivals.”
“I’ve heard of them. In the paper, Bryce speculated that one of their members was the one to steal Draven’s hunting knife and kill Amina.”
It had actually been Marcus, disguised as a Warrior because he’d known about the rivalry. But he’d been smart. Everyone had immediately suspected the Warriors given their history.
“Jeremiah, in his infinite stupidity, decided he wanted to join their club. He moved to Ashton years ago, even though we stayed together. That was my infinite stupidity.”
“You’re not stupid,” Shaw scolded.
“No, I am. When it came to Jeremiah, there’s a lot of stupid there.” I waved off another one of his frowns. “Anyway, Jeremiah is a Warrior. Leo was a Gypsy.”
“Enemies.”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “Jeremiah deserved what he got, but when you mess with one member of the club, you mess with them all. We don’t need trouble with the Warriors. I don’t want to see my friends get hurt.”
“Hmm.” Shaw nodded. “Your ex sounds like a fucking asshole.”
I grinned. “You’re not wrong.”
“You can tell me to mind my own business, but why’d you stay with him?”
I’d been asking myself that question for weeks. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. We have a long history, and I think that clouded my feelings toward him. But it’s done now and that’s all that matters.”
“You’re sure?” Shaw sat up, swinging his long legs between our chairs. He leaned his elbows on his knees so he was close. “I thought maybe the reason you were avoiding me was because you need some time to get over the ex.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s done.”
The heartbreak, the humiliation, was fading too. Turns out all I’d needed was some time to see Jeremiah’s betrayal on our wedding day as a gift. He’d given me my freedom.
I wasn’t going to say thank you, but I wasn’t angry anymore.
“Does that mean I can keep kissing you?”
I sat up and mirrored his pose, one knee threaded between his. “You’re here for a month?”
“If shooting goes as planned.”
“Then how about I make you a deal? I’ll trade you that dinner out you so desperately want for a kiss every day for a month.”
“No-brainer.” He held out his hand. “Shake on it.”
My hand slipped in his.
Then he smiled, the real one, and took today’s kiss.