She arrived overflowing with ideas, a storyboard, a script complete with camera angles, ways and places to advertise, and a marketing scheme. He smiled, sitting next to her on the sofa at the big table, a bottle of wine between them. “You’ve done a hell of a lot of work.
It looks so professional. Where did you get all that information?”
“I studied a little. Some from experience. A lot from Bear. I put it together on our computer.”
“I can see the whole thing.” He leaned forward and kissed her into a slower pace down a different path. He whispered thank you against her lips and felt the change as she softened under his touch and slipped her arms around his neck. She seemed to constantly create a universe wherein all was new, the tantalizing tilt of her head haloed in gilded strands of light, the smoke that veiled her mystifying eyes, the bone-china paleness of her skin, whose purpose was to take him from himself.
A bunch of friends and neighbors came to the ranch for a potluck screening of the finished product and cheered when it was over. Jesse had to deal with a ceaseless barrage of gibes about being a movie star. He gave total credit to “my writer, my producer, my director, and my cinematographer, Holly Marie Bassett.” She bowed elaborately to applause, cheers, and whistles.