Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“It’s been what…four months? Are you sure she feels the same way about you?”
I thought about his question for a moment and then looked toward the mountains in the distance. “I can only hope that the love she felt for me was as strong as mine still is for her. And for the briefest of moments, I saw it in her eyes. She still loves me.”
“Back to my other statement: I hope you have a plan.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.”
Hank hit me on the back. “You already know how I feel about her, so the best I can do is wish you luck. You’re gonna need it.”
Kathleen came storming out of her trailer and looked around. The moment she saw me, her face drew into a frown. She stomped her way over, and I heard Hank whisper something under his breath. Her assistant, Lanny, was trying to keep up with her while holding Kathleen’s little dog, Sweet Pea, in her arms.
“Ms. Daughtry, I haven’t taken off the—”
“Not now, Lanny! Go take Sweet Pea for a potty break.”
“But, Ms. Daughtry!”
Kathleen came to a halt, turned, and pointed for Lanny to walk away. The poor girl shrank and quickly headed off in the opposite direction. Kathleen drew in a deep breath, then continued to march toward me.
Hank hit me on the back again. “And this is where I’m tapping out. Good luck.”
Kathleen came to an abrupt halt in front of me. “Who in the fuck do you think you are?”
I did a quick sweep of her. Her clothes looked as if she had quickly thrown them on and she had white shit smeared all over her face. She had clearly rushed out of her trailer without so much as a glimpse in the mirror. “You seem…out of sorts, Kathleen.”
She folded her arms over her chest and shot daggers at me. “They just informed me that the one and only major sex scene in the script is no longer happening. And the worst part is that it was decided three months ago!”
I tilted my head and smiled. “Four, to be exact. At the end of January. It’s May now.”
She stomped her feet, causing the mask on her face—that she clearly forgot was on—to crack slightly. “I know what fucking month it is, Luke! Why was I not told?”
Lifting my hand, I pointed to her face. “Do you not feel that thing cracking?”
Her eyes went wide as she pressed both hands to her cheeks. She let out a horrified gasp and spun around, practically sprinting back to her trailer. All the while, she screamed for her assistant Lanny and added, “You are fired after you get this off my face!”
I heard a long sigh from behind me, and I turned to see the director, Donald, standing there. “I told the studio that keeping it from her would be a disaster. They wouldn’t listen.”
I smiled. “Look at it this way, Donald, if she’d been told, she would have complained constantly for the last few months and driven us all insane.”
He nodded as he let that sink in. “True. She does seem overly upset about it. I think she was really looking forward to that scene with you.”
Our eyes met, but neither of us said a damn word for a few moments.
“You could always get a stunt double to play me if she wants the scene in there so badly…” I said.
“You know as well as I do the scene has been removed from the script.”
“I do know that.”
A wicked grin appeared on his face. “Oh, but to see her face when I suggest a stunt double. I’ll need to make sure someone’s filming it.”
And with that, Donald headed off in another direction, clearly plotting. He wasn’t normally petty like this, but something about Kathleen brought out the devil in a person.
“Mr. Walters, wardrobe is waiting for you.”
I finished off my coffee and tossed it in the trash before I headed to wardrobe. I whistled a happy little tune the entire time, knowing this would be one of the last times I’d make this walk.
As I strolled into the Willow Tree Bed and Breakfast hours later, I came to an abrupt halt. Bree was standing there, dressed in a snug-fitting black dress that fell above her knees. Her brown hair was pulled up and piled on top of her head, with a few curls hanging down her neck.
I swallowed hard and let my eyes move down her body until I saw the black high heels she was wearing. She looked beautiful, and every hair on my body rose when she slowly turned and met my gaze.
“Mr. Cummington,” she said.
“Cunningham, Brighton,” her mother corrected as she came around the small desk area in the foyer. “How was your day? Did you get to drive around the valley like you mentioned?”