Chapter 3

chapter

three

Maxine

Today really can't get any worse.

I mean I suppose I could be forced to sell a kidney in order to pay the rent on my shoebox they call an apartment. Or groceries. I'm already living off of tuna fish and egg salad because my ass can't deal with ramen. Too many carbs.

Isn't that what got us into this mess to begin with?

No, no it's not. My plus size ass is just fine.

It's my selfish, judgmental grandfather, who is the problem. The size of my hips, ass or anything else shouldn't matter to anyone, especially not a relative.

Your body is damn near perfect.

Andrew's words, complete with that slow Texas drawl of his, replay in my mind as they've done for the last week and a half since we first met. Those words and that goddamn kiss.

I've done my level best to avoid him at work, which for the most part has been simple since our paths don't regularly cross. But I catch glimpses of him. It's impossible not to. Unfortunately, I seem to have a beacon for his unruly mop of dark blond hair and his tall, muscular frame.

"Stop it!" I yell at myself. No one on the freeway even notices because this is LA and everyone talks to themselves. In any case, the day is already shit and not because I'm foolishly mooning after Mr. Tall, Tasty and Texan.

No, the day is bad because I'm already running late. There was an accident when I first hopped on the freeway. To make matters infinitely worse, I spilled coffee all down my left leg. So, I've got coffee sloshing around in my shoe and my pant leg is shellacked to my thigh.

"Just fucking perfect."

If I could absorb the caffeine through my skin at least that might help.

When I pull up to the kiosk gate at the studio, I can't find my ID to show the guy. Even though he's seen me every day for nearly two weeks, he acts like he has no idea who I am. So I show him my driver's license. He still has no clue.

I have to make a call to Luca, the director, so someone can call this security guard.

I hear the phone ring inside the kiosk. Meanwhile there are cars lining up behind me and they're already honking. Security guard pokes his head out the window and looks at me.

"You Maxine?"

I roll my eyes. "I just showed you my driver's license."

He stares blankly at me.

"Yes, I'm Maxine."

He nods, says something to the phone, then presses a button that opens the arm so I can drive forward.

Now I'm really late. Let's not forget the one leg and one shoe soaked through with coffee. For the first time in my life, I'm stressed about bills and I hate my job.

I sigh.

No, I don't. I don't hate my job. I don't even really hate these people, even though they're all so damn beautiful. It's ridiculous.

Some of them are actually pretty sweet. Like Laura, one of our lead actresses. She, in particular, is so pretty, and genuinely sweet. It shouldn't be the kind of thing that makes me suspicious, but it does. I was raised in this town. In a family that values beauty over just about anything except money.

It's made me leery of people's motives.

But you know what, it's okay. She's allowed to be pretty and sweet and successful. Even if it makes no sense to me.

Like, I don't even understand how it can happen in this city. When you're that attractive and that successful, it tends to go to one's head and you end up being an asshole.

I finally park my car and grab my bag. Because I don't have my badge, I can't get into any of the locked doors. So I have to bang on the main set door. Thankfully, someone lets me in and uses the master key to let me into my medic trailer out in the lot behind.

First order of business is changing out of these damn pants. I toe off my shoes, thankful they're those ugly rubber clogs—don't judge, they're comfortable and a lot of doctors wear them. Also, they're super easy to clean of bodily fluids, or in this case, coffee. I rinse my shoes off in my sink and set them on a towel to dry.

I'm halfway to the cabinet where I keep extra sets of scrubs when someone opens my trailer door. I freeze in my spot, then realize too late that I'm standing there in nothing but my shirt and panties.

Just in time for Andrew to duck in. He's got his jeans unfastened and what looks like a blood spotted rag held to his back.

"Shit, what happened?"

He pauses when he sees me, those hazel eyes of his eating up my exposed skin. "Oh, sweet thing, of all the times for me to be injured. Look how sexy your fucking legs are."

"No time for that," I say. "Can you sit or do you need to lay face down? Whatever position is most comfortable, get into it over there and I'll come take a look." I walk over to the cabinet and grab the first pair of scrubs I can find. They're light blue with baby koalas all over them. I don't even remember buying them, but here we are.

I wash my hands, put on gloves and grab my kit, then go over to where Andrew is now, lying face down, bare ass up.

Jesus, take the wheel.

That is, hands down, the best ass I have ever laid my eyes on.

"I had a little accident on set and my bottom got injured," he says.

"Move your hand so I can see what I'm dealing with here." He does and I peel away the towel. "You know this injury is right at the top of your ass you didn't have to take your pants completely off."

"What fun would that be? Besides I'm the reigning Mr. Perfect Cheeks, five years running."

"Do I even want to know what that is?" I shake my head and lean closer to the wound. "Never mind. I'm going to clean this out. Looks like you got nailed with a hole punch."

He laughs. "Kinda. Mishap in set design and I got nailed. Or rather screwed." He giggles this time.

Actually giggles. And I can't help but laugh with him. "Are you drunk?"

"Someone gave me a Xanax; I think to keep me calm."

"Were you panicking?"

"Not exactly, but I don't have a good track record with blood. It makes me queasy." He lifts his head a little. "Probably makes me a pussy, huh?"

"No, it doesn't. I'll get you cleaned up, but do you happen to know when the last time you got a tetanus shot was?"

"Uh, should be in my medical records. We have to keep all of that on file because of the union."

"Okay, I'll check in a minute. Hold still for me." I proceed to clean out the wound and I try so hard to be professional. I am a doctor, for fuck's sake, or nearly a doctor anyways. So my eyes stray periodically to the perfectly sculpted ass within reach. I could grab it. With both hands and give both cheeks a squeeze. Or I could lean forward and just bite into one of those firm looking globes.

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?

"Definitely going to need a tetanus shot. Maybe a stitch or two, but that's probably going to depend on doctor or patient's preference. The wound isn't that deep, and the edges are relatively clean."

"Maxine," he hums my name. "Why won't you go out with me? You're not low-hanging fruit or whatever you called yourself that day. I'll put in whatever effort you want me to, but you gotta give me a chance. I can't stop thinking about you, sweet thing. And goddammit if having your hands on me right now even in a clinical way, isn't turning me the fuck on."

"That's just the Xanax you took."

He chuckles and my traitorous pussy floods with arousal. "I'm pretty sure we both know that's patently false."

"You are a flirt."

"I'm actually not. I am friendly. I'm from Texas, I grew up waving to strangers from the front seat of my daddy's pick-up truck. But I don't flirt. Especially here. Since I've been here in California, I've been on exactly three dates, one of which was an awards ceremony, and I took my baby sister with me."

"The other two?" I find myself asking.

"Never made it past dinner on either of them."

I swallow thickly, then move over to the laptop the studio provided me for the medical records. I roll over to him on the stool, still determined to keep my eyes off his perfect ass.

"How did you even get into this line of work?" I ask him while I click around on the trackpad trying to find his records.

I had done some modeling and it was not my thing. I wanted to do stunts. That was my training, mostly with horses, but evidently that line of work is harder to break into. I was up for a big modeling campaign." He's laying with his head on his crossed arms and this his eyes tilt up to me. "It was for tighty-whities. Anyways, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew I was asked to do a butt scene in a huge blockbuster and let's just say it was the butt that launched my career."

"But you never had any desire to act? With like your face, or whatever?" I laugh. "That sounds weird, but you know what I mean."

"I do and no. I never wanted to be an actor. I just came out here to have a bit of an adventure for a little while." He glances over his shoulder at his injury, then gives me a little grin.

"I'd say you're doing it."