Chapter 16

Hayden

I grazea hand over Victoria's forearm as she passes by me, giving her fingers a quick squeeze before letting her go. She pauses for half a second at the bottom of the steps into my trailer, turning as though to be sure to close the door. She gives me a quick, but sincere, smile, mouthing, "Sorry," and then she turns to scamper after Mia, focused on whatever she has to do next.

Blowing out a breath, I pull the door closed and stand staring blankly at it for several moments after they're gone. Then I head to the bed and flop down, wondering what to do with myself.

I briefly consider finishing solo what I started with Victoria, but that doesn't hold much appeal. For one, Mia's bollocking was an effective boner killer, so I'm not aching for release. And for another, my right hand is far less tempting when I was so close to a tight, wet pussy.

Grabbing my phone, I shoot a text off to Victoria.

Let me know if you can make it back before you have to go home

I stare at the phone for several long minutes, cycling through a variety of other apps and constantly checking back with my texts to make sure I didn't miss something, but there's no response. Disgusted with my pathetic schoolboy routine, I toss the phone on the bed beside me and stare at the ceiling.

I need to move. To do something other than sit here. Standing, I drink half a bottle of water, put on my shoes and a sweatshirt, and head out for a jog, phone in hand just in case Victoria texts me back.

The edges of the dirt track leading into the ranch where we're filming are muddy, as are the tire ruts, but the space between the ruts is barely damp, just enough to not be dusty, which is perfect as far as I'm concerned. I set an easy pace, enough to make me feel better, not so fast as to make me feel worse. I'm not trying to outrun my demons right now, just keep myself from going crazy.

It works.

Once I hit the road, I run along the shoulder until the light's so faded that it's becoming dangerous, so I turn and head back, turning on the flashlight on my phone for the double purpose of being more visible in the near darkness and so I don't miss the turn off for the ranch.

When I get back to the cluster of trailers, I spot Victoria hurrying toward the costume trailer, but she stops when she sees me and waves.

Slowing to a walk, I approach her, hands on my hips, chest heaving as I catch my breath.

Her eyes travel over my body, and another type of warmth washes over me—the kind that comes from a beautiful woman obviously checking you out. Whatever other hesitations she might have, her interest in me is unmistakable. Not that I was worried—especially after our earlier interlude—but it's still nice to feel desired, even when you've been named one of the most beautiful men alive.

Those designations are more about PR and never feel like they're real. Not the way it feels when Victoria looks at me like she's imagining what's underneath my clothes, and like she wants to drag me back to my trailer and strip them off to refresh her memory for future reference.

Hell, I want to do the same thing to her.

"Hey," I say quietly, keeping my voice neutral.

She glances over her shoulder. "Hey. Sorry for not texting back. I'm still not sure, to be honest. Mia's been running me ragged the whole time. She'll come looking for me again if I'm not back soon. I just didn't want you to think I'm ignoring you."

"I didn't think you were ignoring me," I reassure her. "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

Her eyes flash, her plump lips curving in a wicked grin. "Well, don't do that yet. I'm still hoping I'll have time."

That surprises a bark of laughter out of me. "Me too, Sunshine."

She wrinkles her nose. "Sunshine?"

I give her a lopsided grin. "Just trying it out. Don't like it?"

She shakes her head. "I've never felt very sunny."

Narrowing my eyes, I rub a hand over my chin. "Hmm. Okay. I'll workshop some other ideas."

That makes her laugh. "I look forward to it." Her eyes dart around and she leans toward me like maybe she wants to kiss me, but then she settles back on her heels, gives me a tight smile, and starts to move toward the costume trailer again. "I better get back. I'll text you when I know something."

"Sounds good."

Victoria

I can't make it back to see you tonight. Mia gave me a lot of costumes to work on and walked me to my car. She's actually standing there waiting for me to drive away while I'm texting this. And I'm not due back for two more days.

Disappointment washes over me as I read Victoria's text, and I gather my things to head out for the night. I'm sure Brady will wonder why I was hanging around in my trailer so long, but I'll just tell him that I needed time alone, and at the house there are always people around—like him—and not as much privacy as I'd prefer.

It's a true enough answer, anyway. That's if he even bothers to talk to me. After his performance today, he might be holed up and keeping to himself too.

Which would be for the best. For everyone.

Before I head to my car, I reply to Victoria.

Could we meet somewhere tomorrow? Maybe on your lunch break? Or right after you get off work?

I force myself to shove my phone in my pocket and ignore it, tossing it in the passenger seat face down for the drive back to the house so I don't get distracted on these winding country roads in the dark. The last thing I need is to crash into a tree or a deer or—on the off chance there's someone else around—another driver because I'm too distracted by thoughts of Victoria and when I can see her again.

I shouldn't be this hung up on her already. I know it. I've been down this road before—getting too attached too quickly—and it always blows up in my face. I always want more, or want something different, and the other person never wants the same things. They want my fame, my connections, never me.

But Victoria's different.

Which is true. While she has her moments of being starstruck, if anything, I think she views my fame as a strike against me rather than a reason to be with me. The reality is, though, that she still wants something different. Or if she secretly wants the same thing—someone to just be with, and for all my outward statements that I don't believe in happily ever after, and while I don't really, some part of me craves it anyway—I can't be that for her. Our lives are too different. Hers is here, and mine is … away. Elsewhere. Hollywood and whatever movie comes next.

This is a fling and can only last as long as I'm in town.

And since it's a fling, it has to fit around our schedule. If she can't see me, then she can't see me, and I'll have to wait until she can. And vice versa. There'll be times I'm too busy with shooting or too tired at the end of the day—though that seems unlikely right now—and I'll be the one saying, hey, let's reschedule.

After pulling into the long driveway and parking the car, I pick up my phone and see she's responded.

Maybe? Can I get back to you tomorrow? What's your shooting schedule?

Seeing her text sends all my resolve to play it cool and stay more detached out the window and I respond immediately.

We have to finish what we didn't get done today, but that shouldn't take long in the morning. Lunch? I can meet you somewhere

She responds with an address and a time, and my heart swoops. I get to see her tomorrow.