Chapter 19

Victoria

I'm just gettinghome with Erin when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it for a few minutes, getting us both inside and waiting until Erin's in the bathroom before I pull it out and look at it, confirming my suspicions. It's a text from Hayden.

HM

Can't stop thinking about today

A sneaky smile steals across my face, which is why I waited until I was alone to read this. If Erin caught me smiling at my phone like this, she'd for sure have questions, and I don't know how to answer her. I don't want to lie, but I also don't want to tell her the truth. And if I just tell her a friend sent me something funny, she'll demand to know what it is so she can share in the joke.

Except this is no joke, and definitely not something my ten-year-old needs to know about. Ever.

Okay, maybe when she's thirty, I can tell her about the time I dated a movie star—though dating isn't exactly the right word. Still, even when she's thirty, I'm not going to tell her I banged a movie star. Who wants to hear that from their mom? And what kind of mom wants to share those details with their kid, adult or not?

I shudder at the thought of my mother ever sharing any details of her own sex life. As far as I'm concerned, I was an immaculate conception despite the fact that my parents have always been openly affectionate. The significance of that never hit me—since it was always just part of the fabric of our family reality—until one day a few years ago when Brit made an offhand comment. "I bet your parents were thrilled when you and Erin moved out," she'd said, watching them hug and walk hand in hand at the summer festival.

I gave her a confused look. "What makes you say that?"

She laughed and gestured toward them. "Look at them! They were probably grateful to have their privacy back. You know those two still get it on regularly."

I'd made a series of gagging sounds that sent Brit into hysterics and made then six-year-old Erin run back over to make sure I was okay.

Gross.

Yeah, maybe I'll never tell Erin about this. Even when she's thirty.

But it'll always be my most delicious memory when I'm old and she's long since moved out and started a family of her own.

The toilet flushes, and I hear the sink running, and my time alone with my phone right now is quickly running out, so I fire off a quick response before shoving my phone back in my pocket and getting dinner started.

Me too

I ignore my phone for the rest of the evening, focusing instead on Erin and then the remaining costumes I need to adjust. Fortunately, it's only a few simple alterations. One dress needs significant taking in at the waist, but even that isn't too difficult.

When it's all finally done and laid neatly over the back of one of my dining room chairs and Erin's safely tucked in bed, I finally give myself permission to look at my phone.

I find a series of texts from Hayden that set my pulse racing and butterflies rioting in my stomach from excitement just at the sight of his name.

Uh-oh. Getting this excited about him texting me before I've even read what he's sent isn't a good sign. I shouldn't be getting this deep this fast.

Which is why I forced myself to ignore my phone all evening. I'd hoped that artificial distance would help.

It hasn't.

Forcing a deep breath, I open the messages and start reading, unable to keep the smile off my face.

I'm supposed to be going over lines for tomorrow's scenes, but I keep getting distracted by the memory of the sounds you make when you come

My cheeks heat.

Today wasn't enough time. I know your schedule is packed, and maybe it can't happen right away, but I'd like a night where we don't have a countdown hanging over us

My lips twist to the side as I start to think about if I could possibly make that happen—because he makes a good point. And if he's that thorough when we have a ticking clock, what could that man do with as much time as he wanted?

I feel like that question deserves an answer.

I can't wait to see you again.

That last just makes me smile.

I can't wait to see you again either

As soon as I send the text, my phone starts vibrating in my hand with an incoming call, Hayden's name on the screen.

Smiling like a lovestruck preteen talking to her first crush, I answer. "Hey."

"Hey." I can hear the smile in his voice. "How was your afternoon?"

"Not as good as my lunchtime."

His low chuckle warms me. "Same. I could have that for lunch every day."

"I thought you needed more time than that?" I quip, still grinning.

"I'd love more time, obviously, but I'll also take what I can get. If it's lunch breaks or nothing, I'll take the lunch breaks."

If I'm going to sacrifice my lunch breaks for regular sex, I'm going to have to buy some filling and easy to eat foods to start having for lunch. Something I can scarf on my way back to the office after meeting Hayden for sex.

Honestly, I could handle that. Especially since I know it won't be forever.

"Tomorrow?"

But his soft sigh deflates the hope that had just buoyed my question. "I'm shooting pretty much all day tomorrow. I won't be able to get away. But I'll let you know the next time I can."

"Oh. Right. Makes sense." I can't keep the disappointment out of my voice.

"But you'll be on set tomorrow evening, right?"

"Right," I confirm, but memories of Mia barging in on us float through my mind. "I'm not sure how workable that is, though, Mr. I-need-more-time."

He grunts, but it's more amused than annoyed. "Right, well, I do. But let me handle the privacy angle. I didn't expect Mia to come searching for you last time. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

Apprehension slithers down my spine, settling in my belly, feeling more like spiders crawling around instead of the happy butterflies from earlier. "What are you planning?"

He hums. "I'm not sure yet. But I'll figure something out before tomorrow."

"Don't do anything that'll get me in trouble, please." The words tumble out in a rush.

"Victoria," he says softly. "I'd never do that. I promise."

I swallow the lump in my throat, born of fear and something else caused by his tone of voice. That's the tone of a man who makes it a point to look after people he considers his. But that's silly to even think, because it's only been a couple of days. This is just sex, after all. Even if the fantasy of it becoming something more is nice to think about, I'm not naive enough to believe it's anything more than a fantasy.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I take a deep breath. "Okay. I believe you. Will you tell me what you plan on doing once you figure it out, though?"

"I'd be happy to," he says, and that has the spiders settling back down again.

I relax onto my bed, my lips curved in the smile that settles there every time I'm talking to Hayden. Or thinking about Hayden. I can't help it. Even though I know this is supposed to be a short-term fling, something more about the physical than the emotional, I enjoy spending time with him. I like talking to him.

"Tell me about filming," I prompt.

He chuckles. "That's a big question. Is there something specific you'd like to know?"

Drumming my fingers on my lips, I sort through a few questions before settling on, "You mentioned you haven't been that excited about making movies before this. How come?"

Another chuckle. "I guess you don't do small questions, do you?" He doesn't sound upset, though.

My smile hitches higher. "Guess not. If you don't want to tell me?—"

"No, that's not it," he cuts in. "I just … It's … Do you like your job?"

I press my lips together. "Mostly."

He chuckles. "Yeah, well, same."

"It can't be the same," I protest, and that makes him laugh.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a dental hygienist. I stare in people's mouths and scrape plaque off teeth all day. It's a job. It pays the bills and has decent benefits, plus my kid gets free dental services. I only have to pay for the supplies. But my boss is … well, a snob, really, and I only decided to become a dental hygienist because it's a shorter program with more guaranteed employment than finishing my degree."

"What degree were you working on?"

"Fashion design." I usually hesitate before telling someone that, but I don't feel the need to with Hayden. With most people, there's this thread of surprise along with a comment that makes it clear they think it would've been silly to pursue fashion design and that dental hygiene is a much better choice. And they're not wrong. In my circumstances it is the right choice, hence the reason I did it. But I hate the implication that my dream of making beautiful clothes is silly or stupid. How do they think their clothes came into being? Someone designed them. And someone else decided that design was good enough to produce. And a buyer decided it needed to be offered in their store. It's a whole process of people who care about clothing design, and it's not stupid for me to want to be part of it.

"Really? Wow. That's so cool. Why didn't you finish?" The genuineness of his response fills a bubble of … something—hope, warmth, lightness, all of the above?—in my chest. Zero condescension. Only support and curiosity. It's what I've always wanted.

I shrug, even though he can't see me. "I got pregnant, and I couldn't juggle school and a newborn. I moved back here so my parents could help. They supported us while I went to school, and they still help watch Erin a lot. Less than when she was younger, but they're a godsend."

"I'm glad you had them. You're lucky."

That bubble in my chest gets bigger at his words and the way he says them, filling me with a golden glow from the inside out. "Yeah. I am. I have a great kid, supportive parents, a job I don't hate, and time for sewing as a hobby at least. But we're supposed to be talking about you. Isn't acting your dream job? Why haven't you been enjoying it lately?"

He sighs, and I wait, giving him time to assemble whatever he wants to say. "I've always loved acting," he says at last. "But I've been stuck doing the same kinds of films over and over, and I've been craving something different. Julius Caesar is the different I've been needing."

Even though we stayed up late talking on the phone, my stomach still knots with anxiety as I approach the ranch where they're filming. I haven't heard from Hayden since the good morning text he sent before I even woke up. I responded and sent a text earlier this afternoon asking about his plan for dealing with Mia, but he never responded, and I'm not sure what that means.

Especially after our conversation last night where we discussed our careers and backgrounds more, I'm feeling connected to him. Like this is more than just nooners and quickies to scratch an itch for both of us. The sudden change to minimal communication this morning has me feeling off balance.

But the reason he never texted me back is obvious once I show up and climb out of my car, costumes in hand. They're still shooting. And likely have been all day. I doubt he's even seen my texts today.

Sighing with resignation and relief, I head to the costume trailer. Mia immediately puts me to work, providing a good distraction from my thoughts of Hayden.

This is part of the reason I don't date much, though. Every time I've decided to try, I get too in my head about the guy I'm talking to. I'm always so anxious in the beginning stages of a relationship, and given how quickly they've all ended, I feel like that's reasonable. And each time I find myself pondering the same weird worries and questions—I texted him a while ago, but he hasn't responded. Why? When will he text me back? Will he text me back at all? Did I scare him off with my last question? Am I being too boring? Or too weird? Not weird enough? Am I talking about my kid too much? What if he hates kids? What if he likes kids fine, likes me, we have a long relationship, decide to have another baby, and then he treats Erin like dirt because she's not his biological child?

Normally when I get to that last question, I put my phone down, walk away, and find something else to busy myself with. Usually sewing. At least when I'm at work I can ignore my phone, but my thoughts still swirl when I hit that meditative plaque-scraping phase.

Despite knowing that Hayden's been filming all day, my anxiety doesn't disappear altogether. Being busy is what helps the most.

Finally, as I'm wrapping up all the tasks Mia set for me, she sighs loudly and looks up. "Hayden's asking for you again. He says something wasn't quite right about today's costume and asked me to send you over to fix it."

My heart leaps, and I fight back a smile, forcing a cool, "Oh? Did he say what's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "When I tried to get details, all he said was it feels wrong and it's not his job to know why. Fucking diva. If you need to go home, I can handle it. He asked for you, but he needs to learn that he doesn't get to dictate costumes to me."

I turn away to hide my grin because I know he's laying it on thick on purpose. "Okay. No problem. I have some time still. I don't mind going and checking it out."

"Are you sure?"

Giving her a reassuring smile, I nod. "Don't worry about me. I can handle myself."

"Okay. If you need to fix anything, just take it home. But I'll wait for you to finish before leaving in case you need something from in here."

I wave a hand airily. "No need to wait on my account. If you're ready to go, just go. You've been here since early, haven't you?"

As though my words are a reminder, she lets out a jaw-cracking yawn, then chuckles and shakes her head. "Yeah. I have. Okay, if you're sure. If you need back in, Brady Green should still be around. He has a key."

"I'm sure I'll be fine," I reassure her. "See you later!"

Heart pounding with anticipation, I make my way to Hayden's trailer, an irrepressible smile on my face. At least we know that Mia won't interrupt us looking for me this time. It's not the unlimited time I know Hayden would like, but my end time isn't as hard and fast as at the end of my lunch break.

When I get to his trailer, Hayden greets me with a genuine but weary smile. "Hey." He pushes the door open wider, beckoning me inside. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." As soon as the door closes behind me, he pulls me into his arms, wrapping me in a big hug, my head against his chest, and he lets out a deep sigh.

A little surprised by this greeting, I return his hug, rubbing my hands up and down his back. "Long day?"

"The longest." Even those two words sound tired.

"Do you want me to just let you go?—"

But my question is cut off before I can even finish. "No. No, I want you to stay. I want to see you. I'm tired, but this is more refreshing than sleep right now."

"Okay," I whisper. "I won't go anywhere."