by Claire Raye
Sadie takes a deep breath before letting it out in a long slow exhale. “I’m not sure,” she says. “It depends on if I survive this first trip.”
Laughing, I nudge her shoulder as I say, “We’re here to make you tougher, Sadie, not kill you.”
Sadie mumbles something I don’t catch as we walk over to the treadmills.
“Let’s start with a warm-up,” I say, indicating the treadmill next to mine.
“What exactly is a warm-up?” she asks, as she hangs her towel over the bar and sticks her water bottle in the holder.
“A quick thirty minute run and then we can move onto something fun.”
“Okay, hold up,” she says, a hand up as if to stop me. “First of all, there is nothing quick about running for thirty minutes,” she says, giving me a sideways glance. “And second, what the hell could possibly be fun in a place like this?”
Shaking my head, I laugh as I indicate she should do some stretches before she starts to run. “You’ll see,” I tell her.
To her credit, she does run for thirty minutes, even if it’s at a much slower pace than me. She doesn’t talk much, her gaze intently focused on the timer in front of her, almost as though she’s willing the minutes to hurry up.
When she finally reaches thirty, she slams on the stop button, her pace immediately slowing as the treadmill comes to a stop.
Shaking my head, I hit the cool down button as I say, “Usually we cool down at the end, not just stop.”
She looks at the display on my treadmill, her chest heaving as she tries to get her breathing under control, before she looks up at me. “I’ll remember that next time,” she finally gets out, before getting off her treadmill and waiting for me to finish.
When I’m done, we grab our things and Sadie follows me as we wind our way through the weight room and out to the back rooms. We end up in a huge room where there are rows of punching bags and speedballs down one side and a couple of boxing rings down the other.
Turning, I see her take it all in, her eyes wide with what looks like excitement and a huge smile on her face.
Laughing, I ask, “Better?”
“Hell yeah,” she says, walking up to one of the punching bags, her hand already curled into a fist.
“Whoa,” I call out, grabbing her wrist just as she moves to punch the bag. “These things are fucking hard, Sadie, you need gloves!”
She looks up at me, before turning back to the bag and prodding it with her other hand. Her face blanches when she realizes just how hard it is and I tug on her wrist, pulling her with me toward the gloves and pads that are in containers against the wall.
“Come on, Rocky,” I tease. “Let’s just start with some light sparring first.”
I get her fitted with some gloves before slipping the pads onto my hands and holding them up to her. After I show her a couple of moves and combinations, I plant my feet on the ground and tell her to go for it.
Sadie punches the first pad hard and fast, letting out a satisfied grunt that has me laughing. Her eyes flash to mine before refocusing on the pads, which she then proceeds to pummel with the kind of fierce determination I can only imagine builds up being married to a prick like her husband.
She moves around with me, her feet dancing on the mats as she follows my lead, her hands moving in a series of coordinated punches.
“Not too bad, Rocky,” I tell her, when she lands a three-punch combination that has her smiling. “You need a rest?”
She shakes her head, sweat now dripping down her body as she continues to punch at the pads. My eyes follow a single bead of sweat that starts at the corner of her jaw and slowly trickles down her neck, over her collarbone and disappears between her breasts.
I swallow hard, feeling strangely turned on. My arm drops just as Sadie throws her fist, the punch landing right on my chest.
“Ugh, shit,” I say, laughing a little as I stumble backward.
“Oh my god! Are you okay?” she asks, stepping toward me.
Laughing, I hold my hands up. “I’m good. That was my bad, seriously.”
“I didn’t hurt you?” she asks, concerned.
I shake my head. “No, Rocky, it’s all good,” I tell her. “You had enough for today?” I ask, half hoping she says no, because I most certainly have not had enough of watching her.
Sadie glances up at the clock on the wall, a shocked look on her face when she registers it’s now eleven o’clock.
“Time flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?” I ask, chuckling a little.
She turns back to me. “I can’t believe I’ve been here for two hours,” she says. “It’s, it’s been…fun.”
Laughing, I throw the pads down before moving to unstrap the gloves from her hands. “Told you.”
Sadie nods, a look of disbelief on her face as she looks up at me. A part of me wonders if she too is hoping to continue.
Swallowing hard, I hear myself asking, “You got plans for the rest of the day?” Immediately wondering what the fuck I’m thinking asking her this.
Chapter Nine
Sadie
His words stop me for a split second and luckily they do because I want to immediately answer, telling him I’m not doing anything. But I take a second and process what this all means, given what I’m dealing with Noel, and all those times he crossed the line on set. Does it really matter though? There’s nothing in either of our contracts that states we can’t spend time with the cast or crew.
I have very few friends in Los Angeles besides my assistant and basically my days and nights are spent alone. It might be nice to have lunch with someone, to have someone to have a conversation with. And anyway, no one says this has to be anything more than a casual get to know you thing. But even as I think the words, I know they’re bullshit.
Who am I kidding? Paul is insanely attractive. It’s something that doesn’t always happen in his line of work. Most of the time they’re just the same build and height as the actor they’re stunting for but bear no resemblance. Paul on the other hand is as attractive if not more than the lead.
We rarely get days off when filming, so all I planned to do today was lounge by the pool. Over the next few weeks we’ll be filming seven days a week for at least fourteen hours a day and the idea of doing anything more than nothing seems out of character for me.
“I wasn’t planning to do much,” I reply casually, but still somehow feeling giddy with excitement at the prospect of being asked.
“Do you want to hike Runyon Canyon with me?” Paul asks and it takes everything in me not to laugh out loud. What is it with this guy and all this exercise? While I actually had a great time this morning, I’m not certain I’m up for adding a hike to the list too.
He must get the sense I’m contemplating things because he quickly adds, “Or we can do something else. Maybe grab a bite to eat?” His words come across as if he’s testing them, waiting for me to decline, and as much as I know I should, I don’t want to.
“A bite to eat sounds great and maybe I’ll be recovered from this,” I say, motioning around the gym and rolling my eyes, “and we can take that hike you’re talking about.”
“I’ve heard the view from the top is stunning,” Paul adds as if trying to lure me.
“The view from my pool is stunning too,” I quip back, giving him a wink. “And I don’t have to work up a sweat to see it.”
“That’s too bad,” he responds and I raise my eyebrows, questioning him.
“Why’s that?”
“Because watching you get all sweaty has been quite the experience.”
Holy shit
That was not the response I was expecting and I feel my heart hammering against my ribs. There’s no possible way my face isn’t bright red, and luckily for me I’m certain it looked like this before given the workout. What wasn’t there before is the feeling of warmth that pools heavy under my skin, making it burn, making me want something more than I’ve wanted with a guy in years.
I’ve av
oided this for so long. I knew I wasn’t in love with Noel, my feelings for him died years ago, but I stayed because it was easy. I stayed because it was safe. I also avoided placing myself in situations like this because I knew it wouldn’t take long for me to realize there was something better out there.
I can’t respond to him, my words caught in my throat along with any air that once filled my lungs.
“So are we going to lunch?” he asks when I don’t respond. He’s clearly not at all intimidated by me or my title and something about that is even hotter than the words that just came out of his mouth.
“I think we are.”
Neither of us bother showering or changing, running with the moment before it passes. We just head straight to a little café with an outdoor seating area near the gym and find a small table toward the back. It’s something I’ve come to do every time I’m out. Not that I get noticed that often, but once you lose any semblance of anonymity you cling to what you have left.
“So how’d you get into directing?” Paul asks, not missing a beat. Our asses have literally just touched the chairs.
“My husband,” I tell him, realizing I should probably elaborate. “My soon to be ex-husband.”
“Ah, yes the infamous Noel Robinson. Something about that pairing is a little surprising to me.”
“I get that a lot, but it really isn’t. In this industry you end up with people who want the same things you want. At the time it was the right choice for me.”
“You’re full of shit,” Paul states, calling my bluff on the bullshit line I just fed him.
“I totally am. I was nineteen and all I ever wanted was to be a screenplay writer. Noel made my career. Without him I’d still be writing unseen screenplays and peddling them to anyone who would listen. I never would’ve gone into directing.”
“It’s okay to admit it was a mistake, but don’t undercut yourself. You had the talent even if you had some help getting to the top.”
“Thanks. I guess sometimes I have a hard time seeing it that way. I’ve spent so much time in his shadow I forget I was once famous in my own right.”
“Guess his behavior tends to outshine your talent.”
It’s clear Paul knows who Noel is, not that it’s hard not to. You’d have to be living under a rock not to know. Every day there’s a new allegation, a new story, a new rumor. But it all fades so quickly, because Noel has too much power.
“His behavior tends to outshine everything,” I say, my tone filled with annoyance. “But enough about him. How did you get into working as a stuntman?”
“I always liked to be adventurous and the idea of getting to travel for work was also appealing. I never really thought it would be something I did long-term, but the gigs started to come in and it turned out I was pretty damn good at it.”
“So you like to toot your own horn too then, huh?” I tease, but knowing he’s probably one of the best I’ve ever worked with.
“Well,” he says, shrugging his shoulders but not continuing.
“I’m just giving you shit,” I tell him, smiling and wondering if he really thinks I find him arrogant. He doesn’t have any idea what I’ve been dealing with for the last ten years. If anything he’s far more intriguing than arrogant.
He smiles back, his teeth perfectly straight and white, off set by his lightly tanned skin and pale blue eyes. Just as he’s about to speak, the waiter walks up to take our order. I quickly glance at the menu, too distracted by our conversation to decide what I want, so I order the first thing I lay eyes on.
“I’ll have the avocado and corn pizza and a Diet Coke.”
Paul places his order and of course he orders something healthy: a salad with salmon and some low fat dressing, but then he adds the same pizza I just ordered.
“Copying me, huh?”
“It sounded good and there’s nothing I love more than a girl who can spend two hours in the gym and then eat a pizza.”
Boy this guy is really pushing it. He couldn’t be more perfect and I’m starting to be the one who feels self-conscious. He’s great with the one-liners and the small but sexy pickup lines.
“It has avocado on. That’s like a good fat or some shit,” I reply, having nothing on his flirty banter.
“Or it just tastes good.”
Or maybe you’ll taste good, I think, almost shaming myself for thinking it as I feel my cheeks begin to heat up once again.
We chat a little more, talking about where we grew up and our families. It’s easy small talk but nothing about it is boring or mindless. I find Paul fascinating and the conversation flows, and before I know it, we’ve spent the last two hours chatting.
The waiter drops off the bill and Paul immediately reaches for it, not even giving me a chance to look at it.
“It’s on me,” he says, pulling out his wallet.
“No it’s not. This wasn’t a date. You don’t have to pay for my meal,” I argue, reaching over to take the bill from him. “We can split it.”
“Don’t be silly, Sadie. I’m not splitting the bill with you. You can get the next one and we’ll call it even.”
The next one? I know things went well today, but I guess I never thought it would go beyond this. Technically I am his boss, but nothing about that seems to bother him.
“Okay, it’s a deal, and how about I show you that view from my pool today? I was just planning to soak up some sun and have a few drinks. Care to join me?”
“Sounds amazing. I’ll run by my apartment and pick up a suit. You can text me your address.”
“Give me an hour or so. I need to shower. My body isn’t used to all that exercise and I think I’m starting to smell.”
“You go get cleaned up and I’ll meet you at your house in an hour or so. Does that work?”
“Perfect.”
Thirty minutes later I’m back at my house and scrambling to get out of these sweaty workout clothes. My sports bra is clinging to my sticky skin and it’s a struggle to get it off. Either that or my nervousness is making it hard to remember how the hell I even take my own clothes off.
I can’t believe I invited him back here because I haven’t shaved my legs in at least a week. Thankfully I got a wax right before I left London or the clean up time would be far longer.
I’m standing under the spray of hot water in the shower telling myself to calm the hell down. It’s not like I invited him over for anything more than sitting by the pool and I doubt he’s thinking it will be anything more either.
But what if he does?
And it’s that thought that makes me exfoliate, shave my legs and wash my hair all in one shower.
The bell to the gate chimes about an hour and half after I arrived home and I take a quick peek at the security camera just to make sure it’s Paul before I open it. He waves at the camera and a smile spreads across my face. I feel like a teenager inviting a boy over while my parents aren’t home, and everything about it feel ridiculous.
I open the front door and watch as his car pulls up the long brick paved driveway, coming to rest a few feet shy of the walkway where I’m waiting.
“Hey!” I call out, waving to him just as he did on the camera.
“Holy shit. This is some house,” he calls back, turning in a three hundred and sixty degree circle to take everything in.
“Like I said, the view from the pool is amazing.”
Paul strides up the walk and when I step aside he walks in and again, looks around, his mouth falling open just a little. He’s dressed casually in a pair of board shorts and t-shirt, a baseball cap on his head and a pair of aviator sunglasses now in his hand.
“I can only imagine. How long have you lived here?” he asks.
“We’ve owned the house for about ten years, but I haven’t lived here in at least eight. We bought it, but never really called it home. It was a place we would stay when we were in town to film a movie. We always lived in London, and before I met Noel, I lived in New York.”
“So you share t
his house with your husband?” he asks, and there’s something in his words that strikes me as curious. Almost as if he’s wondering if Noel is here right now.
“Technically we both own it, but once the divorce is finalized, he’ll get our flat in London and I’ll take the house in L.A.”
“Got it.”
“You don’t have to be nervous about being here. This is as much my house as it is his. More than likely I’ll sell this once the divorce is over and find something smaller, something with less maintenance.”
“Why would you do that? This place is unreal and from what you say the view from outside is even better.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’d like to, I don’t know…” I trail off not wanting to get too preachy about branching out on my own.
“You’d like something of your own? Something that doesn’t have your ex’s name attached to it?”
“Yep, exactly. Can I grab you something to drink? Water, beer, soda? Then we can go out by the pool.”
Paul asks for a water and a beer, which I also grab for myself. We make our way out to the pool and just as I slide the doors open, I hear Noel bark out my name.
Both Paul and I freeze, my heart dropping into my stomach, fear pushing itself up into my throat.
What the fuck is he doing here?
Chapter Ten
Paul
I glance at Sadie, who’s frozen to the spot, her eyes wide as she stares back at her husband, or ex-husband, or whatever the hell he is.
Noel on the other hand looks like his head is about to explode, his are eyes wild and flicking from Sadie to me and back to Sadie again. His face is getting redder by the second as he steps toward us.
“Who the fuck is this?” he spits out, his eyes never leaving Sadie. “And why the hell did you change the locks and security code?”
Sadie swallows hard, her fingers twisting together in front of her as she stares back at this man who clearly scares the shit out of her. It makes my skin bristle just watching them and it takes everything I have in me not to walk up and deck the guy.