Not Mine to Love

by Skylar Moore

  The other bartender pushed the door open and interrupted Matt. “Hey, Kramer, you okay there?”

  “Thanks—he’s a friend of mine,” she reassured him.

  “Just didn’t want Alec to kill me,” the guy muttered and left.

  Matt shouldn’t have asked, he really shouldn’t have, but his tongue betrayed him. “Who’s Alec?”

  She hesitated. “He owns many bars in Glasgow, including this one, and he’s also kind of my boyfriend.”

  Kind of? Matt changed the topic before he could ask any more stupid questions. “So, Kramer?”

  She smiled and playfully said, “Don’t call me that, Beattie.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  She bit her lower lip and looked at him. “Yeah, I googled you, but don’t flatter yourself.”

  He chuckled, and when their eyes collided, something fired between them.

  She broke the eye contact and walked over to one of the freezers. “Beer?”

  “Definitely.” After a few sips, he continued reading the script out loud while she worked. When he finished, he handed the booklet to her. “Now, read through it quietly and try to memorize as many of your lines as you can.”

  She was hesitant, but relaxed when he started unpacking cans to the beat of the muffled Celtic rock coming from the bar. He stole glances at her every now and then and loved the way she absent-mindedly twiddled her shiny hair while she read. He tried not to look at her skin—smooth, perfect porcelain—and toned legs in her skinny jeans.

  “You like this kind of music, Beattie?” She giggled.

  “Why?”

  “Caught you rocking to it.” Her smile was lovely.

  He grinned. “Were you checking me out?”

  She just stuck her tongue out at him in response.

  “Do you like this kind of music?”

  “I’m more of an ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ type of girl.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure you are.”

  “I’m serious. It’s my go-to song when I’m drunk.”

  “I’ll be sure to let Marice know.”

  She flicked a beer cap at him.

  “Can I get you another beer? I want to hear you sing it.” He loved their banter.

  “I’ve worked here for three years. I can hold my liquor.”

  Three years? He didn’t want to make her feel bad, so he let it go.

  “How long ago were you cast as William?”

  “I thought you googled me,” he teased her. “Two months ago, and we have yet to find the perfect Rose. She’s in most of the scenes, so we couldn’t shoot much without her.” He emptied his beer and got back to work. “So, please study the script while I finish packing everything away.”

  Half an hour later, Matt was done, and the garage was full of empty cardboard boxes. After she told the bartender that she was leaving for the night, she skillfully opened the heavy garage door. She was stronger than her small frame suggested. They carried all the boxes outside and threw them into the blue container behind the building.

  In the dim light of the crescent moon, they both reached for the last box, his hand on top of her delicate one. Touching her sent a jolt of excitement through him, and his heart started racing. The sweet scent of coconut and honey emanated from her hair, filling his senses and weakening his knees like he had never experienced before “Sorry,” he said when he could finally move his hand away.

  His heart sank when she slammed the container shut and wiped her hands on her jeans. Her coolness and playfulness had intrigued him right from the start, and he didn’t want the evening to end. If she didn’t get cast tomorrow, he would probably never see her again. “Can I walk you home?”

  “Thank you, but I only live ten minutes from here.”

  This looked by no means like a safe neighborhood, and he didn’t want her to walk home alone. “We could share a taxi.”

  She took a step back. “Good night, Beattie.” She playfully blew him a kiss.

  He chuckled. “Night, Kramer.”

  “It’s Jane,” she said as she walked into the night.

  Jane.

  Chapter 3

  Only ten minutes after she sat down on the sofa and propped up her feet, someone knocked on the door of Jane’s new trailer. She had been the last one to be cast and had promptly quit her job and moved here from her old apartment, so everyone had been eager to finally meet her today. “Come on in.”

  A boyish grin greeted her. Matt’s wavy copper hair had gotten longer, and his jaw was as well-defined as she had remembered it from when she had last seen him at The Tap three weeks ago. She smoothed her shirt and smiled. He would make a lot of girls swoon as William, but thankfully she was not into the dreamy type.

  He casually leaned against her doorframe, filling it out completely. “Got you a little housewarming gift.” He handed her a doormat that said, “Come back when you have tacos and booze.”

  She had to laugh at his dorkiness. “Thank you. You’re welcome anyway, but tacos also sound good.”

  He took off his hooded jacket and chukka boots, revealing his large feet, and she tried not to think of other large body parts. Her cat was sitting on the sofa, and Matt veered straight toward her. “Who’s this cutie?”

  “This is my little tiger, Belle.”

  He slowly extended his hand so Belle could sniff him. Jane loved how he let Belle have control over their interaction. Belle soon rubbed the side of her head against his hand, and he began to gently scratch her chin and between her ears. His caresses turned her into a purring puddle of fur in no time.

  Jane’s heart constricted. “I won’t have enough time for her while we’re shooting, and with all the cars and horses, it’s too dangerous here for her. So, I have decided to take her to a boarding kennel until we wrap up the season.”

  His smile faded, and he turned toward her. “I’m so sorry. How long have you had her?”

  “She’ll be six in May, and I’ve had her since she was a baby.” Embarrassed that she was totally oversharing, she bit her thumbnail.

  He stroked Belle one last time and got up. Jane’s heart started pumping faster when he sat down next to her at the coffee table, smelling all masculine with a special blend of aftershave and coffee.

  He looked at her with a compassionate, searching gaze, as if he was really seeking her. “You are doing the right thing.” His voice was deep and soft.

  She looked down at the table, everywhere but into his probing eyes. “Thank you.” She was not used to being comforted—especially not by a man. Men were to have fun with, not for emotional connection. Pull yourself together. She had to get away from his soothing body heat, so she fled into the little kitchen behind the table. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

  He must have felt her uneasiness and said, “Thanks, but I have to get back and prepare for the read through.”

  Once he left, she breathed a sigh of relief, but her trailer suddenly felt empty.

  At the read through, the directors were very pleased. Afterward, Matt insisted on driving Jane to the kennel, since she didn’t have a car and he had just rented one. Jane was glad that Matt waited in the car while she went in with Belle—this moment would have been too intimate to share with him.

  Mrs. Kelly, the kennel manager, greeted Jane with a warm smile. Mrs. Kelly was a kind woman in her late fifties whom Jane had trusted instantly when she first came here to look at the place. The cattery was clean, homely, and everything Jane could wish for, but her stomach still knotted when she had to set the cat carrier down and open the door.

  After only two minutes, Belle came out and explored her new home. It wasn’t long before she had climbed the cat tree and made herself comfortable on one of the cushioned platforms. Silent tears ran down Jane’s cheeks when she petted Belle goodbye. “I love you, and I will come back for you.”

  Cold rain fell from the sky when Jane exited the kennel, freezing her skin on contact. She got into the car and wiped away the last tears mixed with raindrops.


  Matt’s piercing blue eyes studied her with great intensity—probably pitying her for crying about something this stupid and noticing the wrinkles around her eyes that signaled the end of her youth.

  She looked at the floor. “Sorry, I know it’s silly, she’s just a cat.” Disgusted by the whiny note in her voice, she straightened.

  “My kindergarten had two rabbits that we used to feed and look after, and I cried for weeks when I had to go to primary school and could never play with them again.” He started the engine and turned toward town, driving further away from the set. “Look, I don’t know much about women, but we could always cheer my mum up with ice cream.” He stopped the car in front of an ice cream parlor.

  Jane was resistant at first, but with its bright lights and vintage look, the café looked very inviting, so she followed him in. In stark contrast to the grim world outside, the café was cozy and warm, smelling like coffee and chocolate.

  With his big hand on the small of her back, he guided her to a table next to the large window. “It’s all homemade, and they have nougat (my favorite), black cherry, Nutella, coconut, and much more. And they top it off with a Flake bar, or with those tiny marshmallow thingies, or whatever else you would want.”

  Normally, she would get offended by a guy reading the menu to her, but Matt’s enthusiasm won her over. She ordered two scoops—caramel and raspberry ripple. Matt got nougat and Smurf ice cream, which made her laugh.

  They talked about everything and nothing, and Jane was very aware that their knees almost touched under the narrow table. The ice cream was delicious and made her feel a little better. As they were leaving, she insisted that she pay the bill since he had driven her here.

  “I know that it’s very modern for a woman to pay on a date, but I’m just too old-fashioned for this—I cannot accept it.”

  “But, it’s not a date, is it?”

  Red heat scaled his cheeks. “Um . . . of course not.”

  Of course. The kind of guys she dated would never want to do something as childish as eating ice cream, and wouldn’t expect her to enjoy it. Jane would go to art galleries with them and pay for a glass of champagne herself, because she did not want to owe anyone anything.

  “I still dragged you here, so I will pay.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “In a good way?” His low voice had her belly tightening.

  “No,” she said teasingly.

  He shook his head and chuckled, and they left the café.

  Chapter 4

  Temptation knocked on Matt’s trailer like she had done every Friday since they had started filming Hill Street five months ago. She wore hot pants on this warm summer night. It was official—Jane was either trying to seduce or kill him.

  Because she had a boyfriend, it couldn’t be the former, and Matt braced himself for a long evening of picturing his boss, Robert, naked to keep himself in check.

  Her cheeks were flushed from the heat and humidity, and he could tell from the sway of her breasts that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Matt was tense and made sure their hands didn’t touch when she gave him two Tupperware containers. “I was cooking anyway and made some extra.”

  “Wow, thank you.” He would always steal her snacks when they were shooting, but tomorrow he had to film scenes without her and would probably have starved.

  “It’s honey soy chicken breast, steamed broccoli, and wild rice. And watermelon cubes for dessert.” She looked both coy and proud.

  “Sounds delicious, thank you.” He crammed the containers into his tiny fridge, and they sat down on the sofa. He had changed his shirt ten minutes ago, and it was already sticking to him again. That damn air conditioner never really works.

  She had brought a six-pack of beer and handed him a cool bottle of Jarl. It tasted light and citrusy—perfect for slaking his thirst. His other thirst—akin to chronic dehydration—wouldn’t be quenched tonight. He had been crushing on her for months, but he couldn’t pursue her. He had once overheard her telling someone that she liked her men like she liked her clothes—seasonal. He, on the other hand, longed for a serious relationship or even a wife, and would not settle for less.

  Like every Friday night, they read through the script for Monday. While he took a few notes, she used five different colors of highlighter, and her slender hands scribbled every page full. Maybe it was the heat, but tonight he couldn’t focus on the script and stole glances at her perky breasts whenever she wasn’t looking. He immediately felt embarrassed and sorry for doing so.

  Her beautiful auburn hair framed her face and cascaded down her shoulders. He was happy that she felt comfortable enough to put her bare feet on the coffee table, but he couldn’t help but check out her smooth, ivory legs while she wrote. They went on forever, and her ruby red toenails matched her lipstick. She looked incredibly feminine. What a goddess of a woman.

  She cleared her throat to get his attention.

  Caught and embarrassed, he gulped down some beer to avoid her gaze and fumbled with the remote. “Care for some TV?” What a stupid question—she is only here to study the script.

  “Sure—we can finish the script on Monday morning.” She grinned and looked at him as if she knew his forbidden dreams.

  Her answer took him by surprise. He chose an action movie, which seemed like a safe option, but after only ten minutes, a steamy love scene came on. He tensed up even more and didn’t dare look at Jane while the characters were going at it. This was worse than suffering through such a scene with his mum.

  The brush of her bare leg against his gave him a jolt, and he spilled his beer.

  “Are you all right?” She moved into his personal space, and her voice was as soft as her lips would have felt on his.

  He jumped off the sofa to avoid her proximity. “What? I’m . . . yes.” He fetched the kitchen roll and cleaned up the beer.

  “You seem tense.”

  “It was just a long and stressful week.”

  Not as stressful as this evening.

  “I know. My whole body’s aching.” She groaned and stretched her back and neck, which pushed her breasts in his direction. She is definitely not wearing a bra. “We could give each other back massages if you want.”

  His heart hammered in his chest like it was trying to get out. Maybe his heart was right. He should have gotten out of this situation while he still could. Before he embarrassed himself and destroyed their friendship. But his body was too keen to touch her and didn’t listen to reason. So, he did what he did best: he acted.

  “Sure, why not,” he said nonchalantly. Why not massage your superhot costar in your trailer at night?

  She finished her second beer and got up. “The sofa’s too small, let’s do it on your bed.”

  Yep, she is on a mission to kill me, but I will go down fighting. He got out his fluffiest towels and Touch of the Tropics massage oil and turned the lights down low.

  With a wide grin, she patted the towel he had spread out on his bed.

  He sheepishly took off his shirt and lay down. When she straddled his back, he had to stifle a groan. What the heck did I get myself into?

  She poured way too much oil on his back and giggled while she sloppily spread it over his skin. The pungent scent of ginger hung in the air.

  She started the massage by applying pressure to the inside of his shoulder blades with her thumbs, and he flinched at her touch. She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “Just relax.”

  As she worked his shoulders in small circular motions, the tension seeped out of him, but every time she leaned in, her hair tickled his back, and he stiffened again.

  She slowly worked her fingers all the way down his back with lingering sweeps. Whenever she released the pressure, her soft ass pressed into his lower back. He would surely pass out from suppressed lust before the evening was over.

  Scarred by all the broken hearts in his family, he had vowed to save himself until the relationship was very serious. He h
ad had a few girlfriends, but had never gone further than French kissing and had never been touched like she was touching him now.

  When she leaned forward and massaged his biceps with her small hands, he almost blacked out.

  “Wow, your biceps are huge,” she said with a breathy voice.

  To finish the massage, she raked her nails along his neck and back, which set his body on fire. She got off him and sat down at the foot of the bed. “Sorry for making such a mess with the oil.”

  “You did great. Thank you.” He just lay there for a few minutes to calm down his mind and body. When he sat back up, he awkwardly hid his erection under a cushion.

  She looked him straight in the eyes and started unbuttoning her sheer green blouse. The skin on his face and throat burned at the sight.

  Now only in her black camisole, she motioned for him to turn around, and he did. The silence was palpable, and he wished he had put on some music. She drew in a long breath. Maybe she was nervous as well. Then, there was the rustling of fabric. The sound seeped into his blood and made his whole body ache with want. His bed squeaked as his very likely topless colleague lay down right next to him.

  “Ready.” Her voice was huskier than normal.

  He turned around and took her in. Her naked breasts pressed into his towel, and the flawless skin of her back called out to him.

  Straddling her would have revealed his growing hard-on, so he sat down next to her. Her eyes were closed but her face flushed, and he knew she registered his proximity.

  He took some deep breaths to relax, warmed the scented oil with his hands, and spread it gently across her smooth, soft back. The smell of ginger, vanilla, and sandalwood created a sensuous atmosphere. Her back was so small that he could span her ribcage with one hand.