by Devney Perry
“What’s your camera smile?”
He flashed it at me. It was the one I’d found on Google. The one I’d seen on social media.
“What’s your off-camera smile?”
He stood from the couch and crossed the living room, and my feet stuck to the carpet as he crowded my space.
I had these incredible escape routes, but did I use them? No, I stood there and let Shaw drop his confusing, magnificent lips on mine.
The kiss was short and soft. Not the best of my life—the kitchen kiss was—but this was the sweetest.
Then Shaw let me go, leaned back, and there it was. The most blinding, beautifully handsome smile in history.
“Oh, fuck,” I groaned and dropped my forehead to his chest. I only stood tall enough to reach his sternum. “You are killing me here.”
He chuckled. “You make me smile.”
“Shut up.” I pinched his side, making his laugh louder as I stood and soaked in that smile. “Maybe I’m confused because this seems too good to be true.”
“It’s not too good. If it was too good, you’d live in California and I wouldn’t have to say goodbye in a month.”
Reality came crashing down around us, sobering us both.
Shaw wasn’t a neighbor neighbor. He was fleeting. Soon, we’d say goodbye, and the only connection I’d have to him would be on social media and in the movie theater. I’d share him with the world, limited to the camera smiles.
But I didn’t have to share him tonight.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” I asked.
“We could go out.”
I scrunched up my nose. “What’s with you and wanting to take me out to eat?”
“My parents always had this thing.” He shrugged. “They’d go out to eat once a month, and only once a month. With one income and four kids, they couldn’t afford restaurants often, so it was a big deal. Mom would spend the day at home, cleaning and doing laundry for all of us kids. Then she’d get dressed up so when Dad came home, she was ready to go. He’d change out of his uniform and put on slacks and a starched shirt. Then they’d go on a date. I don’t date much, but I’d like very much to date you, at least once before I go.”
Hadn’t I told Genevieve weeks ago that I wanted to date? Hadn’t I wanted Shaw to be the man sitting across from me?
But I couldn’t do it. That was a step with Shaw I wasn’t ready to take. He’d put me in his spotlight, which was fine when we were alone. But in public? Not yet. And definitely not before I told the guys at the garage.
The entire town would know if I went out to dinner with Shaw and word traveled fast in Clifton Forge. Everyone would speculate that we were dating or that Shaw was my rebound or that I was his easy fling. It would probably be a combination of that and more.
I wanted to enjoy my time with Shaw on my own terms.
“No.”
His frame slumped. “Huh. I thought that story would work. I mean, I just made it up but . . .”
“What?” I smacked his arm. “Seriously?”
He laughed. “I’m just kidding. The story is true.”
“I don’t know if I can believe you.”
“Want to call my mom and ask?” He shoved his hand in his pocket.
“Put your phone away.” I scowled. I was definitely not calling his mother. “Would you like to eat here instead?”
“Sure.” He ran his thumb across my cheek, sending a rush of tingles to my toes. He didn’t make me explain my refusal, and he didn’t ask for a date again. Maybe he thought he’d have a better chance at another kiss if we were alone.
He would.
The two of us ended up on the deck after I’d whipped together some simple turkey sandwiches with potato chips. A no-fuss meal made special because I wasn’t alone.
“How’s shooting going?” I asked as we ate.
“Good.” He nodded. “We’re on schedule, which is important. There’ve been some long days, but we’re getting through. I just hope . . .”
“Hope what?”
He sighed. “I hope I’m doing a good job.”
It was strange to see insecurity on his face. “You are.”
“Maybe.”
“You are. You’re a good actor and I know this because I’ve watched every one of your movies at least twice. You’re doing a good job.”
The light in his eyes danced. “Twice?”
“Is this going to inflate your ego?”
“Most definitely.”
“Well, that backfired,” I muttered.
Shaw tipped his head back and laughed at the cloudless blue sky.
I hid my smile by chewing a chip.
His laughter was like music, and the more I heard it, the more I could make out different notes. Like his smile, it was different when it was real. It was huskier and came from deeper in his throat. It was raw and unrefined. It ignited a pulse between my legs that would stay long after our meal.
“Any word from your ex?” he asked.
“Nope.” I’d blocked Jeremiah’s number, so if he’d tried to call, I wouldn’t know, and he hadn’t tried to reach me at the garage.
The Warriors hadn’t contacted Dash since his phone call to Tucker, and we all hoped he’d managed to smooth things over. But I wasn’t blind to the risks. Leo had screwed up, and I suspected he spent his nights at The Betsy looking over his shoulder.
“You said something that day, the one where Leo was here after he kicked your fiancé’s ass. You said, ‘You’re stirring up trouble we don’t need.’ What did you mean? I’m missing something here, aren’t I?”
Yes, he was. “If I tell you something, can you promise me it won’t go into your movie?”
Shaw frowned and shot me a glare. “I’m kind of pissed you’d even ask.”
I cringed, replaying my words. “Sorry. That’s not— I trust you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” I held his gaze. “I trust you.”
But the Tin Gypsies and the Warriors had been our secret for so long, it felt strange to let the words loose.
“Jeremiah, my ex, joined a motorcycle club. The Arrowhead Warriors. Back when Draven and Dash were still running the Tin Gypsies, they were rivals.”
“I’ve heard of them. In the paper, Bryce speculated that one of their members was the one to steal Draven’s hunting knife and kill Amina.”
It had actually been Marcus, disguised as a Warrior because he’d known about the rivalry. But he’d been smart. Everyone had immediately suspected the Warriors given their history.
“Jeremiah, in his infinite stupidity, decided he wanted to join their club. He moved to Ashton years ago, even though we stayed together. That was my infinite stupidity.”
“You’re not stupid,” Shaw scolded.
“No, I am. When it came to Jeremiah, there’s a lot of stupid there.” I waved off another one of his frowns. “Anyway, Jeremiah is a Warrior. Leo was a Gypsy.”
“Enemies.”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “Jeremiah deserved what he got, but when you mess with one member of the club, you mess with them all. We don’t need trouble with the Warriors. I don’t want to see my friends get hurt.”
“Hmm.” Shaw nodded. “Your ex sounds like a fucking asshole.”
I grinned. “You’re not wrong.”
“You can tell me to mind my own business, but why’d you stay with him?”
I’d been asking myself that question for weeks. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. We have a long history, and I think that clouded my feelings toward him. But it’s done now and that’s all that matters.”
“You’re sure?” Shaw sat up, swinging his long legs between our chairs. He leaned his elbows on his knees so he was close. “I thought maybe the reason you were avoiding me was because you need some time to get over the ex.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s done.”
The heartbreak, the humiliation, was fading too. Turns out all I’d needed was some time to see Jeremiah’s
betrayal on our wedding day as a gift. He’d given me my freedom.
I wasn’t going to say thank you, but I wasn’t angry anymore.
“Does that mean I can keep kissing you?”
I sat up and mirrored his pose, one knee threaded between his. “You’re here for a month?”
“If shooting goes as planned.”
“Then how about I make you a deal? I’ll trade you that dinner out you so desperately want for a kiss every day for a month.”
“No-brainer.” He held out his hand. “Shake on it.”
My hand slipped in his.
Then he smiled, the real one, and took today’s kiss.
Chapter Thirteen
Shaw
Presley was hiding our friendship—relationship—from the world.
She hadn’t offered up much explanation as to why, but I understood. She’d been the talk of the town once this summer after the wedding, and she didn’t need to tie herself to me publicly and go through it all again.
I’d leave Clifton Forge in a few weeks and she’d be here to deal with the gossip. If Presley needed me to be her dirty little secret, I’d play that game. The alternative was not having her at all, which wasn’t an option.
The nights I wasn’t shooting, I went over to her house. I’d let her feed me dinner, then kiss her senseless. Before things escalated past heavy petting, I’d excuse myself and go home for a cold shower.
It was easy behind her closed door. There was no pretending.
But walking into the garage today and not pulling her into my arms was going to take some major restraint. Maybe, if no one was watching, I’d be able to steal a taste of her lips.
As I approached the garage, my hopes were dashed. My usual parking space was taken. Every space was taken. I had to park on the street, and when I walked inside, I was met with chaos. Not a seat was empty. Was everyone in Clifton Forge getting their oil changed today?
Presley’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she sandwiched the phone between her shoulder and her ear. “Great. See you at three.”
She spotted me standing by the door and for a brief moment smiled. Then she either remembered I was her dirty little secret or she remembered she had a million other things to do—I preferred the latter—and she shot out of her chair, scrambling for a piece of paper on the printer and a set of keys hanging on a pegboard. She breezed past me, flying through the door to the shop as the customers waiting drank coffee, chatted and buried their noses in phones.
Since all the chairs were full and I’d signed that insurance waiver, I headed into the shop.
I found Isaiah standing beside a tool bench, chugging from a canteen of water. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said, wiping his mouth dry. “Here to pick up the bike?”
“Yep.” I smiled, clapping my hands together. “Can’t wait to see it.”
“Come on.” He grinned and jerked his chin for me to follow him through the shop.
Two mechanics I hadn’t met were each busy with a car. Emmett slammed the hood on a third and nodded his hello. Presley was nowhere to be seen.
How had she disappeared? I glanced around, searching, and finally spotted her rushing inside from the parking lot. She threw a pair of keys to Emmett and went right back for the office, not sparing me a glance.
That stung.
When she was in the room, she had my attention, but that didn’t seem to be the case with her. She had a surprisingly easy time ignoring me. It was probably good for my ego, but . . . damn, woman.
“Haven’t seen you around much,” Isaiah said, leading me toward the far corner.
“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” I’d only shadowed him the one day. “I, uh . . . thanks for letting me watch you work on the bike that day. I realized after that”—because Presley had made me realize—“it might be tough to have me lurking over your shoulder. I didn’t want to get in the way or cause any hard feelings.”
Isaiah slowed, eyeing me carefully. “Appreciated.”
“So this is it?” I waved my hand at the machine covered with a tarp.
“Yep.” He jerked off the cover, revealing a gleaming black motorcycle underneath. My fingers skimmed the gas tank. The machine was truly a work of art. I bent down to get a closer look. The tank was painted a gleaming black, but hidden in the shiny surface were matte-black flames. “Wow.”
“Let’s take it outside.” Isaiah lifted the kickstand with his toe and put both hands on the handlebars, steering it through the open bay door and into the sunlight.
If it had been glorious inside, outside it was magnificent. The bike was meant for the road. It was meant to be in a movie. “I-I’m . . . speechless. Thank you.”
“Better take it for a ride.” Isaiah nodded to the seat.
“Hell, yeah.” I took the bike from him, straddling the seat. I hadn’t been on a motorcycle in years, but once upon a time, I’d ridden regularly to and from the police station. I started the engine, the rumble sending a wave of excitement through my veins.
I slid my sunglasses over my eyes, grinned at Isaiah and rode to the street. I glanced at the office as I passed and found Presley standing on the sidewalk outside, her hand shading her eyes, but there was a smile on her face.
So maybe she wasn’t ignoring me completely.
I smiled back.
Then I raced away, opening up the machine as I sped down the streets. It was the best ninety grand I’d spent in years.
We’d be using it for two movie scenes, but then it was coming home with me. This was my bike.
The road beneath the wheels was smooth and the motorcycle rode like a dream. I wanted nothing more than to take it out for hours, but I had to be on location to shoot today. So after thirty minutes, I headed to the garage, my hair windblown and my smile firmly fixed in place.
And tonight, no matter what she thought about being seen with me, I was taking Presley for a ride. I wanted to feel her toned thighs pressed against my hips. I wanted to feel her chest against my back and the whisper of her breath on my neck.
“So?” Isaiah asked as I parked it in the lot. Emmett came out to join us.
“That’s one hell of a bike.” I held my hand out to shake his. “Thanks. You did an incredible job.”
“Tell your friends in Hollywood.” Emmett chuckled. “We’d do projects like this one every day of the year.”
“Done.” I’d gladly send them business. “Mind if I leave it here? I drove over but I can have someone come with me later today to pick it up.”
“We can get it to your house,” Isaiah offered. “No problem.”
“Are you sure?” Because that would mean I wouldn’t need to bring Shelly or another crew member to the garage. There was a clear boundary between the film crew and the garage, and I’d like to keep it that way.
“We’ll drop it off at lunch.” Emmett nodded. “We’ll leave the keys with Presley.”
“Sounds good.” They both turned to leave, but I stopped them. “Can I ask you a question?”
Isaiah turned and nodded.
Emmett did the same, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. “What’s up?”
“Presley’s ex. Is he going to be a problem?”
The two of them shared a look.
“What’s it to you?” Emmett’s eyes narrowed.
“I was a cop. I want to know if she’s in danger.”
“No,” Emmett answered at the same time Isaiah said, “Maybe.”
My spine stiffened. “Maybe?”
“Her ex is an epic fuckup.” Isaiah ignored Emmett’s glare. “Will he hurt her? Probably not. But she needs to stay away from him. He’s tied up with a nasty crowd. If you see him around, you need to tell us.”
“I’m not scared of the ex.” Or his motorcycle club.
“There are things you don’t know,” Emmett said. “No matter what Presley told you, there are things you both don’t know, so if you see him around, don’t be the hero. Make the call.”
Something about his tone,
the sincerity and the protectiveness in his voice, made me nod. “All right.”
Until my time in Clifton Forge was up, I’d do my best to keep a watch on Presley. While I was here, she was mine.
With one last wave, I walked across the parking lot toward the street. Through the office’s window, I saw Presley on the phone. I was tempted to go in there while she was distracted and kiss her cheek, but she’d fillet me for that one.
So I’d wait, shove the urge deep, until I could claim that kiss tonight on my new bike.
“This is quite the view,” she breathed over my shoulder, her eyes aimed into the distance.
“Montana has some stellar sunsets.”
She hummed her agreement, pressing her cheek into my shoulder.
The ride along the highway with Presley at my back had been better than I could have imagined. Having her pressed against me, her small body holding tight to mine, was both bliss and agony.
Even after we’d found a secluded place to pull over and watch the sun set, she hadn’t climbed off. She was still there, her arms around my waist and her cheek against my shoulder.
My hand was on her leg and my thumb circled her knee. Every lap, I found it harder and harder to breathe. Every stroke of my finger against her jeans made me wish I could rip the loose denim from her legs and find out what she looked like wearing nothing at all.
I’d need two cold showers by the time we made it home.
My day had been spent on set, rehearsing tomorrow’s shoot and doing a retake of a small scene Cam hadn’t been happy with. We had some days set aside for retakes, but no one wanted to use them. They caused stress and levels were already on the rise now that we were in the final half of our shooting schedule. Thankfully, Cam was happy with the retake and I’d managed to sneak out before being pulled into the tent for the cast and crew dinner.
Shelly was already on my case for skipping out each night. She wanted me there to help support morale.
Sorry, Shelly. Presley ranked higher than morale.