The Real Thing (Sugar Lake Book 1)

by Melissa Foster

  She nodded, holding his foot a little tighter.

  “Your cheeks were flushed, and in the moonlight you looked so sweet. You were—are—so beautiful, Wills. I’ll never forget that night, and even if you hate it, you’ll always be my sweet cheeks.”

  She relaxed back against the couch, her hands moving lovingly over his feet. “I always thought it was because of my big butt.”

  A laugh bubbled out before he could stop it. “Big butt? Baby, you have got the most perfect ass on the planet.”

  That earned him a wide grin. “I’m glad you think so, because I’m kind of stuck with it.”

  He sat up and pulled her into his arms, kissing her cheeks so many times she fell back laughing.

  “Want me to show you how much I love your butt?”

  “No!” She playfully pushed his chest, and he fell back against the cushion. She rubbed his feet again. “Did you know a quarter of your bones are located in your feet?”

  “This is just like math tutoring all over again,” he teased. “I’m thinking about your ass, and you’re spewing academics.”

  They both laughed. She picked up the remote and clicked on the television and the DVD player.

  “Porn?” He sat up again, and she pushed him back down.

  “Drink your tea, sex maniac.”

  Unforgiven came on. His favorite movie. “Baby . . .” He sat up again, slower this time, and slid an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “You remembered?”

  “I remembered,” she whispered. “‘Hell of a thing, killing a man. You take away all he’s got and all he’s ever gonna have,’” she quoted from the movie he thought she’d never watched. “I used to sit at the top of the stairs and listen to the movie while you and Ben watched. But I might have to cover my eyes at the bloody gunfight with that Daggett guy.”

  He moved his feet off her lap and hauled her up so she was lying half on, half beside him.

  “I wasn’t done pampering you,” she complained with an adorable pout.

  “This is the only pampering I need. You by my side. Always.”

  He kissed that pout off her lips, and she snuggled in against him, resting her cheek on his chest as the movie began playing.

  “I hate the idea of leaving next weekend without you to finish filming in LA. Think you can take a day or two off to come home with me Saturday morning before we start filming again? I know you’ll have to close the bakery, but I can subsidize that. And you can come back Sunday.”

  She drew slow circles on his stomach for a long, silent moment. Then she lifted a sweet smile in his direction. “You don’t have to subsidize anything. I want to go. I’m just nervous about LA. It seems so . . . big.”

  “You handle big things like a pro,” he teased.

  She rolled her eyes, but her smile never faltered.

  “We don’t even have to leave my house, Wills. I want to be with you. I want you in my space. In my world. In my bed, so I can hold you, and love you, and wake up with you. I’ll have withdrawals if I don’t see you in the morning, and that could wreak havoc with my acting.”

  She pressed a kiss to his chest and laughed. “Is it true that you don’t bring women to your house?”

  “I see Patch has a really big mouth.”

  “And you have a picture of me in your bedroom?”

  “Yes.” He feigned exasperation. “But if you want to know which one, you have to come back to LA with me.”

  She rested against his chest again without answering. Many minutes later she said, “Of course I’ll come,” and he finally felt like he could breathe again.

  She fell asleep before the gruesome scene she’d hoped to miss, and Zane lay awake for a long while after the movie ended, wishing they were filming the entire movie in Sweetwater. How could he ever have thought it would be easy to walk away from Willow when they were done filming? A fake engagement to the woman he’d always wanted had been his most brilliant idea and his worst.

  They never should have lied to her family. The guilt was killing him, and even though Willow had come clean to Bridgette, he knew it had to be eating away at her to have lied to the others. When he’d called them about being there to support Willow the first day on the set, they’d been eager to help, and it had driven that guilt even deeper. He needed to rectify that situation in a way that wouldn’t come back on Willow.

  He pressed his lips to the top of her head and pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch over her. “I’ll fix this, baby. I’ll fix everything.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  IT WAS BOUND to happen at some point. Willow hadn’t known when or how, but she’d assumed she’d eventually meet Remi Divine. She just hadn’t expected it to be Tuesday evening at eight o’clock while she was sitting on the steps of Zane’s trailer in a pair of shorts and one of his T-shirts tied at the waist like an eighties girl at a creek party, drinking a Kinky Pink cocktail and eating all the frosting off a dozen cupcakes. With her fingers. She smiled up at the Natalie Portman lookalike, who was even more gorgeous in person than on the big screen.

  “Hi.” Did that sound too perky? Not perky enough? Like I’m as lame as a drunken duck at the moment? She’d had a hell of a day at the bakery. The oven that had been on its last leg had died, leaving her with one, which was fine most days but would cause a crunch with her next big event. She’d called the distributor, but the model she wanted couldn’t be installed for another four weeks. She pushed to her feet and held out a hand.

  Remi, who was in full makeup with her hair tied back in some kind of complicated knot and wearing a cute little silky robe and heels, glanced down at Willow’s hand with a disgusted expression.

  Oh shit. Willow realized she’d been sucking frosting off her index finger when Remi had approached, and quickly pulled back her hand, wiping it on her back pocket. “Sorry! Um, hi. I’m—”

  Remi lifted her adorable and slightly pointy chin, and in a voice as rich as dark chocolate said, “I know who you are. Willow Dalton. Zane’s fiancée.” She said fiancée as if it were a dirty word.

  Willow’s stomach sank, but she wasn’t about to let a snooty actress make her feel bad about herself or how she felt about Zane. She lifted her own perfect chin and squared her shoulders, meeting Remi’s serious gaze. Jesus, did the woman even know how to smile, or was that a trick of the camera? She emitted sweetness like syrup on pancakes on the big screen.

  “Yes, that’s right.” Willow held out her left hand, flashing the gaudy ring, which earned an appreciative “Hm” from Remi.

  “You’re waiting for him.” It wasn’t a question. She walked with the grace of a swan and the coolness of a movie star to the steps of the trailer and sat her tiny ass down, patting the space beside her.

  Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Willow sat next to her. “I’d offer you a drink, but all I have are these.” She held up the six-pack. “Kinky Pink, ‘an irresistible combo of mango, passion fruit, and blood orange flavors that’s so good it’s naughty.’”

  Remi arched a thinly manicured brow.

  “That’s . . . It’s their tagline. Sorry, my small-townness is showing.”

  A smile split Remi’s properly painted lips, and a soft laugh escaped.

  “Cool. You do know how to smile.” Willow’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head, and she felt her cheeks burn so hot she thought they might actually release steam. “I’m sorry. That just slipped out. Oh my God. I’m sorry. I just—”

  “I think I will have that drink, thank you.” Remi reached across her and grabbed a bottle. “Do you share your cupcakes, or are those for your fingers only?”

  Willow was stunned into silence.

  “Hm? I’m going to take that as sharing, because I’m frigging starved.” Remi grabbed a cupcake and licked the frosting right off. “You can breathe now. I’m a normal person.”

  The breath Willow hadn’t realized she’d been holding rushed from her lungs.

  “I was just trying to see if you were like the usual fan
girls who knock around with the actors. The two of you are all over the Internet. The newest, hottest couple. At least they’ve kept the bloodhounds away from the set.” She looked down at the drink and the cupcake and handed the bottle to Willow. “Can you please help me open this while you find your voice? If I ruin my nails, I have to sit in the chair for another half hour.”

  Willow uncapped the bottle and handed it back to Remi, taking a long swig of her own, feeling like she had just been whirled in a blender and the world was still spinning.

  Remi lifted her cupcake like she was toasting and took a drink. “I’ll pay for this tomorrow. Can’t afford the extra pounds.” She rolled her eyes and bit into the cupcake. “Oh my Lord. This is the bomb!”

  Willow smiled. Baked items were the ultimate equalizer. “Thank you. I haven’t seen you at the craft services tent in the mornings.”

  “The camera is very unforgiving. I don’t eat much while filming, but after the day I had, I need this. I’m not on camera again until late tomorrow, so I have time to get it out of my system, detox and dehydrate again. Tricks of the trade.”

  “Sounds fun,” Willow teased, feeling more like herself again. “Anytime you need a good sugar fix, hit me up. My bakery, Sweetie Pie, is right down the street.”

  “Thanks. But do you deliver outside Sweetwater to other rural New York locations or Cape Cod? Because when I’m not filming, that’s where I am. As my alter ego, of course, and I rarely leave my house.” She took another swig of her drink and eyed the bottle. “This is awesome, too. I’ve never had it.”

  “It’s cheap and fruity. I’m not surprised.” Oh, damn, was she going to put her foot in her mouth all night? “I’m sorry. I’m still a little rattled to be sitting here with Remi Divine. And yes, I will deliver wherever you are, under whatever name you use.”

  Remi smiled and took another swig of her drink. “Probably just as rattled as I am to be sitting with you.”

  “Please.” Willow laughed and grabbed a cupcake.

  “It’s just as nerve-racking for actors as it is for people outside the industry. Will I be hated because of my looks or celebrity, or worse, will people like me only for those reasons? Zane must have told you that.”

  “Zane and I don’t actually talk about the industry very much. I’ve known him since we were kids. So to me, he’s just funny, sweet, smart, and smart-ass Zane. I haven’t thought about those things. That has to be tough.” Gazing down at the blue frosting on the cupcake, she remembered waking up in his arms on the couch that morning and realized that what she’d said wasn’t true.

  “Actually, Zane’s much more to me than just anything,” Willow clarified. “I don’t mean to negate his acting, because clearly he’s incredible at his job. But I love the man he is, and it wouldn’t matter what he did for a living.”

  Remi sighed. “I envy you. As I said, I never know if a guy likes me for me or for who they think I am.” She finished her drink and grabbed another.

  “I can see how that would be frustrating.”

  “I have to kiss your fiancé,” Remi said softly. “I figured you’d pretty much hate me because of that.”

  “So did I.” Willow laughed. “But you’re not exactly hateable, and kissing you is his job.”

  “So, you’re not jealous?”

  “Wicked jealous. And so freaking more jealous now that I’ve met you. I mean, if you could ugly it up a bit, that would be good.” Willow waved her hand toward Remi’s robe. “And maybe wear a snowsuit or something.”

  Remi laughed.

  “I could pull a few of your teeth with pliers. That would help, too.”

  Remi covered her mouth. “My teeth?”

  “You don’t really need them anyway.” Willow took another drink and smiled at Remi. “I’m female, so yeah, I’m jealous. But I want you to nail that scene and show the world how amazing the two of you are. And now I’m going to change the subject, because I have to picture something other than you two in a lip-lock or I’ll lose my mind.”

  “Just so you know, I hate kissing scenes. Truly hate them. I’ve had nightmares about him pulling away and saying I suck at kissing. So, yes, please change the subject. Quickly.”

  “You have not!”

  “Have to. Subject change, please.”

  Laughing, Willow asked the first thing that came to mind. “How did you get into acting?”

  “It’s a weird story.” Remi took off her heels and stretched her toes. “My brother had a friend who said his uncle was in the industry back in the day and well connected. He said he could get me into the business. It all happened so fast. We met at a party, and the next day he brought me to meet his uncle, who took me to meet his colleagues. It turned out he was a fluffer, and . . . oh my Lord. You can imagine what my reaction was.”

  “At least you had an in. What’s a fluffer?” She popped the rest of her cupcake into her mouth.

  Remi swayed a little. “I’m such a lightweight. I’m already buzzed.” She lowered her voice and said, “A fluffer is the person who, before Viagra, kept male porn stars aroused.”

  Willow choked on her cupcake, coughing and spewing crumbs all over Remi’s robe. Remi burst into laughter and patted her on the back so hard they both tumbled off the stairs and spilled their drinks.

  “Oh my God! A fluffer!” More laughter burst from Willow’s lungs, causing Remi to laugh harder. “And his uncle? A guy? Was it gay porn?”

  Remi squealed. “I don’t know! Can you imagine? ‘Excuse me, sir,’” Remi said between laughs. “‘May I fluff you now?’”

  Willow roared and grabbed Remi’s arm. “What did you do?”

  “I screamed something like, ‘I’m not doing that!’ and ran out of the room.” She laughed again. “It was awful. I hid in my room for a month afterward. And when my brother found out”—she breathed deeply, regaining control—“first he beat the crap out of his friend’s uncle. Then he made it his goal to get me into real movies.” Her voice became serious and thoughtful. “I owe everything good in my life to Aiden, actually. He’s the kindest, most determined man I know, and I’m lucky to have him as my brother. He’s twelve years older than me. He raised me, and he manages my career now, but he also owns all sorts of businesses.”

  Hearing Remi had been raised by her brother sobered Willow up. She’d like to say she was sorry if they had lost their parents and hug her, just because her heart was aching for her and everyone needed hugs. But she didn’t know Remi well enough to do either of those things, so she said, “Sounds like he’d get along well with my brother, Ben. He’s a venture capitalist and just as protective of me and my three sisters. Too bad Aiden’s not around. We could all have dinner one night.”

  “You’re so lucky. I wish I had sisters,” Remi said with a sad look in her eyes. “Sometimes this life can get really lonely.”

  “Aw, Remi. You can be our honorary sister.” Willow couldn’t resist reaching out and hugging her. Remi embraced her for a moment longer, and tighter, than she’d expected, making her glad she’d done it.

  “Aiden’s coming Friday to see the last day of filming,” she said, fussing nervously with her robe, as if the hug had taken her by surprise, too. “He always tries to catch a day or two when his schedule allows. Maybe if you and Zane and Ben are up for it, we could have dinner then? You can bring your sisters.”

  Thinking of how great it would be for Bridgette to meet a nice, responsible guy, she said, “We can be a little overwhelming as a group. Maybe I’ll bring just one.”

  ONLY A FEW more days, Zane reminded himself as he headed for his trailer late Tuesday night. They’d had to film the last scene eight times because the other actor kept messing up his lines. It had been a long, grueling day, and Zane couldn’t blame him. The guy was sidetracked with thoughts of his wife wanting a divorce. The whole situation sucked, and on top of that, Zane thought they’d both made a mistake by taking this film. Acting in a romantic suspense role was incredibly different from acting in action movies. The scenes
moved too slowly, every step felt measured, every breath overdramatized, whereas in action, there was barely time to think before he had to take someone down or blow through a building.

  The lights were on in his trailer, which could only mean one thing. Willow was waiting for him. Patch had already taken off for the evening to meet Piper for drinks, and no one else had a key. He smiled to himself. He’d called her father today and planned to stop by after filming tomorrow, while Willow was holding a tasting for a potential new client. Filming was scheduled to end early, which should give them plenty of time to talk.

  He pulled open the trailer door and stepped inside. It smelled like Willow, and his body pulsed to life.

  She looked up from where she was lying on her stomach on the couch, and a smile lit up her glassy eyes. Her cheeks were pink, her legs were bent at the knees, her feet crossed at the ankles. A half-empty bottle of Kinky Pink sat on the floor, and he noticed five other empties on the table.

  “Z, this is a love story,” she said with the slow speech of too much alcohol as he sat down beside her.

  He noticed his screenplay lying open in front of her, and his chest constricted.

  “I thought it was about a lost boy who finds his way in a gritty city against all odds. But it’s so much more. This is about family and friendship, and . . .” She flipped through the pages as she sat up. “I’m not done yet, but this part where he and his brother climb the water tower when he’s thinking about running away? That made my heart break. And the way he talks about that girl? Oh my gosh, Zane. I hope they get together. Do they?”

  She was so freaking cute he pulled her onto his lap. “Yes, they get together.”

  “Thank goodness, because I was worried that when he finally gets his life together he moves on without her.”

  “Have you gotten to her date yet?”

  “She goes on a date?” she said excitedly. “With him?”

  He pushed his hand beneath her hair, rubbing her shoulders. “Are you tipsy?”

  “Maybe. Did I tell you my oven broke? And they can’t bring a new one for four weeks.”