That thought popped the dreamlike bubble I’d been floating in. I opened my eyes and realized how ridiculous I was being. Without saying another word, I moved to turn and head down the three metal steps.
“Actually, I was just leaving!” Mia called out.
I turned just in time to see her ducking under Colton’s arm that was holding the door open. I stepped down to give her room and as she slid past me she instructed, “Colton needs to be camera ready in fifteen.”
Great.
Not only was I going to have to touch Colton, I was going to be alone with him when I did it.
I watched as Mia rushed off towards the main house. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I knew that Colton was looking at me even before I turned. Taking a deep breath, I gripped the handle of my makeup train case tighter as I tried to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to encounter.
This was different than the wedding. Today, I wasn’t wearing any makeup, my hair wasn’t straightened, and I wasn’t wearing my ring. It was just me. No armor. No pretense. No protective shields.
Before I’d even set my foot back onto the bottom step, Colton reached down and lifted the heavy case out of my grasp. I gasped. Not so much because the gesture was so shocking, Colton had always been a gentleman. My reaction had more to do with the fact that I’d forgotten what that felt like.
Owen wasn’t a bad husband, I mean, unless you count the infidelity I suppose. But he was kind and he provided for us. He wasn’t nurturing or overly protective…or protective at all. He didn’t make a habit of opening doors or carrying heavy things for me and I’d told myself that I didn’t need that. I told myself that I was an independent woman who could carry her own stuff. I’d convinced myself that I’d been spoiled by Colton and that that wasn’t how men treated women in “the real world.”
Instead of concentrating on what Owen wasn’t I’d instead spent my energy focusing on what he was. When I met him I was a single mom who was living in a tiny studio, three months behind on my rent because of medical bills and the amount of work I’d missed caring for Sadie.
Owen Thomas not only saved my baby’s life, he also saved mine, because if anything had happened to her I don’t know what I would’ve done. I couldn’t even think about that.
All of that being said, I now knew that if I ever got in another relationship, I wanted someone that lifted heavy things for me, or at least offered. I’d been carrying things on my own for a long, long time.
Colton held the door open for me and I stepped inside. When the door shut, closing us in the small space together, every cell in my body jumped to attention and the hair on my arms stood up to join those on my neck. The atmosphere shifted, the air crackled with electricity.
“You can sit.” I pointed to the chair that was sitting in the corner.
“Where do you want this?” he asked, holding up the case.
“On the counter.”
As soon as he set it down, I opened it and tried my best to concentrate on what I was doing and not the fact that Colton was inches away from me. My hands were shaking as I pulled out several shades of powder to match his complexion. Makeup for men was basically just used to even out skin tone, cover any blemishes or scars, and eliminate shine. A quick brush and style of his hair and I’d be out of here. I’d only have to survive for ten minutes, tops.
“Bella, I haven’t stopped thinking of you—”
“No!” I really didn’t mean to yell but I was tightrope walking over Breakdown River and I did not feel like going for a swim today. I didn’t raise my head, just continued to stare down at my makeup case as I sorted through my brushes.
He persisted. “I need to talk to you—”
“No. Not now. I’m working. I can’t.” I lifted my head and I saw his mouth open like he was going to argue with me, but the moment our eyes met he froze. He must’ve seen that I was on the edge.
He’d always been good at reading between the lines. If he looked in my eyes he knew exactly what I was thinking, feeling, needing.
The reminder of that connection was a lot for me to take in, so I tried to negate it by teasing. “All right Chatty Cathy, if it was up to me, I would do my job in silence. But if you have to talk, then it needs to be about work.”
I figured that would take care of the talking portion of this nightmare. I seriously doubted that he’d want to dive too deep into that topic considering his job for the next month was to date twelve women that were living in my house.
“Okay.” His lips turned up in a lop-sided grin and I knew I was in trouble.
Lord help me when that man got that smile on his face.
Trying to ignore the butterflies that had congregated in my stomach at his sexy lip-split, I grabbed the primer spray and pointed it at his face and swallowed hard over the lump that had taken shape in my throat as I croaked, “Close your eyes.”
After a moment of pause that had me holding my breath, he did as I asked. I took a step forward which placed me square between his legs.
My pulse raced as I spritzed his skin and then picked up my brush and began applying the product to the perfect, chiseled lines of his face. As I studied him, my mouth grew dry, and I started feeling lightheaded.
Being this close to him was bad for my health. Bad for my hormones. And definitely bad for my heart.
Without permission, my eyes drifted below his jawline to the sweet spot of his neck. I could still feel the way his shoulder cradled my cheek when I would nuzzle against him. How strong his arms felt around me as he’d hold me tightly. The way his hand always rested on my lower back and the small circles he would make with his thumb as I melted into him.
“How long have you been doing this work?”
My eyes shot back up and I was happy to see that his were still closed. I might not be able to stop myself from mentally waxing poetic about him, but the last thing I wanted was for him to know that. Once the fog of our past lifted, my mind filtered through what he’d asked and I couldn’t help but smile. He’d always been good at playing within the rules, but somehow getting exactly what he wanted. It was part of what I’d loved about him, he was every girl’s fantasy, a safe bad boy.
Or at least, I’d thought he was safe.
I took a step back, trying to distance myself both physically and emotionally. In my most professional and not personal tone I said. “I got my license a few years ago.”
He nodded, and I could see in the set of his jaw that there was more Q&A to come. “Do you always take your wedding ring off when you work?”
His question caused the brush to slip from my fingers, but thankfully it landed in the case. I didn’t want to talk about my marital status with my ex-boyfriend while I was working on a show where he was dating a dozen women. But, I also didn’t want to lie.
“Yes,” I answered honestly. This was the first day I’d worked and I’d taken my ring off.
My hands shook as I grabbed the product I was going to use to style his hair. I squeezed the gel into my hands and when I turned around I saw that he’d opened his eyes and I noticed that today they were closer to green than the brownish gold of the last time I saw him.
I remembered I used to play a little game where I would silently guess what color his eyes would be before I saw him in the morning. If I guessed right, I’d kiss him on the mouth. If I guessed wrong, I kissed him on the cheek. I never told him that I did it and now thinking back on it, it sounded silly. But since we started “dating” when I was eleven, I guess it made sense.
My entire body prickled with tingles as he stared at me and I knew that it was going to get worse when I actually made contact with him. I wished there was some other way to do this, but there really wasn’t. I couldn’t use a brush alone to do his hair. I had to touch him.
Stepping back into the space between his legs, I felt my breath begin to grow more labored as I raised my hands. I wasn’t sure if I was about to hyperventilate or if I was just aroused. When everything started to go blu
rry, I was pretty sure that it wasn’t because I was so turned on.
But I had a job to do that didn’t include a panic attack, or whatever these episodes were.
Pushing past my panting and visual impairment, I ran my fingers through his soft, thick hair. More memories came back. Whenever we’d watched television, Colton always ended up laying his head on my lap and I would run my fingers through his hair. Half the time that would lead to him falling asleep and the other half it would end in a hot and heavy make out session. I loved them both. I loved watching him sleep, he was so peaceful and for some reason it made me feel closer to him. And if we ended up making out, even better. He would lay for a while, still watching TV but I would notice that his chest had started rising and falling faster. His hand would move to caress my calf and then up my thigh. Then he’d turn and his eyes would hold an intensity that I’d feel all the way to the tips of my toes. Then he’d reach up, wrap his hand behind my neck and pull me to him, and kiss me like his life depended on it.
As great as the kissing always was, the buildup was my favorite part. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was seduction. A slow, sensual dance that he’d mastered by the time he was thirteen.
I noticed Colton’s breathing was now in the shallow end of the pool and his eyes had that toe-tingling intensity. I wondered if he was remembering the same things I was. But I pushed that thought aside and tried to ignore it. I was also doing my best to ignore the fact that my lips were starting to go numb and that every time I inhaled and exhaled it was faster than the last.
Just a few more seconds, I told myself. If I could just hang on for a few more seconds I’d be done and I could leave. I tried to distract myself with images of the twelve girls that would soon be dating Colton.
My body settled right down.
I started to think I had things under control. But I was wrong. I twisted to grab the setting spray and my bare thigh brushed against the back of Colton’s hand and I froze.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Colton’s knuckles lightly grazed my overly sensitive skin, his voice like sandpaper as he said, “Bella?”
And just like that, all the work I’d done to calm down was smashed. Tears filled my eyes and I tried to take a breath but I wasn’t able to. Seeing Colton, being alone with him, hearing the huskiness in his voice as he said my name, and feeling his touch put me into sensory overload.
I backed up and my lower back hit the counter. My hands grasped the edge and I shut my eyes as stars flashed behind my lids. I tried to stay alert, but I felt like I was being pulled under a large wave and taken out to sea.
“Bella?” I could hear Colton’s voice, but it sounded so far away.
The next thing I knew, strong hands were around my arms and I was sitting. Then a bag was over my mouth and Colton’s voice started growing louder and louder, like he was at the end of a tunnel and I was getting closer to him.
“Good.”
“Just like that.”
“Breathe.”
“In and out.”
“That’s good.”
I have no idea how long I sat there. How long Colton stayed by my side coaching me through my episode. But just as I was starting to feel like I was coming up for air after almost drowning, someone slammed open the trailer door.
“We’re ready for you!” I heard someone call out.
“Get out.” Colton’s tone was cold and unfeeling, so different than the soft and tender encouragements that I’d just heard.
I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me. I couldn’t see who’d come in, my head was still swimming with confusion.
“Is everything okay?” A man’s voice asked.
“No.” Colton’s voice was calm. Deadly calm. His eyes never left mine as he held the paper bag to my mouth and spoke with a threatening command that would have Clint Eastwood—in his heyday—shaking in his boots. “Get out now.”
All of a sudden, all of my senses returned to me in a rush. I remembered who I was. Where I was. What I was doing.
I moved the bag away from my mouth and breathed. “I’m fine. You can go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he stated firmly.
“We need you on set, can I get an ETA?” Now, I recognized the voice as Rodney, the AD. I’d met him earlier in the day.
“Just go. You need to go,” I whispered as I started to stand but his arms caged me in.
“I need to stay right here. With you.” He spoke low so no one would hear our conversation.
It felt intimate. And despite myself, I loved that feeling.
“I’m looking for Bella, Ava needs a touch up.” Heidi’s voice joined the group. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know” Rodney said.
I stood and this time, I didn’t let his arms stop me. I pushed past him, ignoring the shiver that raced down my spine as my breasts brushed his chest.
“Nothing’s going on. I had a little dizzy spell and Colton was kind enough to make sure I was okay.” I started gathering my things. “I’ll be right there.”
“Colton? ETA?” Rodney repeated.
“Now.” I answered for him. “He’s going now.”
“Bella, I’m not—” Colton started to protest.
“Yes.” I looked over my shoulder so he could see how serious I was about him going and not making a bigger deal out of this than it was. “You are.”
“We need to talk.” Again, his words were so quiet that if I weren’t an inch from his face I would’ve never heard him.
“Okay,” I agreed so he would leave.
“Tonight.” He demanded. “When I’m done here.”
I sighed. “Okay.”
His jaw tightened and I could see that it was killing him to have to go, but my eyes pleaded with him to do just that. I saw the second he resigned himself to leaving and watched as he walked out of the trailer.
That had gone about as bad as it could’ve gone. I’d hyperventilated and agreed to “talk.”
Well, I think that settled that. I’d definitely written a check my butt couldn’t cash.
Bella: 3 Colton: 3
This was getting ridiculous. I wasn’t this girl. I didn’t swoon in chairs and need someone to hold a bag to my face. When I was faced with adversity, I didn’t waste time feeling sorry for myself. I got my bearings. I made a plan and took control. If things weren’t going my way, I took the wheel and drove the sucker in the direction I wanted to go.
Renewed determination surged through me as I clicked the latches of my case into place.
I wasn’t the girl that fell apart. When life knocked me down, I was the girl that got right back up, dusted myself off, and added extra padding to my pants so the next time it happened it wouldn’t hurt as bad.
I needed to buy myself some time. Pull myself together. Figure out where to turn my wheel.
It was time to add some extra padding.
Chapter 13
Colton
“Words that soak into your heart are whispered, not yelled.”
~ Papa Duke
I shut off my lights as I pulled behind the back house. I felt like a kid again when I used to sneak in this way. Except back then I was riding a bike and was worried about Papa Duke catching us. Now, I didn’t want any of the women staying in the house or production to see that I was here.
We’d finished filming about half an hour ago. After a quick schedule meeting with Mia and a short explanation about why she’d decided to move to Wishing Well after production—thanks to falling in love with Travis Briggs, one of Wishing Well’s finest, during the week I was gone doing press—I’d jumped in my truck and got the hell out of there. The good news was that I didn’t have to go far. At the property line I cut down the service road and through the back field of the Connor Farm.
I hadn’t seen Bella since I left my trailer almost eight hours ago and I felt like I was going out of my mind. I couldn’t think straight because my brain was congested with
so many questions.
Was she okay?
What had happened back in the trailer?
Why had she allowed the show to lease her grandpa’s property?
Was she okay?
How was she feeling about seeing me again?
Why wouldn’t she talk to me?
Was she okay?
Was it because she was married?
Why had she gone pale when I asked her if she took off her ring to work?
Was she okay?
I think the pattern was pretty clear. I needed to know if she was okay.
I’d always been really good at focusing on what I needed to do. I could compartmentalize things. Hell, that’s how I graduated college with honors even though I was taking care of Cara. When I studied, I studied. When I was with Cara, I was with Cara. That was how my brain had always worked.
Until this past week, that is. When I’d been doing press, I’d spaced out in interviews, answered the wrong questions because I hadn’t really been paying attention to the interviewer, I’d even blanked on what the name of the show was…and one of the words was my name.
But today had been even worse.
There weren’t normally scripts in reality television, although some were more heavily directed than others. But in ninety percent of them you did have to follow an “outline” of a scene. Producers would set up situations and they’d want you to respond “naturally.” In all the shows I’d done, I’d never had to reshoot a scene. I’d never forgotten what I was doing or what was going on.
Today, we’d had to do several takes on each scene that was shot. The intros were the worst. My reactions were lukewarm, at best, and I hadn’t been able to remember any of the girl’s names. Julie was the first girl that I’d met. I called her Julia. At various points throughout the day I also called her Juliette and Julianna. It might seem like an insignificant, honest mistake, but to a girl that is going on a show to find love, or at the very least be noticed and further her career, being called the wrong name is a serious problem.
Claiming Colton (Wishing Well, Texas Book 5) Page 9