by Lucy Score
But the bleary-eyed stare she leveled at him wasn’t giving him any clues.
“Right. So, no more fighting in alleys or otherwise?” Noah ventured.
Cat nodded. “Because it’s a very, very bad idea.”
“Terrible,” Noah agreed. “From now on we’ll be strictly professional.” Now why was it as soon as the words left his mouth, Noah pictured Cat panting as she attacked his belt buckle, her lips swollen by an assault from his own mouth?
His expression must have given away a hint of where his mind had wandered because Cat’s eyes widened, and she gave him a subtle shake of her head. Never again, she mouthed.
Subject closed.
“Uh, okay. Well. I’m pleasantly surprised and confused,” Paige cut in. “So, uh. We’re going to go now and demolish a large portion of your town.”
“Good. Great.” Noah felt his head bobbing as if he had no control over it. “Let me know if there’s anything you… uh… need.”
“We won’t need anything,” Cat promised. “Let’s go sledge hammer some crap.”
“Actually, we do,” Paige countered. “Noah, since you’re the town figurehead. We really could use you on camera when we go through the park storage. Maybe give us some backstories on some of the ruined pieces. It’ll give our designers some ideas on what items need replaced and which ones we should try to salvage.”
“On camera?” Noah absolutely hated the idea. Standing next to Cat pretending not to think of the insane mistake they’d nearly made the night before for a national audience? Pass.
“I don’t think—”
“It would be you and Drake, and I was thinking Sara might also like to be part of the scene. She’s sweet and smart, and I think an audience would really connect with a kid whose known nothing but Merry’s Christmases,” Paige put in.
Sara would murder him on the spot if she ever found out he passed up a chance for her to be on TV with Drake Mackenrowe. Shit.
“Um. I guess so,” Noah said reluctantly. “Just Drake?” he clarified.
Cat rolled her eyes, then winced.
“Cat’s shooting the demo at Reggie’s at the same time,” Paige told him.
He stared at the swatch of tan skin at the base of Cat’s throat visible above the top button of her plaid shirt. There was a small bruise peeking out above her collar. Noah swallowed hard, knowing he’d put that mark on her.
Cat coughed into her sports drink.
Paige patted her on the back.
“Down the wrong hatch,” Cat gasped weakly. She glared at Noah.
Stop it, she mouthed when Paige bent to dig through her purse.
Stop what? he mouthed back.
You know what!
Paige sat up swiftly, phone in hand, and then clutched her head. “Ooof. A little too fast. So, I’ll email the releases over to you, and we’ll need you at the park at four. Plan for about two hours.”
Cat glared at him and shoved her sunglasses back on. So, the kiss and ensuing second base hadn’t mellowed Cat one iota. Well, he wasn’t going to let it affect him either. As far as he was concerned, he’d pretend like he had no idea just how spectacular Catalina King’s breasts were.
“That’s fine.”
Cat snatched the paper Imani had given him off his desk. “Are these for streetlights?” she asked peering at the glowing reindeer over the tops of her sunglasses.
“A request from the city council. And, looking at the astronomical price tag, yet another no from me.”
“You don’t like them?” Cat asked.
“Besides them being incredibly gaudy, I don’t like the idea of wasting a huge chunk of the budget on reindeer. Even if their noses do light up. Now if you two will excuse me, I’ve got a town to run, and you’ve got one to rebuild.”
“Thanks for your time, Noah,” Paige said, offering him a friendly grin.
Cat grunted and headed for the door.
“I appreciate you both being willing to put aside your personal differences,” Paige said pointedly as she slung her bag over her shoulder.
Cat paused mid-stride, sighed as if the words pained her. “Bye, Noah.”
“Bye, Cat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Five weeks to Christmas Eve
Temperatures dropped and spirits rose as mid-November marched out of town. Progress was humming along on the job sites scattered around Merry. As word spread, more volunteers came out of the woodwork demanding to help. On the weekends, the town’s population swelled with drywallers, plumbers, and contractors giving up their days off to lend a hand.
And with every stranger who showed up to make a difference, Merry got just a little brighter.
Cat decided the best way to uphold the truce—and not to remind herself what Noah’s tongue tasted like—was to avoid him like the drunk, shirtless guy with his face painted blue in the nosebleed section of every sporting event ever. She chalked that night up to too much alcohol and judgment-clouding rage. It was the only explanation for why she had allowed her sworn enemy to get a good handful of her tits while she gripped his hard-on like a baton.
Of course, alcohol did not explain why she’d been getting herself off to the very vibrant memory of being slammed up against a cold brick wall and consumed. Every night. She was starting to worry she might lose flexion in her wrist if she didn’t chill the fuck out soon.
Cat zipped up her fleece and dragged on a knit hat that would have her hair stylist fussing over her before the next take. “How’s it looking?” she asked, shouldering in next to Paige at the monitor. Paige was dressed like a kid ready for a snow day in a parka, fleece-lined pants, and giant mittens that she could pry open in case she actually needed the use of her fingers.
“Good. Really good. You and Drake look good together on camera. Should keep the rumors flying about you two.”
Cat studied the image. Her bronze hair and subtle makeup made her look girl next door as she stared up into Drake’s handsome face. His height, that thick dark mane, and the killer grin had ladies swooning from episode one. His perfectly tailored flannels and tight jeans didn’t hurt either.
“He’s really loosened up,” Cat noted as Drake delivered a line of dialogue on the screen.
Paige nodded. “He’s definitely learning from you, and it helps to have the story editors on hand providing a guide.”
Drake strolled through the tent, mug of coffee in one hand and a hardboiled egg in the other. His earmuffs were ridiculous, but if anyone could pull them off, it was Drake.
“We ready to roll?” he asked, taking a bite of the egg.
It was the one unattractive thing about Drake Mackenrowe. His paleo diet that did his body so good required him to snack incessantly on things like beef jerky and hard boiled eggs. His breath on set made Cat extremely happy that she didn’t have to kiss him for the cameras.
She couldn’t help but compare kissing Drake to Noah’s performance. It was no contest. Noah Yates knew how to kiss a woman like he was tasting her soul. It was almost a week later, and she was still retreating to that night in her head six or seven times a day. She’d lost her damn mind, and she worried that there was a very tiny sliver of her that wouldn’t mind losing it again to see if it felt the same.
Thankfully, she had no time to track him down and climb him like a tree. Between shooting and production duties, she was spread dangerously thin. If it weren’t for her mother sending a steady stream of leftovers to set with Paige, Cat would be collapsing into bed without dinner most nights.
Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, and she tugged it out. It was Lorinda, her partner for all intents and purposes when it came to the school, she noted with a quick stab of guilt. The woman was as excited about Cat’s plan for a school as she was. Enough so that she’d signed on the dotted line to become the superintendent. She’d shuffled a facilities manager Cat’s way and had taken Cat’s rough research on educational tracks and dug in with both hands. She’d also
taken over the grant writing when she’d discovered just how truly awful Cat’s writing style was.
They were almost close enough that they should be choosing a location and now everything was at a standstill while Cat’s time was taken up by Merry.
“Hey, Lorinda. How’s it going?” Cat asked.
“Cat. I have the best, most amazing news. Just incredible. I’m so excited.” Lorinda was not an effusive, excitable person. Only something really big could have her utilizing so many adjectives.
Cat laughed. “What is it?”
“We got the Oppenwick grant.”
Cat gripped her phone hard with her gloved hand. “What did you say? Because it sounds like we got the Oppenwick grant.”
“Three million dollars, Cat. Three freaking million dollars!”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cat screamed jumping up and down ignoring the stares.
“I am not freaking kidding you! They absolutely loved the idea, the curricula, the small business development center. Everything.”
Cat doubled over and was surprised to find tears clouding her eyes. “This is really happening?”
“We are going to educate the hell out of a lot of women,” Lorinda announced.
“Oh my God. We need a location. We need staff. We need students.”
“We need to circulate a summary of the goals and objectives and timelines and then get everyone committed to the project on at least a video, preferably a face-to-face if you can swing it.”
They ran through the list of giant whopping to-dos as a few stray tears worked their way free from Cat’s eyes. It was happening. She was really doing this. This was something that was just hers. It wasn’t the family business. It wasn’t a TV show with her brother. This school was her baby!
“I had an idea on how to choose a location,” Lorinda said, regaining a small semblance of composure.
“What? Tell me. I’m open to anything.”
“What if we make it like a grant? Have communities apply to become the home of King Tech. We’ll accept entries and choose the winner based on things like community need, proximity to urban centers, percentage of unemployment.”
“First of all, King Tech? Isn’t it hugely obnoxious to name a school after myself? Secondly, I love the idea. It will save us from months of cold research, and we’ll be able to narrow it down to a community that would benefit from the school. You’re a damn genius, Lorinda.”
“We’re going to need you to spread the word. You know, utilize that celebrity.”
“I’ll put it on the blog and have my agent distribute some press releases,” Cat decided. She covered the phone and bellowed for Henry.
“Let’s pull the trigger on this. That way we can get a jump on this in the new year,” Lorinda said.
“Perfect. I’ll get the releases drafted, and you figure out how to spend three million dollars.”
Cat hung up and spirit soaring pumped her arms into the air.
“Good news?” Paige asked mildly.
Cat grabbed her sister-in-law by the face and placed a smacking kiss on her mouth. “I fucking love you and your sarcasm!”
“You shrieked like a banshee?” Henry said, shuffling over in fleecy leather moccasins and a very stylish navy wool coat.
Cat grabbed him and kissed him. “I fucking love your British ass!”
Henry sputtered and blinked.
She grabbed the next available body by the biceps and reeled him in. She realized her mistake a split second before her lips met Noah’s, but it still didn’t stop her from planting one on him. She was too happy to hate.
“I even fucking love your grumpy ass!” she said. She pretended that this particular chaste kiss felt exactly the same as the others. That there was no shock of carnal desire singing through her veins at just the brush of his lips against hers. It was the first physical contact they’d had since that night. And just like that night, this was a mistake. She made a move to step back, but he held her wrist.
He reached out, and before either one of them knew what was happening, Noah thumbed away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. That gentle, purposeful touch, the seriousness in his eyes had her heart tripping over a beat.
Silence. For one intimate, spontaneous moment it was just Noah looking into her. A connection so strong she felt like she could reach out and touch it.
“Cat, you’re killing me here. Why do you love us again?” Paige demanded.
Cat stepped back from the pull of Noah. “We’re building a school!”
“You got the grant?” Henry asked, calmly slipping his phone from his pocket.
Cat launched herself at him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Yes, my British crumpet. We got the mother of grants!”
She could still feel the weight of Noah’s gaze on her as she trembled from head to toe with joy.
Drake poked his head out of the craft service tent. “What’s all the racket?”
“Cat got her grant,” Henry called out.
“No shit?” Drake whooped and caught her in three steps, swinging her around in a wide circle. “That’s my girl!”
Cat was dizzy enough that it took her several seconds to realize Noah was gone.
“Tonight, we celebrate!” she announced.
--------
Trailer Town, as it was affectionately known by its temporary residents, was hopping. After knocking off shooting for the day at a reasonable hour, Cat organized a progressive drinker. It was like a progressive dinner, only with less food and more alcohol. They started off with champagne toasts to Cat’s awesomeness in Drake’s luxury RV.
Still high from the day’s win, Cat felt the flush on her cheeks that had nothing to do with alcohol. She had a strict rule for overdoing it only once during a shoot, and she’d already used up that freebie. Besides, she’d just added an entire mountain range of work to her already steep to do list. Every spare second of her days would be focused on tackling the next steps.
They were crowded around Drake’s dining table and spilling into the bump out living room, laughing about the last toast when a production assistant shyly raised her glass. “To Cat, for being the kind of role model we can all look up to,” she said, blushing furiously.
“To Cat!” the rest of the crowd echoed.
Cat smiled and gave the girl’s hand an appreciative squeeze.
“Are you going to teach?”
“When does the school open?”
“Are you offering financial aid?”
“Will any of the instructors be men?”
Cat’s head spun with the questions she hadn’t answered for herself yet.
“Guys!” she laughed. “Let’s talk about something else. Who else has good news?”
It turned out everyone did. Sound Guy Eddie’s girlfriend was not pregnant. Story editor Noelle had just wrapped up online classes to earn her bachelor’s in creative writing and scored a date with a cute local. Gaile, a camerawoman with twenty years in the industry, announced that her mom’s biopsy came back negative. Flynn had managed his handy little hammer trick on camera today, making Gannon buy lunch for everyone. And Drake—dear, handsome, Drake—everything was always good in his universe. He had a line of area rugs coming out with a high-end retailer in the new year, and he’d wrangled a new, fat contract with the network.
Henry, the workaholic, pushed a bottle of water at her and some printouts. “New Duluth ads for your approval.” At her behest, the company had happily created a campaign using real female blue collar workers.
“Loving this,” she said, tapping the group work wear photo. Cat stood in the center, arms around the women closest to her. They were all laughing. There was a feeling of motion and joy and confidence. A rainbow of ethnicities and shapes and sizes.
“I’ll let them know,” Henry announced crisply. “I gave your call sheet updates to Maria, posted your new blog, scheduled your next four Instagram posts, made some notes on the press release a
bout the school location contest, and talked to your website designer about building an online application for interested communities to use. All information will be organized in a database and ranked.”
Cat blinked. She considered herself a hard worker, but Henry could out-efficient her any day of the week. She grabbed his wrist. “Never, ever leave me, Henry.”
That got her the tiniest hint of a smile out of the man.
“You also have a FaceTime workout with your trainer at five-thirty tomorrow morning. All body weight so you can do it in your trailer.”
“And I’m back to not liking you.” She employed a personal trainer whenever she was in the city to prevent any damage from too many meals on the road. Nicki was a sadistic bitch who took great joy in making Cat beg for mercy. Cat had never finished a workout with Nicki without ending up on her back in a puddle of sweat staring up at the ceiling wondering what happened to her.
“I knew you’d be pleased,” Henry said, heavy on the sarcasm. He shrugged out of his coat and pushed up the sleeves of his red cashmere turtleneck. “Where’s the wine?” he demanded.
Drake leaned in over the back of the banquette between Cat and Phil, a short, black, wiry camera man who spoke so softly his nickname was What. “Hope you don’t mind, but I invited Noah.”
Cat spun around so fast she thought she might have given herself whiplash. “And why did you think that was a good idea?”
Drake gave an elegant shrug and that playboy smile. “He’s a nice guy. And I get the feeling he’s a little overworked and wound too tight. Thought he could use the chance to blow off some steam.”
“Did you tell him I’d be here?”
“I did warn him that his nemesis was in residence tonight.”
“And he’s still coming?” Well, points for Noah holding up his end of the truce.
“Didn’t seem to throw him too much.”
“Ugh,” Cat grunted. “Well, keep him away from me. And tell him to bring pizza.”