by Logan Chance
“Are you listening to me?” Harley asks.
I text Nova back:
Me: Sounds fun.
“There’s a party tomorrow night. I really think we should go together.”
“Can’t. I’ll be out of town.”
She invades my space. “Montana again?”
I slide my phone into the pocket of my jeans.
“Hey, they’re ready for you down the hall,” Jared interrupts, leaning his head into the doorway.
I brush past Harley. “Let’s do this.”
We finish up the rest of the day, interviewing for the movie and pretending to get along. And when it’s over, I meet Declan for a drink before I fly out.
Not an alcoholic beverage, a Coke for me and coffee for him, because it’s the hospital cafeteria where he works.
“Dude,” I tell him as we take a seat in a booth out of earshot of the people scattered about the large room, “you realize, if anyone sees me, they’re going to print I’m dying.”
“Yeah, well,” he adds three sugars to his coffee, “lucky for you, you have the brightest doctor in LA to save you.” He takes a sip and leans back. “Not to mention best looking.”
As if to confirm his statement, a nurse in pink scrubs walks by and smiles. At him. His buzzed blonde head gives a nod to her.
“If I was a girl, I guess you’d do.”
Bloodshot green eyes, from working too many hours, traipse lazily back to me. “As if I’d want you. Speaking of, what’s up with the new family?”
I twirl my Styrofoam cup between my hands, debating on how to answer his question. Declan has an uncanny ability to know if I’m withholding information, probably because he’s a doctor. “They’re ok,” I hedge.
“That new sister of yours is pretty hot. Saw her picture in a tabloid.”
I shrug, remaining impassive. “Yeah, I guess.”
He leans forward, lifting the stethoscope draped over his white jacket. “Come here.”
I swat his hand away. “What are you doing?”
In some kind of ninja move, he has the stethoscope pressed against my chest. “Nova,” he says.
I push it away. “Seriously?”
“I figured as much,” he says, smug, leaning back and taking a drink of coffee.
“What?”
“Your heartbeat increased when I said her name.” He smiles like he just decoded the mystery of the Voynich Manuscript.
“What are you some kind of love doctor?”
“Maybe.” He grins. “But who mentioned love?”
That’s the most asinine and frightening thing he could say. I mean, I like her. I don’t know what it is, but she’s funny and... different.
“You know she’s going to be your sister, right?” he asks. “I couldn’t even imagine.”
“It’s not like we’re really related or grew up together. I just met her for heaven’s sake.”
We hang out until he has to get back to work, and then I head to the airport with his four-letter word echoing in my head. She’s just a girl. A very pretty girl who happens to make me laugh. It’s sexual attraction, pure and simple. Doesn’t matter that I’ve never obsessed over anyone before her. Or that I keep flying back to Montana for different reasons now. Or that I spend the flight back booking a luxury suite at The Ritz-Carlton for her stocked with Madeline’s in case she comes to the premiere. Yeah, Declan and his four-letter word quackery is crazy.
Chapter 21
Nova
I mess up labeling my packing boxes and fling my marker across the counter. It rolls to precariously hang on the edge, and I watch in suspense wondering if it will take the leap over. It does. That marker is a metaphor for me.
I could just shrug this off, chalk it up to people’s natural curiosity with a celebrity’s life, but it kind of sucks when people vilify you for no understandable reason.
Part of this is my fault; I shouldn’t be getting involved with Ethan. I need to wow the executives in Seattle, not create a scandal. And that’s what I’m being pegged as...a scandal.
I discovered a whole underbelly of gossip this morning that has me in a bit of a funk. Entertainment bloggers.
There’s a particularly nasty one who seems to despise me—Louanne Lane. She has a million followers and focuses Misery level on Ethan and Harley. They’re her dream couple, and apparently, I’m coming between them. Louanne is not living her best life because of me. Someone she’s never met or spoken to. It’s all fine, she’s entitled to her opinion, she’s entitled not to like me, but I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t even like him when he first arrived.
Tonight, is my one-on-one interview with Ethan, and if you can believe it, I’m nervous to see him.
Nervous to be around him.
Nerves are a funny thing, ridding your brain of any concrete thought process, and inhibiting one’s judgement. This segment is definitely testing my limits. Or more importantly, my restraint.
After this interview, this is it. No more mooning over Ethan Hale. No more sexual shenanigans and then pretending it didn’t happen. I’m going to put all my energy into burning bright before I fizzle out and begin collecting cats. No more being basic.
I dress in the black pencil skirt and red blouse that I spent hours picking out at the mall. It looks professional—and I’m a professional, dammit— but it’s uncomfortable... and hot. Maybe if I hadn’t been paranoid people would sneak a phone under the dressing room door, I might’ve tried it on. When The Gap sales associate spoke into her headset, and then told me I’d have to wait a few minutes, I had a mild panic attack that I’d end up seeing a picture, taken from an unflattering angle, of my panty wearing butt on the racks at Walmart with a headline reading: Nova Sparks Says You Can Kiss Her Big Basic Ass. So, instead of waiting, I took my things directly to the checkout.
I’m already sweating just thinking about this interview, so I don’t need to feel like an encased sausage. Off it goes, and I slip on my best jeans and an off the shoulder flowy white top before driving to the station a little early to prepare. It’s a very small outlet so my producer is ecstatic over the fact that Ethan wants to do this, but I’m not so sure this is a good idea.
“Change of plans, Nova,” my boss informs me when I enter the building. “I think we should do the interview outside with the mountains in the backdrop.”
“Great idea, Dave,” I tell him.
We reconvene in the back area behind the station, where the crew has a small table and director chairs in place. And not long after we’re set up, Ethan arrives, looking dashing and smashing, in a blue t-shirt that matches his eyes and worn-out jeans. Why does each outfit look better than the last?
“Where do you want me?” Ethan asks with a naughty smile.
On my bed. On the couch. Anywhere.
“We’re going to move things outside and do a small little interview.”
I’d been going over the questions all night last night. Again, and again. Unable to even sleep.
Once we’re seated, with a slight breeze coming down the mountain to romp playfully in Ethan’s hair, the cameras switch on. And I switch into interview mode.
“Ethan Hale, thank you so much for being here today.”
He winks and leans in. “Pleasure is all mine.”
His smile, it’s just gorgeous. Like, it could reach into the tv set and kiss each viewer on the cheek. It’s too much.
“Cut,” I yell.
“What’s wrong?”
What's not wrong here is a better question. I don’t answer because I’m not sure what I want to say.
“Sorry,” I apologize to the camera guy, “let’s start again.”
When Dave gives me the cue, I start again. “Tell me the most fun thing you’ve done since you’ve been here.”
“That’s a great question,” he says, adjusting in his seat. It’s a horrible question, but I’ve completely forgotten all my memorized ones. “Probably, the hot springs.” His eyes sizzle into mine.
“C
ut,” I call out again.
This is not going as I envisioned. I lean in a bit and whisper, “Could you not do that?”
“What am I doing?”
“Nothing,” I shake my head. He looks so innocent sitting there with his thighs spread and his Chucks flat on the ground. But he’s a thief. He flew right in with his surly attitude and stole every ounce of self-control I have. And I just want to get out of here. Away from him. And gain back the small shred of sanity I have left. “Honestly, I don’t know what to ask you. I’m not an interviewer. I’m a hair stylist who does fun things in this small town. And besides, everyone knows everything about you.”
“Not everything,” he answers.
“People will pick this apart. Say I flirted with you or that I’m using you to get ahead. I’m not used to being the focus of all this attention. You’re Ethan Hale, movie star, and I’m just Nova Sparks.”
He holds both of my hands and leans in closer. “Is this about the balls?”
I lean back, removing my hands from his grip. “What are you talking about?”
“Look, just breathe. Don’t think of me as Ethan Hale the movie star. Don’t think about Seattle or what anyone else will think. Just be here with me, right now.”
I stare long and hard at Ethan, and then glance over to Dave, giving him a nod.
He counts down, and then, the red-light shines.
“Ethan, I’m sure the viewers at home want to know all about how you’re keeping yourself busy here in Pity Falls.”
His eyebrow arches, and I hold my breath, praying he doesn’t make it all about sex. “Funny you should ask. I’ve been spending a lot of time with deputy Beau James. He’s a great guy, ladies.” He gives a little wink to the camera.
What on Earth is he doing?
“Yes, Beau is great.” I smile to the camera.
I push back my shoulders, and I try to dig deep with Ethan. “Tell us about your family and growing up.” I sound like a shrink. Like I’m trying to psychoanalyze him or something.
Ethan blinks. “Uh, well, not much to tell really. Most people know my father,” he smiles to the camera, then returns his attention back on me, “and my mother is great. She lives in San Diego and works as a Yoga instructor.”
“Do you do Yoga?” Now my brain is picturing Ethan on a blue mat, waves crashing behind him, hitting all the poses with his perfect form.
“I’m more of a spectator of Yoga, but I do know a few poses.”
I laugh slightly. “Great. Care to show us a few?”
His eyes meet mine, widening ever so slightly. “Right now?”
“Sure.”
This interview is going so off course.
“You ready for this?” he asks, and honestly, I don’t know if I am. My heart pounds with anticipation as he lowers his hands to the ground, squatting and then pushing his body up in a position I’ve never seen any Yogi do before. But somehow still remains sexy.
“I don’t think that’s a Yoga position,” I say with a laugh.
“Sure it is. It’s called the supernova pose.” He doesn’t move, holding the clearly non-Yoga position.
I giggle. “I’ve never heard of that pose.”
“Come down here. Give it a try.”
“Um, it’s ok.”
“Nonsense, get down here.”
My eyes meet Dave’s, and he shrugs. I stand close, as Ethan moves into another ridiculous position. I mimic him, my arms above my head. “Am I doing this right?” I ask.
He glances at me and drops his hands. “Almost.”
He steps closer, placing his hands on my hips to move me into a better position. A delicious position where my ass grazes against his groin as he moves me.
“Like this?” My voice is low, coming out in more of a breathy whisper, and I try to reign in these emotions turning me into an unprofessional ninny. “Cut,” I yell, stepping away to compose myself.
“Why?” He ravishes me with hungry eyes.
“Well, now you’re not doing it.”
“Let’s be honest, men shouldn’t do yoga...ever.”
“Truth,” Craig chimes in. “I don’t know about twisting myself into a knot to relieve stress.”
“That’s not true,” I tell them. “I’m sure tons of guys do yoga.”
Ethan raises a brow. “I highly doubt that. We should chop wood, or hunt.” His eyes light up. “Maybe throw an axe. Can we do that?”
“Trust me,” Craig says, “you don’t want to throw an axe.”
I laugh. “Maybe next time. For now, let’s wrap this up.”
We end the segment, well I do, in a hurry. After he’s gone, I gather my things and pull out my phone. If I was a gasper, I’d gasp.
Adam, my ex-boyfriend.
His text is simple and very unexpected.
I need to talk to you about something important.
Chapter 22
Ethan
“Hey, Dad, I brought the extra drill battery you needed.”
I walk up the front porch steps of the house my father is building for Dahlia. It’s ginormous. My father says it’s to showcase his love for her, but a simple rancher would have done nicely. Instead, in its place, is a modern take on a Dutch Colonial-style home, complete with a gambrel roof. It sits large and proud on a few acres, and the driveway is the best part. Long, wide, and has a wraparound with a fountain sitting square in the center.
“Thanks,” he takes the battery from my hand. “Let me show you what I did yesterday.”
This brings back memories of before I became famous. Working for my father was what I always knew. In college, I majored in general contracting, knowing I would take over my father’s company when he retired. Funny how life has other plans for you. Sometimes I miss it. The sawdust in the air, working with tools, building something from scratch.
We walk through the entryway, into the house, and he points to the white crown molding and wainscoting against the cinnamon walls in the foyer area.
“Looks great,” I tell him.
We walk further into the large open floor plan to the downstairs bathroom. “Pretty much the last thing to do, really, is install the tile in here.”
“You got all this done pretty quickly.” I run my hand over the marble countertop, checking out the brushed pewter details on the cabinetry.
My father beams with pride. “Well, when you’re in love and all that.”
I laugh a little. “What? You work harder when you’re in love?”
My father tilts his head to the side. “Yeah, something like that.”
“And you are in love, right?”
He studies his handiwork. “Looks that way.”
“How do you know?”
I only ask because the overwhelming feelings I have for Nova must be something close. Although, it could all just be sexual, because she is damn sexy. But, it’s more than that. She just makes me smile all the time. Out of nowhere. Like even now, I’m trying my hardest not to smile, but my lips keep curving north at the thought of her. I can’t seem to stop it.
My father places a hand on my shoulder. “You just do, son.”
Well, that helps a lot.
No, what I’m feeling for Nova isn’t love. Case closed. It can’t be. It’s just a strong sex thing. And once I can finally squash these emotions, I’ll be cured.
Or in remission, until I see her again.
Maybe Jared is right. Maybe I just need to have sex with her to ease away whatever this frustration is, and then, it’ll all go away.
Or maybe Declan is right, and real strong feelings are developing. I’ve never known anything this strong, but I assure you, it’s not love.
I spend the afternoon helping my father lay the last of the tile in the guest restroom. Everyone hates being assigned to grout work, but I’m actually enjoying it. This alone time with my father, working and sweating, getting my hands dirty, it makes me a little nostalgic. Reminds me of a simpler time.
“Dahlia is going to love this place,” I say at
the end of the day as I help my father pack the tools into his truck.
“She’d better.” He chuckles, the crow’s feet surrounding his eyes deepening. “I installed a whirlpool tub for her in the master bath yesterday.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
I pat my dad on the back. “She’ll definitely love it, then.”
He smiles and heads to the driver’s side door of his Ford truck. “I’ll see you soon.”
I nod and watch his taillights disappear before heading over to my bike. The engine roars to life, and as the sun becomes a distant memory in the darkening sky, I rush through the small town of Pity Falls, to the one thing that’s been on my mind all day… Nova.
When I step on her front porch, I almost just barge my way inside, but I slow down, take a breath, and knock.
She opens the door in a dazzling little ruby dress with lips to match.
“Wow, going somewhere?”
“Ethan,” she darts her eyes behind me, surveying the lawn, “what are you doing here?”
“I figured you needed me.” I silently ask to come inside. “My spidey senses were telling me you might want to throw some meat on the grill.”
She swings the door open, granting me access. “Um, your spidey senses are failing you.”
It doesn’t get by me she didn’t answer my previous question, so as soon as she shuts the door, I repeat myself, “Going somewhere?”
She’s doing the nervous thing again, the thing she does with her hands, fidgeting.
Her eyes meet mine. “Actually, I’m meeting up with an old friend.”
Bam. It feels like I just got sucker punched right in the gut. You don’t dress like that to meet a female friend. She even painted her eyelids.
“Friend? Who?” I pretend I’m not affected by her news. I bet it’s Woody, the cowboy, with his bouncing eyebrows.
“No one you know,” she says, waving her hand, dismissing me.
Another punch.
“Brody?” I press, not caring if I’m coming off as some jealous boyfriend, because the truth is, I’ve never been jealous before in my life. Until now. I don’t like the raging emotions ricocheting through me at a rapid-fire pace. Like, how do people deal with this? I pinch the bridge of my nose, warding off the headache that comes with it. Jealousy is a rough business. My heart stammers around in my chest, and I have a momentary thought that I could be having a heart attack.