by Minard, Tori
Chapter 10
No Fangirl
Gage:
My hostess, or whatever she was, turned her back on me and walked out of the room. She was going to have some kind of reaction to my real identity, and I’d have to deal with whatever excitement that knowledge caused. Whether I had the energy to deal with that kind of silliness was another thing altogether.
I waited. Maybe the truth of my identity hadn’t really sunk in yet. The screaming and hysterical laughter would probably start any minute now.
Any minute.
I heard nothing but some muffled banging from somewhere else in the house. No screams. No laughter. No fangirl bouncing up and down and begging me for an autograph.
I sighed.
This was good, actually, because I hated fangirl bouncing and screaming. Jeremy had loved it, eaten it up. But Jeremy had been an extrovert and I was not. At all. Being pawed by fans wasn’t my idea of fun.
Still, I sat on the bed and waited a few more minutes for a delayed reaction from Nova. I couldn’t think of a time when I’d met a woman close to my own age—or even an older one—who hadn’t gotten all flustered and silly when she recognized me. But I was starting to wonder if Nova might be an exception.
Maybe she didn’t like my work. Maybe she was one of those people who automatically disliked anything popular. I didn’t know whether to hate her or admire her for it.
She didn’t come back.
The banging in the kitchen continued. I got out of bed, walking on unsteady legs across a plank floor to the closet where she claimed there were clothes. Inside were a few measly stacks of ancient T-shirts and sweats. The ones on the top had a layer of dust. Not up to my usual standards, but hell, I needed clothes. Nova probably wouldn’t appreciate it if I walked around bare-assed naked. The feeling was not mutual, though. I’d love to see her with nothing on.
I had to sit on the edge of the bed to get dressed because my head was still woozy and everything hurt like hell. I pulled the T-shirt over my head, trying not to think about her story of finding me in the river. Because that was fucked up. Shouldn’t I remember something like that? But there was nothing, just a blank space where my memories should be. I wasn’t even sure why I was no longer in L.A.
Rooting around in the blankness of my mind just made my headache about ten times worse without turning up any kind of explanation as to how and why I’d gotten myself lost somewhere in Oregon. The last thing I could remember was meeting with Cindy, my personal assistant. She’d had a script someone wanted me to read.
Jesus. Would the memories ever come back? Or would I be stuck with a hole in my mind? At least I knew my name.
Wait...
I opened my wallet and took a look at my driver’s license just to make sure I hadn’t imagined the whole famous actor thing. No, there I was. The address even looked familiar.
So I knew who I was, just not how I’d gotten here. Or where here was.
I hobbled out of the room into a completely unfamiliar hallway. It was narrow, paneled with roughly planed wood of some kind. Not pine, because it didn’t have any big, ugly knots. That was all I knew about wood.
There were pictures on the wall, mostly nature drawings. They all looked like they’d been made by the same artist.
After just twelve feet or so, the hall opened into a small kitchen on one side and a living room on the other. Nova was in the kitchen, standing at a stove that looked like it had come through a time warp from the nineteenth century. It stood on fancy metal legs and had a powdery-looking black surface and no regular controls that I could see.
She was cooking scrambled eggs and had some kind of wire thing with slices of bread in it sitting on the stove top. She glanced up at me with a smile that made my heart pound faster.
She wore no make-up. Her thick, dark hair was drawn back in a ponytail. She had on black yoga pants and a gray fleece tunic that covered her butt and upper thighs. I could see the curve of her ass through the clingy fabric of the tunic, and it was a very fine ass.
“Are you up to eating?” she said.
“Yeah. Sure.”
She pulled a couple of plates out of a cupboard and plated the food. “Sit down.”
“You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I know. But I want to make sure you’re okay.”
A fragment of memory came back to me, something about her pestering me to drink hot tea. “Do you take care of a lot of people?” I took a chair at the shabby wooden table in the corner.
“Not really.” She set a plate in front of me. “But you had me worried. I couldn’t call for help. My phone got ruined when I pulled you out of the water and the land lines are down because of the storm.”
“Where are we, anyway?” I glanced out the window. Thick snow fell relentlessly, blotting out the view. All I could see was white.
“We’re in Subalpine, a little town in the Cascades. There’s not much here except for a few ski chalets, and it isn’t really ski season yet so it’s pretty deserted.”
I stuck my fork into a clump of eggs. “I’ve never even heard of it.”
“You don’t remember falling in?” she said, taking the chair opposite me.
I glanced at her, wondering if she’d be open to a little hook-up action before I left. She didn’t look like the type, but I’d never had any trouble getting women to fall in bed with me. And I wanted this one, wanted her with an intensity that surprised me.
“Gage?” she said gently.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I mean, no. I don’t remember it at all.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope. Just ... you tried to get me to drink tea or something.”
She smiled, but she looked disappointed. “Yeah, I did. You didn’t want to cooperate.”
I gave her my panty-dropping wink. “I didn’t give you any trouble, did I?”
The blush that came over her cheeks was adorable. “No. Well, yeah, you did, but it was okay.”
Reaching across the table, I laid my hand over hers. She felt delicate under my paw. How had someone so slender managed to pull me out of a river?
“Thank you, Nova,” I said, making my voice soft, with maybe a hint of seduction. “I mean it. You saved my life.”
“You’re welcome.” Damn, she looked sincere. “I was glad to do it.”
“And you really didn’t know who I was?”
Her eyes clouded and she pulled her hand away. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you, but I’m not really current on pop culture.”
“I’m not offended,” I said casually, trying to cover the sting of her not recognizing me.
What the hell was wrong with me, anyway? I hated being recognized everywhere I went. Hated having girls and women—of all ages imaginable—throwing themselves at me like I was some kind of prize they could show off to their friends. Men, too, sometimes.
The man called Gage Dalton, the famous actor who lived his life in the public eye, was little more than a commodity. I walked through my days feeling like a fraud, a fake, someone who hadn’t earned his fame and who was merely playing a part even in his so-called private life. I didn’t even know who I was inside, who I was when I wasn’t playing the role of Gage Dalton, famous actor.
I didn’t want to be hollow anymore but it was all I knew. How did I go about being real?
It suddenly dawned on me that I’d been partying all these months since Jeremy died as a way of avoiding answering that question. Because maybe there was no answer. Maybe the famous-actor mask was all of me.
Funny. For years, I’d privately wished I could go somewhere no-one would recognize me, where I didn’t have to watch everything I said and did. And now that I had a woman who didn’t know—didn’t even seem to care—who I was, I resented it.
“I don’t watch much TV or go to many movies,” she said.
That was unusual. “How come?”
“I’m a pre-med student. I’m always studying.” She sneaked a bashful glance at me. “I’ve heard of yo
u, of course. I just didn’t recognize you. I haven’t seen any of your movies.”
“That’s okay,” I said, feeling magnanimous. “Not everyone likes the kind of thing I do.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that. I’m just really busy, like I said.” She played with her fork, her movements sharp and nervous. “Until I moved here, I didn’t do much besides study. I’m really kind of boring.”
“I don’t think so.”
She flushed again. “It’s nice of you to say that.”
She was an innocent, that was obvious. I couldn’t even imagine her at the kind of parties I went to, mingling with the snarky, bitchy women I’d dated. At the moment, I couldn’t imagine myself with them either.
On closer inspection, Nova was clearly not the kind of girl for a casual hook-up, and after Jer’s death that was the only kind of relationship I could have with her. I didn’t want to risk a woman getting close to me, only to have him come after her. And if I couldn’t hook up with her, there was no point in sticking around longer than necessary.
“I hate to put you to even more trouble,” I said, “but since I don’t have a car, I’d really appreciate if you could drive me into town. Then I’ll be out of your hair, which I’m sure will be a relief.”
“I’d like to help you there, but I can’t.”
I frowned, noting that she hadn’t denied wanting me out of her hair. “Why not?”
“Look at the weather.” She gestured toward the window. “It’s crazy out there. Not safe at all. We could end up in a ditch or worse, and with you still not completely well ... I think it’s a bad idea.”
“You could loan me your car. I’ll pay you for it.”
“No.” She met my gaze head-on. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”
I scowled as irritation began to rise in my chest. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Whatever. I’m not letting you or anyone else drive my truck in that storm. Especially not you.”
She knew who I was, had to know I was good for the price of the car, and she still wouldn’t cooperate. Had she heard about my DUI? There had only been one, and I’d been extra careful since then.
“You don’t trust me,” I said, unable to keep my annoyance out of my voice.
“It’s not that. Like I said, it’s not safe. I didn’t pull you out of the river so you could go and kill yourself on the road.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know how to drive, Nova.”
“No, you don’t.” She rolled her eyes right back at me. “You’re from California and you’ve probably never seen a snowflake in your life.”
Her smart-ass answer made me laugh a little in spite of myself. “You really won’t let me borrow your car?”
“Nope.”
“Great.” I looked out the window again. It was a crazy storm. “So I’m stuck here.”
Chapter 11
Stuck
Nova:
He made it sound so awful, being stuck in the cabin with me. Like I was his worst nightmare as a companion ... and I probably was. I sure had no glamour at all and was probably one of the least trendy women he’d ever met. I mean, look at me. No make-up, hair scraped back in a ponytail, dressed in beat-up old yoga pants and a fleece top that added at least ten visual pounds to my frame. Why would he want to hang around with me?
Although a few minutes earlier, I could have sworn he was flirting with me...
It didn’t matter if he was. No amount of flirting, or money either, would make me turn my car over to him. If he died because I caved in to his pressure, I’d blame myself. Besides, I didn’t want him to die, even if he was kind of spoiled and obnoxious at times.
He was here, in my cabin, and he’d been injured. He needed my care. So no matter how irritating he was, no matter how embarrassing my attraction to him, I had to put up with it until he could safely leave.
Feeling confused and resentful, I gathered the breakfast dishes and brought them to the sink for washing. The cabin had no dishwasher.
“I guess my phone is shot, too,” Gage said.
“I’m sure.”
“Do you have a computer I can use?”
“The Internet connection here is really iffy,” I said, “but you’re welcome to try. I have a satellite connection, but when it snows like this, the snow blocks the signal.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So no TV and no Internet?”
“Pretty much.”
“What do you do for fun around here? In fact, why are you living so far from everything?”
I shrugged. “I needed to get away for a while. It’s kind of a retreat.”
“And you just sit around in here all day long by yourself?”
I didn’t like his tone and I shot him a glare. “No. I hike and work on a personal project of mine.” He didn’t need to know the project was the artwork I’d neglected for years while I put everything I had into my school studies.
“Huh.” He sounded completely confounded by my explanation.
“I guess you’re just going to have to put up with my boring company.”
When I realized the childishness of my remark, I wanted to hide my face. I wasn’t usually so snippy. This guy brought something out in me that I didn’t like.
“I’ve got to bring some firewood in,” I said, and left the kitchen.
He followed me to the back door. “Let me help.”
“No. You need to stay inside where it’s warm.” I didn’t look at him as I crammed my feet into high winter boots.
“You shouldn’t have to do all this work for me on your own.”
“I’m used to it.” I stuffed my arms into my coat sleeves. “And it isn’t just for you. I need the heat, too. Go sit down, Gage. There are some books in the living room if you feel like reading.”
He glared at me for a minute. “Fine. But I’m only agreeing because you don’t have a coat that would fit me.”
“Or boots.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“I’ll be back in a minute.” I opened the door and walked out into the snow.
Everything looked more beautiful when the snow fell thick like this. It put a white glaze on the world, like frosting, covering over imperfections and making everything look soft. I loved the sound it made, too, the almost silent shushing of millions of snowflakes hitting the ground. The river, usually so loud, was muffled by the snowfall.
I scrunched my way to the woodpile and selected an armful. The snow was inconvenient, but the quiet of it made my irritation at Gage fade a little. He was only temporary, anyhow. Soon he’d be gone and my life would go back to its normal routine. I just had to hold onto my sanity until he left.
I had to admit to myself that he made me nervous. Partly because he was just so damn gorgeous. Men like that never paid me any attention at all, and having him around muddled my head. Then there was the fame thing. I’d never spent any time with a famous person before. Hell, I’d never even met a famous person before. He made me so self-conscious that I couldn’t behave normally.
I needed to get over that. He was going to be with me for a few days at least, judging by the intensity of the snowfall.
Chapter 12
Wretched
Nova:
Stamping the snow off my boots, I maneuvered through the door with my armload of firewood. Gage was still in the kitchen, still sitting at the table, hunched over the top. His face looked kind of pinched, like he was fighting back pain. That was bad. He shouldn’t be feeling even worse than before unless something was very wrong.
I dropped the wood in the caddy next to the stove and turned to him. “What’s going on? You don’t look so good,” I said.
He winced. “My stomach hurts. But I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s just...” His wince turned to a grimace of pain. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Down the hall. Just across from the bedroom where you slept.”
He shot out of his chair and staggered toward the bathroom. A minute later I heard him retching violently. The cabin
was so small, it was impossible to hide sounds like that from other occupants.
He didn’t come out. I found him kneeling in front of the toilet, looking utterly miserable. His hair stuck to his forehead in greasy strands, like it had been a while since he’d washed it and the oil hadn’t come out even after his bath in the river.
“I don’t think that’s from the hypothermia,” I said.
He nodded slowly. “I was feeling kind of sick when I left the party.”
“Party?”
Gage looked up at me with bleary eyes. “Yeah. I just remembered. I was on my way back from a house party in Sunriver when I —” He broke off to heave into the toilet again.
I turned away, my own stomach turning.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said with a glance over my shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, well ... you might want to leave. I don’t think I’m done yet.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded rough from the vomiting. “I don’t really like people seeing me like this.”
“Oh. Right. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
I felt kind of guilty leaving him alone, but it was understandable that he didn’t want me to watch him being sick. Even regular people like me didn’t enjoy being watched at moments like this, and he was a Hollywood star. Constantly monitoring his image. With regret, I went back to the kitchen.
He was kind of an arrogant jerk, but I hated to see—or hear—him throwing up. Puking is one of my least favorite activities and it always makes me feel bad when other people are sick like that. Sympathy pains, I guess.
I washed the breakfast dishes and put them away. Gage came back into the kitchen just as I set the last plate back in the cupboard. His face looked just as pale as it had the afternoon before, except without the blue lips. He’d been looking better for a little while, and now he seemed to have regressed.
“I’m gonna hang out on your couch,” he said, before turning on his bare heel and taking himself into the living room.