Celeste nodded and swung her legs back out of the car. “Yeah. See you in the dining room at nine.” She shut the door and stood watching as the Alfa Romeo purred away toward the Saunders guesthouse. Celeste stood in the middle of the path, her hands hanging forlornly by her sides. Earlier, she’d thought she’d been too hard on Nick, but once again, he’d proved himself the arrogant jerk he’d always been. She started walking slowly back to the bungalow. But if Nick really was just trying to stir her up, why was she letting him get to her? She and Travis belonged together, so Nick’s opinion shouldn’t even faze her. Unfortunately, telling herself that didn’t make her any less fazed.
Chapter Nineteen
God, it’s hot,” Celeste said, on her hands and knees in the soft dirt. She troweled up another hole and carefully set the flower plant in it. The sun was beating down on her back, right through her white polo shirt. She’d managed to find a way to work with Travis for a day, to make up for spending so much time with Nick—not that Travis knew that was the reason. Unfortunately, that meant planting petunias in the blazing heat all morning by the new guesthouses that were being built on the other side of the golf course.
“Yeah,” Travis agreed. He lifted another flat of the flowers out of the wheelbarrow. “I’m almost out of water too.”
“We’ll have to get some more from the main building,” Celeste said. She sat up on her heels and wiped at her forehead with her arm, the only part of her that wasn’t dusty. There wasn’t anyone around—the guesthouses wouldn’t be ready for another couple of weeks and the workmen were apparently taking the day off.
Suddenly, Travis lay down his trowel. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” he said.
“What?” Celeste asked. Any idea would be better than this medieval labor. Why, why had she volunteered to do this, instead of her usual work, which would have been paperwork in the office? Boring, but at least it would have been cool.
“We’ve been planting for, like, two hours,” Travis said. “Let’s go cool off in one of the guesthouses. The guys put air-conditioning in the other day. We need a break.”
Celeste blinked. “Um, well, we’re not really supposed to be in the empty guesthouses.” Dad didn’t want anyone dirtying up the carpet or anything before guests even stayed there.
Travis leaned closer. “Come on! It’ll be nice and cool in there and…I promise a back massage to any girl who takes a break with me.” He rubbed her shoulders.
Celeste considered. The main building was a fifteen-minute walk away across the golf course, and no one would know they were taking a break in a guesthouse if they were careful. She lay down her own trowel and cracked her back, gazing at her dirt-dusted, sweaty arms. “Okay, but I’m just warning you—if we get caught, I’m going to swear you dragged me in there kicking and screaming.” She tried to channel Nick’s devilish grin.
Travis grabbed her hand. “Come on.” They got to their feet and made their way to one of the buildings. Celeste glanced around and then slid her card into the door slot and pushed it open. The place was hot and stuffy and smelled like new paint. The airy rooms were still unfurnished, but the carpet was laid in the main living room.
“Let’s get the AC on,” Travis said, striding over to the thermostat. Almost immediately, a stream of icy air began flowing out of the vent near Celeste, curling deliciously around her ankles.
“Oh my God, that feels amazing.” She went over to the sink in the empty kitchen and started running cold water over her arms and face. She splashed some on the back of her neck and wished she could just take a shower. She looked at Travis, who was randomly opening the cabinet doors. They’d never get back to the main building at this rate. Travis turned his back to check the thermostat again, and Celeste cupped her hands, filling them with water. She took aim and flung the icy water at Travis, hitting him square on the back of the neck.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Oh, you are in trouble.” He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her feet off the ground. Celeste giggled and he set her back on her feet.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, slowly kissing the back of her neck. The sensation of his hot lips on her skin made Celeste shiver.
“Nothing,” she said, turning toward him. Her voice echoed against the flat, empty walls. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he kissed her as she ran her hands up and down his back. Suddenly, he stooped and swung her up into his arms. Celeste squealed and Travis carried her over to the vast living room. She closed her eyes as he put her down on the thick carpet and then lay down next to her, pressing himself up against her.
A little while later, Celeste took a deep breath. Travis, now minus his shirt, dropped back on the carpet and wriggled his shoulder blades against the scratchy rug. “So, the boys are talking about going out tonight. You want to go? We haven’t been out together in forever.”
“Sure,” Celeste said automatically. Then she stopped.
“What?” Travis asked.
“Nothing—it’s just that I forgot I have a planning meeting with, um, Nick, tonight.” She tried to swallow the word Nick in hopes that Travis would somehow miss it. No such luck.
He sat up on the rug, a flush darkening his cheeks. “Are you kidding? You spend all your time with him these days,” he said, his voice rising. “Now he gets nights too?”
Celeste sat up too. That’s what I get for mentioning Nick. “Look, I’ve told you a million times—it’s my job. What do you want me to do?”
Travis pouted. “I’ve been really patient the last few weeks—”
“You have!” Celeste reassured him.
“But I’m getting sick of this. Do you actually like hanging out with this guy or what?”
“No! I mean, I don’t mind him when he’s not being a jerk, but I’m just trying to make this an amazing party. I mean, maybe if I prove I can do this, Dad’ll let me off the hook next summer. Besides”—she put her hand on Travis’s—“I really want to drive up to Tempe with you next month, and he’ll totally let me once he sees how great everything is.”
“Yeah,” Travis agreed reluctantly.
“I mean, maybe they’d even let me spend fall break with you!”
To her surprise, Travis didn’t look quite as excited at this thought as she’d thought he would. He got to his feet. “Um, yeah, that would be great,” he said. He offered Celeste his hand and pulled her to her feet.
“Look, if you’re that worried, why don’t you just come with me to the meeting tonight? You can see all the stuff we’re planning.”
“Fine,” Travis said, reaching for his polo shirt. “We should get back to work.”
Chapter Twenty
Nick!” Celeste called later that evening, poking her head into the silent dining room. All the tables were made up for breakfast the next morning—all except for one, where Nick sat, surrounded by papers and folders. There were several glasses and some plates sitting in a stack in front of him, and he was scribbling furiously on a legal pad. He looked up and grinned, but Celeste could see the grin fade as he spied Travis coming in behind her.
“Travis wanted to come and see how the plans are going,” Celeste said, pulling out a chair. “That’s cool, right?”
Nick shrugged. “Whatever,” he said briefly, looking right through Travis as if he weren’t even there. He shoved the legal pad toward Celeste. “I just finished making up a master list of all the stuff we still need to do.”
Travis sat down and ostentatiously put an arm around Celeste’s shoulders. He pulled her into him and started rubbing the side of her neck. Celeste glanced at Nick. He was watching the display with his lip slightly curled. Oh, this was not going to be the most relaxing night of her life. She resisted the urge to shrug off Travis’s massaging fingers and pulled Nick’s legal pad toward her instead. She scanned the list. “Vendors, tastings—” She pulled away from Travis slightly. “Um, thanks, Travis, I’m good now.” He stared at her resentfully for a second and then dropped his arm, rocking back in his chair and aiming a challen
ging glare at Nick, who narrowed his eyes and glared back.
“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll give you a better massage later,” Travis said to Celeste, although he was still staring straight at Nick.
Nick shuffled a few papers around. His face was cool and bland. “I’m impressed you know a big word like massage, Travis. I guess all that mowing out in the sun hasn’t fried too many brain cells after all,” he said smoothly.
Travis’s fist clenched convulsively on the tablecloth and Celeste grabbed his arm to head off the impending train wreck.
“Wow, you’re so organized,” she said to Nick, still hanging on to Travis’s arm. She felt the muscles relax under her hand and gingerly let go, ready to grab it again if Travis pounced. “Who would have guessed?” To her relief, Nick grinned.
“I’m full of surprises,” he said, aiming his comment directly at Travis. Travis frowned and dug his phone out of his pocket. Celeste glanced over as he started checking his messages.
She squashed down a little thread of irritation and examined the list again. “Okay, you want to do the table settings?” she asked Nick. He was staring at Travis and seemed on the verge of speaking but closed his mouth with a snap.
“Yeah. Here, I got some samples from the stockroom.” He unstacked the different plates in front of him and started matching them up with glasses.
“Hmm.” Celeste considered the five different arrangements in front of them. “What do you think, Travis?” she asked. She glanced over when he didn’t answer. He was rapidly typing on his phone. “Who are you texting?” she asked, squashing the worm of irritation again.
He looked up. “What? Oh, the guys are getting ready to go out.”
Celeste blew air out of her nose and glanced at Nick. He arched one eyebrow. “Where are you all meeting?” she asked.
“At those hot springs where we went to that party. I told the guys it’s the best.”
“Travis!” Celeste exclaimed in surprise. “You can’t take the guys there. That’s only supposed to be for Pinyon staff.”
“It’s the desert, Celeste. It’s public,” Travis said. Celeste noticed Nick watching the exchange with lively interest. She turned back to Travis.
“Whatever,” she said. “Do whatever you want. I just think that spot would be better if everyone didn’t know about it.”
Travis exhaled. “Stop worrying, okay?” He shoved back his chair. “See you later, babe. Have fun with the plates.” He leaned down and kissed Celeste on the mouth, complete with tongue. She tried to pull away after a moment but he held on to her. Why did she feel like a preschool teacher with a class of two?
There was a moment’s silence after Travis left. “That went well,” Nick offered.
Celeste rolled her eyes. “It did not.”
Nick gave her his slick little smile. “I know. I was just trying to make you feel better.”
Celeste punched him in the arm. “All right, let’s get some work done.” She started shuffling around the place settings. “Hey, by the way, when do you want to screen the film? We should block out, like, two hours, right?”
Nick looked embarrassed for a minute. He fidgeted with a napkin. “Well, it’s, um, only twenty minutes.” He stared down at the table and then glanced up quickly, as if expecting Celeste to laugh or something.
“What? What’s wrong with that?” she asked him.
“Well, most people are used to feature-length movies. So they usually smirk when they hear my film is only twenty minutes.”
“Well, that’s just stupid,” Celeste told him firmly. “They just don’t understand that there are other kinds of movies other than the big, splashy Hollywood type.”
“Right!” Nick’s face lit up. “I mean, it’s like everyone expects a sex-in-the-shower scene and a car chase, or it’s not a good movie.”
Celeste tilted back in her chair, balancing on the two back legs. “So what’s your film about? We’ve been planning this whole party and everything, and I keep forgetting that it’s not just a party—it’s actually all about the film.”
Nick’s tanned face started turning pink again, and Celeste thought in spite of herself that he looked cute when he blushed. It was also kind of cute that the arrogant Nick got embarrassed talking about his film.
“Well, actually, I um, brought it with me.”
Celeste banged her chair forward on the floor. “You did?”
Nick’s face was now so pink, he looked like he had a terrible sunburn. “Yeah. It’s on my laptop.” He lifted the MacBook Air onto the table and then put his hands in his lap.
Celeste waited. “Well, okay, let’s see it!” she finally said.
“Only if you’re sure you really want to.” Nick fumbled with the catch on the laptop lid.
Celeste scooted her chair around next to his and he opened a file labeled “Director’s Cut.” An intense wash of color immediately grabbed Celeste’s attention. She watched, rapt, as an ocean crashed and, in the foreground, two sailboats raced side by side. A girl was sailing one and a guy was sailing another. The film had clearly been shot by someone who loved the ocean—Celeste really felt like she was part of the race. The sailors struggled to overtake each other until the girl finally won. The scene shifted and the girl and guy were shown tying up their boats in a harbor. They were staring at each other. Then an older man appeared and the girl went off with him, her head on his shoulder and her arm around his waist. For reasons she didn’t entirely understand, Celeste felt an intense pang of sadness as the camera showed the guy on the dock, staring after them. The scene shifted again and the camera showed the outside of a small white house in a gorgeous, sun-drenched seaside town. The guy from the race walked up to the door and went inside. The girl from the harbor was waiting for him on the sofa. The camera faded to black.
Nick clicked the screen closed and wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans, as if his palms were sweaty. “So, what do you think?” he asked, looking at the table instead of Celeste.
She considered a moment.
“Okay, just say if you don’t like it!” Nick burst out, his cheeks still pink.
“Hey, calm down,” Celeste said. “I was thinking, that’s all. I think it’s really interesting—who was the girl? Why did she go off with the older guy?”
Nick looked up. “So you don’t think it’s totally amateurish?”
“No!” Celeste reassured him. “I mean, I don’t know anything about film, but every shot was really beautiful. And the story builds quietly, you know? Like, you go through this range of emotions without even really knowing why.”
Nick let out a giant sigh and flopped back in his chair. He dangled his arms and let his head fall back. “I was a little nervous showing it to you.”
Celeste stifled her giggle. “Oh yeah? I could never tell. So come on, who was the girl?”
“Well, I know who she is,” Nick said, straightening up and regaining some of his usual composure, “but I like to let the audience figure it out for themselves—I mean, she could be anybody. People can make her whoever they want.”
Celeste sat back and draped her arm over the back of the chair. “Wow,” she said. “That’s good. I…” She looked down at her hands and let her sentence trail off.
“What?” Nick asked. “Wait, no, don’t say—let me guess.” He tapped a pencil on one of his teeth, pretending to think. “You’re really surprised that a suave ladies’ man like me could actually make something so delicate, insightful, sensitive, and thought-provoking. A movie so heartbreaking that it rivals even—”
“Stop!” Celeste held up her hands, laughing. “I’m just surprised. It’s not what I expected from…” She stopped again.
“Spit it out,” Nick said. He folded his hands as if waiting for a scolding.
Celeste smiled a little. “Well, from the annoying, spoiled kid who won’t stop trying to flirt with me.”
“I have to admit, something about you does bring out the flirt in me a little.” Nick smiled.
“A
little?” Celeste teased.
“Okay, a lot. You just look so cute when you get annoyed.” He looked at the ceiling.
“Thanks a lot,” she said. “Hey, are you hungry? It’s almost midnight.”
“Starving,” Nick admitted. “You know my dormant inner asshole needs to be fed on a regular basis.”
Celeste stood up. “Kitchen raid?”
“Wow,” Nick said, following her through the big swinging doors into the vast, immaculate, silent kitchen. “I feel like I’m entering some sort of inner sanctum.”
“You are—the kitchen’s like the Holy Grail of Pinyon.” Celeste pried open one of the huge industrial refrigerators and gazed inside. “Usually, Solomon keeps stuff in here in case a guest demands, like, filet mignon at three a.m. or something.” She rummaged among the metal tubs and plastic-wrapped dishes, her head and torso almost disappearing into the frosty interior of the fridge, and emerged with a big plate and a bowl. “Jackpot.” She set the dishes on the counter. “Leftover chocolate soufflé and whipped cream.” She grabbed two bowls from a nearby shelf.
“Oh my God, that looks incredible,” Nick said. Using his fingers, he stuffed a bite into his mouth. “It is incredible. Taste this.” He held out a glob of chocolate soufflé.
Celeste paused. Don’t be so uptight, she told herself. She leaned forward and licked the soufflé off Nick’s finger, letting the creamy, fluffy chocolate spread over her tongue. She closed her eyes for a minute, just savoring the taste, and then, opening them, realized that Nick’s blue eyes were staring right into hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek. She stared back at him, their faces only a few inches apart. Then Celeste turned away so fast, she almost knocked her bowl of soufflé into the counter. “Well, we should probably get back to work,” she said awkwardly, blundering through the doors and back into the dining room.
The next few hours flew by as Celeste and Nick bent over their papers and calendars spread out everywhere, making to-do lists and master lists, and hammering out schedules. By three o’clock, Celeste felt like her eyeballs had been coated in sand and dipped in salt water. She groaned and put down her pencil. When she closed her eyes, yellow sheets of lined paper and calendar pages danced in front of her eyes. “Oh my God, I definitely need a break.” She twisted her back right and left, listening to the series of cracks. Beside her, Nick rubbed his red eyes and fell out of his chair, landing on the carpet with a crash.
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