by Cate Cameron
“Okay. I’ll ask her when I see her.” There was that topic of conversation closed off. “Do you need any help with anything?”
“I charge by the hour for jobs like this,” he said, taking the handles of the wheelbarrow and heading along the path into the woods. “If you helped, you’d actually be taking money out of my pocket.”
She hadn’t thought about it in those terms. “Well, do you want me to get in the way, then?” She was pretty sure he would have been charmed by her smile if he’d bothered to look in her direction. “I could drag this out for so long you could buy a new truck!”
“There’s nothing wrong with my old truck.” And with that he was out of earshot and the conversation was over.
She could have gone after him. This was the McArthurs’ property and she was their guest. If she decided she wanted to hang out in the forest, she’d be absolutely within her rights to sit right on top of the damn path Josh was trying to mulch. But a tiny sprout of self-respect poked up through the muddy soil of her infatuation and wrapped around her ankle to keep her from chasing after the man.
She should go back to the cottage. She was an early riser, at least compared to the rest of the guests, but she could hang out in the kitchen with the housekeeper, or take a mug of coffee down to the dock, or . . . anything, really. Instead, she pretended to be fascinated by a weird brown growth on a nearby tree trunk. She reached out to touch it. Surprisingly hard. What the hell was it? She crouched down to see it from underneath and wondered if she could break it off the tree to see how it was attached. But she didn’t want to damage it. Or the tree. It really was quite interesting.
This was her strength as an actress, she knew. When she first started with a role, she was just pretending. Just playing make-believe, like a kid. And then, like a kid, she’d slip away from reality a little, away from her own life and into something else. GiGi, her great-grandmother, had been a stage actress, famous in her time, and she’d been the one who encouraged Ashley to act. She’d shown Ashley how to find one thing, one prop or gesture or idea, and how to focus on that and let everything else fill itself in. “Magic Time,” she’d called it. “Okay, Ashley, is that how a bear would walk? So you walk like that. Walk like that, and let Magic Time happen. Soon, you’ll be the bear.” Ashley had been cast in Mayfair Drive three days before GiGi had faded away in her sleep, and Ashley had always been so happy that the old lady had been around long enough to receive the phone call from Ashley to share her success.
Now, in the backwoods of Vermont, Magic Time had come unbidden, as it sometimes did. Ashley had acted like someone who cared about growths on trees, and all of a sudden, she did care. She heard the soft rolling of the wheelbarrow behind her and couldn’t help asking, “What is this thing? It looks like a huge mushroom, but it’s hard. . . .”
“Conk,” Josh said. He paused, as if fighting with himself, then apparently lost the battle and added, “That’s what we call them, at least. I think they’re a kind of fungus. They eat away at the tree, making it rot inside.”
“So they’re bad?” Ashley stroked the smooth, warm skin of the conk.
“Circle of life,” Josh said. “They’re not good or bad; they just are.”
“But they’re bad for the tree?”
“Yeah,” Josh said. He looked at her then, his amber eyes cool. “They’re parasites, I’d say. They find a weakness and work their way inside, and then they get strong while the tree weakens. It takes a long time, but it happens. Eventually it’ll kill the tree.”
The words were innocuous enough, but there was something about his gaze that made her feel like she was being accused of something. Was he . . . was he calling her a parasite? Comparing her to the conk? She frowned at him in confusion and with the beginnings of irritation, but he was already turned back to his task. “How come you’re acting like a virgin who got felt up at the dance?” she demanded. So much for her attempts to be charming. “I messed up a bit at the bar but we got past that, then we were friends at the dock, and now you’re pissy again?”
“I’m at work,” he said. “I’d like to concentrate on that, if you don’t mind.”
“You’re shoveling wood chips. That takes your full mental energies?”
“Maybe you heard Jasmine threatening to fire me and blackball me with her friends? I’d like to make sure she doesn’t have any reason to do that.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t.”
“You’re sure of that, are you?”
Well, no, she supposed she wasn’t. But, still. “The job doesn’t really seem that demanding.”
She knew as soon as she’d said the words that they were wrong, and sure enough, he straightened and stood for a moment, controlling his temper. He kept his face turned away from her as he said, “I’m just a simple country boy, not all sophisticated like you big-city folk. A job like this is about all I can handle.”
Shit. “I didn’t mean your job in general doesn’t seem demanding,” she tried. “Just this one part of it. And, I mean, it’s not like my job is all that complicated, if you’re just looking at it from the outside. I play make-believe for a living, right?”
“And for a hobby, too, from the looks of things.”
Neither of them spoke after that. She wasn’t quite sure what he was accusing her of, but she was definitely tired of the attitude. She wanted to fight back, demand clarification and an end to the snide remarks. But instead she stepped away from the tree with the conk and headed for the house. She was on vacation. She didn’t need this crap.
* * *
JOSH refused to feel bad about it. At least, he tried to refuse, and when that didn’t work, he refused to admit he felt bad about it. That was something.
He wished the mulch job was a little more demanding, so he could let it distract him from his thoughts, but Ashley had been right. Shoveling wood chips really didn’t take a lot of brainpower.
He kept his back to the cottage as much as he could and his eyes down when he couldn’t, but he hadn’t figured out a way to turn off his ears. So he heard the sounds of the cottage coming alive, guests and hosts meeting for breakfast on the deck, talking and laughing. There was no problem with him doing work while the McArthurs entertained. They were always entertaining, after all, and he was a common laborer, invisible to the wealthy unless they decided they wanted to see him. There’d been a time when they had wanted to, but after a year or so of politely refusing all of their invitations, they’d gotten the message and allowed him to sink back into safe anonymity. But he could hear Ashley, her voice sweet and clear, and he wished . . .
He had no idea what he wished for. He just wished things were different. But they weren’t. So he concentrated on his work, and when he finished he loaded the wheelbarrow into the now-empty bed of his truck and headed for the driver’s-side door.
“Josh!” A man’s voice from the deck.
Josh looked over and raised a hand. He tried to ignore the stab of guilt he always felt when dealing with Jasmine’s husband. “Hey, David. That’s one load done, but I’ll need to do another.” He moved closer as he spoke, trying to seem relaxed. “I’m supposed to be down the road for a meeting at ten, but I can come back here early afternoon, if you want. Or else tomorrow.”
“This afternoon would be best. Jasmine wants this job done.”
“Okay.”
“She asked me to speak to you, Josh.” David came a few steps closer, but he was still on the deck. Any of the guests who wanted to hear him would be able to. “She’s not too impressed with the service we’ve been getting lately.”
Josh kept his face blank, trying not to think about the exact nature of the service Jasmine wanted him to provide. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I think I’ve been getting everything done pretty fast. If someone else has an emergency, like a leak or something, I need to fix that first. But otherwise, I’m on schedule.”
David
shrugged. “She’s also concerned that you’re not behaving professionally. I know you used to be part of . . . well, you used to be friendly with Jasmine’s crowd up here. Right? She’s concerned that maybe you’ve gotten a little confused about your place in all this.”
Josh kept his mouth shut. Cal Montgomery was on the deck, one of the few locals rich enough to fit in with the summer crowd. He was standing next to Ashley, both of them listening without looking in his direction. Josh tried not to guess what either of them was thinking about it all. He waited to see if David had more to say, then stepped backward. “I’ll bring the rest of the mulch this afternoon.”
“And you’ll give us priority service in the future,” David said. “How many of your clients came because we gave them to you? So you’ll give us priority, and you’ll watch the way you speak to my wife.” He smiled, but his gaze didn’t leave Josh’s face. The man was some sort of big shot in Hollywood business, and he was clearly used to giving orders.
Josh wanted to just walk away. He remembered Jasmine’s complaints, back when they’d been spending time together. David’s numerous affairs, which were apparently common knowledge all over town. David’s controlling behavior, Jasmine’s fears that he was going to trade her in for a newer model . . . Looking back, Josh knew she’d used her vulnerabilities as a tool to seduce him, but he didn’t think they’d been completely manufactured. No, nothing with Jasmine was ever that simple. And now, staring up at David, Josh was supposed to pretend he didn’t know any of that and was just a recalcitrant handyman.
It would be so easy to just walk away. But damn it, he wasn’t fired yet, and he needed this job. Not just this one, but all the others that came with it. So he stared at David, and David stared back, and Josh had no idea which one of them was going to blink first.
Then Ashley was there, looping her arm gently through David’s and smiling as if he was her hero. “Are you still interested in kayaking this morning?” she asked sweetly. “I was just going to go out, so if you’re ready.”
It looked like David was going to brush her off, but then Cal stepped forward and said, “You’re probably tired, David. Don’t worry, I’d be happy to show Ashley around the lake.”
David frowned, clearly not wanting to seem like he wasn’t strong enough for a little kayaking. “No,” he finally growled. “I can take her.” He turned without another word, and Josh was dismissed.
He tried not to watch Ashley guide David away. Tried not to notice the way her head tilted toward him, her hair falling to brush his arm. Damn it, he knew how that hair would feel bunched in his fist, the soft thickness of it, the way he could use it to tilt her head just right. And the way she’d smile up at him as he did it, her green eyes dancing with . . .
With what? That was the problem. With desire? Or with amusement, laughing at his weak will and inability to stay away from her? It was all just a game to her, he reminded himself. Just a game to all of them. But he wasn’t playing.
“Be careful with him,” Cal said quietly.
Josh almost laughed, although nothing was funny. “I’ll be as careful as he lets me be.” Then he turned and headed for the truck.
As he drove out of the driveway he used the Bluetooth phone to dial a familiar number. “Kevin? You want to work this afternoon?”
Kevin was Josh’s cousin, six years younger, full of good nature and absolutely without ambition. He worked when he felt like it or when he needed some cash. Or, sometimes, when Josh needed a favor. “I could,” he said now. “What’s the job?”
“Just spreading some mulch at the McArthurs’. They’re getting bitchy about how long I’m taking.”
“I could use your truck?”
“What’s wrong with yours?”
“It won’t start.”
Josh sighed. Kevin wasn’t exactly proactive about things. And he was annoying. But he was distracting Josh from other problems, at least. “Okay, but what’s wrong with it? Why won’t it start?”
“Cursed, I think.”
“Probably not.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re seriously just going to . . . what, leave it in the driveway? Not even try to figure out what’s wrong?”
“I don’t have a witch doctor handy.”
“Good thing it’s not really cursed, then.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“Okay. Fine. You can use my truck. I’ll pick you up around noon and you can drop me at the Fergusons’.”
“And, just to be clear,” Kevin said, “this is because you’re busy, right? It’s got nothing to do with Jasmine McArthur shoving her hand down your pants the other night at the bar.”
Of course Kevin had heard about that. Jasmine hadn’t been subtle, and gossip spread fast in a small town. But Josh could honestly say, “No. It’s not because of that.”
“And it’s got nothing to do with you making out with Ashley Carlsen at the bar, and her staying with Jasmine McArthur? Scott Mason lost twenty bucks on that, you know. He bet you were going to take them both home for a three-way.”
“Scott Mason’s an idiot. But I hear he’s looking for work. You want me to call him for this afternoon, leave you a bit more time to find your witch doctor?”
“Well, I’d probably have to pay the witch doctor, so I’d better do some work.” Kevin paused long enough that Josh thought the conversation was mercifully over. But then Kevin said, “Hey, you know who won that twenty bucks from Scott?”
“I don’t know or care.”
“It was me. He called me, told me about it, and I bet him you wouldn’t do it. I bet him you’d pussy out.”
Yeah, the complexities of Josh’s life decisions simplified to “manning up” or “pussying out.” Kevin was not a fan of subtleties. “I’ll come by around noon. If you’re not ready, I’m calling Scott.”
“Fine, Captain Grumpy. I’ll be ready.”
Josh hung up the phone. His cousin was taking bets on his sex life. Was it that different from the games Jasmine and Ashley were playing?
Yeah, it was. Because Ashley had been in on the game and Josh hadn’t been. Josh wanted something real, something that wasn’t for public amusement. He wasn’t playing, not anymore. But no one else seemed to care about that distinction.
He turned the radio on and found a Springsteen song, then rolled his windows down and blasted the volume. He needed to stop being such a drama queen about it all. He’d made mistakes and he had to live with them. Life would go on, with or without work from Jasmine and her rich friends. He just needed to stop thinking about sparkling green eyes looking at him like he was something special, something real. The woman was an actress; it was an act.
He just needed to remember that.
Four
“I THINK I’M going to stay up here a bit longer,” Ashley said into the phone. Her manager, Adam Wagner, was on the other end of the line, and she braced herself for his reaction.
“How much longer? Another week?”
“Longer than that. I found a place I can rent for the rest of the summer. Until mid-September, actually. I think I’m going to do it.”
“What? Why?” Adam sounded almost hurt, but he’d been managing her since she was a child and she was mostly immune to his theatrics. “Why would you do that? Is it about that nonsense with Derek? Because, no! You can’t hide away! You need to be out there, dating, partying, having lunch with handsome men in all the right places for the paparazzi to see you. You are over Derek Braxton, Ashley!”
“I am over him,” she said firmly. She’d been over him even before his oh-so-public affair with a costar. “But I think I’m over the rest of it, too. The partying and lunching and paparazzi. At least for a while. You know how long I’ve been in the business, Adam. I love acting, I truly do. But I’m not getting the jobs I want, so there’s no need to come running back down for work. You can look f
or something for me starting in October, if you want. Find me a big paycheck or a promising indie or something. But not until October. I’m taking a vacation.”
“A three-month vacation?”
“Call it a sabbatical if it makes you feel better. I’m recharging. When I come back down I’ll be full of energy and ready to start auditioning for serious jobs. So you could spend some time setting that up. You know what I’m looking for. Real acting. Challenging roles. Directors and costars I can learn from. Find me something like that.”
“We’ve had this conversation before—” Adam started.
Ashley cut him off. “Yeah, we have. And I’ve listened to your advice, and I’ve decided that I don’t want to follow it. I know there’s more quick-and-easy money in the B-movie stuff. I know it’s easier to get those parts, and really hard to cross over to the top-quality projects.” How could she explain the yearning she had, the need to explore and push the boundaries? She’d tried before but she’d never been able to make Adam understand, and she had no new words to offer him this time. So she took a simpler approach. “I don’t need more money; I need a career I can be proud of.”
“Oh, you don’t need more money. That’s nice for you.”
Adam was paid a percentage of Ashley’s income, and they’d both known that was a factor in his reluctance to let her take a chance with her career, but this was the first time he’d ever acknowledged it out loud. Ashley wasn’t sure if she was relieved or apprehensive, but she managed to say, “I don’t need the money. I understand if you do. I’ve never asked you to make me your only client, and if you feel you need to diversify, I understand.” She’d be thrilled, really, but she didn’t think it was wise to be quite that honest. “But for me? I’m looking for a different type of role. Please do what you can to make that happen.”