by Andrea Hurtt
Back in the safety of his room, Charles threw open the window before he ran to the bathroom and grabbed his cologne. He sprayed the heady Tom Ford For Men around the room, hoping the intense musk scent would mask the aroma of the roses.
He'd just set it back in the bathroom when he heard a gentle knock. He waved his arms to spread the smell and headed to the door to let her in.
The moment she stepped into the room, he knew she couldn't tell there had been roses in his room for days. She did, however, notice the overwhelming amount of cologne. Her nose wrinkled. "Um, Charles, if we're gonna make this work…"
He raised an eyebrow in anticipation of the things he wanted to work on.
She must've seen something in the way his body responded because her jaw flexed. Grace was about to set him straight. "Things as in, working together on this show, and being in a shared space; you will have to learn not to bathe in cologne. I promise, it doesn't make you more attractive. If anything, it turns people away. A little goes a long way. Can you remember that?"
All he could do was nod. He had to hide a smirk, too.
She most definitely had no clue he was the rose bearer.
He needed to keep it that way.
"The bed closest to the window is untouched if you'd like to take that one?" Charles offered, as she wheeled her suitcase to the open space by the wall, just in front of the fake walnut desk.
"Thank you."
He couldn't help but watch as she leaned over to open her bag and pull a few things out. His body responded to the curves of her backside, and he had to take a deep breath to get his body under control.
She slipped off into the bathroom with a small pile of clothing in her hands.
Pajamas, I'm guessing. Damn, too bad she doesn't sleep naked. Guess I better not.
He reached into his own suitcase to pull out a clean T-shirt and boxer briefs. He slipped into the fresh clothes right as Grace stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the light off as she emerged.
"I appreciate your hospitality, but like you pointed out, it's been a long day for me, and I have a lot of driving tomorrow. So please forgive me if I just curl up and pass out." She crossed over to the second bed, pulled back the covers and slipped in between the sheets.
Grace was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. The soft breathing and occasional delicate snores spoke of it.
She was comfortable with him.
Why else would she be able to fall asleep so fast?
Charles wasn't so lucky. He lay there for hours with just the small reading light connected to his headboard turned on. It was enough to illuminate her gorgeous costar.
He watched her turned over in her sleep.
She'd started out facing away from him, in the direction of the window, but had rolled and now faced him.
In the dim light, he could see the slight parting of her soft pink lips. Her long lashes rested on her high cheekbones.
A strand of her chestnut hair had fallen forward across her face. It took all his strength not to reach out and slip the piece back behind her ear.
He could lay there forever and just watch her sleep. However, he needed to get a little rest, too. Right as the sun was beginning to peek through the curtains, Charles drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Grace stretched out, pulling all her muscles tight then relaxing. This bed wasn't any different from the previous room she'd been in, yet it seemed like she'd gotten much better sleep that night. She rubbed at the dust in the corners of her eyes and rolled over to glance at her roommate.
Charles was still passed out. He was curled up on his left side, facing her. A wisp of blond hair caressed his cheek, hiding one of his closed eyes. He looked like a young boy.
It reminded her he was just that; still a boy.
Their eight-year age difference would be one of the many things that helped her keep a promise; to never give herself to a man again. In any form. She could see herself becoming friends with him, though.
That much she could give him.
Grace quickly and quietly slipped from the bed, rustled through her suitcase to grab the things she'd need in the bathroom. She locked the door the moment she had it shut.
She wanted to take a quick shower and getting on the road. She just wanted to get back to Denver. Even if it was only for a few days.
She sighed when the warm water cascaded down her back. She was feeling good about everything. The creepy stalker and the roses were slipping into the furthest recesses of her mind.
In less than an hour, she could be on her way home, away from everything bad that'd happened the last forty-eight hours.
Within a week, her new life would be starting.
There were far too many good things ahead of her to focus on anything negative.
Find only the good in life, Elvis.
Her mother's words filled her mind.
Elvis.
Only her mom and Hope could call her that.
With the hot water soothing her body, the memory of her mother and her words of encouragement soothed her soul.
She couldn't recall when her mother had first called her 'Elvis', but it'd stemmed from the fact that her first and middle names said together quickly sounded like Elvis's mansion. Grace Lynne.
Grace chuckled to herself at the memory, as she wrapped a towel around her body.
Would there ever be a day she'd trust a man enough to allow him to call her such a special nickname?
She shook her head.
She'd given up on real love.
Fairytales and romance novels were the only places true love existed.
Grace wiped the condensation off the mirror with a clean washcloth she'd found on the counter. The woman in the reflection stared back at her. Bright blue-green eyes locking on themselves.
She ran her hands over her forehead and into her wet hair, causing the wispy chestnut strands in the front to stand on end. For just a moment, she saw the scared little girl in there; the girl that'd once been so bullied she'd become silent. Someone who couldn't make new friends.
Oh, how her life had changed.
The theater had changed her.
Now, she was going to change theater.
Grace was ten years older than the character she was about to portray.
Shockside Theater Troupe was taking a well-known, one-set show, and spinning it on its ear with all the new technology.
This was going to be a show like no other.
She was terrified she was going to screw everything up.
Charles is dangerous.
He was clearly used to having any girl he wanted.
He can't have me.
He was a charmer, and they always broke hearts. She'd never let that happen again.
She got dressed.
Grace needed to get on the road, not only because it was a fourteen-hour drive, but she had to get away from her new costar and the temptations he's oozed.
She pulled her hair back into a haphazard bun, put on just a swipe of mascara, gathered her things and headed out into the bedroom.
Charles woke with a start as the bathroom door closed and the lock slid over. He glanced at the empty bed.
He slipped out of his bed and moved over to hers; one of the unused pillows from his bed in his hands. He leaned down to inhale the pillow she'd slept on last night.
Her scent still lingered on the fabric.
He picked it up, putting the one from his bed in its place, pressing on the center to make it look like it'd been used during the night.
Charles returned to his bed, her pillow in his hands.
Slipping back under the covers, he held her pillow tight. His body reacted as her delicate fragrance filled his senses.
His cock hardened and trembled in anticipation of her hot, wet core tightening around him.
He closed his eyes and imagined how she must look in the shower, as his hand slipped under the covers.
Grace's creamy skin, wet from the
hot water caressing her body, touching her in all the places he wished his hands were.
Charles pictured droplets of water trailing down the valley between her breasts as her pink nipples puckered. He envisioned every inch of her body.
He stroked faster, pretending it was her hands on him, doing all the things he liked done. He bit back a groan, not wanting her to hear him pleasuring himself.
Charles breathed in sharply between clenched teeth when his climax hit. It was coming too fast, too soon, but he couldn't stop it.
His seed filled his hand since he hadn't prepared with something to catch it. The shower shut off and he was in a rush to clean up the mess he'd made.
He glanced around the room. What could he do? Under the desk was a towel from the pool area he'd forgotten to pick up. He used it to clean himself, not worrying about the bed.
He'd be checking out soon. Charles tossed the towel back under the desk, careful not to let anything slip out.
He'd just pulled his clothing for the day from his suitcase when the door to the bathroom opened.
The heat and steam hit him just a moment before her scent did. He inhaled, filling his lungs with her, and couldn't help his sigh.
Why does she affect me like this?
This was something he desperately wanted to know the answer to, and someday he would know. However, not today.
Grace smiled as she stepped out. "The bathroom's all yours."
He could only nod, dancing around her to enter the overheated room.
Charles worried she'd take off while he was in the bathroom, so he showered quickly, not even waiting for decent water temperature. He couldn't let me leave without saying goodbye.
He'd be seeing her again in less than a week, but he didn't want to lose any time with her.
He tried not to think about her being just where he now stood, in the same state; he'd already been there once in his mind.
Charles intentionally recalled the roses. They'd been meant as a loving gesture but had almost ruined everything. How was he to know she was deathly afraid of them and the scent they provided?
Weren't all women supposed to love roses?
Guess my Gracie isn't like other women.
He left the shower in record time and dressed, struggling to get his jeans on still-damp skin. He fought with his jeans, finally stopping to dry his legs thoroughly before resuming. He threw open the bathroom door with gusto.
Charles had been right, she was sneaking out.
Grace had just opened the door, her suitcase in one hand, a purse and laptop bag over the other shoulder. Her cheeks flushed pink, and even though it was adorable, she was embarrassed.
"What're you doing?" he blurted.
"Oh, I, um..." Her cheeks brightened more, and her eyes darted down to her suitcase then up at him. "I don't do goodbyes well. I was going to take my things to the car and grab a coffee from the lobby. I have a fourteen-hour drive, after all."
How could he be mad at her, after she'd shared something like that?
It felt personal. Like she cared enough about him already, it would be too hard to say goodbye.
He smiled so big he could feel the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Can I at least walk you to your car?"
She said nothing but nodded.
Moments later, they were standing next to her car, coffee in hand.
Grace slipped into the driver's seat and Charles leaned over, peering in at her.
"Safe driving. We can't have anything happen to our leading lady."
She grabbed the door handle and pulled at the door slowly. "I guess I'll see you in a week."
He stepped back so she could shut the door. "See you in a week," he whispered back.
She backed the car out, and his gaze followed her car until he could see it no longer.
"See you in my dreams tonight," Charles whispered aloud.
Chapter Twelve
One week later, Charles was pacing outside the main cabin of the ranch where people were slowly trickling in as the sun was setting.
He'd been there since early that Monday morning. He'd taken a direct flight from Burbank, jumped in an Uber, and had been one of the first people to check into the ranch.
He watched as car after car filed in, not one holding Grace.
She technically didn't have to arrive for another day.
Charles was about to hunt down Jason and get her number to call and make sure she was okay when he saw her car coming down the dirt road.
The dust and dirt the green car was kicking up almost hid the make and model, but the dark blue-green color that closely matched her eyes, was unmistakable.
He was still grateful he'd been able to walk her to her car that morning in Minneapolis.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have known what her car looked like.
Charles was at her car, pulling open the door before she'd even put the car in park.
Her laughter filled his ears, as Grace unbuckled her seat belt and attempted to get out of the vehicle.
He tugged her into a tight hug. "I've missed you," he whispered.
"Um, hey. I, uh, can't breathe."
They both chuckled as he let her go.
"Shall we get you checked in?"
She nodded and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat.
A short time later, they entered the woman's bunker.
This was the only day they would allow the men to enter. After sundown that night, each bunker was gender-specific, unless otherwise noted.
Charles had learned they'd a few trans people in the show but didn't know who.
The building was broken down into four bedrooms. Each room had two sets of bunk beds, accommodating four women in each room.
They had given Grace room three; she'd be with the contortionists.
Jason had stated he hoped everyone would be comfortable with their roommates and would stick with the same actors once they began traveling. It just made things easier.
Charles glanced around the room. The women's rooms were identical to the men's. He was sharing a room with the two older men playing Louis and Maddie's fathers, and Victor—the man playing Der Hahn, the villain.
They all seemed to get along so far, but if things didn't go the way he wanted, a conversation with Jason would clear it all up.
He offered Grace his hand, after she tucked her suitcase under her bunk bed, and they headed for the main cabin.
Actors were scattered around, some munching on the buffet-style food laid out across a massive table, others mingling, getting to know the production team better.
"Have you eaten yet today?" he asked.
"It's been a few hours, and I wouldn't mind grabbing a bite."
They made their way to the table and filled their paper plates. However, when they went further into the large room, there didn't seem to be anywhere to sit.
"I think I saw some rocking chairs on the side of the house. Should we check there?" Grace said.
He smiled. What a lover-like thing to do, sitting on rocking chairs on the porch like an old married couple.
He let her lead the way. Sure enough, there were two empty chairs, just waiting for them.
Charles let her choose first, and he took the one not in direct sunlight. He wanted her to always feel like she came first.
The evening was beautiful. The ranch was laid out just right; their view from the front porch seemed to go on forever.
There were trees on either side, running down the length of the property. The sky was pink, orange and purple. Like a painting or on a postcard, only in real life.
He glanced at Grace.
She was observing the same sight, the richness of the night.
He gently brushed the tips of his fingers down the length of her arm, grabbing her attention. "I could stay here, like this forever."
She smiled politely. "Maybe for a little while, but not forever. We're actors, we belong on the stage, behind the darkness of the curtain, in the brightness of a thousand lights. I want
to travel and see new places. Yes, this is beautiful, but there's more out there."
Were her words for his benefit or her own?
Over the next three weeks, Charles spent most of his time with Grace, being the best gentleman he could.
They grew closer, as he hoped—knew—they would.
One night, after a very grueling day of rehearsals, involving some of the more difficult stunts, Grace sat in a heap on one of the oversized couches in the main cabin's great room. She was holding an ice pack to her left shoulder.
"Good God, Gracie? Are you all right?"
When they made eye-contact, hers were red-rimmed, like she was on the verge of tears. "Yeah, I'm good. Just sore." She shifted slightly and he could see the discomfort all over her face. Her eyebrows furrowed and her teeth clenched tight.
"Here." He touched her other shoulder. "Sit on the floor in front of me and let me see if I can help."
She slowly moved to the floor, complaining as she went. "Damn, it hurts just to move. Please don't do more damage."
"I won't."
He slowly worked out her shoulder muscles.
It was clear she'd never learned to do a stage fall before. Her body was paying for it.
She'd learn quick. Most actors did after one good, or bad in this case, kind of fall.
A fall that taught a lesson.
Grace had just been taught.
Charles smiled to himself as she moaned in pleasure.
She'd become so comfortable around him, allowing him to touch her intimately like this.
She'd even told him more about her past. Not much, but enough that he felt like she was really opening up.
"Oh, yeah… right there. Oh. Harder. Oh… my. Damn, boy. Your hands are made of magic. Can I keep them?" Her voice was husky, and his body reacted.
He needed to calm down.
Her words hit Charles hard.
"Can I keep them?"
Yes. And everything attached to them.
He needed to wait things out.
He had her right where he wanted her.
In twelve weeks, when the show had run its course…
Grace would be his.
* * *