Better than the Book: A Romantic Comedy (Charitable Endeavors Book 4)

by M. E. Carter

  She gives me a thumbs up and crams the last bit of plastic-y goodness in her mouth. “Sounds good. I’m headed to my room so you two can get back to whatever I interrupted. I’ll make sure to wear my headphones.”

  Hunter blushes at her matter-of-factness, which I find endearing. As confident as he is in his craft, I notice he is a little shyer when it comes to discussing personal things. Or perhaps it’s just my roommate’s directness that makes him come off as shy. Regardless, it balances my bluntness and I like having that in my life.

  Not that I should be thinking that way. What we have is a weekend fling with an extension. Nothing more.

  So why does my heart seem to have missed the memo?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hunter

  “I feel bad. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Her big eyes are wide with concern.

  “Celeste, I promise it’s fine. I’m supposed to be on a sabbatical, remember? That means lounging on your couch eating and napping is completely acceptable.”

  We’ve been having this conversation for the last twenty minutes and while I appreciate her being worried about my well-being, I hate that she feels any sort of guilt. I’m the one who should be apologizing for even making her feel that way. I’ve intruded on her life and it isn’t her responsibility to take care of me. Although, I will admit I kind of love it. It’s nice that she cares so much about something as menial as if I can entertain myself for a few hours. Then again, she may be more concerned I’ll drug myself again or unknowingly eat another of Anna’s precious snacks. Both scenarios could end with pictures of me trending all across social media. Maybe she should be concerned.

  Scrunching her face, Celeste eyeballs my snack of choice. She leans over and I ignore the way my heart rate speeds up as she comes within inches of my face. That’s what she does to me. This wild-haired beauty who makes me feel more like myself than I have in ages. I know when her lips land on mine…

  “Hey! Get your hands off my Ding Dong!”

  “That’s not what you said this morning,” she sasses as she takes a bite of the chocolate covered cake.

  Once Anna mentioned them the other day, I made Celeste stop at the market on the corner for a supply. I grabbed two boxes—one for me and one as a peace offering for Anna. I should have gotten more. I’ll make sure to add that to my shopping list. Thank goodness for at home delivery. I can have this place stocked by the time she gets home from her meeting.

  This time when Celeste leans forward, her lips land on mine and I pull her into my lap. Her giggles are muffled by my lips as I taste the chocolate on her tongue. How long has it been since I’ve been this relaxed? So carefree and uninhibited? I can’t even remember it’s been so long. How pathetic.

  “I better go if I’m going to make it on time. Enjoy your mindless television and snacks. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.”

  She lifts off my lap, giving me a full glimpse of her glorious behind and I smack it for good measure. The gesture makes her jump and then stumble. Whoops. The glare she gives me is meant to be intimidating but it only makes me smile.

  Before Celeste can make it to the front door, there are three quick raps. Lifting to her toes, she looks through the peep hole before opening the door. I watch from my spot on the couch and hear her thank the person before closing the door.

  “Well, so much for your day of leisure,” she remarks as she walks my way, her arms carrying a box.

  I accept the package from her and set it on the table before ripping off the tape and peering inside. Damn Eddie and his demand I make this a working sabbatical.

  “Dang,” Celeste says as she peers it the box. “Eddie doesn’t mess around. That has to be at least six scripts.”

  “I know. I won’t read them all. If by the first forty pages or so I’m not interested I’ll set it aside and move on to the next. Now go. I’ll see you later.”

  Groaning, she doesn’t argue and rushes toward the door. When it closes, I lean back on the couch and exhale. Alone. I’m all alone. Nowhere to be and nobody to meet. It’s been months since I’ve had an entire day with no plans like this. I should just focus on the manuscripts Eddie shipped and get that out of the way.

  Opening the box, I lift out the first submission and settle in for what may be my next movie. I’ve never told Eddie this, but I don’t only read the scripts for acting roles but also potential producing opportunities. I love bringing characters to life and pushing my acting limits but ultimately I would like to spend more time behind the scenes. Not necessarily movies. I think I’d prefer producing plays or musicals. I definitely don’t think that directing is something I would enjoy since I can barely tell Eddie what to do let alone a cast of actors but producing has always interested me.

  Before I begin, though, I need to order groceries. As much as I enjoy snack cakes, I need some real food as well.

  Hours tick by. Groceries have been ordered and scripts have been perused. Some of the scripts have interested me. There’s one adaptation of a romance novel that I was surprised made it into the box, but I liked the premise, and it would be something different than people expect of me. My eyes and mind need a break. Checking my online order, I confirm the groceries I’ve ordered won’t deliver for a few more hours. Thankfully, pizza is a different story.

  Scrolling through my phone, I skim a few reviews of local pizza places and choose one that has a high star rating and a lot of “THE BEST PIZZA EVER” titles. The all capitals is what caught my attention. Once my order is complete, I toss my phone aside and pick up the remote for the television. Some of that mindless television Celeste mentioned sound great.

  The thing about acting on television is I don’t watch it often. The last thing I need to do is happen across Prince of Darkness and see myself on the screen. I shudder at the thought. Oh geez, I wonder if my mom watches the show? I mean I know she watches but does she watch. We may be on one of the top five major television networks, but our directors like to push the limits. We are a vampire show and everyone knows vampires are virile bloodsuckers.

  Not wanting to take a chance, I pull up the ladies’ DVR and sort through the list. My phone rings next to me and I see Celeste’s name on the screen. Abandoning my search, I pick up the call.

  “Miss me?”

  “Terribly,” she sasses.

  I won’t tell her I miss her. I don’t want to be the guy that guilts a professional woman into even contemplating cutting her day short because I selfishly want her sitting on this couch next to me. I’ve grown quite accustomed to spending my time with Celeste.

  “We’re on a quick break so I thought I’d see what you were up to.”

  “Oh you know, searching the medicine cabinet, riffling through your drawers. Why haven’t I seen that black lacy number hidden in the back of your sock drawer?”

  She snorts a laugh which makes me smile. “Nice try. I don’t have a sock drawer.”

  Kicking my feet up on the table, I settle in for a little flirtation. “But you do have a black lacy number?”

  “Perhaps. What are you up to?”

  “Just waiting on my lunch to be delivered.”

  A door closes in the background and the line is a little muffled before I hear traffic in the background.

  “Are you outside?”

  “Yeah, I needed a little fresh air. Want to grab a late dinner? Maybe a slice of pizza?”

  “How about I treat you to sushi?”

  “Mr. Stone, are you trying to romance me into bed? You know I’m a sure thing.”

  I love her humor and sass. Damn do I love it. “Romance in the form of a poké roll.”

  We chat a few minutes longer before Celeste is called back into rehearsal and my pizza arrives. I’m all about conservation so I don’t bother with a plate. The provided napkins will work just fine. Folding the pizza in half like a taco, my mouth waters as I lift the slice to my mouth. A burst of flavor hits my taste buds. Delicious.

  Resuming my search of something to watch, I
hold the slice in one hand and the remote in the other. Then I see it. Choking on my pizza, I toss it in the box and wipe my face with a napkin before taking a drink of my water.

  “Oh Celeste. What do we have here?”

  Season 1. Season 2. Season 3.

  All three seasons of Prince of Darkness. All recorded. I remember asking her the other night as we lay in her bed talking about a specific storyline. She insisted she had only seen a few episodes and couldn’t really remember the storylines. I am going to make so much fun of her. I doubt she lied for any nefarious reasons, but it’s going to be fun finding out the truth.

  Since the last thing I want to do is watch myself, I exit the DVR list and settle on a true crime documentary. It’s six episodes and should be enough for me to distract myself until I meet my girl for dinner and a show. Because I plan to tease her enough to entertain myself the entire meal.

  • • •

  “Come on, babe, don’t be pissed. I was just kidding.”

  Whipping around to stare me down, she narrows her eyes and points her finger. “Don’t babe me. Nicknames and that… that sexiness is not going to distract me from being angry.”

  Sauntering up to her, I slip my hands around her waist and tug her flush to me. “You think I’m sexy?”

  “Ugh! Hunter stop!”

  Waggling my eyebrows, I move my hips and cup her ass in my hands. “I’m sorry. I was just teasing you. You love Prince of Darkness. It’s great. As an actor on the show, I thank you.”

  “Love is a little strong.”

  As she says the words a fleeting thought of what could be hits me, but it’s gone just as quickly. We barely know one another. Yes, I love spending time with her. She makes me laugh and feel more like myself than anyone else. I care for her. A lot. But hearing her use the word love has me suddenly longing for more.

  “I’m wounded. Are you saying you don’t love the show that has made me a household name?”

  “Fine. Maybe I thought it was ridiculous and I needed to see what the hype was all about. Then some hunky guy strutted across the screen and piqued my interest.”

  “Oh hunky guy, you say? Does he happen to look like a lumberjack?”

  “Nah, he’s this Viking looking guy with an accent. It’s the accent that gets me every time.”

  Dropping my jaw, I gasp at the audacity of her giving so much credit to my co-star. “Blasphemy!”

  “Actually he says bollocks a lot.”

  I release my hold on her and step back, scoffing and placing my hands on my hips in offense. Now it’s her turn to laugh and smirk.

  “I’m kidding. Yes, Hunter Stone, you are the only reason I watch that damn show. If you tell anyone I will cut you off from sex for the rest of your life.”

  Again that thought of what could be, zips through my mind. Celeste smiles and rises on her toes, placing a kiss to my lips. “I’m kidding. That would suck for me.”

  Spinning on her heel, Celeste struts away, giggling the entire way to the couch. Slumping onto the couch, she kicks her feet up on the table and pats the spot next to her. When I assume the spot indicated, she cuddles into my side and takes my hand in hers.

  “Really, I never planned to watch Prince of Darkness. I didn’t even have a TV. But when I knew you snagged a spot as a regular cast member, I had to check it out. While it doesn’t make sense, I was proud of you.” She fidgets with my hand, rubbing circles on my palm, not making eye contact with me. “Knowing how far you’d come and how hard you worked to get there… I don’t know, I was happy to see you making it.”

  Placing a kiss on the top of her head I say, “Thank you. I was proud of me too. I wish I knew you then. To have you share that with me. At the time, my family was proud. My dad and mom telling everyone they knew about their son the actor. There were so few people in my life that I trusted in the industry it would have been nice to have someone who understood how big of a deal it was.”

  “Tell me about your family.”

  “They’re the best. My parents have been married thirty-two years and still love one another. I have two sisters and a brother. My extended family is a little complicated. My dad’s side is loud and crazy while my mom’s is a little more traditional.”

  “What was it like growing up in an interracial family? Or do you call it multi-cultural?”

  Chuckling at her question, I think back to my childhood before I respond. “Would you believe me if I never thought about it? Actually, would you believe I didn’t realize we were an interracial or multi-cultural family until I was in my twenties?”

  Jumping up, she almost whacks my chin with her head as she spins to face me, eyes wide. “What?”

  Shrugging I say, “It’s embarrassing to admit but it’s true. We didn’t grow up focusing on race or culture. My mom’s side of the family is Hispanic and my dad’s… I don’t know, he checks the white box when necessary. There’s some Native American and a lot of European descent too. My mom’s mom passed when I was young and after that the traditions died out. In the end, we were just the Stones. We have a big family and it’s loud and crazy but full of love. It wasn’t until someone mentioned it to me in my twenties that I realized there was a time my parents weren’t supposed to be together. That they were looked at differently. For us kids, we were just us.”

  “That’s pretty cool,” Celeste comments as she settles back into my side. “Your family sounds great.”

  I don’t tell her I can’t wait for her to meet them. That may be moving a little fast for whatever it is we’re doing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Celeste

  I look down at my phone and fight back my grin as I answer. “Yes, Manuel. What can I help you with?”

  I left rehearsal less than thirty minutes ago after a long day of scheduling meetings, contacting acting schools to give them audition information, going over set design ideas—there is a lot to do at this stage of production and still no guarantees the producer will green light it to the stage. A fact that Manuel seems to be taking to heart with how much he focuses on getting things rolling. Based on the number of texts I get every night, I’m not sure he sleeps anymore.

  “I want to see if you’ve started advertising for auditions yet.”

  It’s a valid question. We discussed just about everything else but got distracted when one of the producers showed up unannounced, so auditions is the one thing we never talked about.

  “Yep,” I say as I dodge the foot traffic around me as I walk. “It’s listed on the normal sites—Backstage, Playbill, a couple other places I have written down. I reached out to the head of a few acting schools in case they have any up and coming talent we don’t want to miss. Social media is updated. I think there’s more but I’m fresh off the subway and hoofing it home.”

  “Great. Sounds like you’ve got everything covered. I don’t want us to take this casting lightly.”

  “Agreed.”

  The play we’re working on, “The Dreamer” is set in a small mining town in the 1940s. Our main character is having an existential crisis as he aspires to make a difference in his community by moving into politics. His family doesn’t agree. It’s a beautiful coming of age story based on the real life issues from that era. It also means period costumes, fascinating sets, and a world most of us weren’t alive for and will never experience except through the theater. It’s wonderful.

  “I’ll check my email when I get home in case I have a response from any of the schools yet,” I add. “But since it’s after hours I doubt there will be anything.”

  “Text me one way or the other.”

  “Will do.” Approaching my building, I grab my key to unlock the front door. “I’m almost home so you’ll hear from me in a couple hours at the most.”

  “Cool. Thanks, Celeste. I knew you and I would have the same vision for this one.”

  We hang up and I shove my phone in my back pocket, not somewhere I’d normally keep it while walking down the street, but this is my hallway. My neighbo
rs would be stupid to try and pickpocket me since I know where they live.

  As soon as my door opens, I’m overcome by the most amazing aroma that makes my stomach growl immediately. Dropping my keys into a bowl by the door, I only have to take a couple steps before I find the source of the great scents.

  “Are you making dinner?”

  Hunter looks over his shoulder and smiles at me. Not the movie star smile, but the one I only get to see when we’re alone.

  “Hey. I hope you’re hungry. I’m making salmon tacos.”

  I drop onto a bar stool and notice the counter is covered with all the fixings for soft tacos, including sautéed orange and yellow peppers, guacamole, and what looks like homemade salsa. But even the food doesn’t distract me from the show in front of me. I can’t help it as I watch Hunter’s back shift and flex through his T-shirt. With the possible exception of a man with a baby, there is nothing sexier than a man making his woman dinner. Not that I’m necessarily his woman but I sure wouldn’t mind if I was. Hunter Stone is quickly and efficiently burrowing his way into my everyday thoughts.

  “Salmon, huh? I feel kind of fancy eating the expensive fish,” I joke. “Tilapia is more in my budget.” No, actually it’s not. Shrimp flavored Ramen is about as good as it gets around here.

  Transferring the now shredded fish into a bowl, Hunter turns and deposits it onto the island. “As much as I’m enjoying eating my weight in snacks of my childhood, I need to get back on track with my eating habits. Besides, I figured the least I could do is make you a home-cooked meal since you’ve been housing and entertaining me.”

  “It is much appreciated. Manuel sprung for sandwiches today, but they weren’t very good. Definitely not as good-looking as this spread.”

  Like the gentleman he is, Hunter hands me a plate to go first. “Dig in.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I waste no timing filling my tortillas high with salmon, rice, peppers, guac, and salsa. It smells so good, my mouth waters, and when I lick a drop of salsa off my thumb, I groan with satisfaction.