Chapter Four

It was harder than she’d imagined. Not staring right into the camera. Bailey knew she wasn’t supposed to do it. Somehow the knowing she wasn’t supposed to made it even harder to avoid.

When Renee had given her a crash course in how to play the part of Waverly’s assistant on-screen, her number one rule was “don’t look at the camera.” Only the “talent” could look at the camera. And that was only when they were being interviewed. Fortunately, Bailey wasn’t on that tier, so she’d never have to worry about being interviewed. But she still couldn’t quite stop breaking that rule.

(Interestingly enough, rule number two was to stand up straight with her shoulders pulled back. It was the same advice her mama had given when she’d left the house for senior prom. She hadn’t appreciated the advice then. It seemed sexist and a bit pathetic. But when she looked at the photos after the fact, damn it all, her mama was right. Somehow, she’d looked more confident and poised than she’d ever felt during the rest of her four years in high school hell.)

Everything in Renee’s rundown had sounded so simple—especially the camera part. But once Bailey stood there with the cameraman, boom operator, and everyone else on the crew, it was pretty hard to ignore them. Every few seconds, her eyes would wander up from her iPad, and she’d catch herself staring into the lens capturing Wilder and Waverly’s playful dialogue.

“This fireplace is really something.” Wilder ran his hands over the cedar mantle.

“It’s something all right. It’s an eyesore and a total design disaster. That’s what it is.”

“Don’t be so harsh, Waverly.” He casually draped his arm over her shoulders. “All it needs is a little love.”

“It needs to be torn out and rebuilt.”

Pulling away from his wife, he shook his head. “Now that would be the real tragedy. I’m talkin’ on par with tearin’ down the Alamo.”

“Oh, the Alamo. Maybe it’s because I’m a Canadian, but I can’t even seem to remember it.”

Wilder winced and covered his heart with his hand. “Forgive her, mother Texas. She knows not what she says.”

Waverly rolled her eyes, and they stayed in place until Renee yelled, “Cut.”

“That was great.” Renee smoothed a stray hair away from Waverly’s shoulder. “People will get a kick out of your lack of reverence for Texas and its landmarks. Keep it up.”

“Great.” Waverly stepped away, waving off Renee’s prodding. “Are we finished here?”

If Renee was fazed by Waverly’s dismissal, she didn’t let it show. “I’d like to get a shot of you and Bailey discussing your plans for updating the fireplace. Make it sound like it’s something you’re coming up with off the top of your head as a surprise for Wilder.”

“Got it.” Waverly checked her phone. Her first sincere smile of the day spread across her face. “Can we take five? I have to return a call.”

“Can’t we—”

Waverly was out the door, whispering to whoever was on the other end of the line, before Renee could finish her request. That was the way it always seemed to be. Wilder and Waverly were all business on camera. They were flirtatious and bantered. They had chemistry. Then the second they were done with a shot, there was so much distance. Sometimes literally. Maybe there was trouble in paradise. Maybe this was the cost of fame—romantic distance. Maybe they were just going through a rough patch. It wasn’t Bailey’s job—or even in her best interest—to question their relationship, but that didn’t keep her from wondering.

Watching helplessly as Waverly left, Renee mouthed an apology to the crew before turning to Bailey. “Sorry. But at least this gives you a few minutes to prepare for your big on-screen debut.”

Oh God. While she’d been busy watching Waverly and Wilder, she’d forgotten she was supposed to play a part in the next scene. Once again, her eyes wandered to the camera still perched on the cameraman’s shoulder.

“What should I do?”

“Be yourself.” Renee squeezed her shoulder. “Just be your pithy self and you’ll be great.”

What was that even supposed to mean? Bailey would have asked, but Renee had already turned to chase after Waverly. She probably wanted to keep Waverly’s call to ten minutes if possible.

Well, fine. Bailey could figure out what she meant by “pithy” on her own. She’d start by googling “pithy.” She was so absorbed in reading the definition—“concise and forcefully expressive,” which so wasn’t her—she almost didn’t notice Wilder staring at her. Almost.

“Nervous?”

Is the Pope Catholic? Does the sun rise in the east and set in the west? Is Ryan Gosling the hottest thing to ever come out of Canada? Or maybe it’s Ryan Reynolds. It’s definitely one of the Ryans, though. (Sorry, not sorry, Waverly.)

Rather than give an outright answer and admit she was terrified, she gave a half shrug. Pithy. She probably needed to come up with some clever, but not show-stealing, lines to say on camera. She could still feel his eyes on her, even though she tried ignoring him. It was easier not looking into the camera lens than it was to pretend she didn’t notice how well he looked with a tool belt slung around his hips.

It was particularly difficult with him standing there with his thumbs hooked into his distressed jean pockets.

“Want to run through a couple of potential lines?”

Her eyes flew to his. “Really?”

“Sure. It’ll be fun. What do you have worked out already?”

“Well . . .” She took a deep, calming breath through her nose and pulled her shoulders back far enough to do her mama proud. “This fireplace actually has a lot of potential.” She ran her free hand over the mantle the same way Wilder had moments earlier. “All it needs is some sprucing up.”

Wilder nodded encouragingly. “But isn’t it an ugly-as-sin monstrosity that should be gutted along with the kitchen?”

“Structurally, it’s in great shape.” Kneeling, she motioned for him to follow her lead. “It just needs a good sweeping. Wait till you see what we found behind this gross facade.” She pulled off one of the pieces to reveal an original late nineteenth-century hearth.

Wilder let out an appropriate whistle. “Hot damn.” And impressively, he sounded legitimately thrilled and tickled considering he and Felix were the ones who’d discovered the hidden treasure during their preliminary walk-through.

“We can definitely work with this. We’ll build a new mantle.”

“Maybe a solid piece of native cedar. We could put some chunky candlesticks on it.” Her heart fluttered imagining how good that would actually look. “Create an even cozier setting.”

He nodded. “Good, good. I like that. And we’ll clean up the original brick.”

The more they painted the picture, the more she wanted to bring it to life. “It’ll be like stepping into good old Texas—stunning.”

“Definitely stunning.” His eyes lifted to hers, and her breath caught. He winked, and she was pretty sure she’d never breathe again. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She blinked and cleared the lump out of her throat. “That was it?”

“Yep.” Rising, he offered his hand. Pulling her up, he gave a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “You did great.”

“I did?” She couldn’t seem capable of more than parroting small phrases.

“You were light and breezy—definitely pithy.” His eyes crinkled around the edges. “Your passion for the work shines through and will definitely show up on camera. Just do that—keep being yourself—and viewers will love you.”

“I agree.” Renee stepped forward, back from her journey to find Waverly. She turned to the camera crew. “Did you get that?”

“Yep.”

“Great. I don’t think we’ll need to do a take in here with Waverly after all.”

Panic shot through Bailey. Oh, man. That probably wouldn’t sit well with her boss.

“Are you sure? Wilder and I were just messin’ around.”

“It was perfect.” Renee called for the crew to set the next shot, ending any additional argument.

Wilder lingered behind while the crew moved into another room. His lip curves up. “You’re a natural, kid.”

Even though she was still worried about pissing off Waverly her first week on the job, she couldn’t deny how nice it felt to receive a bit of praise. “Thanks, boss.”

He winked again before leaving her alone to collect the last of her materials—and her composure.

***

It took a few days, but Wilder finally got his wish. Rather than spend a night brainstorming and recapping with Renee, he was retiring for the night with a cold beer and a basketball game. He’d even managed to get back to the hotel in time to watch the tip-off.

As a reward for getting through the mind-numbing first week of filming—and without angering Waverly enough for her to walk out in the middle of a shoot—he was splitting a pizza and six-pack with Felix. He hadn’t even asked for a whole grain crust or light cheese. No, after a long week, he could indulge.

Felix could hardly stand his orders. “It’s not right. All that chick food you eat. It’s not right.”

“Somehow I don’t think womankind as a whole would appreciate your referring to salads and light beer as ‘chick food.’”

“If the shoe fits . . .” Felix leaned forward and swiped another piece of pizza. “You always were worried about being PC. No wonder you defected to the North. You’re practically a Yankee.”

Wilder shrugged off the ribbing and snapped up one of the smaller slices. No matter how many times he explained it, Felix didn’t understand. It wasn’t that he liked watching what he ate. He just preferred it to the alternative: seeing his chubby face and gut blown up a hundred times on billboards. Some might call it vanity. They wouldn’t be wholly wrong.

But until there came a day when his face wasn’t plastered all over TVs, computers, and the like, he’d keep it tight.

“So . . .” Felix drawled out when the last slice of pizza was gone. “What’s the plan?”

“Plan?”

“Your contract is up for negotiation after you finish this shoot, right?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Are you going to renew and go wherever your ex says? Or are you gonna grow a pair and stick around here?”

That was a good question. One he never let himself ponder too long, because it didn’t matter. So what if every so often the urge to stay put and plant some roots struck him? If that wasn’t what Waverly wanted, too, there was no sense in dreaming. Not if he wanted to be part of Virginia’s life.

He needed to be part of Virginia’s life.

“Don’t know.” He sipped his beer, hoping he seemed indifferent. “We’ll have to see.”

“Look, it’s probably none of my business.”

“Probably not.”

“But I have to ask—why are you so scared of Waverly?”

Wilder sputtered on a mouthful of beer. “I’m not afraid of Waverly.”

“You must be. You let her call all the shots.”

“I do not.” That was a lie and they both knew it. Maybe it was time to come clean—to Felix and to himself. “I’ve tried bringing it up a few times. The idea of not doing another season. Of just staying put in Toronto or wherever.”

“And she said no?”

“Not exactly. But any time she did, she’d make those same old noises about wanting to see the world and take Virginia along with her. That it was my call whether or not I wanted to be on board with it.”

“So she’s threatening to make it hard for you to see your girl?”

“Not in as many words, but pretty much. Yeah.”

“You could go to court. Finally get some sort of custody agreement down on paper with the law.”

He could, but only God knew how a lawsuit would turn out. In the meantime, he and Waverly would be dragged through the court of public opinion, which wouldn’t be pretty. Much as he didn’t want to be the star of a “celebrity” feud, he really didn’t want that for his parents or daughter. He’d like to think Waverly wouldn’t want that either, but these days, it was hard to tell what she wanted or who she was.

As long as that was a possibility. As long as Waverly had the power to control their futures, he’d keep his mouth shut and stay the course. Some things were more important than a man’s own wishes.