Chapter Six
Mia clapped enthusiastically. “Great job. Three more days to performance. Be sure you’re here for dress rehearsal tomorrow!”
The chatter of teenagers gathering their stuff and leaving the theater diminished as they hurried out to enjoy the afternoon festivities. It was hard to keep them focused while the festival was in full swing, but Chase was doing an amazing job keeping the cast on track.
Sure, she offered a suggestion or two from her vantage point halfway up the theater seating, but he was the one in the thick of it, jumping on stage to help a kid find their mark or shouting down at them from the balcony to project more.
She hated to admit it, but the play wouldn’t be anywhere close to ready without his help.
The man in question came around the side of the curtain then and hopped down from the stage to stride up to her seat. She shifted a little, that familiar rush of anticipation making her squirmy.
Unfortunately, anticipation was as far as it had gotten. So far, he’d kept everything on a friends-only level. She was about ready to scream. He’d made that comment about taking her to bed, and before she could say that worked for her, he’d backtracked so fast she could almost see the skid marks.
She needed to make a move, because it was clear he was never going to. But she just couldn’t figure out how. He was being such a damn gentleman, and it was killing her.
It didn't help that she kept flashing back to the first time she'd tried to start something with him. But just because it hadn't worked then didn't mean it wasn't going to work now, right? They were different people, under very different circumstances.
And if she waited for him to make the first move, she had a feeling she'd still be waiting when he headed off to Hollywood again. Time was short, and she needed to stop being a wuss and go for what she wanted.
Maybe in a minute.
“I think it went well today, don’t you?” He sat down in the seat in front of her, gently picking up her foot from the arm rest where she’d propped it. Almost absentmindedly, he slipped off her sandal and started massaging her insole.
Holy crap, his hands should be registered as deadly weapons. It was all she could do not to slip off the chair and melt at his feet.
“Yeah.” Her voice was breathless and about an octave too high, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I really liked that change you made to the second scene.”
“Well, I thought it would create a stronger sense of urgency to have her deliver her lines as she walked,” he said, rolling each of her toes between his fingers. “Walking and then stopping to speak kind of stopped the momentum, you know?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she all but purred.
He dug his thumbs into the ball of her foot and rubbed firmly. “Of course, getting student actors to walk and talk at the same time can be challenging. Remember when we were just starting out? But you’ve done a great job with these kids. They know what they’re doing.”
So do you, she thought, but aloud all she said was, “Thank you.”
He ran his fingers down her sole with firm strokes, and she whimpered involuntarily. Immediately, he let go of her foot and held his hands up. “Oh, shit, did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.”
“God, no,” Mia said, cursing herself for making him stop. “It felt amazing. In fact, you should work on my other foot. Just to balance things out.”
He laughed a little self-consciously but reached out a hand for her other foot anyway. “Still, I shouldn’t assume everyone likes foot rubs.”
“Who doesn’t like foot rubs? That’s un-American.” She groaned as he found a particularly tender spot, noticing as his movement slowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Maybe this tension between them wasn’t one-sided after all.
“Just for the record, you’re welcome to rub me anytime,” she said in a rush before she could think better of it.
His hands stopped altogether as his gaze met hers.
She braced herself for the polite brush-off.
“That’s…good to know,” he said instead, sliding one hand up past her uninjured ankle. His fingers trailed fire up her bare calf as he held eye contact in the dim light of the auditorium. She sucked in a breath, the sound abnormally loud in the cavernous space.
“Chase,” she whispered, leaning forward.
“Ms. G!”
They both jerked back, whipping their heads around trying to locate the disembodied voice. Emme skipped to center stage, waving at them both. “Is it okay if I leave my car here overnight? It’s gonna be ridiculous trying to find a spot downtown because of the festival.”
“Sure,” Mia said and cleared her throat. “It should be fine.”
“Thanks,” Emme said. “And thanks for helping out with rehearsal, Mr. Hamilton. It’s really great to have a different perspective on stuff.”
“Gee, that makes me feel great,” Mia said dryly.
The teen waved her hand in front of her dismissively. “You’re awesome and you know it, Ms. G. I just mean, it’s nice to hear from someone who’s actually acted professionally. Who’s worked with real directors and cinematographers and agents…”
“Emme,” Mia warned.
“I’m just saying.” The girl smiled cheekily and turned to go. Over her shoulder, she called, “You two make a good team.”
The door clanged shut behind her, and the two of them were alone in the theater again. Mia looked at Chase, then glanced away. Whatever had been about to happen between the two of them, the moment was lost.
“Well.” Chase cleared his throat. “Festival time, huh? I haven’t thought about that in years.”
“You haven’t gone yet?” Then again, he was spending every waking minute with her, getting her to and from rehearsal and helping out at home. “That does it. We’re heading to the festival. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sketching a very serviceable salute. At her raised eyebrow, he added, “Getting cast in a World War II miniseries had some side benefits.”
Mia huffed as he lifted her out of the auditorium seat. “You realize you can’t carry me around the festival like this.”
“I can if I have to.” He stuck out his lower lip stubbornly.
She sighed. “Look, Dr. Ames said I could start putting a little weight on this foot today. How about we spend some time at the festival, I walk around a bit, and when it gets to be too much, you can take me home.”
“But—”
“I promise. No gutting it out and reinjuring myself.”
“I don’t know. That sounds like something you would do.”
The hell of it was, he was right. She was totally known for suffering in silence.
Over a lot of things.
“Not this time,” she said, promising herself that it applied to multiple situations here. “I will ask for what I need. Scout’s honor.”
He reached out and fixed her hand so that three fingers were held up. “Looks like you need to get cast in a Boy Scout feature,” he teased.
“Brat.” She stuck out her tongue. “Now take me to the festival.”
And as he carried her down the aisle and out the side door into the blinding sunlight, she promised herself that before the night was over, she’d be asking for what she wanted. Everything she wanted.
*
The noise and crowds of late afternoon at the festival was startling after several days of the slower, quieter pace he remembered of Sapphire Falls. People walked around in groups of two and three and more, eating tacos and drinking slushies, girls carrying humongous stuffed animals won by the boys walking by their sides. Lines gathered at the entrances for the Ferris wheel and haunted house.
He shook his head. What town had a haunted house in the middle of June?
Of course, that had been useful for other, more sensual pursuits back when he was a teen. He wondered vaguely if people still found unused spaces to make out or cop a feel. Mia would probably know.
He glanced down at her, walking by his side. Her limp was barely noticeable, but his fingers still itched to scoop her up.
“So what’s your favorite thing to do at the festival?”
She looked around, shading her eyes with her hand. “I usually spend all my time volunteering.”
“Why does this not surprise me?” Not bothering to wait for an answer, he grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s try the Ferris wheel first. You can sit down.”
“My ankle is fine,” she protested.
“Better safe than sorry,” he warned. “Besides, I haven’t been on a Ferris wheel since I left Sapphire Falls.”
“Not a lot of country fairs in L.A.?”
He shook his head as he charted a course through the crowds. “Sadly, no. I will be eating a corn dog later too, and you can’t stop me.”
“I won’t say a word, unless you eat it with ketchup. That’s sacrilege.”
They wove slowly through the crowd, both due to her injury and the number of people who wanted to say hi.
Everyone knew Mia. And everyone remembered him.
“Ms. G!” One of the drama students they’d just seen at play practice stopped in front of them, barring the path Chase had been forging. He waited not-so-patiently as the boy asked her some questions about the production.
Chase leaned forward and interrupted. “Sorry, but we have a date with the Ferris wheel. You can talk to Ms. G tomorrow.” Leaving the young man gaping after them, he dragged a sputtering Mia over to the ticket booth.
“You can’t just blurt out stuff like that,” she said as they stood in line. “I’m his teacher, for heaven’s sake.”
“And teachers don’t go on Ferris wheels?” He waved a hand at the line in front of them, filled with little kids, parents, young couples, and groups of friends. “I didn’t realize it was such a dangerous and inappropriate activity.”
“Well, if it’s done right it is,” she grumbled.
Chase threw back his head and laughed. “Consider me put on notice then.”
The line moved forward, and Chase paid for their tickets. He vaguely recognized the woman behind the ticket booth window, but she was more interested in Mia’s ankle and how it was healing up.
Small towns. He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Probably both.
Finally, he pried Mia away from her conversation and took her over to the Ferris wheel. The operator was stopping every seat in turn, buckling in pairs as they got on. When they reached the front of the line, Chase helped Mia into her seat and stretched his arm across the back cushion.
Then the safety bar was lowered, the chair swinging lightly from the impact, and the wheel slowly lifted into the air.
From their vantage point, they could see all the way across the festival grounds, at the crowds around the food trucks and lined up at the kissing booth. The hot summer air smelled like popcorn and hot dogs and slushies.
His stomach growled. Okay, he was a little bit hungry.
“Food trucks after this?” Mia leaned into him as the Ferris wheel slowly revolved.
Chase nodded. “Sounds good.”
“This probably seems a bit sedate next to what you’re used to in Hollywood.”
“Nope.” He lifted one shoulder. “To be honest, I wasn’t really into the Hollywood scene. I’m still more comfortable here than at a cocktail party in L.A.”
“I think a cocktail party in L.A. would be fascinating.” She sighed wistfully. “All those artistic, creative people in one place.”
“Getting drunk and trying to angle their way into a totally casual and impromptu conversation with whoever in attendance is most powerful that week,” he added.
“Cynic.”
“Idealist.”
“God, you drive me crazy, Chase.”
He shifted in his seat so he was facing her. “Ditto.” Then he leaned down, took her chin in his hand, and kissed her.
Eleven years ago, their kiss had been awkward and Booze-fueled. This was something so completely different that it didn’t deserve to have the same title.
He moved his mouth over hers, sweeping his tongue against the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. He pulled back, tilted his head slightly, and dove in again, their tongues tangling, harsh breaths mingling. She slid one hand into the short hair at the back of his neck and wrapped the other one around his waist, pulling him closer.
The Ferris wheel chair swung back and forth at her movement, startling them apart. He leaned his forehead against hers.
She laughed softly. “Well, that was a first.”
“What was?” He wrapped a strand of her thick brown hair around his finger.
“Making out on the Ferris wheel. I’ve always wondered what it was like.”
“You’re kidding.” He pulled back and looked her in the eye. “Tell me you didn’t grow up in Sapphire Falls and never kissed anyone on the Ferris wheel.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Mia!”
“Fine.” She shifted a little, the soft cotton of her skirt brushing against his knee. “I’ve never kissed anyone on the Ferris wheel.”
“And the haunted house?”
“Uh, I volunteer as a murder victim most years. This year, I backed out because of the play.”
“No. I mean, you’ve snuck off inside the haunted house for a make-out session, right? At some point in your life?”
“Chase.” She patted his knee. “This is sweet and all, but I’d rather not discuss my lack of participation in the making-out rituals of Sapphire Falls. And if you bring up Klein Hill, I may have to push you out of this Ferris wheel.”
“I just—what the hell is wrong with the guys in this town?”
“Nothing is wrong with them.” She laughed. “I’ve had some very nice dates and a couple of longer-term relationships. Just nothing that coincided with the festival. And besides, aren’t those traditions more for teenagers? It’s been a long time since high school.”
“Still.”
“When I was in high school, there was only one person I was interested in kissing on the Ferris wheel,” she said gently.
He swallowed. God, he’d been such an idiot. “Well, I hope it wasn’t a disappointment.”
She shook her head slowly from side to side. “Hmm. Maybe we’ll have to try again, just to be sure.”
This time, she kissed him, opening her mouth eagerly as the Ferris wheel lifted them back up to the sky. And as his stomach swooped and dove, he knew he couldn’t blame it on the carnival ride.