CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Cat’s attention was wrestled back to present by Paige’s whistle. “Welcome back,” Paige said. “Where’d you go?”
“Huh?” Cat mumbled, searching the recesses of her mind for a plausible lie. It was the third time in this shoot that she’d spaced out.
“You okay?” Drake asked. He’d been feeding her the same line for ten minutes now inside Reggie’s nearly completed diner, and Cat just couldn’t get the response right. It was like their roles were reversed.
Cat rolled her shoulders and dragged her mind out of her bed where Noah had ranged over her and driven her to madness. She slapped a smile on her face. “Just didn’t get enough coffee this morning.” Lies. She’d had three cups so far. Nothing was dragging her mind away from last night… and this morning.
She felt like she was reliving some life-altering experience, and that terrified her down to her pretty pink toenails. Fun. It was supposed to be fun.
“Can someone get Cat a coffee so we can wrap this before midnight?” Paige called into her headset.
An espresso magically appeared in front of her moments later, and Cat took a swig.
“Sorry, guys. I’m good. I swear. Where were we?”
“Drake is explaining to you why he chose stainless steel for the diner counter and the backsplash,” Paige reminded her, settling back in her chair behind the camera.
“Right, right. Okay. I’m good.”
“Rolling.”
They started over from the mark, and this time Cat nailed the required interest in Drake’s explanation. It was a bit of TV magic. Drake hadn’t picked the counters. Cat had. But it would be more entertaining for the viewers if they split up the projects and ribbed each other along the way. Drake was used to having a team of high-end designers on hand to help shape projects on his show. Cat, on the other hand, was a veritable control freak. Her vision was law. It required an exhausting amount of prep and research before shooting started, but until someone else proved they could do it better, Cat was happy to hang on to the responsibility.
Reggie’s diner was coming together in a wild melding of traditional diner architecture and Jamaican flavor. She’d kept things simple and modern with the stainless counter and open kitchen. Part of the charm of Reggie’s was listening to the reggae that blared from his radio by the grill. And hearing the waitresses shout at the cooks. The booths and stools were new and boasted turquoise cushions. She’d squeezed in one extra table and two stools at the counter. Room for more paying customers.
The second register and sales system were cordoned off in the old storage corner. The metal exterior had held up well to the mud and water, but the innards had been a disaster. New black and white checkered flooring had gone down two days ago, and the tile workers were finishing the wall the booths butted against.
They’d brought in a Jamaican-born mural artist to paint the far wall. A Caribbean beach scene with palm trees and hammocks. Cat could almost hear the steel drum band. Back in the kitchen, she’d reorganized the storage and given Reggie all new appliances. The reveal was being shot this afternoon, and tomorrow they’d shoot the reopening. Post-production would have one hell of a time cobbling together an entire episode in such a short time, but the story editor had been dictator-ish about sequences. So, it was still do-able.
Next on deck was Mrs. Pringle’s house and the Hais’. Cat had a few furniture pieces and knickknacks she needed for both projects. She’d need to carve out some time to shop. Maybe she could take a crew with her and head to one of Merry’s antique shops?
Maybe Noah would like to go with her. They could grab dinner—
“Fuck,” Cat muttered.
Paige pulled off her headset. “Cut.”
“Shit. Sorry, Paige,” Cat said, scrubbing a hand over her face and immediately smudging her makeup. “Dang it!”
“Makeup,” Paige yelled. She levered herself out of her chair and latched on to Cat’s arm. “How about we have a little chat for a minute. Take five!”
In all their years of working together, Paige had rarely had to remind Cat to keep it together on camera. Only during her post-birthday hangovers was that order necessary because otherwise Cat was a consummate professional. Or she had been until she’d consummated the hell out of Noah.
“What is going on in that brain?” Paige demanded when they stepped out the front door.
Cat looked at the anxious crowd who were hoping for a glimpse inside and dragged Paige down the block. “I did something stupid last night.”
“Did you kill someone? Oh, God! It’s not Noah, is it? I’d feel bad about helping you hide his body. I thought you two were getting along after the whole Thanksgiving thing.”
“Where do you get these ideas?” Cat grumbled.
“Is Noah alive or dead?” Paige pressed.
“Alive. At least he was when I kicked him out of my bed this morning.”
“What was he doing in your—oh. Oh!”
Paige gaped at her like a betta fish in a new bowl, unsure of her new environment.
“Yeah. Oh.” Cat shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants. She’d left her coat inside and hunched her shoulders against the winter wind.
She glanced around. Christmas was slowly maneuvering its way down Main Street. With the Rudolph lights mounted on the streetlamps, businesses had begun decking their own halls with festive window displays, Christmas lights, and greenery.
It was taking shape, at least on the outside. The snow certainly helped the holiday look. They’d shoot the window painting contest this weekend and would host a ceremony mainly for the cameras, but with a little luck, they could pull in some vendors and sponsors and turn it into a shoppers’ night and pre-festival celebration.
“Done processing?” Cat asked, kicking at a seam in the sidewalk.
“Almost,” Paige nodded. “Almost. Okay. I’m there. You slept with Noah. Okay. So, what does that mean?”
Cat gave a surly shrug. “Why does it have to mean anything? I mean, we had sex. It was great. End of story.”
“Is it?” Paige asked pointedly.
“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to getting naked with him again,” Cat said, still not willing to make eye contact. Paige would take one look at her and know. This didn’t feel like just a quick, fun fling like she’d enjoyed before. No, this felt more important. Scarier.
“So, the sex was adequate?” Paige prodded.
“Adequate times a million.” Okay, maybe Cat could brag just a little without letting Paige know how terrified she’d been of losing her soul to Noah Yates as he whispered dirty little secrets into her ear while he moved in her.
“So, good then?”
Cat dragged her hands through her hair, instantly ruining the “effortless” tail the stylist had spent thirty minutes on that morning. “Like so much better than good I can’t even find the words.”
“Oooooh.” Paige dragged out the syllable in understanding.
“Yeah. That’s why my head is…” she gestured into the distance. “I’m orgasm drunk.”
Paige nodded approvingly. “Nice job, Noah.”
“Oh my God. You have no idea.”
“I probably do, but since my husband is your brother, you don’t want the details. By the way, Gannon is insanely insatiable in bed.”
“Gross. So, what do I do now? How do I go back to being normal?” Cat asked. She needed sister-in-lawly wisdom and needed it STAT.
“Are you going to get orgasm drunk with him again?” Paige asked.
Cat brought her shoulders to her ears. “I don’t know! I mean. We’re in town, and there’s not much else to do at night… but is he really the fling kind of guy? I mean, he’s got a daughter, and what if it gets out around town that we’re… uh… banging? Like is Sara going to be embarrassed and grossed out? Are people going to think he’s an idiot for rolling around naked with me since we all know it can’t last?”
She saw the thought flash through Paige’s blue eyes and held up a hand. “Uh-uh. It can’t work,” Cat said firmly. “I’m not getting in a long-distance relationship at this point in my life. Noah’s entire life is here, and asking him and Sara and, hell, Mellody and her future husband because they’re a co-parenting unit to give all that up and move to New York or better yet follow me around the country? Stupid and not happening.”
“And staying here isn’t an option?”
“I have a school to build, a show to host, a life too big for Merry. Besides, aren’t I supposed to be fake dating Drake for ratings?”
“Oh please. Don’t pull that crap with me,” Paige gave her the stop-throwing-your-peas-on-the-floor look that Cat had seen her give Gabby only yesterday. “You really think that I would force you to fake a relationship? Have you completely forgotten the disaster on Kings when they started mic-ing me and making Gannon and I look all hot and heavy for each other?”
“You were hot and heavy for each other,” Cat pointed out.
“You know I would never ask you to fake a relationship. If you choose to, that’s fine, but don’t use that as an excuse to hide from your feelings for Noah.”
“Who says I have feelings?”
“The fact that we’re having this conversation!”
“Fair enough,” Cat was yelling. “So, what do I do? Give me some married lady, smart woman wisdom here.”
“I guess you find out if Noah’s okay with some short-term naked fun and go from there,” Paige suggested.
Cat nodded. “Good idea. That I can work with. How do I find that out?”
Paige laughed. “When’s the last time you were in a relationship?”
“I don’t know. I guess Drake?”
Paige scoffed. “Please, that was just a two-month long booty call. There was no relationship there.”
Cat frowned and dug her way back through her sexual history. “I guess it was Miguel?”
Paige frowned. “I don’t remember him.”
“That’s because I dated him my senior year of high school. He took me to prom. I gave him his first blow job.” Cat smiled fondly at the memory.
“You’re a piece of work.” Paige shook her head.
“My blow jobs are masterpieces,” Cat insisted.
“You’re thirty-how-old, and you’ve never been in a relationship?”
“Do I look like I would even want to make the time?” Cat argued. “I love my life just as it is.”
“Then maybe you should let Noah walk away unscathed from this,” Paige suggested. “He’s divorced. You already know he does the relationship thing. What if he gets attached and then we pack up and drive on back to the city?”
“Noah isn’t some sad puppy who’d run after my truck as I leave town,” Cat insisted. She rubbed a hand over her heart that had inexplicably started to ache. She’d felt it, that connection between them. It’s why she tried to make their second time more impersonal, but she’d fucked that up too. Watching him over her shoulder. She’d felt their connection in her blood when they came together. It wasn’t just another fling. But it couldn’t be a relationship.