Chapter Twelve

“THANKS for meeting me,” Hilary said, settling into the chair across from Steve. She took a small metal disc from her purse, unfolded it, and used it as a hanger so her bag wouldn’t touch the floor.

Steve raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh? Is that how it’s going to be now? Are we here for business only?”

“Ugh.” Hilary groaned at herself, then shook her head as she picked up the menu. “Sorry. Force of habit. You know most of my lunches are working ones. And in my defense, my assistant’s on vacation, and the temp just isn’t the same. I’ve been working double time.”

“I’d say you should take a break every now and then, but I’ve spent the past few days either skipping lunch or penning rewrites while I eat, so I guess I’m not qualified to give advice.”

Their server arrived to take their drink orders, and they opted to split a pitcher of sangria. While they waited for it to arrive, Hilary sipped her ice water and gave him an appraising once-over. “So. By all accounts you’ve been working your ass off, but you look happy. Acting wasn’t a terrible idea after all?”

“It’s actually a lot more fun than I thought it would be. Though, God, it has its moments.” He’d lost track of how many takes Nina demanded for a simple blocking scene yesterday, and it didn’t even have any dialogue, just him and Drew walking toward Morgan’s car. Unfortunately the weather didn’t want to cooperate—the wind kept blowing things into the scene, or catching the car door and pulling it out of Steve’s hand, or completely ruining Drew’s hair.

On the other hand, he got to spend all day with Drew, so he couldn’t complain much.

“I’m sure,” Hilary said. “Actors—I work with them all the time. I know what they’re like.”

Steve decided not to rise to the bait. “How’ve you been?” he asked, changing the subject. “Broker any good deals lately?”

“You know I never ink and tell,” she said sunnily. “But hey, lunch is on me.”

He snorted. “Congratulations, but I can pay my own way.”

“Call it a belated thank-you for keeping my client happy in a way you didn’t have to.”

Oh, if she only knew how Steve wanted to make Drew happy. Too bad they were too busy to go on actual dates. When filming finished for the day, Steve generally had the energy to take a shower, grab a bite to eat, and fall into bed with the script to try to finish.

He decided to let it slide. Their families had always traded off treating the other growing up—competing to see who could pick up the check in the sneakiest manner. Steve’s mom had actually donned a disguise once. “You’d never have let me hear the end of it if I’d said no.”

“True.”

The sangria arrived, and they put in their lunch orders.

“So how’s your mom doing?”

Steve plucked a cherry from his sangria and set it on an appetizer plate. “You probably talk to her as much as I do.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t share the juicy dating gossip with me.” Hilary made a sad face.

“Want to trade?” Steve wouldn’t mind getting the sanitized version every now and then.

“As if you would. You live to hear her fabulous stories.”

“I just like to know that she’s happy. She wasn’t for a long time after Dad, you know?” He paused. “Although I don’t know if all the boyfriends make her happy, exactly. More like they keep her busy.”

Hilary sampled the sangria, made a pleased noise, and took a longer sip. “How many are there now? Three? I barely have time for one boyfriend.”

“Just two, I think. Rico didn’t work out—too clingy, wanted exclusivity, not available for her bimonthly retreat to Palm Springs. Oh, and Rita didn’t like him. Mom cut him off.”

“Harsh. That’s life, though. Can’t go on without Rita’s approval. How is she, anyway?”

“Good. Mom says she misses me, so at least the pining is mutual.” But as empty as Steve’s apartment felt sometimes, it wasn’t big enough for both of them. She was better off at his mom’s place in the Hills, where the housekeeper doted on her and she had space to run around.

Hilary hummed. “So we talked about your mom’s love life….”

Uh-oh.

Before Steve had to think of a way to divert the question, their server appeared. “The grilled salmon with rice pilaf and mandarin broccoli slaw?”

Hilary moved her napkin and sangria out of the way, but Steve could tell by the way she was still watching him, rather than their server, that she hadn’t let him off the hook. Damn. He spread his napkin in his lap and picked up his knife and fork for an excuse to break her gaze.

The server deposited his gazpacho in front of him and offered freshly ground pepper before departing.

Right. Steve ordered soup. He put the fork and knife down, more keenly aware of Hilary’s gaze than ever.

“Anyway,” Hilary said when they were alone again. “Don’t think I didn’t see that flinch. So who’s the guy? Please tell me you didn’t go back to Austin.”

The thought of how Drew would react to that made him laugh. “Christ no.” With Austin he’d felt like he was sneaking around. Drew had taken him on one date and delivered an experience that was simultaneously intimate and public, in a way that felt legitimate and affectionate and fun without the secondhand shame.

The two of them were like night and day. Steve wasn’t going back.

“Well, then? I’m surprised you have time to date, given your shooting schedule.”

“I don’t.” He ladled a spoonful of soup into his mouth. It was bright, flavorful, with a heavy hit of dill.

“Workplace romance?” Hilary guessed. “Who’s the lucky man? Gaffer? Camera guy? Oooh, is it Will? He does tailor your jeans kind of close.”

Not as close as he tailors Drew’s. Wordlessly Steve shook his head.

Hilary stared at him. “You’re not… you’re kidding.”

Steve flushed and knew it would give him away. Some masochistic part of him asked, “What? You don’t think I’m good enough?”

“I don’t think—” Hilary cut herself off and lowered her voice to a hiss. “Drew Beaumont does not date! I basically have that embroidered and framed on my wall. That’s how I came to be his agent in the first place!”

A bit of his tension released. Of course Hilary didn’t think that. They’d been friends forever. Steve took another bite of soup and savored it before responding, this time with humor. “So it’s not that you think he’s too cute for me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I want details.”

Oh no. That was too far. They’d been on one date and hadn’t even kissed yet. The closest they’d gotten was slow-dancing under the watchful eyes of a bunch of jellyfish. Steve wasn’t subjecting himself to that kind of mockery. “Sorry, I never kiss and tell.”

“Since when? When you were screwing Austin you spilled every salacious detail!”

“That was one time!” he protested. “And I was drunk!” And complaining about Austin’s performance in bed, but he wasn’t going to repeat that in a restaurant. Maybe he should go easy on the sangria, though, just in case.

“You—”

The muffled opening bars of “Short Skirt/Long Jacket” played from the inside of Hilary’s handbag. She sighed and set down her fork. “I’m sorry. This really is a working lunch. They all are these days. Excuse me.”

Honestly relieved for the interruption, Steve waved her off. He ate his gazpacho in silence, savoring every bite. Too bad Hilary had ordered food that was best eaten hot.

When she came back in, her color was high and she looked huffy. “So. That was your producer.”

“Why is the producer calling you?” Steve had his suspicions about their mysterious producer, who never showed their face and seemed not to have a name. He wanted to be wrong, but if his mom really had financed his movie, he hoped it never got out. God, that’d be embarrassing.

She waved her hand. “Long story. Most of it not good news. But on the other hand, surprise, you’re getting a long weekend?”

That sounded ominous. “What happened?”

“Problem with one of the locations. They’ve already found a replacement, but it’s not available for a few more days. And you guys are mostly done with the studio stuff, right?”

“Yeah, we’re done until I finish writing. I guess this weekend would be a good time to do that.” He could take his laptop to his mom’s for a few days, hang out with Rita, finish the script, and catch up on his rest all in one fell swoop.

Or he could stay in town and see Drew.

Decisions, decisions.

“Well, great. You’re getting a little break, and you’re also getting a slightly different location. I’ll have someone forward you a couple photos, but it doesn’t sound like anything will need rewrites.”

Small mercies.

DREW was already in Makeup, doing something on his phone, when Steve got in the next morning. He looked up briefly and grinned before going back to his screen, the smile fading as quickly as it came. Steve assumed it was important and sat down to let Chantelle do her thing.

Finally Drew tossed his phone on the table in front of him. “Hey. Sorry. I’m bad at trying to do two things at once. Did you have a good day off?”

“Yeah, it was good. Especially the part where Hilary told me we’re getting a long weekend. I assume you’ve heard?”

Drew’s face did a weird thing, an expression that was a hybrid of disgust and relief. “Yeah. You have plans? I mean, I was thinking—”

“Tilt your head back for me, Steve?” Chantelle interrupted quietly.

But it was enough. Steve tilted his head back, and Drew seemed to remember they had an audience. Damn. Now Steve was wondering if he stopped because of Chantelle or if he thought asking for another date was too forward. Or maybe he had been about to say something else?

“I’ll probably head up to my mom’s,” Steve said when Chantelle didn’t have a brush near his face. “It’s quiet out there. I still have to finish writing, and a few days off will give me the time I need.”

“Oh,” Drew said. Did he sound disappointed, or was Steve hearing what he wanted to hear? “Right. That makes sense.”

Steve opened his mouth to continue, but Drew had stopped himself. Maybe he didn’t want Chantelle to know. They could talk later.

He tamped down on the little voice that didn’t like keeping their relationship a secret.

Will knocked on the door a moment later and dragged Drew off to Wardrobe, and Steve turned his brain to the final act of the film. Morgan and Scotty liberated Roxy—that was the scene they’d changed locations for—but then what? This was the emotional and comedic climax of the film. Whatever antics they got up to would have to be good.

“Steve?” Chantelle said. From her tone, it wasn’t the first time.

Steve opened his eyes. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Yeah, I could see the smoke,” she teased. “You’re all set.”

He hightailed it after Drew. If he was lucky, he’d catch up before Drew got to set, and then they could… something.

He’d wing it.

As luck would have it, Drew was still in Wardrobe when Steve got there. “Hey. Wait for me?” Steve said, already working the buttons of his shirt open.

Drew cleared his throat and looked back over his shoulder at Steve. “Oh, well. If you insist.” He waggled his eyebrows and gave Steve a blatant once-over.

Steve grinned and pulled his shirt off. His ears went hot, but the flirting reassured him.

Still, he was mindful they weren’t alone—Will nipped and tucked and fussed and pinned until Steve’s clothes looked exactly like they had in the previous scene. Then he shooed them out so he could clothe the background characters.

“So,” Drew said as the door to Wardrobe closed behind them. “I know you said you’re using the break to finish the script—”

“Do you want to come with?” Steve broke in. He needed to get the invitation out before he lost his nerve. “Uh, I mean. I’m going to my mom’s, but she isn’t going to be there. That was not a super awkward invitation to meet the parent. It’s a nice house—private, pool, hot tub, uh….”

“Don’t tell me there’s a spa with complimentary facials.”

Steve went scarlet. “Oh God.” Not that he hadn’t thought about—but inviting Drew to a romantic weekend getaway, even one at his mother’s, was sort of forward—

Drew bumped his shoulder against Steve’s. “I mean, that sounds awesome.”

Steve decided that in the interest of not becoming even more uncomfortable in his tight pants, he would not ask for clarification. “So I’ll text you the address?”

“You’re sure I won’t be too much of a distraction?” Drew asked, eyes twinkling.

Steve laughed. “I’m sure you will be. Can you come up Friday afternoon? That’ll give me a head start on the writing.” And on preparing everything. He didn’t want to leave the task to his mother’s housekeeper. It would be better if she had the time off.

“I’ll be there,” Drew promised. “It’s a date.”