Chapter Six
Sometime later, I heard the doorbell chime. Shit. Damn door to door sales reps. I glanced down at the clock on my computer and followed that shit up with some glorious cursing. It was seven o’clock. I was late. He was here. I wasn’t ready, both mentally and looking in a mirror, physically either. The chime sounded again and if possible, it sounded like an angry chime. I raced upstairs and forgetting what I looked like, pulled open the door.
I suddenly felt sick. I was wearing my bathrobe. My hair was in bun. I had no makeup on and I didn’t give myself the pep talk I had planned. Hells to the bells, this was so not good.
“I am so sorry. I lost track of time. I showered and then had to write something down and one word lead to another and I guess I got lost in the story. Please, come in if you still want to.”
I was rambling again. I shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be here. This was all wrong. And yet, I still led him into my living room and offered him a drink like the perfect little hostess I was raised to be.
I heard him snicker. “Are you laughing at me?” He was. He had the most glorious smile. My hand flew to my mouth and I took a quick breath in. Where had that thought come from? My traitorous brain was once again on the moving on with life train. Ok, I had to get my shit together before he reported me to the psych ward.
“You’re laughing at me. Shit. Why am I such an idiot? See, I have a deadline looming and I have severe writers block. Like, editor and agent panicking, lose my contract writers block. That block broke a couple of hours ago and I got lost in the moment.” Deep breath in, deep breath out George. That’s a girl. He’s just a man. You can do this.
“I’m a writer. I write novels.” Wow, the intelligence must be oozing from my pores right now.
“What kind of novels?”
“Um, well, that’s not really first date material.”
“What? I thought, what do you do for a living is standard first date material.”
I crossed my arms getting my defenses up and ready for a fight. “Ok, I’m a suspense writer with a bit of romance thrown in.” I looked away while I could feel my cheeks going bright red. “Well, usually people laugh at the romantic suspense genre, but I gotta say, it’s made me a healthy living, up until this book which leads me back to us standing here, me in my robe and you ready to go somewhere looking all dressed up. Why does everything that happens to me have to be so mortifying?”
He was just staring at me with his cat swallowed the canary smile still. “So, Fifty Shades of Grey type romance?”
“You wish,” I said.
He laughed. “George, totally kidding.”
Awkward silence. More awkward silence.
“Listen, why don’t we scale back the date? Stay in, order some food and just get to know each other? Sound good?”
I looked at him and willed my heart to settle down. I had agreed to this date. I needed to take the baby steps my friends were always bugging me to take. Why not start off dating again with a super-hot guy, me standing without makeup and wearing ratty clothes, with wet hair? Yes, George, why not says my buttinski brain. I managed a weak exhale and locked up a small part of my heart and took that first tentative step. “Um, well ok. Let me get changed and we can start over?”
“Sounds good. But, you don’t have to get dressed.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
I turned and waltzed out as best I could without showing him my smile. It was all I could do not to run down the hall to the safety of my bedroom. I was terrified but oddly exhilarated. I could do this. He was gorgeous, funny and strangely not running in the other direction when I answered the door. I rushed to dress and unfortunately realized my new outfit would have to wait. I put on my uniform of jeans and a t-shirt, quickly checking to make sure it didn’t have any holes or stains, and ran into the bathroom to check my hair and makeup. I shook out my hair out and surveyed my face. Shit. Caught between a rock and hard place. I didn’t want to keep him waiting but I needed to improve something. I quickly dabbed a bit of makeup on, sprayed some styling products on my giant mass of dark brown hair, hoped it stayed where it was supposed to, which it rarely did, sighed and went to find him.
As I rounded the corner, I spied him lounging on the sofa reading. He was tall. He stretched nearly the whole length of the sofa and he was built. I did a small sigh at the promise that body held. Distracted by my mind’s wandering imagination, I belatedly focused on what he was reading. Oh My God. He was reading my first novel. The Broken One. Mortifying. I cleared my throat and raised an eyebrow. “Studying?” I lunged for the book but he deftly swung it beyond my reach.
“Uh uh,” he scolded. “Just getting to the good part. Shall I read aloud?”
“No, thank you very much. I know what it says.”
“Pity, that might have been fun. Maybe later?” He looked at me and I was sure of the passage he had read. That one had earned me some serious teasing from my friends, but had also earned me a ten book deal and a massive cult following. It even made my cheeks blush and there was no way I was playing kindergarten and reading aloud to the class.
“Maybe later,” I said. I scooted over and grabbed the book out of his hands. “This is definitely not first date material. Fourth, maybe even fifth. Not first.”
He righted himself on the couch and shifted to make room. I sat at the opposite end and turned to face him. He was studying me closely and it was making me super uncomfortable. My nerves were on high alert. “Um, something wrong?”
“Nope,” he said and smiled a small, private smile. “Not a thing. Not at all.”
With that he slid a little closer. I instinctively pulled my feet back and tucked them under me.
“Moving away from me isn’t going to work forever you know.” He said this as he inched closer to me.
Damn. He moved fast. He was making me super nervous and apparently it was quite obvious. “I’m not. Just getting more comfortable.”
He was staring again. With those eyes. Those intense, clear blue eyes. I didn’t want to look into his eyes, too much going on in there that I wasn’t ready for. So instead I trailed my eyes over his stubble. Just enough to be stylish and not too much to look like a caveman. His chin was strong and wide and covered in more stubble. His hair was cropped close to his head and sandy brown. My fav.
I shook my head mentally. God woman, stop drooling over this guy. It’s not going anywhere and imagining him in bed wasn’t going to help at all. Deep breathing was in order, and lots of it!
“Ok, George. Let’s do this. Ever play twenty questions?”
“Yes.”
“Good, you go first.” He smiled a heart flipping, dimples out, all in smile. Resisting this man was going to take every ounce of strength I had.
I sucked in a breath and upon its exit, crossed my arms, prepared for battle and started asking questions. “Fine. What’s your middle name?”
“Grant.”
“Favourite teacher?”
“Miss Lyons.”
“Favourite sport?”
“Hockey.”
“What’s your family like?”
A storm cloud appeared behind his eyes and was quickly replaced by his dazzling smile. “Not alive and subject closed.”
Interesting. Someone else with skeletons in their closet. “Ok, fair enough. Your turn.”
He stared me down. He looked deep in thought. What was he going to ask me? Suddenly this game seemed like the worst idea ever.
“Come on, out with it. Ask me something.”
“Ok,” he said, “I’ll ask you something, but first let’s set the rules.”
“Rules? What kind of rules? Why are we now just setting the rules?”
“Well, for instance, only tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help you God. Let’s start there.”
I started to panic. I hardly knew this guy. I wasn’t just going to launch into my sad and tragic story. “When did this become the Spanish Inquisition?”
“I can see by your face rule number one isn’t going over so well, so let’s set rule number two. No matter how uncomfortable one of us is, there is no leaving here tonight until we are mutually agreed that the date has ended. No leaving on harsh terms, no walking away in a huff.”
“Huff!”
“Those are my terms. Do you agree to the terms?”
I didn’t agree. Not to either of them. Exit stage left was my move. No one took that away from me.
“I can see you are hesitating. Why? Perhaps there is oh so much more to my mystery woman than I ever imagined.”
“No,” was my immediate and rather harsh reply. Did he just say my mystery woman? “Just pondering the terms like a good negotiator should.”
“The terms are non–negotiable. What are you afraid of?”
He looked at me with those eyes. They were warm, kind, very, very blue but held a challenge. I never said no to a challenge.
“Fine, I agree to your terms. But I get a do over. My questions were ridiculous. First question please.”
He smiled. “State your full name for the record please?”
“Georgina Marie Windsor
“Beautiful name Georgina Marie Windsor.”
“Thank-you. But if you ever call me Georgina I will cut you.”
“Duly noted. Next question. Date of birth?”
“Really?” My eyebrows shot up. “The second question you are asking me is how old I am? Didn’t your mom teach you any manners? Asking a lady her age, my, my.”
He didn’t say anything. He was good.
“May 10, 1975 and make of that what you will.”
I saw his eyes crinkle a bit and he appeared to be holding in his laughter. “Older woman. Nice. Always wanted to date an older woman.”
“I’m not a cougar,” I said.
He lost his battle and burst out laughing. “Never said you were darling. That’s all in that overactive brain of yours.”
Damn, this date wasn’t going the way I had planned. He was supposed to stay a bit, realize I was romantically challenged, then leave and they would both move on. But no, he seemed to like a challenge and was squeezing his way through the tiny cracks in my heart, my cold dead guilt ridden heart. He was not following the plan. He was going off-roading and I did not want to follow along.
“OK, my turn. Exactly how old are you?”
“I’m thirty four. You got a problem with that?”
“Maybe. I’m on the prowl for a young one so you might make the grade.”
He laughed again and then settled his feet so they were nearly touching mine. My toes got this crazy itch to sneak a bit closer to his toes. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Ok, question number three. Why LA? We’ve established you are a writer, but since you aren’t a writer on a series or script writer, not sure why you need to be based in LA? Aren’t most writers recluses? And get rid of the huff, no offense was meant.”
“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that part.” I took a deep breath and sorted out how much I was going to tell him without really telling him much at all. He had hit pretty close to home with the recluse comment and that stung.
“I came here to visit my brother and his wife many years ago. They have since moved away, but five years ago, I was looking for a change of scenery and I decided to visit a friend here while I figured out where that change was going to land me. I’ve never left from that visit.
He was studying me once again. I was pretty good at reading people but I seemed to be losing the battle with him. He simply sat there and looked at me with those old soul eyes of his.
“Ok,” I said, “my turn. Why are you in LA?”
“I’m an actor.”
“Of course you are. Isn’t everyone?”
“Are you?”
“Touché. My best friend, Sam, is an actor and that’s enough actors in my life for me thank you very much.”
He looked at me funny. “Why do you think that? What’s wrong with actors?”
I hastily retreated. That stupid honest mouth of mine was working overtime to offend again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I am sure you are the exception to the rule.”
“What rule?”
I groaned. “I don’t know. I just haven’t had the greatest luck when encountering actors. I have a book being turned into a movie. The actors all want to rewrite the bloody thing to suit their need to be the star of the show. That’s the thing. Their needs and egos are always needing to be stroked. It’s my book, I wrote it and they’re sitting there insulting me without a second thought to my feelings towards the words that came from my heart? Sorry. That was harsh. Listen, I’m really sorry. Maybe this just isn’t going to work out between us?”
“Nice try darling. Not getting rid of me that fast. Remember rule number two? I’m not offended. Takes a hell of a lot to offend me George. Better get used to me calling you out on most of your crazy preconceived notions about the world. I can see you have some that may need changing. I’m not leaving here until we are both ready and since I am not ready, you are stuck moving onto question number four.”
He smiled his smug smile again. I crossed my arms and scooted my legs back. Lines had been drawn. I should have known he was an actor. He was perfect in every way. Of course he had to have the fatal flaw of being so into himself he couldn’t see around his own ass.
“Let me have it,” I challenged.
“Why do you have more walls up than Fort Knox? What happened to you?”
“Are these first date questions?”
“These are my first date questions. Look, I’m an actor. And maybe I wasn’t being completely honest with you when I said actor. I’m kinda famous and God, that sounded so egotistical and just like you described but I don’t know how else to say it. I have a lot of people wanting a lot of things from me. When I meet a woman I want to explore things with, I need to get all the shit out of the way and be very clear about more things than the normal guy on a first date.”
I stared at him. Kinda famous? Like, how famous?
“I thought you worked in a factory or something. Working nights and all?”
He smiled. That’s it, just smiled.
“What?” He was making me extremely nervous.
“Nothing.” He just kept smiling like the freaking cat that swallowed the canary.
The doorbell rang signalling the arrival of our food. Finding this to be the perfect excuse to stop talking, I leapt up and answered the door. We sorted the food in the kitchen and took our plates to the couch.
“I can’t believe you don’t have a TV, George. That’s kinda cool and freaky at the same time.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t have one. I just don’t have one out here in plain site where your snooping eyes could find it.”
“Ah. Bedroom?”
“No.”
“Ok, gonna tell me where?”
“Maybe one day you will find it but for now, that’s my little secret.”
“Ok, have it your way. Like I said, Fort fucking Knox.”
We chatted for a while about topics that meant nothing, but still something. I looked at the clock. “Jeez, it’s nearly eleven. I’ve got a pile of meetings tomorrow.”
“Yeah, and I have to go to work in a bit. Night shoots all week. Fucking sucks.”
“Ew,” I said. “I’m not a night person. I prefer early mornings.” I got up and stretched and started yawning.
“Don’t make me start yawning.” He threw a pillow at me. “I have a load of scenes to plow through tonight.”
I caught the pillow and stood there thinking this date had actually been not too bad. I handled my shit and who knew I had that ability inside of me? As soon as he left I was going have to do some serious research on him. I needed to find out who this guy really was. I was kicking myself for not doing the classic Google search on him before he showed up. I was totally off my game. I got up and walked him to the door. Well, here came the awkward phase of the date. I was so not able to handle the kiss goodbye phase. I hoped he just accepted that and left it well enough alone.
He grabbed my hand, lifted it and was examining it intensely.
“I’m a nail biter. Stop judging”
“I can see that. You’re just a whole load of unique here in La La land. Don’t all the women in LA get manicures as a requirement to living here?”
“Never been a fan of manicures and biting my nails keeps me up when I am writing into the night and can’t turn my brain off but my body wants to sleep.”
“Interesting technique.”
He was still holding my hand when he looked into my eyes. Jeez I was a dork. This guy was famous, like possibly world famous. He could have anyone and here he was standing in my front hall holding my hand and I had no clue what I was going to do next. Any other girl would do the lean in. I couldn’t. It was like my body was up against a force field. It kind of was. The force field of memories gone by. Memories I couldn’t ditch.
“So,” he said.
“Yeah, so,” I whispered.
“Would you like to come to the set one day?”
“I don’t know. I would just be in the way. I don’t do so good around all the beautiful people.”
“I would really love it if you would agree to come. Let me prove to you that all actors aren’t egotistical assholes. One chance. Come on?”
I took a deep breath and let it out. It wasn’t a ring, George, just a set visit. Get a hold of yourself. “Ok. Text me some options and we can see what I can work out.”
He smiled that glorious smile again. “Great, I will text you later tonight with my schedule.”
He leaned in and made that decision for me. A feather light sweep across my cheek. He was still holding my hand, but now he had begun gently massaging the back of it with his thumb.
He came up and smiled once again. My heart and brain were locked in their constant battle of wills. And my stomach? It was auditioning for Cirque Du Soleil with all the flips it was completing.
I opened the door and he dropped my hand. It felt weird all of a sudden. Cold and missing something.
“I’ll text you later on then, right?”
“Sure, we’ll talk later.”
I closed the door and refused to let myself think about what was happening. I had a glimpse of happiness tonight and I wasn’t quite ready to let it go. I sighed, shut the lights out and said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was up there watching over me. Baby steps, George. I was learning to walk again and it felt good.