Page 12 of Falling Like Stars

“Nothing menial about it,” I say. “PAs are the grease in the wheels that make a production work. We’d be fucked without them. But—and feel free to tell me to mind my own business—why are you not doing something more challenging?”

She raises a brow. “You think it’s easy, being the grease in the wheels?”

“You know what I mean.”

“You’re trying to Good Will Hunting me,” she says. “I’m wasting my ‘genius’ on mopping the schoolroom floors when I could be teaching the class?”

“Something like that.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Rowan says, the humor fading out of her voice and mouth and eyes. “Not one thing.”

“That’s true,” I say. “But your idea with the costume—”

“Was a one-off,” she says, and now she’s back on her side of the tub. “I happen to like being a PA.”

She isn’t telling the truth. Not all of it, anyway. I was only half-kidding about being good at reading people. It’s a job requirement. This woman has layers and layers to her, hiding behind her bluntness. Like now. Her skimpy bathing suit renders her practically naked, but she’s actually covered in a suit of armor.

You sure about that, Freud? You haven’t been able to read Eva in years.

“You’re right,” I say. “I don’t know you and it’s none of my business. I should get going.”

A conflicted expression ripples over Rowan’s face, and then she shrugs one shoulder. “If you insist.”

“I insist.”

I’m not a big drinker. The wine and three solid days of “emotional carnage” are making me fuzzy. But I’ve got enough wits about me to know I should leave Rowan in peace. She doesn’t do relationships and while I’ve broken up with Eva—again— it’s not a clean break. I haven’t fully extricated myself from the mess we made.

“You’re a really good PA, Rowan, and your scarf idea saved the scene.” I hold up a hand when she starts to protest. “Nope. I’m going to thank you for that, and then I’m going to let you enjoy the rest of your night without my commentary, relationship problems, or unwanted career advice.”

We’re close now; I can see her pulse in the delicate hollow of her throat. Steady and even. The water leaves a silver sheen over her pale skin. Rowan tries to take the glass, but I don’t let it go. We’re both holding it like a chalice at a wedding.

“Fine. You’re welcome about the scarf.” She gives me an arch smile. “Happy now?”

My eyes drop to her mouth, her full lips that also look soft, and I have a pang in my chest. I don’t remember what happy feels like.

I relinquish the glass. “Goodnight, Rowan.”

Chapter Four

I WATCH ZACH climb out of the tub and use his T-shirt to dry himself off. I’m transfixed as the cotton moves over the planes of his chest, the tight symmetry of his abs. Pearls of water are erased, leaving a canvas of smooth skin.

Jesus Christ. His personal trainer deserves a medal.

It’s easier to ogle Zach’s perfect body (that I’d been heroically ignoring while he was less than a foot from me in the hot tub) than to acknowledge the disappointment that he’s leaving. He raises a hand, smiles ruefully—as if he’s reluctant too—and starts down the path. In moments, he’s swallowed by darkness.

“So that happened.”

My wine glass is empty. Our wine glass. So is the bottle. And the hot tub, which is somehow emptier because Zach was in it and now he’s not. I wanted to be alone; that was the whole point. And suddenly I don’t.

“Shit.”

It had been stupid of me to invite him into the water. Stupid to share my wine and allow myself to laugh with him. Loving Josh got him killed and wrecked my heart. Now I carry the broken thing tucked away, where it can't hurt anyone else.And then here comes Zach Butler. The way he looked at me a few times tonight…as if there were something about me he wouldn’t mind trying to figure out. Worse, I had it too. A curiosity I hadn’t felt in a long time. But the cracked organ in my chest can’t afford even curiosity.

“Not to mention, it’s Zachary effing Butler,” I tell myself over the burbling water. “He’s not an actual human.”

But that’s bullshit. The aura of fame over him isn’t nearly as interesting as what lies beneath. He has movie star confidence without the movie star ego, and a smile that a gal could get used to.

Just not you.

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