Page 10 of Falling Like Stars

“You’re in luck.” Rowan smiles dryly. “I don’t read tabloids. Or anything on social media, actually.”

I lean against the tub. “That’s not something you hear every day. Especially not in this business. Or this town.”

She shrugs. “People talk, so I’ve heard some things, of course, but you don’t have to explain anything. This hot tub is a bullshit-free zone.”

I get the feeling everything with Rowan is bullshit-free. I’m already less on edge just by being near her.

“I appreciate that,” I say.

“Yeah, well, so get in already.”

I chuckle. “Such a delicate invitation. You sure?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“All right…if you truly don’t mind.”

I strip down to my dark blue boxer shorts, and climb in. The tub is big—there’s at least four feet between Rowan and me—but I still feel like I’ve invaded her space. And despite her promise not to make up a story, there’s no reason to trust her. The last few years with Eva have me on high alert.

I splash water on my face and rub my hand over my tired eyes. “I should’ve just left you alone.”

Rowan’s brow furrows. “Holy whiplash, Batman. You just got here. I think you need this more than I do.”

She glides across the water, closing the distance between us, wine glass outstretched. When I hesitate, she cocks her head.

“Do you need me to sign an NDA? I’m not going to cry wolf and you’re not going to get me fired. Right?”

I laugh ruefully and take the wine. “Thanks.” The first sip settles nicely in my stomach, loosening those knots. “I should point out that when a woman comes forward with a story from some asshole in this business, my first instinct is to believe her.”

Rowan arches a brow. “My hero.”

I burst out laughing; I can’t remember the last time I did that.

“I just meant, my caution with you isn’t because I believe that women make up stories. It’s more about…”

Eva. She drained all the trust out of me like a sieve.

“My own stuff,” I say. “Things have been complicated with Eva since…well, for a while now.” I take another sip and hand the glass back. “Like, I’m invading her space when I try to get close and when I back off, I’m an asshole who doesn’t love her enough.”

Rowan nods. She hasn’t retreated to her half of the tub but stands less than two feet from me. Up close, her eyes are astonishing: clear light blue, ringed with dark blue.

“So, you don’t know where you stand,” she states.

“I know exactly where I stand,” I say bitterly. “On eggshells or quicksand. Live that way long enough and it starts to fuck with your head. Makes you second guess every little thing. Like getting out of the hot tub I just climbed in to.”

Rowan studies the wine glass. “This is why I don’t do relationships.”

I smile. “Too much paperwork?”

“Pain.” She clears her throat. “Stress. Too much stress.”

“I’ve heard that if a relationship is done right, it doesn’t feel like stress. But I’ll just have to take their word for it.” I glance at Rowan curiously. “What is it about you that makes me want to repeatedly dump my problems on you?”

“I’m a PA. We handle problems.”

“Have you worked on many productions?”

“A dozen,” she says. “Give or take.”

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