Page 49 of Home to Me

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Lauren stepped out of the shower, relieved to have washed the day off. And oh what a doozy of a day it had been.

All day long, standing two feet away from Ben, having to repress her feelings… He was acting like an ass. She was acting like a bitch—because, yes, she was self-aware enough to recognize it even if she hadn't figured out a way to stop it yet. Both of them were behaving so badly that their job performance suffered.

Yeah. Not exactly a banner day in the life and career of Lauren Harrison.

When the shoot finished, she just couldn’t stand being there even a moment longer. As she stood by the town car, miserable, waiting for Ben to finally emerge, one of the PAs kindly offered to arrange a taxi for Ben to take when he was ready to go, since it was clear that their schedules weren't aligning.

She was tempted to weep in relief and gratitude.

Right then, to her the prospect of a blissfully, solo car ride back to the hotel sounded like it would have the equivalent restorative powers of a week in the Bahamas.

And it was lovely, riding in the smooth, air-conditioned silence across the orange-gold desert plains at sunset. It felt mystical, healing, and Lauren sensed the calming influence of the harshly beautiful desert landscape working on her soul.

Building on that momentum, immediately upon entering her hotel room, Lauren called upon her other dependable ally in the war against emotional chaos—a good, long, hot shower.

In her experience, it was nearly impossible not to feel like a whole new person after a long, hot, cleansing shower.

Afterward, she sat on her bed with her hair brushed out, and wearing her most casual attire—designer jeans and a soft, cotton-blend T-shirt—ready to go out and get something to eat.

Ah, yes, she thought affectionately. The return-to-mental-stability trifecta: a moment of solitude, a long shower, and a hot meal. Never fails.

As she stepped out of her room to head for the elevators, she heard a spat of giggling from down the hall. She automatically turned her head towards the sound and then froze at what she saw.

Ben. And a girl. Going into his room.

And they both looked very happy to be doing so.

The girl was young—college-aged, Lauren would guess—and although Lauren couldn't see her face, she could see that she had long, coltish, California-tan legs and shiny and voluminous, wavy, chestnut hair.

Lauren could tell by the easy grace and confidence with which the girl carried herself, her effortlessly radiant manner, that she was beautiful. Lauren had that 'pretty girl' confidence, and she recognized it in other women. This girl had it.

Lauren felt like she'd been punched in the gut.

Even after Ben's door closed, she stood stock-still for a moment.

Then anger began to bubble up inside of her. Anger at the nerve of him. Anger at his insensitivity. Anger at him for simply not feeling as strongly about her as she felt about him.

She let that anger simmer and build, encouraged it even, because it felt so much better than the alternative—searing, gut-shot pain.

Her first instinct was to knock on Ben's door, burst in on the happy couple, and give that snake a piece of her mind. Seriously, wouldn't that feel good?

Even in her heightened emotional state, however, she recognized the lunacy of that plan. It would be ridiculous. Sure, she might have strong feelings for the guy, but that didn't mean that he belonged to her. She had no claim on him. He owed her no explanations. They weren't in a relationship, and she shouldn't care who was going into his room.

But she did. Oh, yes. And it didn't matter if it wasn’t any of her business. The fact was that she very much cared what leggy, young brunettes were going into Ben Stevens' room.

She needed to get over it.

No. She realized suddenly that what she needed was a reality check. And there was only one person who could be relied upon to dole them out with dependable, sharp-eyed clarity.

Lauren opened the door to her room and stepped back inside, pulling her phone out of her bag as she did. She searched her contacts until she found the photo of the girl sticking her tongue out at the camera.

When Karina answered, Lauren said, “Okay, Confucius. I think I need a little more of your wisdom.”

Karina listened raptly as Lauren told her all about how Ben had been treating her that week. Lauren left nothing out; the production meeting, the ADR session, the trip to Palm Springs, the shoot, how he’d been either completely ignoring her or aiming little pointed jabs, trying to bait her into a fight.

“And the worst part, Kar—the absolute cherry on top of the crap sundae—is that, not even ten minutes ago, I saw him take some wide-eyed, giggling college girl right into his room, right in front of me.”

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