Page 14 of Wildest Dreams

“Wow. Sounds fancy. You must think we’re a bunch of hicks.”

“No, not at all! Apart from the whole alligator-trying-to-eat-me thing, I’m actually loving it so far.” She giggles and my heart turns to putty. She’s so sweet. It’s refreshing. “It’s quiet here,” I continue. “I went to the grocery store without having to dodge photographers in the parking lot.”

“For now. Once people find out you’re in town, you can expect more attention. In fact,” she pauses and motions towards the bar, “Calista has pointed you out to everyone who’s ordered a drink.”

“See,” I say, “and they’re not bothering me.”

“Yet.”

“Fans I can handle. Paparazzi, not so much. It’s exhausting.”

“Fair enough.” We each take another sip of our beer. It’s ice cold and delicious, some of the best craft beer I’ve ever had.

“So you’re here for a movie?” she asks.

I nod.

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s a drama calledGossamer Road. It’s set in a small Southern town, obviously. I play a single father who reunites with his high school sweetheart after she moves back to town. They pitched it as an updatedHope Floats, if you ever saw that. Except, in this one, the guy character is the one with the kid.”

“I loveHope Floats! I bet it’ll be great!”

“It should be. We have a good director and the script is strong. I’m excited to shoot here in Magnolia Row. It should make for a gorgeous film.”

“Who else is in it?”

My stomach sinks. I don’t even want to say her name. “Marina Breton is the female lead.”

“Wow!” she says, her eyes wide. “Magnolia Row is not going to know what to do with all the star power.”

I chuckle. “I hope we don’t disrupt things too much. Movie productions tend to take over everything in a place this small.”

Another awkward silence settles between us, and she fidgets with the condensation on her glass. “So…” she says, then bites her bottom lip. “Do you want me to help you rehearse or something?”

“No, I’m good. We have table reads next week.”

She looks confused. “Oh. You’d said you wanted help with your accent. I’m not a dialect coach, but?—”

I can’t help but laugh at how naïve she is.

“What?” she asks with a confused little grin.

“I said that as an excuse to hang out with you.”

She blushes, sits back in her chair, and gives me an uncomfortable, bewildered smile.

KENDALL

Iclearly bumped my head and entered into some kind of twilight zone alternate universe. This really is a date.

“Why would you want to go out with me?” I blurt without thinking. I want to be charming, but I have no game. Like, at all.

He makes a face like he’s taken aback.

“I’m sorry,” I continue. “I mean, wouldn’t you rather hang out with someone like Marina Breton?”

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head and laughs.

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