Page 92 of Faking the Shot

“Was that a little too convincing?”

“Actually, that was perfect.” She smiled. “I think everyone should believe us now.”

CHAPTER18

Sometimes reality, like standing here holding a cup of too-cool tea in the cold studio as she struggled to remember her lines, left a lot to be desired. Sometimes, however, reality exceeded even Ainsley’s full-color imagination. Like the kiss she’d experienced on New Year’s Eve, which surpassed all others in its utter perfection.

Kissing Zacwasperfection. His kiss was the best she’d experienced in her life—and she’d kissed more than a few men over the years, as the internet well knew. The kiss they’d shared on the dance floor had stirred up more later, stolen during the evening, in his Porsche. She’d been sorely tempted to invite him in when he’d returned her home, before God reminded her she was His daughter now, and just what had happened when she’d done that with Baden. Not that Zac was anything like him; she was pretty sure Zac was as close to perfect as his kiss sure was.

But as perfect as kissing Zac was, she also knew it was a mistake.

Now that she’d blurred the lines with Zac she felt a new pressure with him, one that felt a lot like guilt, like she was using him. And while he’d agreed initially not to fall in love with her, there were moments when she wondered if he was keeping his side of the bargain. Heaven knew she found maintaining this role challenging, and she was used to acting a part. There were moments when Zac would look at her with such intensity, or he’d smile and butterflies soared in her stomach. And now his lingering hugs and kisses, that jewelry, felt like it was tipping into realness, as witnessed by that moment when she’d suggested their scorching kiss on the dance floor was perfect for convincing others, and meant nothing else.

She’d needed a long moment to let air fill her lungs and clear her mind and remember that this was fake. But the hurt in his eyes before he swallowed, nodded and looked away, suggested he was maybe as impacted by the searing kiss as she was. To use an Abigail-ism, his kiss felt like he’d been branded on her soul.

Guilt at hurting him only added to the other pressures in her life. She was glad for her shooting schedule, glad he had games, glad he had training, and they both had media and other obligations that meant they wouldn’t see each other for a week or so. She needed time to recalibrate, time to remember they weren’t really real. It was just a shame he was so good at acting the role of her fake boyfriend.

“Ainsley, they’re ready for you.”

She glanced at her script for a refresher—what she should’ve been doing now instead of thinking about, well, what she should’ve been doing with Zac. Or not doing. Or—No, stop thinking about him.

“Ainsley?”

She pasted on professionalism, straightened, then tried to dive back into the headspace of her bookstore owner Karen, whose love for Agatha Christie and P. D. James made her see mysteries on the small island where she lived.Breathe in, breathe out. Pretend you’re Jessica Fletcher or Aunty Win in her nineties TV show heyday.

“And get ready,” Gwen, their director, called. “And action.”

“Karen?” Jason called. “Come look at this.”

She turned and moved quickly, bumping into a table that gave a screech.

“Cut. Whoa Ainsley, are you okay?”

She rubbed her hip. “I’ll be fine.” Probably would be bruised though.

Bruises like those Aunty Win had worn. Like her grandma. Like those women whom Violet House sought to support.

“Let’s try that again,” Gwen instructed.

“Come on girl. Refocus,” she muttered to herself.

“You okay, Ainsley?” Jason asked.

“Yep. Just trying to get in the zone.”

“You want to practice walking through the kitchen again?”

“Excuse me?”

“Whoa.” He held two hands up. “Don’t get mad.”

Oh. He wasn’t being snarky. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t concentrate, and kept misreading people? This wasn’t how a professional should act.

“Ainsley?” Gwen called. “Can you give me five?”

“Sure.”Lord, please snap me out of whatever is wrong with me.She pasted on a smile and moved to where the director sat.

“Ainsley, I know you’re a pro, but I’m not feeling your head is in this right now. Are you sick? Is something wrong?”

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