Page 8 of Stick Work

He zeroes in on me, and for a second, I think he can read my dirty thoughts until he asks, “Nervous?”

I give an easy shrug of my shoulder. “No, not really. But at least Taylor Turner, aspiring Hollywood actress, has a better chance than Taylor Coolidge, right?”

He shakes his head. “This is crazy.”

Okay, so he’s not disagreeing with me. I don’t know why that hits like a punch to the gut. I’m here to play a role. I am not his real girlfriend. It’s insane that I have to keep reminding myself of that. “Yeah, it is crazy.” I blow out a breath. “Yet, here we are.”

He arches a brow. “Can we blame it on Roman?”

“We’d be crazy if we didn’t.”

He laughs. “I thought we already established that we were crazy.”

“We established that this situation is crazy. You and me…” I wave my hand back and forth. “We’re putting the comedy in romantic comedy, and we’re totally…certifiable.”

He chuckles, but it dies quickly. “Maybe a big gathering with acquaintances would have been easier. But when I told Mom you were coming, she opted for a quiet family dinner instead.”

“Acquaintances…” I arch a brow. “Many who are suitable for marriage, yes?”

“Something like that.” He groans. “Is it too late to turn back?” he asks, as the driver flicks on his signal and pulls off the main road. I glance around, admire the gorgeous flowers and trees, and manicured grass edging the long driveway as we close in on the big house.

“I don’t think so.” As I admire the Governor’s mansion, I take a deep breath to bolster my confidence. “We’ve got this, Elias.” I point back and forth between us again. “We can do it, and it’ll buy you time until you find the right girl.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs under his breath. What I felt earlier in the airplane lavatory made me momentarily believe I could be that girl—for a little while, anyway. Like I said before, I’m still young and have a lot of living to do before settling down. But the two of us together, intimately, that’s silly. The man was erect because I was bent over a sink, my ass in the air. I’m not saying my ass is to die for or anything, but I think it’s all right and any man in his prime—especially one not getting it on a regular basis—would react to that, right?

The driver stops, kills the ignition and makes eye contact with Elias before he exits the car. Elias nods and glances at the house and it’s in moments like this, when I see the vulnerability in his eyes, it gets me…right in the center of my chest. This man doesn’t like to deceive anyone, and that’s admirable. It might be easy for me to say tell your parents to back the heck off. But who am I to say that? Since Mom died, my main ‘parent’ was my brother, and I’d never do anything to hurt him.

Then maybe you should stop fantasizing about his best friend, Taylor.

Hey…as long as I don’t do anything about it.

Okay, now I’m arguing with my inner voice. Maybe I really am certifiable.

“Ready?” Elias asks.

Exuding more confidence than I feel, I lift my chin and nod. “I was born ready.”

That brings a smile to his face as we climb from the car. He helps the driver get our bags from the back, and I wipe my brow as the late day sun shines down on me.

“It’s warm.”

“We’re not in Boston anymore.”

“No, we’re not.” Back home it’s getting cold, but here the temperatures are still in the double digits.

“We can take a swim later if you like.”

“There’s a pool?” I ask. Maybe this trip won’t be so bad. I’d been trying to convince my brother to put in a pool but it hasn’t happened yet. The new house Elias is buying has a big one—um, yeah, I mean pool—and next summer, I plan to sneak in whenever I can.

“Out back. We can jump in later.”

“Nice. Oh wait, I didn’t think to bring a suit.”

“I’m sure we can find you something.”

As we walk toward the big house, the front door swings open, and the sight before me brings an unexpected tightness to my chest. An elderly lady stands there, her eyes lighting up as her gaze lands on Elias. A radiant smile spreads across her gracefully aged face. I glance at Elias, and his smile mirrors hers—wide, unrestrained, and full of love.

“Grandma,” he calls, his voice carrying a boyish joy I’ve never heard before. He opens his arms wide as we reach the stoop, pulling her into a hug that fills me with a deep longing. She laughs in delight when he picks her up and spins her around. The sound is so pure, so full of life, that I can’t stop the lump forming in my throat. I miss my own grandmother terribly, the ache of her absence hitting me again, fresh and sharp.

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