Page 32 of Valentine Nook
“Yeah, you said you’re not ready to leave.”
“To the English countryside?”
“Sure, why not? Send me a list of all the clothes I need to buy,” she says, and she’s dead serious and more enthusiastic than I’ve ever seen her outside of a conversation about making money. Though this is still about making money. “It’s all tweed and shit, right? I look great in tweed.”
I stifle a laugh. Now that I think about it, I’ve not seen any tweed. Maybe it’s one of those ideas perpetuated by movies. I’m almost tempted to share the rain boots I ordered only to see what she’d do, but then I change my mind.
“Why don’t I meet you in London?”
I can almost feel her sigh of relief. “Thankgod. We’ll do Claridge’s. I’m sending the proposal now. Read over it.”
My email pings, and I nod silently. “Thanks, Marcy. Thanks for looking out for me. You’re the best.”
“I know. I know.” She grins. “Anyway, gotta go, I have another meeting. I’ll leave you to your English peace. Call me if you have questions.”
“I will.”
The second she hangs up, I open the email.
It’s fairly top line but laid out in black and white is what I need to do for forty million. Photo shoots, filmed campaigns, press. A total of ten full days per year, which would work around all other commitments.
Easy. And huge. Hell, this isn’t just good. It’s a dream deal.
Since the first movie contract I signed, I typically get asurge of excitement coupled with acute anxiety whenever a new job offer comes in, but this is different.
Adrenaline rushes through me until I’m shaking. Tears prick my eyes.
Someonesomewherehas deemed me worthy to join the lineup of incredible women who currently serve as ambassadors to the world’s largest cosmetics company. Women I’ve looked up to for years. Idolized. Wanted to be.
Me. Holiday Simpson from Augusta, Maine.
The years and years of auditions followed by rejections are too ingrained in me to believe this is real, that I’ve earned it through my hard work and nothing else. For a split second, I forget I’m not still that little girl putting on plays in my parents’ backyard and forcing the whole neighborhood to come watch.
I glance back at the screen.
I’m tempted to message Clemmie and ask her to meet me for lunch. But I also want to sit with this news for a little bit before anyone weighs in with their opinions.
Therefore, I’m going to do what I always do whenever I get an offer. Buy myself a coffee and a donut and go for a manicure.
I’m deciding what donut I’m going to buy when I round the corner, and right there next to the fountain is Lando, deep in discussion with Eddie from The One True Love.
The first thing I notice is he’s not scowling, and his smile is kind of nice. Full mouth, straight white teeth, and his beard has been trimmed such that I can make out the hard line of his jaw. The shadow from the peak of his baseball cap only enhances it.
Yeah, this guy is all kinds of hot.
On second glance, he’s also cleaner than I’ve seen him before, aside from the nakedness. But I don’t think about that.
I’m so engrossed in watching him that I don’t notice the enormous black horse standing calmly next to him. I mean,enormous.
This one might look chill, but I’m not about to chance it isn’t.
Unfortunately, the wide berth I take means I walk right into the eyeline of Eddie.
“A’right ’Oliday,” he greets. “How’s it goin’?”
Lando spins around. His eyes widen a split second before he catches himself, and the surprise is replaced with amusement.
Now what’s his problem? I have no idea what to do with this guy.
