Page 75 of You Had Me at Chateau
He nods.
‘Go for it,’ he says. ‘You seem really passionate about it, who am I to stop you?’
I laugh, but only for a second, before I’m grabbing my laptop and typing away. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I typed this much, this quickly, there’s practically smoke coming from my fingers as I pound the keys. Even my document is struggling, seemingly like there’s a delay between me typing a letter and it appearing.
Doing this, crafting a romantic subplot that weaves seamlessly into his murder mystery, is so my shit. I’m having so much fun, and I can see Caleb getting excited too, as he reads over my shoulder, occasionally laughing in approval.
‘This is perfect,’ he says. ‘I can’t believe how well it fits.’
‘I told you!’ I say, beaming. ‘A little romance never hurt anyone.’
We spend the rest of the morning working together, bouncing ideas off each other, and I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun working on a book.
It’s just a shame it’s not my own.
38
‘Do you think we have everything we need?’ Caleb asks, flashing me that irresistible grin of his.
‘Absolutely,’ I reply. ‘I suppose pancakes are the kind of meal where you can just buy endless ingredients to put on top of them. But we have the basics, and if I buy any more fruit, spreads or sauces I will officially be eating more topping than I am pancakes.’
Caleb laughs.
I feel like I’m in a bit of a dream today. I mean, Caleb Carney is cooking me brunch, which is something I never thought I would say, but everything feels strangely perfect. It’s like the scene has been set, just for me. The air is crisp, the sky is a perfect shade of blue, and I’m pretty sure I hear upbeat music playing somewhere in the distance as we walk back to the chalet, from the food shop in the resort.
We’ve been talking about his books all day – and ideas for future books too. I feel like my suggestions for how to give his books more universal appeal have lit this creative fire under him, and now he can’t stop. He’s got so many ideas, and I’m genuinely surprised by how well we riff off each other. It’s likewe’re on the same wavelength, each idea rolling back and forth between us, like a snowball, getting bigger each time.
‘Okay, how about this,’ Caleb starts, his eyes darting around with excitement. ‘A famous chef is found dead in his own kitchen. The detective assigned to the case is this brilliant but reclusive guy with a twisty backstory. He starts falling for the chef’s sous-chef, who is also the prime suspect.’
‘Oh, that’s tasty,’ I say, naturally moving closer to him as ideas pop into my head. ‘And maybe the sous-chef has her own twisty past. She’s been running from something, and she’s got secrets that make her look guilty, but she’s not.’
‘Exactly! And as the detective digs deeper, he realises that the chef’s death is connected to a string of unsolved murders from years ago,’ he continues. ‘The sous-chef’s past might hold the key to solving them all. Oh, I know, I’m a big fan ofVertigo, so what if the sous-chef looks exactly like the detective’s dead ex-wife, to the point where he is suspicious that it might actually be her.’
‘Oh, I love that!’ I exclaim. ‘And the romantic tension builds as they work together. Maybe they start out distrusting each other, but there are all these moments where they have to rely on one another. They realise they misjudged one another, and it’s only through working together that they get the chance to realise they should be together.’
‘Yes!’ Caleb says, practically dancing on the spot. ‘And there could be this big twist where they discover that the real killer has been watching them the whole time, trying to manipulate them into turning against each other.’
‘I have about ten different ideas, for who the real killer could be,’ I tell him.
But then my logical brain catches up with my creative one, when I remember that this is Caleb’s work, not mine.
‘Right, I’m making brunch, you just relax,’ Caleb insists as we step into the warmth of the chalet.
‘I feel bad, you doing all the work,’ I say. ‘Is there anything I can take photos of?’
‘Have a look through the bag of stuff,’ he tells me. ‘There are some skincare products – face masks and stuff like that – if you wanted to have a play around with those. We’ll have to get creative, with the angles, maybe photograph the product on your hands, the back of your head as you reach to apply it – I don’t know. See what you can find, and what you think we can make work.’
‘Okay, sure,’ I say.
I rummage through the case full of things to promote and notice some lingerie mixed in with the skincare products. Caleb had mentioned that these items come with the biggest price tag, and while I always thought he was all about the money, knowing how much he donates to charity makes me more eager to help out. Plus, you know, with my own latest project being destroying my own career, my share of the proceeds will definitely go to good use.
I figure I can wear the lace cami and use some of the skincare products at the same time, killing two birds with one stone. The focus on my face (while still trying not to show too much of my face, bizarrely) will make the underwear shots more subtle? Maybe? The voice in my head doesn’t even sound convinced, but it’s worth a go.
Holding my glasses in one hand (they don’t fit the character I’m playing, and I have a sticky green face mask on), I wander into the living room to get Caleb to carefully snap the photos for me.
‘Hey, I have an idea,’ I say, explaining my plan. Caleb seems to be staring at me, but without my glasses, I can’t see his expression.
‘If you’ve got a spare minute, I thought we could combine the lingerie shots with the skincare ones? It feels like a sneaky wayto plug the undies, without me having to go full glamour model, because I am neither glamorous, nor a model, so…’
