Page 80 of Love on the Byline

“It could have been different. We could have—” This wasdefinitely the wine talking. But the things Bran had said earlier wouldn’tleave her alone. “I had a crush on you.”

Ollie jumped, turning to her as his hand knocked over theglass. Wine spilled across the table and into her lap.

“Oh, fuck!” He scrambled out of his chair and grabbed theirnapkins. They were linen, and the cloth did absolutely nothing to soak up theliquid. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

Laughing, she stood up as he bent down and tried to wipe thefront of her shirt. “Ollie, it’s fine. I’ll go change.”

He looked up, his storm cloud eyes going even more stormy,and Blake forgot how to breathe. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth andbit it to keep from asking for the impossible.

He sucked in a quick breath before he took a slow step back.“Sure. Okay, I’ll, uh…get some fresh... Yeah.”

But neither of them moved. His feet seemed planted to theground, and she couldn’t stop staring at the way the firelight played in thehighlights of his hair. The way it danced across his features.

Without her permission, Blake’s hand drifted up to push alock of hair out of his eyes.

“Why didn’t you ask me out? Back then?”

“What…?” His eyes were wide, the word barely a breath.

“Why didn’t we at least stay in touch?”

“I…” She watched him swallow hard and followed the dip ofhis Adam’s apple. “After what happened with the paper and Bran, you made itclear you didn’t want to be friends. And, honestly, I didn’t know if Icould be friends. With you.”

“Like it would betray Bran?”

“Sounds silly.”

“It would have then, yeah. But now? I get it.”

His gaze roamed over her face. It wasn’t the first time he’dlooked at her like that, and Blake remembered all the times in the library whenshe’d caught him watching her. God, she wished he’d made a move then. Wished shehad. And as improbable and inappropriate as it was, she wished one of themwould make a move now.

“Something smells amazing!” Bran’s voice floated up from thestairs leading to the beach.

“I’m going to go change.” She announced loudly beforedarting around Ollie and heading for the pool house. Her heart was pounding sohard, it beat out the sound of the crashing waves.

When she returned, Ollie had cleaned up and refilled theirwine glasses. Bran had grabbed a plate of food and was sitting at the head ofthe table scarfing it down like he hadn’t eaten in years. There was somethingdifferent about his meal, though.

“Why is this pasta orange?”

“It’s spaghetti squash,” Ollie replied.

“I don’t really do carbs,” Bran said. “Not when I’mtraining, anyway.”

“No carbs?” She took her seat, horrified. “Like, at all?”

“Well, I drink them,” Bran replied after swallowing a hugebite. “Wine, the occasional beer.”

“Smoothies,” she supplied.

Bran smiled. “Complex carbs are fuel. The rest is garbageand I try to stay away from garbage.”

“You’re training for a new role?”

“Yeah. It’ll be even more physically demanding.” He stabbeda shrimp and popped it into his mouth. “They’ll probably have me out of myshirt for half of it.”

“You do that a lot? Structure your diet and exercise aroundwhatever role you have at the time?”

“Once an actor signs on, they’re required to do what’snecessary for the character,” Ollie supplied. “If it’s an action role, likemost of Bran’s, they’re sometimes assigned trainers.”

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