Happily Ever After? (Sleeping Handsome Sequel) (4 page)

I’ve been dreading this question. I
know she’s going to freak out, but I have to tell her. “They hired
someone new in the gym store and you know her.”

There’s a long pause before she asks,
“Who?”

“
Amanda.”

Another long pause follows. “Amanda?
My Amanda? Are you freakin’ kidding me?” The question comes out in
a screech.

“
I wish but I’m
not.”

“
I can’t believe this!”
She lets out a long breath in the phone. “You know there’s only one
reason for her to take a job there.”

My eyes find the coarse finish of the
ceiling. “What?”

“
Ugh. Sorry, but males can
be so clueless when it comes to females. She wants to get back at
me. She’s after you.”

I’ve always know my girlfriend
belonged in drama for a reason. She is a bit of a drama queen. But
this is over the top even for her. “Paige, don’t you think that’s a
bit elaborate. Other than telling her off, you never did anything
to her.”

“
That’s how she works. She
spent almost three years going after any guy I liked! Think of
everything I told you when you were in a coma. She lives to destroy
my love life. I know it’s whacked, but that’s why she’s working
there. I just know it.”

“
In three days she’s only
said hi twice. She doesn’t even talk to me.”

“
Her family’s rich. So why
would she take a job selling supplements and health food that pays
ten dollars an hour,” she snaps.

“
I don’t know but you’re
blowing this out of proportion.”

“
I’m not. This is so
Amanda. As soon as I’m out of town, she makes her move. Ugh. Why
can’t she leave me alone? I mean—”

“
Paige,” I say, cutting
her off because I’m getting irritated.

“
What?” she
barks.

“
I seriously don’t think
Amanda is after me. What does it matter though? Unless you don’t
trust me. Do you trust me?”

“
Of—of course I trust you.
I just don’t trust her.”

I sit up and the bed
creaks from the sudden movement. “What does
that
mean? You think I won’t be able
to resist her or something? Because now I’m wondering if you really
do trust me.”

“
No…I trust you.” She lets
out a long breath. “This is just a lot to take in right now.
Missing you so much and finding out you’re working with
her.”

“
I find the lack of
conviction in your tone upsetting.”

“
Zach…please understand.
It really has nothing to do with you. It’s just her. I don’t want
to dislike anyone, but I can’t
stand
her.”

“
She doesn’t
matter.”

After a short span of silence, she
says, “Yeah okay, you’re right. Just please don’t talk to her.
Okay?”

“
Sure, Paige. I’ll stay
away since I won’t be able to withstand her charms.”

“
I didn’t mean it like
that!”

“
Can we talk about
something else? Why are we wasting our time on this?”

“
Right.” There’s a long
stretch of quietness. “Did you and Emily do something on
Saturday?”

We talk about the trip Emily and I
took to the beach. We discuss all the things we’re going to do when
Paige gets home. We share stories about our jobs. Behind everything
is the undercurrent of her anxiety. And I don’t know how to deal
with it because her anxiety hurts. Punctures me in a place she’s
never touched. Makes me doubt her trust. Makes me question
us.

I’ve never questioned us.

~5~

Paige

Outside my hotel window rooftops gleam
in the setting sun. Very pretty. Far beyond the roofs, I can see
the tall towers of the castle where we have spent the last week
shooting. I planned on going out tonight under the shadow of those
towers and wandering through the quaint shops lining the street
next to the hotel instead of listening to Zoe gossip—wow, that
woman can gossip. Shopping far more than gossip would keep my
thoughts from Amanda. During work today, I tried to stay
professional. My mind only wandered once or twice, okay maybe three
times, to the new awful dilemma of her working with Zach. Now I
stand here with a lovely city below me and think of her.

And him.

Because there was no email waiting for
me. I’ve checked my inbox over ten times. Still no
email.

Why didn’t he email?

Surely, she hasn’t got her
claws into him this quick
. I blanch at the
thought. Her working with him
is
testing my trust. I grip the window ledge. I do
trust him. But three years of her stealing every boy in sight
haunts me and leaves my self-esteem feeling ghostly. Being stuck
here thousands of miles away is like being stuck up a creek without
an oar. Or is it paddle? Whatever.

A knock sounds on my door announcing a
dinner of cheese salad. Ugh. I’m not really hungry. I’ve also gone
through most of the room service menu. Well, except for the venison
and reindeer. Even if I like to try new things, eating Bambi or
Rudolf isn’t going to happen. And unsurprisingly I’m getting tired
of seafood, the main ingredient on most of the room service menu.
Another reason to leave my room, but I just can’t do it.

The absent email weighs too heavily on
my mind.

The opening of the door holds a
surprise. Rather than a food service cart, Bret Travis—that has to
be a stage name—stands in the hall. He’s the third wheel to our
triangle of evil. He plays my brother, Gunner, in the movie. My
original name was Gudrun—at least on Wikipedia—but they changed it
to Gwen. Even the bad guys need decent names in movies.

Smiling, he lifts a white paper bag.
“Thought I’d come to you since you never come to dinner with
us.”

Several of the crew and actors go out
to a different restaurant every night. They’ve invited me every day
so far, but between my phone call schedule with Zach and daily
emails, I can’t seem to tear myself from my room. I’ve learned to
hate the ten hours of time separating us more than the
distance.

I force a smile and open the door
wider. “What’d you bring?” I’m aware being courteous to my fellow
workers is important for this job, but also networking for other
jobs. And after how awful I’ve been in the past, I try to be
respectful to everyone. But dang, I’m really not in the mood for a
visit right now. I want an email. Or even a text.

Bret breezes past me.
“Rönttönen.”

“
Rönttönen?” I repeat,
closing the door.

“
Ah, closed up in your
room you haven’t had the chance to experience the best Finland has
to offer yet.” With a wide smile, he reaches into the bag and pulls
out a paper plate covered in saran wrap. He sets it on the tiny
table in front of my couch. Under the wrap little things like pies
with a bright purple center peek at me. He sits on the couch and
reaches into the bag again. “You can’t have rönttönen without
coffee. Have to have decaf at night though.”

I sit on the end of the couch and he
hands me a paper lidded cup. “If I won’t go out, you’re bringing
Finland to me?” I laugh at my lame joke and coffee spills on my
knee. “Oh,” I exclaim, hopping up.

Bret wipes my thigh with a napkin.
“You okay?”

Tuning red—I‘d forgotten I wore pajama
shorts and a tank top—I sit on the arm of the couch. “Yeah, that’s
going to leave a mark though.”

He hands me one of the small pies.
“Luckily your legs won’t be on film.” He gives my body a glance.
“Maybe we should work out something about that,” he says with a
grin.

Embarrassed by his gaze, I take a
quick bite of the dessert. It’s dense and fruity and slightly
sweet. And it does go good with the coffee. I rest the cup on my
knee, the unburned one. “It’s good. Thanks for bringing
it.”

“
So will this get you out
of your room? Get you to come out with us?”

I laugh and take another bite. “Maybe.
I’m just exhausted by the end of the day. Don’t you get tired? I
mean we start at five thirty.”

He brushes his jaw length hair back.
That hair is his signature look. “I suppose I’m used to it. Being a
big star now and all,” he says with a smirk. “But yeah, the first
couple of movies wore me out. Very different than TV.”

Sitting less than three feet from him,
I become aware why oodles of girls and women clamber after him. His
dark blonde hair, the strong cut of his features, and those clear
green eyes make a pretty picture. Funny at work I hadn’t really
noticed. I’m too busy concentrating. Here in my room with him
dressed in jeans and a soft t-shirt, I get why his face is
plastered on bedroom walls and screen savers across the
world.

He grins and raises a brow at me.
Oops, maybe I stared too long. He sets his coffee on the table.
“I’ve been impressed how you’ve kept up with this being your first
movie, Paige.”

“
Thanks,” I say with a
polite smile. However, Bret is mostly eye candy—I hate to say it—
and his acting skills are minimal, though he is good at fight
scenes. Yet he’s been around awhile and any compliment is a boost
right now.

“
Hey, I like to give
credit where credit’s due.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “What’d
you do before this?”

Geez, he’d have to ask that. My
resume’s not very extent, really almost non-existent. “Commercials,
school plays, and a few small parts on TV when I was younger,” I
say, twirling my hair with my free hand.

“
Wow. I’m even more
impressed.”

Ugh. That was a back handed
compliment. I choose to ignore it. “Well, I hate to admit it, but
my step father helped get me the audition. They didn’t know we were
connected, different last name and all, and I told him not to share
that.” I shrug. “My credentials weren’t going to get me past the
door.”

“
I’m sure your portfolio
helped,” he says with a sly grin.

“
Um… thanks.” My cheeks
warm. For whatever reason, I only take Zach’s compliments on my
looks seriously. Thinking of Zach, I ask Bret, “So do you have a
girlfriend, someone waiting at home?” Again, even if it’s demented,
I want to hear if someone else is pinning like me.

He gives me an odd look. Like I should
know his status. “Ah no, I’m on location too much to keep up a
relationship. Besides relationships can hold your career
back.”

I can’t help a frown. First Zoe and
now him. “Have you ever tried?”

He shrugs. “A few times. Things never
worked out.” Those green eyes study me while he takes a sip of
coffee. He lowers the cup and says, “I take it you have
someone.”

I can’t help a quick smile. “Um yeah,
we’ve been going out for a while.”

His eyes narrow a bit. “Is he in the
business?”

I shake my head. “He’s in college.
Eventually he wants to get an MFA. But he wants to be a novelist
not a screen writer.”

“
Interesting,” Bret says.
He doesn’t look too interested. He brushes his hair back again.
This guy has a serious hair fetish.

Bret
is
quite good looking, but he
doesn’t come close to Zach. Thinking of Zach again—I’m always
thinking of him—I want to check my email. I set my coffee down and
make a point of looking at the clock on the desk. “It’s getting
kind of late.”

Bret gives me a long look—why I can’t
imagine —before he stands. “Oh yeah, sure. I’ll leave you the
rönttönen. You can think of me at breakfast,” he says with a wink
before letting himself out.

I frown as the door closes. What’s
with the wink? What does he think? I’m like five? Sure, he has more
experience and is older than me by at least seven years. But
seriously? Go pump your ego on some adoring fans not the green
actor. Geez.

As I move to the desk, where my laptop
sits, all thoughts of Bret’s arrogance flee. There had better be an
email waiting. I log on with almost trembling fingers. Ah-ha.
Relief. There is.

Hey Paige,

Sorry this is coming at
you so late. Though still in training, I’ve been working with
clients today and didn’t have time for a break until now. One good
thing about this job is that time flies by. It’s nothing like being
behind the reception counter where every second feels like
eternity. I think I’m going to like this position. It’s not
writing, but it doesn’t suck.

Amanda update: she said hi
to me when I came in this afternoon.

Once again, I think you’re
blowing the whole Amanda working at the gym out of proportion. And
that you’d even worry about her cuts me. It cuts me deep. You know
I’m crazy about you and have been since I woke up out of my damn
coma. Who’d ever want to be in a coma? Me. Because it brought you
to me. Even if Amanda is up to something—which I seriously doubt—I
love you. However yesterday, I didn’t feel like you believed in my
love.

Do you believe in
me?

Fuck. I hope
so.

Because I believe in
you.

Z