Silbie spent the last few days of December reading the script that had Jolene so excited. That, and arranging for the delivery of Owen's service dog. Between the script, dog, and her decision not to visit Parkers Prairie stretched Silbie's nerves to the limit.
She should call to let her family know she'd decided to stay in California. But since she'd not spoken to any of them in weeks, she figured her silence spoke louder than words. She kept telling herself she'd get over it, but so far, that hadn't happened. Each time she thought of her mother's lies, Silbie's anger flared again.
Time was supposed to heal all wounds, and she kept waiting for that to happen, but no luck.
Making her way to the kitchen for another shot of caffeine, she refilled her mug. Well, she'd have to drink several more to get a good dose, because her drink contained mostly Jolene's homemade Salted Caramel creamer. Silbie brought the cup to her mouth, blew across the surface, then slurped the sweet liquid. Cup number two was just as delicious as the first one.
She walked to the back window and stared at the flower garden still in full bloom. Winters in Las Angeles were milder than Parkers Prairie. Silbie wondered if the hotel where Owen stayed had a park nearby. Hopefully, the dog would be the catalyst to get him out of his room, not to mention much-needed companionship.
Mr. Childs, the trainer, worked with the Wounded Warriors organization making the gift beneficial in two ways. Silbie made a sizable donation, and the animal would give Owen a purpose. At least that's what she hoped.
After watching several videos of available animals, a two-year-old border collie named Dash captured Silbie's heart. She hoped Owen liked him. Her only regret was not being able to see his reaction to the gift. Mr. Childs planned to deliver the dog on New Year's Eve and stay the next week to help Owen and Dash bond as a team. He assured her Owen's attitude would change once Dash worked his magic. Fingers crossed, he was right.
She went back to the living room, set her cup aside, and picked up the script once more. She loved the story—and the character, Simone DeRoux. However, some scenes gave her pause. She glanced up at the tap, tap, tap on the door. Jolene pushed it open and stepped inside.
"I see you've been reading the script. What do you think so far?"
Silbie thinned her lips into a grim line. "I've finished it, and I love Simone's character. Her long red hair. And I especially love her tattoos. But the sex scenes worry me."
Jolene started to speak, but Silbie waved her off. "I understand a movie called The French Mistress sets the tone, but I'm not comfortable with all the nudity and being naked with some actor I don't know, while fifty people watch. I'm sorry. I'm going to pass on it."
"Not so fast, lollipop. We can add concessions. Tell me what it would take for you to accept the role."
"I just told you. Being filmed in the buff bothers me, and without those scenes, the film wouldn't make sense. I doubt they're willing to agree to my demands, and I don't want them to. It's a great story. Just not for me. At least not at this point in my career. Let them get an actor who is comfortable with it the way it is."
"Would you sign if we insisted on no frontal nudity? Shoot only angles without direct exposure of breasts or pubic area. No full body shots of either character during sex scenes. Closed set. Two cameramen, the director, and me?"
"They'll never agree to that."
"Yes, they will. They want you. Alastair knows he has another Oscar winner in this film. Not just picture of the year, but he's betting you get a nomination. I agree. Just let me take the proposal to him and see what he says. Is there anything else you want changed? If so, speak now or forever hold your peace."
"One more thing. No groans, moans, throaty sounds from the characters during the erotic scenes. Only music."
Jolene grinned. "Got it. I'll call him today."
Maia parked her rental car in the lot next to Grillenium Falcon. It was her last night in Parkers Prairie and visiting the bar gave her a chance to see some old friends—and, she needed a drink. The call from Silbie's mom earlier put Maia on edge. How did she tell her that Silbie was still totally pissed without breaking her heart? Easy answer. She didn't.
For a Baptist preacher's daughter, Maia had done a lot of lying during her visit. First, she'd claimed she only had three days off, when she had a full week. Then she'd said last-minute re-shoots kept Silbie in California. And when Dad asked how she was doing concerning Dante's marriage, she'd plastered on her best fake smile and pretended she'd never been serious about him.
She adjusted the rearview mirror to check her makeup only to be blinded by some jerk's headlights. There were plenty of parking spaces to choose from so why pull into the one behind her? The lights went off, and she got a look at the car. Red Corvette. Probably some fancy pants visitor with no regard for common courtesy.
She stepped from her vehicle and rushed toward the building without a backward glance at the idiot. She'd only taken a few steps when he called out to her.
"Hey, Maia!"
Her stomach somersaulted. She recognized the voice. Should she pretend she didn't hear him? No. She'd known this day would come. Might as well face him and get it over with. She swallowed hard and dug deep for fortitude.
Spinning on her heel with more flourish than she intended, she smiled at him. "Hi, Dante. Happy holidays."
"I thought that was you. How have you been?"
Why hadn't she insisted Logan accompany her to Parkers Prairie? Or at least meet her here. It'd be so great to rub the current hottest movie star in Dante's face. What was she thinking? Every person on the planet thought he was with Silbie.
Dammit. Note to self. Get your own fake boyfriend for times like this. "Doing great. Really great. Super great." Shut up, Maia. You're making a fool of yourself. "You?"
"Well, I'm not great to the third power, but I'm doing okay."
She wanted to knock that sexy grin off his face and stuff it down his throat. No. In his ear. No. Up his nose. No. Throat was better where he could choke on it. She nodded toward the entrance. "I'm surprised you're still part of the bar scene. You being a married man and all. Didn't figure Bea would stand for that. Lucky you."
"I'm not going in. I thought I recognized you when you drove past, and I wanted to talk to you."
"You have my number. You could have texted. As I recall, that's your favorite way to communicate."
He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I deserve that. I should have faced you. I regret that I didn't. I never meant to hurt you, and if I led you to believe things were more serious than they were, I sincerely apologize."
She bit her lip to keep it from trembling and pressed fingers to her eyes to stop the tears. Neither worked. "To be clear, you felt nothing for me. Is that right? I'm sorry to ask, but I need to know for future reference because I thought something was happening between us. If I hadn't felt that way, I would have never slept with you, and I think you know that. So having sex with me wasn't leading me on? Is that what you're saying? Or, was Bea just so hot in bed, I paled in comparison?" Shut up, Maia. Shut up.
Logical, sensible Maia must have taken a break because crazy, irrational, Maia was on a roll. "I mean, I'm a big girl. You could have told me you were only interested in sex. Who knows? Maybe I would have fallen into bed with you anyway. God knows holding out hasn't worked for me." She sliced the air with her hand. "Maybe that's where I've messed up. I should forget about building a relationship, and have meaningless sex for the fun of it."
He stepped closer. Maia stepped back. He reached out to her, and she swatted his hand away.
"Don't touch me! If you do, I might think I actually meant something to you."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was an ass. I still am. Just tell me what to say, and I will. I feel terrible about what I did. I won't make excuses, and I don't blame you for hating me. But I hope..."
She shot him a glare with the force of a thousand suns. "Don't you dare say you want us to be friends! We're not friends. We never will be. I made a mistake. You were a mistake."
He shook his head. "I understand." He walked to his car, opened the door, then faced her again. "You weren't wrong. Something was happening between us—but the timing was wrong. I'll always regret that." He got in his car, started the engine and drove away.
Maia watched until his taillights disappeared, then crawled back into her car and sobbed. She'd always been a good girl, and what had it gotten her? Nothing but a long line of coyotes. Finding a shepherd wasn't in the cards.
Poor Maia. But hey, maybe there's other fish in the sea. Or a Shepherd?
TEASER: "What do you mean, you saw her?"
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