Paige’s mouth fell open. Then she laughed. And it was like music to his ears, because they’d weathered another tense moment together.
“Drew, really?” She shook her head. “I should throw this ‘L’ at you.” She held up a letter.
“What is it with you and throwing shit at me?”
She slammed the tile on the table. “You deserve it.”
“Maybe, but it’s your turn. Go ahead and play that ‘L’ so I can win the game.” He raised a challenging brow. “Unless you’re scared. You can always resign.”
Paige scrunched her nose, staring at her tiles in concentration. As he watched her deliberate over her next move, he realized that it didn’t matter if they were in the dark, in the light, walking down the street, or even in different houses. The woman in front of him was breathtaking, beautiful in every situation. Even when she was angry at him. And he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist letting her know just how much she affected him.
Chapter Eight
Three days ago, Andrew had a plan—to talk to Paige, convince her to go back to work, and go home. But he was still in South Haven with no idea when he would leave.Or if I want to leave.
In his line of work, he was paid well to anticipate things that could derail plans. Which was why he often had contingency and fallback plans—and potential workarounds to deal with unexpected issues that his backup plans didn’t cover effectively. Most of the time, things worked out like he wanted. Then there were other times, like today, when he couldn’t believe his current predicament.
“That looks so good.” Paige pointed at a spot on the tree they were standing beneath. “I want it.”
Andrew reached above her head and pulled the plump apple from the tree, then dropped it in their basket. Early that morning, Paige had announced she wanted apple pie. So they’d googled the closest orchard and headed out to pick apples. So far, they grabbed two different types—McIntosh and Honeycrisp.
“Hm.” Paige nibbled on her bottom lip. Her baseball cap hid her eyes. “I think that’s enough. Don’t you?”
Shrugging, Andrew picked up the basket. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just buy the pie.”
“You won’t say that once you taste the pie.” An older couple walked past them, nodding and wishing them a good day. “Aw, they’re so cute.”
Andrew watched the couple disappear behind a tree. They’d seen the same couple three times since they’d arrived. And each time, the couple smiled at them like it was their first time seeing them. “Yeah,” he murmured, shifting the basket from one arm to the other.
“I wonder if they need help picking their apples?” she mused, her finger tapping her lips. “We should ask.”
He glanced at her with a raised brow. “I thought you said you didn’t want anyone to recognize you.”
She scoffed. “I’m sure they won’t. Can you see them watching any of my movies?”
“What about your soap opera?” he challenged.
“Oh.” Her shoulders fell. “You might have a point.”
Paige’s first role, in the daytime dramaAll of Our Lives, had thrust her into the spotlight and had been a steppingstone to bigger roles. She’d played the feisty young wife to one of the story’s most popular characters. If the older woman watched CBS, they would recognize Paige. Even though she hadn’t played that character in over a decade, people still recognized her because of that role.
“And if she watched the show, she might not like me,” Paige added with a grin. “I still get hate mail from fans for coming between Malcolm and Harley.”
He chuckled, remembering her first not-so-nice letter. The angry soap fan had raked Paige over the coals for being a “gold-digging hoe.” People had taken her headshot, added little devil horns to her head, and posted it on the message boards. Paige had been devastated, and he’d had to soothe her with pizza and coffee to get her to stop crying.
“If you ever want to go back for a visit, let me know,” he said. “The network has put out feelers several times over the years.”
Paige muttered something that sounded an awful lot likeHell no, and he laughed. She bumped him with her shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“That was a quick answer.”
“Because I didn’t need to think about it. Soaps are hard work, memorizing all that dialogue every day. I’m good.”
The elderly couple rounded the bend again and waved at them. He leaned down, taking in the hint of jasmine in her hair. Swallowing, he fought the urge to bury his nose in her curls. He’d been there for days, and they hadn’t so much as brushed arms since they’d held hands in front of the fire. And,damn, he wanted to touch her.
“I think they like you,” he whispered, enjoying her sharp intake of breath.
“Um, I . . .” she croaked. “They’re probably just lost.”
