Page 62 of Cast to be Mine

I rubbed my face, knowing I had to keep this quiet, keep us professional on set, but the knot in my gut told me it was already too late for that.

And honestly, I was already thinking about the end of the shoot. I wanted Grace back in my bed. My dad would lose his shit if I showed up to family dinner with a Sterling on my arm.

21

GRACE

The plane was chaos in the best possible way.

Micah chartered a whole aircraft just for us—cast, crew, producers, and assistants. It felt like the first day of summer camp, except with better snacks and adult beverages.

I settled into my window seat and watched the organized mayhem unfold around me. Grips were tossing bags of chips to each other across the aisle. Someone had already broken out a deck of cards in the back.

Everyone buzzed with excitement. We lived in a pretty spectacular part of the country, but nothing beat Hawaii. There was just something about the island and turquoise water. Freedom.

And obviously we were all celebrating a pretty damn successful week of shooting. We’d gotten through the hardest part of the shoot, weathered the scandal, and now we were heading to paradise to finish what we’d started.

I fucking loved it.

This was what I’d dreamed about since I was a kid. Not just acting but being part of a creative family. I remembered the parties my parents threw at our house. I loved watching the camaraderie between the actors. Of course, there were plenty of squabbles, but for the most part, they all became a family for a few months. Some of the shoots would last six months. It was magic, and I got to be right in the middle of it.

Jack had chartered his own plane, of course. Probably couldn’t handle being treated like a mere mortal for five hours. I wasn’t complaining. His absence meant the energy on our flight was lighter, more relaxed. People actually laughed without looking over their shoulders first.

And I had zero desire to be on a flying metal tube with Chantilly. That woman was a lot. Add in her husband and I might be looking for a parachute.

Micah was a few rows ahead across the aisle. He had his laptop open and papers spread across the tray table. Even from here, I could see the tension in his body. The guy needed a massage. Or something else to help loosen him up.

I volunteered to help him work out the kinks.

God, I was falling for him.

Hard.

It wasn’t just that he was gorgeous—though he absolutely was. Those blue eyes were mesmerizing. The mess his hair became when he ran his hands through it a hundred times during a stressful day was devastating.

It wasn’t just his looks. He was a lot more than a pretty face.

He challenged me, but never in a way that felt condescending. He pushed because he believed I could deliver. No one believed that of me, except maybe my agent.

And watching him work was its own kind of turn-on. The man was brilliant. The way he could see a scene in his head before anyone else. I listened to him explain his vision to the set department. He made directing look effortless, even though I knew it was anything but.

I wanted to go up there. Slide into the empty seat next to him. Make some excuse about needing to discuss a scene. Anything to be close to him, to feel that electric charge that sparked between us whenever we were in the same space.

But I didn’t.

He had work to do. Hawaii was going to be intense. We had a compressed schedule and a lot of ground to cover. The underwater sequences alone were going to be a logistical nightmare. He needed to focus, needed to make sure every detail was locked down before we hit the ground.

I didn’t want to be a distraction.

And we couldn’t be seen canoodling by the rest of the crew. I couldn’t wait until the production was over and we could be seen together. I’d miss the whole filming thing, but if I had him, I wouldn’t have much time to miss work.

I stayed in my seat, watching him from across the cabin like some lovesick teenager. Pathetic, really. But I couldn’t help it. Every few minutes, my eyes drifted back to him. The way he chewed on his pen when he was thinking. The way he occasionally rubbed the back of his neck.

At one point, he looked over and caught me staring. Our eyes met across the crowded plane. He smiled and it was like his fingers were tracing down my spine. My body physically reacted.

He went back to his work, and I went back to pretending I wasn’t completely obsessed with him.

It was fine. We’d find time in Hawaii. Stolen moments between setups. Maybe a late-night walk on the beach when everyone else was asleep. The islands were romantic as hell. Surely we could carve out some space for us.