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“Just call me if you need anything. My name is Sara, and I’m your personal attendant for the flight.” She moved up the aisle to serve the other passengers.
Nicole and Reece sat in silence. The hum of the engines, her fingers tapping on the keyboard, and a light trickle of conversation from the other passengers were the only sounds in the cabin.
Once in a while, she would glance over at him, just to see what he was doing. He was mostly staring up at the ceiling, but she caught him watching her a few times. She’d quickly avert her eyes on those occasions, blushing and trying to concentrate on the story on the computer.
She couldn’t believe she was sitting beside Reece Collins, Hollywood It Boy. How in the world had that happened? Had she hit the lottery? Was she dreaming? She pinched her arm hard, wincing. This was not a dream.
She shook her head. No one was going to believe her when she told them. They’d all say she was making it up.
She stared at the computer screen, but the words were jumbled and making no sense. She knew the computer was fine. The problem was her. She should’ve acted differently when he introduced himself. She should’ve pretended she didn’t know who he was, that she’d never seen any of his movies, and that she didn’t have folders full of his pictures.
He was probably dreading his act of kindness now that he knew he was dealing with another obsessed fan.
Well to be honest, she thought, I did act normal, considering. I didn’t gush or oooh and ahhh. I only made that initial flub, so it wasn’t too terrible.
“So, tell me, Nicole DeLancey . . .”
Nicole jumped, and her eyes grew wide when she glanced at him.
Reece smiled. “Apologies for that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s okay. What am I supposed to tell you?”
He sat up. “What are you writing about?”
They’d circled back around to her writing. She rubbed her hand over her forehead. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m very interested. Who knows,” he shrugged, “I might one day star in a movie based off your book.”
She laughed nervously. “I can’t see that happening.”
He mock scowled at her. “Why not? You don’t think I’m any good?”
Was he serious? He captured the essence of every character he played. She hadn’t seen his kind of talent in a long time. His portrayals reminded her of the old movies of the thirties and forties when acting meant something and wasn’t just a way to make money. It had been a time when an actor was known for his skill and not just his pretty face. Reece had both of those commodities in abundance. She wondered if he was fishing for a compliment.
“I’m not saying anything of the sort. I believe you’re good at what you do. Your capabilities are not the problem, mine are.”
He frowned. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself.” He shook his head. “That’s never a good sign.”
She shrugged, turning away to gaze out the window. She’d met him less than an hour ago, and he had discovered her biggest insecurity.
He moved to the seat beside her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “You didn’t. I guess my nerves are getting to me. I mean, this is crunch time for me, now or never, that sort of thing. I applied for the writing scholarship on a whim, wanting to get professional feedback. I never expected to win it. I was floored when I received the news.”
Reece waited for her to continue.
She took a deep breath, turning on the seat and facing him completely. “I mean, writers always think their stories are good and deserving of publication, but sometimes the story isn’t worth the wasted ink and paper. What I’m afraid of is the finished product isn’t going to be the page turner that I want it to be, and the publishers will feel I’ve wasted their time. I sometimes feel as if I should go back home, don an apron, and work in my dad’s hardware store for the rest of my life.”
He smiled. “I know we’re barely acquainted, but I can’t picture you selling hammers and power drills.”
She snickered, rolling her eyes. “Neither can I, but that’s what’s going to happen if I don’t make a success of this. Then my family will be there, shaking their heads and mumbling about how I should’ve pulled my head from the clouds a long time ago and done something constructive and important with my life. ‘Writing is a nice hobby, Nicole, but it won’t pay the bills.’” She was picturing her father as she said it.
Reece chuckled at her mock voice. “Writing books is important.”
She shook her head. “Not the kind I write.”
He snorted. “Who says?”
