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“Jesse’s a great guy.” I say it a bit too loud, my voice echoing across the sand, and a group of nearby actors glance over. The girl who plays Jesse’s sister on the show, Haley, looks like she sucked on a lemon.
I clear my throat, looking away.
“I know. I know that.” Then why is heruiningthis? Popping my good mood like a helium balloon? “But you’re going places, Darla. And Jesse…”
What?
No. No, I won’t have this show thrown in his face. “Youdirect this show, Franklin.”
“And I love it.” My uncle tugs at the brim of his baseball cap, dragging it an inch lower over his eyes. We’re still cleaning up, still shoving trash into our bags, but we’re doing it kind of aggressively, despite our lowered voices. The plastic keeps rustling. “But part of what I love aboutRiptideis that it’s cozy. Familiar. I’ve worked on this show for nearly eight years, Darla, and I’ll probably work on it for eight more. And guys like Jesse Hendry—like me, too—we’re big fishes in a small pond. Right? We’re not like you. You’ve got drive.”
It’s so harsh. So unfair. To Jesse and to Franklin.
And who cares if Jesse wants to play Hanson forever? He’s great at it. People love him in this role.
“He’s cooking me dinner.” I throw the statement like a dart.
Franklin sighs. “Jesse’s a good guy.”
I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We finish the rest of the clean up in silence, and when Franklin shoulders his backpack and wanders away, I breathe out a long sigh.
* * *
“Hey. I was wondering where you—”
I shove Jesse against the side of his trailer by the shoulders, the metal clanging loudly in the quiet parking lot. There are probably people nearby, people to witness my madness, but I don’t care.
I flatten my body against his.
I’m sweaty and red-faced and windswept from a long day at work. My polo shirt is covered in sand and smells kind of musty.
I don’t care.
“Damn.” Two strong hands grip my hips and squeeze. Jesse stares down at me and drags me closer, his gaze hungry. “Hey, Darla.”
“Hi.” A soft white t-shirt covers Jesse’s chest, and I grip two handfuls of the fabric, twisting it taut. I’d never admit it out loud, but I’m kind of relieved he’s fully dressed right now. It makes me slightly less flustered. “Are we still on for tonight?”
The star’s smile is sinful. “Definitely.” And when he ducks his head, tracing the tip of his nose up my neck, my breath chokes off in my throat. “I hope you’re hungry, Darla,” he says against my skin. “I’m gonna pull out all the stops.”
Thank god. There was a tiny, untrusting part of me that was braced for a passive-aggressive salad.
“Oh yeah?” I press even closer to Jesse, sealing our bodies so tight that I can feel his heart thump. Can smell the sweat and salt and suntan lotion on his skin. “Does that mean dessert?”
Teeth scrape at my neck. “Of course. Have a little faith in me, baby.”
Baby.I shiver, hissing through my teeth when Jesse bites down gently on the curve of my shoulder.
We’re shameless right now. Putting on a show. And I’m sure the gossip will spread like wildfire, it might even make it to the gossip rags, but I’m too hazy and flustered to care.
I’m not the only one, because Jesse shifts so that his thigh presses between mine, gathering me impossibly closer. I rock my hips against him and he growls. “What brought this on?”
Nothing really.
Just wanting him all day.
No: just wanting him for half mylife, and finally coming so close. Finally being able to touch him.
Then hearing those words from my uncle, and feeling something crack open in my chest, spilling all this warm tenderness through my insides for Jesse Hendry.
