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I laugh at that. “I’m the Home & Heart girl. Not an assassin.”
“No, you’re an actress. You can be anyone you want to be.”
“With this blonde hair and a slew of G-rated Christmas movies under my belt? That’s not what they want.”
“Hair color can change, wildcat.”
With that, he walks off. I wish it were as simple as changing my hair color. The blonde isn’t even real, just a product ofSunset Beachthat I’ve never gotten rid of. No, I’m typecast. If I were them, I wouldn’t consider me either.
But the fact that Jackson thinks I’d make a good Camilla…it creates a hope that maybe I can be more than Home & Heart’s go-to girl.
But as I’ve learned, hope is a dangerous thing.
6
JACKSON
By the time I was out of the shower and joined her back on the patio, Autumn already had our “script” together. It includes holding hands as much as possible, at least five tender touches (examples including: putting her hair behind her ear, a gentle touch to the face, an arm around her shoulders, and a kiss to the cheek), at least three genuine moments of laughter between us, and only one kiss on the lips. She even gave us topic ideas to talk about, which felt like they were stolen from an ice-breaker game.
While I think this script idea is good, this feels way more stilted than I thought it would. But it’ll be good. We need this to keep the professionalism between us - a line we definitely crossed last night.
Even if we aren’t acknowledging that line.
I was sure she was going to mention it this morning when she asked me to sit and talk. And I’m pretty sure my reaction let her know I watched her. I wanted to bring it up, but it seemed she wanted to forget it. I already deleted the file. I’m the only one seeing the security feed right now, but there’s no way I want to take a chance of anyone, especially Gage, seeing it for whatever reason. That was for my eyes only. That moment was ours and ours alone.
We decided Top Golf would be a good place to try out our first public date. We called ahead, but the staff is still a little starstruck. We’ve settled in a bay on the top level and Autumn has already given our waitress an autograph even though we haven’t even gotten our drinks yet. There’s excited chatter all around and looks from other bays, even a steady stream of people “walking by.”
I don’t like it. I asked for a bay on the end of the aisle so there’s only one side I have to keep an eye on, and I’ve positioned myself on the couch where I can clearly see if anyone that’s not an employee approach.
“Relax,” Autumn says as she snuggles into my side, holding a menu in her hand.
“The whole place knows you’re here now. We should ask for a different waitress. This one can’t seem to keep her mouth shut.”
“No, it’s fine. She’s a fan. She’ll be protective.”
I doubt that.
“Hey,” she says and takes my chin in her hand. She moves my head so I’ll look at her then her thumb slowly caresses my cheek. “It’ll be okay.”
I sincerely hope she’s right because I would hate for those gorgeous brown eyes to fill with disappointment.
“The real question is, do you want queso fries?” She wiggles her eyebrows excitedly and I can’t help but to crack a smile. Then she smiles too. And it’s like a punch of sunshine.
The woman really is beautiful. I love how right now her whiskey-colored eyes are scotch light, but when she’s mad or turned on, they’re bourbon dark. But mostly, right now, I love how genuine she seems. Even though I know her sweet look is all for show. It’s hard not to imagine that some of it isn’t real. Which is a dangerous thought. One I need to ignore.
“Queso fries is a must. And chicken wings.”
She scrunches her nose at that.
“What? You don’t like wings?”
“No, I do. They’re just ugly to eat.”
“So?”
“Well, when your picture can be taken at any moment without your permission, you learn not to eat things that make you look—”
“Human?”
