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I vaguely remember that scene.
It was a crossing point in their character arc. It was the moment he realized she wasn’t what he thought she was, but something more. He hadn’t figured out what that was yet, but he was on the precipice of a breakthrough.
“What’s Mallory doing?” I ask.
“Helping her client.” He lifts a brow. “Something you’re not very good at, but by all means, if you want me to get help from Mallory . . .”
I shrug and then let out a groan. “Move over.”
Looking up, I find Mallory staring at me. She’s watching me keenly. “How’s it going over there?” I ask.
She smiles, but it’s full of mirth. “Never been better.”
I gather dry logs before collecting some twigs. “Do you normally build fires for your clients? Is this in the pitch?”
She smirks. “Why, are you jealous? Upset that at least I’m innovative on selling points?” she chides.
“What else do you have to offer?”
“I know what she has to offer,” Brad mutters.
If murder was an option, I’d gladly rid the world of this idiot.
“Oh, shut up, Brad.” Mallory rolls her eyes. “Never. Gonna. Happen.”
I snort because that might be the first time I’ve heard a woman tell the guy no so brilliantly.
“Yeah, give the girl a break. Can’t you see she’s working hard on getting that thing lit?” I laugh.
“As if you’re one to talk. I doubt you can do it either,” he snaps, slinking down onto a log, pouting like a child.
“I’m a fast learner.” I bend down, looking over the pile.
“I bet I get this lit before you.” My eyes lift to find the challenge in Mallory’s words.
I lift my brow. “Care to make this interesting?”
“A bet!” Teagan exclaims, clapping her hands together.
“Sure, but what are we playing for?” Mallory asks.
I tap my chin.
“I have a few suggestions.” Again, fucking Brad can’t hold his tongue.
“Not interested, Brad,” Mallory fires back, and I can’t help but grin at the continued rebuke.
“Traitor,” Brad mutters behind my back.
“Since we’ve only been here a few days, what can we even wager?” Mallory looks around the circle, waiting for anyone to offer a wager worth making.
“Dry towels,” Teagan says with a shudder.
Mallory stops moving and looks at Teagan with wide and scared eyes. “Wait, that’s a thing? All your towels are wet?”
“No,” Brad responds. “She’s being dramatic.”
Teagan shudders. “Speak for yourself. I haven’t had a dry towel since I arrived on this godforsaken island.”
“As fun as this is, Teagan, you need to practice, so let’s get back to it,” Mallory says, her voice serious.
I have to hand it to her; her work ethic is better than I expected.
“Don’t be so serious,” Brad says. “Teagan will be practicing, only to fail to make a fire.”
“Fine,” Mallory shoots back. “Winner has to jump into the water—”
“Naked.”
“Thank you, Brad, for your suggestion, but no,” Mallory says, scrunching her nose.
“In underwear.” He tries again.
“Again, no.” Mallory shakes her head, growing as fed up with the idiot as I am.
“Then what’s the point?” Brad looks like a petulant child who was just denied his favorite toy.
“How about a friendly wager? Bragging rights included,” I answer.
Brad drops another pile of logs down beside me. “You’re all lame.”
“Teams?” Teagan asks.
“Well, it makes the most sense to have girls versus boys since I’m helping Teagan practice. If we can do that.” Mallory looks over at Teagan. “You can do both. Right, Teagan?”
“Sure. I’ll run the lines while we try to build a fire. The added pressure of the competition will help the motivation of the desperation my character is supposed to feel.”
“Great. Starting on three. One . . . two . . . three.”
Everyone sets off. Brad mutters to himself as he collects more wood.
And I’m just observing.
Teagan is firing off lines as Mallory frantically works a stick back and forth on a log.
I still don’t move.
It’s complete chaos.
Lines are spoken. The scene rehearsed, and Mallory has sweat collecting on her brow.
“Aren’t you going to help?” Brad stops rehearsing to ask.
“In a minute.”
“She helps her client, and you’re what? Too good for that?”
I really hate this man. I lift my finger. “I said, in a minute.”
I turn my attention back to Mallory, whose shirt has lifted as she’s hard at work. Her chest rises and falls with her movements.
She stops for a minute, and our gazes lock.
My lips tip into a smile as she watches me.
I lift my hand, grab a log, then reach for a few smaller pieces, never breaking contact.
Muscle memory kicks in, and I’m working, all the while staring into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.
“You bastard! You did it!” Brad exclaims, but I never pull my gaze away from Mallory.
I shrug. “Boy Scout.” Then allow my lips to tip up into a smirk.
Gotcha, babe.
21
Mallory
@Stargossip: Sources say things are heating up on the set of Twisted Lily. Will fireworks be next? Our guess is the spark will burn out quickly.
