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Yet another vital piece is missing.
My head lulls back. “Just my brain.”
He chuckles before standing and making his way over to the food table. I watch as he scoops up some items I can’t make out from here, and goes about pouring a cup of coffee.
I try not to stare as he returns to our table, but I fail miserably.
“Here ya go,” he says, placing the mug of coffee, a carton of milk, a spoon, and a small container of cream cheese he’s pulled from his pocket in front of me.
My belly flips. Not only does he know exactly what I need, but he jumped to the task without even being asked. It warms my heart and gives me hope for a future past this island.
“Thank you.” I smile.
Considering the amount of thought that went into that, it's such a trivial phrase, but I have to be careful not to gush too much.
We finish our meal in silence, each chancing glances now and then.
It’s clear that neither of us knows how to do this. It’s too tempting to play footsie with him under the table. Or graze my hand against his—sure-fire ways to raise eyebrows.
All we can do is wait, hope for the best, and pray it doesn’t show up in the tabloids.
36
Paxton
@Stargossip: Word around town is that during the storm, a stick became lodged up Teagan’s ass, and somehow, it’s still there . . .
@Emo_Gurl: At least she gets some ;)
@Musty_rat: @Emo_Gurl What are you implying?
@Lexi_H: Oop-loving the controversy, spill the tea.
@Brad4life: I feel bad for the branch.
@Deathtothesystem: I hope Twisted Lily gets a twisted ball sac.
@Lexi_H: @Deathtothesystem You said it, bitch.
Today has been pure torture.
Not only did I have to refrain from touching Mallory, but now I have to deal with Brad and his ramblings about God knows what.
Filming will start shortly, and if I thought the set was dangerous before the storm, it’s got nothing on what it’s like now. Branches and trees are down everywhere. There are puddles the size of small ponds and cables haphazardly strewn overhead and held on to branches that survived the wind by zip ties.
Let’s just hope that holds; otherwise, someone is gonna get fried.
The only good news is that we have power. It was touch and go for a while. While a small crew worked to restore the island, the power cut in and out. I truly thought we would have to stop shooting. But the crew pulled off some miracle, and Stephan concocted the plan to jerry-rig the wires.
The vibrating of my cell phone in my pocket catches me off guard. The last time I checked, the service was still down. I look down at Kevin’s name on the screen. I’m sure he’s on the verge of quitting with all he’s been forced to do in my absence.
Too damn bad. I pay him well, and it’s his job to assist.
“What’s up?” I answer, putting on my impatient voice. I don’t want him keeping me tied up for too long.
“What’s up?” he snips. “More like, where have you been?”
I run my hands back through my hair.
“Good to talk to you, too, Kevin. How’s the weather where you’re at? Good? That’s wonderful because I’ve spent the past few days without power in a monsoon. So, please, continue to jump down my throat about where I’ve been. Oh, wait . . . I pay you.” I speak so fast as not to allow him a word in edgewise.
That’s the thing about Kevin; sometimes, he forgets that I sign his paycheck and needs a gentle reminder.
“That’s a lot to unpack,” he says. Papers rustle in the background, and I wonder what he’s up to. “So, when are you coming back to the office? Your desk is a disaster.”
“Isn’t that what I pay you for?” My tone is playful. Despite my annoyance with him at times, he’s a good guy.
“And for my witty personality,” he replies with gusto.
“Yep. That’s it.” I chuckle. “I have to extend another week or so. We lost five days of shooting due to the storm.”
“What?” He gasps. “Another week? Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
He sighs. “Welp, I guess I’ll reschedule your appointments.”
“You do that. Make sure to make them for three weeks out to buy me time to finish up here and get caught up.”
“Will do.” There’s a long pause before he speaks again. “While I have you, Andrew needs to speak with you.”
“Put me through to him.”
“No problem. Stay dry,” he jests.
The line goes silent as I wait to be transferred. Talking to Andrew is as bad as talking to Brad. The only difference is that I’m Andrew’s boss.
“Man, where have you been?” He’s annoyed.
Join the club.
“You know where I am. Stuck on an island, shacking up in a hut that barely keeps dry, working with weather that has to be karma from a previous life.”
