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I flush. “Anyway, Jake’s going to come up with a fat lot of nothing,” I say, keeping the subject on track – and away from the steamy memories of Halloween. “But, of course, he won’t take my word for it. He always thinks he knows best.”
I take a handful of fries, and dunk them in the fancy aioli. When I look up again, Reeve is studying me thoughtfully. “What?” I ask, self-conscious.
“Nothing,” he says with an easy shrug. “I just can’t see you married to that guy.”
“Why? Because he’s handsome and charismatic and adventurous and I’m … not?” I roll my eyes, but Reeve just looks puzzled.
“No,” he says slowly, “Because you’re fantastic, and he seems like a fucking idiot.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, I feel a warm glow in my stomach.
“Well, unfortunately it took me a while to figure that out,” I say lightly, popping another fry in my mouth. “Jake was helpful enough to bring it to my attention, though. By banging every bright young thing who wandered onto set. I’m lucky I escaped our marriage with a few minor trust issues, and not a workplace harassment lawsuit,” I add, repeating the well-worn lines I trot out every time my flame-out of a marriage comes up in conversation. “Because screwing Jessica, the research assistant, in the executive bathroom was definitelynotin the HR handbook.”
I give a big smile, so he knows that I’m easy and breezy, and no longer traumatized by past betrayals. But Reeve doesn’t play along. “I’m sorry you had to go through it,” he says gently, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way.”
My chest aches. I know that, deep down, but it’s still nice to have someone else say it – especially when all our joint friends picked Jake in the divorce, and left me feeling like I was so easily disposable.
“Hey, it’s his loss,” I blurt quickly, pulling my hand away and taking a big gulp of wine. Reeve is looking at me with a warmth and understanding in his eyes, and somehow, that feels even more dangerous than his tempting charm.
I could really fall for this guy.
The sudden thought throws me off-balance. Because lusting after him is dangerous enough. If I actually wind up caring about him…?
I’m asking for a world of hurt when his fun vacation fling is over, and he heads back to his regular life without another thought.
“But enough about me, and my disastrous romantic history,” I say brightly. “What about you? How’s this enforced vacation of yours working out? Ready to flee back to Hollywood just yet?”
Reeve arches an eyebrow. “I didn’t tell you I worked in Hollywood,” he says, looking pleased. “Have you been checking up on me?”
I flush. “My best friend is a champion Google stalker,” I say quickly. “She does that kind of thing for sport. And according to her sources, you’re a pretty big deal.”
Reeve looks bashful. “I’m really not. I’m just lucky enough to do what I love.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it. I saw that indie movie you made. And apparently, you have aPride and Prejudiceadaptation coming. Brave move,” I add, with a pointed grin. “If there’s one thing the female population has, it’s a strong opinion on that story.”
Reeve grins. “Brave, or just plain asking for trouble,” he agrees. “It was a great cast, and despite a few … hiccups, it was an amazing shoot, too. But I’ve gone back-to-back on projects for the last few years now, and apparently, that isn’t great for long-term creativity or mental health,” he gives me a wry smile.
“Right,” I laugh. “The intervention.”
“But they were right,” he says. “I do need a vacation.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
He locks eyes with me across the table. “Pretty damn great, so far.”
I flush deeper, and glance around the room for some distraction. I find it at the next table, where an awkward-looking couple have just arrived. She’s clearly made an effort, all dressed up with her makeup done and hair blown out, while he’s wearing cargo pants and sandals. With socks on.
Reeve follows my gaze. “I bet you ten bucks, they met on a dating app,” he leans in, dropping his voice. “And knew within ten seconds of meeting outside this wasn’t going to work.”
“Ten?” I ask, teasing. “That’s generous. I usually know in five.”
As we watch, the girl valiantly tries to ask about his hobbies, while the guy sits blankly, stealing glances at his phone.
I wince for the poor girl. “Dating should come with a safe word,” I tell Reeve.
His eyebrows shoot up. I laugh, “Not like that!” I protest. “I mean, like a get out of jail free card. If you show up for a date, and it’s clear there’s zero chemistry, you should just be able to say… I don’t know, ‘avocado’, and call it quits. No hard feelings.”
“Maybe they just need a little help, melting the ice,” he argues. “What if his last girlfriend stole his prized Pomeranian dog, and left him for his sister? You’d understand why he’s wary about putting himself out there again.”
