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I try not to squeal. Rubbing shoulders with honest-goodness movie stars is surreal. And who says they're all high maintenance? Scarlett and Kane strike me as good people.
Shaking off my fan-girl moment, I observe the tree, trying to figure out the best way to move it. Muttering reaches my ears, and I glance behind me to see Kane and Scarlett locked in a heated conversation. Their voices are too low to make out what they're saying. Rumors are rife about a romance between Kane and Scarlett, but I've never been one to pay too much attention to gossip. I hope whatever is going on between them won't make things awkward on set.
I shrug and turn back to the task at hand. Getting on my knees, I wriggle beneath the tree on all fours to see how it’s been fixed to the floor.
Clips.
Great, I can work with clips. I pull them off and shuffle backward, standing and snapping the clips onto the hem of my T-shirt so I don’t lose them. I thrust my arms into the spiky monstrosity, grab the central pole, and wiggle it away from the overhead light.
A loud bang resonates through my eardrums, and all hell lets loose . . .
Chapter Three
Ryder
Once the meeting is finished, I conduct a perimeter check and ascertain who’s staying on-site to film the first scene before heading back to the main set.
Sticking to the shadows, I watch Charity drop an armful of stuff onto a table, moving things until they’re just so and attaching strings of lights to the walls. She stands back with her hands on her hips to admire her work while I try not to admire her. Looking out for Charity has become more than a duty, more than my promise to her brother.
A strange sensation tugs at my gut every time I see her, a feeling I’ve been trying my hardest to ignore. Maybe it’s her infectious smile, her passion for her job, or her unwavering optimism. Whatever it is, it's becoming harder and harder to resist.
As I continue to watch her, I realize I've been holding my breath the entire time. She's too fucking captivating for her own good.
I sigh, pushing my feelings down for the thousandth time. I’m here to do a job.
Charity turns, a frown neatly etched over her beautiful features. Something is wrong with the Christmas tree.She wriggles underneath, and my gaze is drawn again to her rounded, jean-clad ass in the air. With her blonde hair and angelic blue eyes, she looks like she tumbled from the top of that Christmas tree.
Desire courses through me. But it's not just her looks. It's her. Charity may be shy and lacking a bit of confidence, but she has the heart of a lion. She's not afraid to get her hands dirty and does whatever it takes to make everything run smoothly—putting others above herself.
She reappears and snaps the clips holding the tree in place to her T-shirt before pulling the old tree toward the back of the stage. Unbeknownst to her, the lights are plugged into an overloaded socket. I call out a warning, already moving toward her, when an almighty bang follows a spark and a flash.
I leap at Charity as she flies backward from the tree, grasping her as she’s thrust into me. The tree goes up in flames, and the acrid stink of burning plastic and years of dust permeates the air as the decorations melt away to a vague memory.
A smoke alarm shrieks and the whoosh of a fire extinguisher assaults my ears as puffs of white powder are sprayed over the tree.
I glance down at Charity, and my heart seizes when I see she’s unconscious.
“These old trees are a fucking death trap,” Jackson curses once he’s successfully put out the fire. He casts a concerned look at Charity. “Is she okay?”
I check her pulse and breathing to find both are steady and rhythmic, but she has a nasty burn on her hand. Without acknowledging Jackson or the crowd gathered around us, I lift Charity and carry her from the stage, heading straight for the medic’s trailer.
Max Sawyer, the set medic, looks up in surprise as I barge through the door with Charity in my arms and set her gently on the examination table.
Charity groans, and her eyes pop open. “Ryder?” She tries to sit up, but I push her down firmly.
“What happened?” Max asks, moving to stand beside Charity. She pulls on a pair of examination gloves and begins to check her over with brusque expertise, assessing the burn on her hand.
“She electrocuted herself,” I say grimly, fury replacing my fear now I know Charity’s not mortally wounded. “This place is a goddamn health and safety hazard.”
Charity reaches for my hand with her good one and gently squeezes it. “It was my fault. Stupid mistake. I didn’t realize the tree was still plugged in.”
She hisses as Max cleans and dresses the burn on her hand, and I touch her cheek gently. “I got you, Sparkles.”
“Sparkles?” Max raises an eyebrow as she removes her gloves.
“Old nickname,” Charity says softly.
“Strange,” Max observes, her mouth twitching.
