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“You know.” She bit her lower lip. “His cologne. Does he smell like cedar? Sandalwood? Citrus? He’s the brand ambassador for Alexander Woolfe, you know.”
“Uh…” I’d been so nervous that I hadn’t noticed his scent at all. If anything, all I’d been able to smell was fear. My own. But April was looking at me so expectantly that I felt like I owed her some gossip.
“Like chocolate and sawdust.” I inwardly cringed as I said it — how would that combination even smell? — but April closed her eyes and inhaled as though he was standing in front of her, and she had buried her nose in his neck.
“You’re so lucky.” She opened her eyes and gave me a relaxed smile. “You get to hang out with three of the sexiest men in the world.”
She gazed off in their direction.
I knew that she was angling for an introduction, but there was no way I could do that. I’d barely spoken to Wyatt. Dean didn’t want anything to do with me, and Isaac was every inch the intimidating, serious actor I’d expected him to be. He’d watched us filming the scene with a deep frown and his arms crossed, never once socializing with anyone, not even the other guys.
And now, all three of them left the set without glancing back at the rest of us.
“What now?” Everyone seemed to know what they were doing except me. Preston reviewed the day’s footage on a monitor, the crew packed up their equipment, and the extras filed down the corridor that led to the conference room.
April shrugged.
“Didn’t Brooke have a trailer? I guess that’s yours now.”
Right. The trailers near the golf course. I said goodbye to April and jogged back to the trailer that I knew belonged to Brooke. The door was locked, so I went to Dean’s trailer andknocked on the window. There was no response, so I tried the next one.
Isaac swung the door open and gave me a smoldering look. His chin-length dark hair was all over the place. His clothes were all business, but he’d undone the top few buttons of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves, and I caught a glimpse of dark chest hair. It was unexpectedly hot for someone who I’d always thought of as a serious actor.
“Kyla. What can I do for you?”
Isaac’s British accent surprised me because he’d always used an American accent in his films, but then again, I reminded myself, he was an actor and a talented one, at that. It made sense that in real life, he was different from the characters he’d played, just like Dean and Wyatt were.
“Brooke’s trailer is locked,” I said. “Do you know where I can get a key?”
Isaac shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looked down the row of shiny white trailers.
“There’s a security number you can call. Give me a second.” He disappeared into the van and returned with a business card. “Contact these guys and they’ll help you out.”
I took the card gratefully and dialed the number. A man answered on the second ring and said they’d send someone out right away. I climbed down the steps, intending to sit on the stairs of my own trailer until they arrived, but Isaac opened his door wider.
“You can wait here, if you’d like.”
I felt like I was in a falling elevator. Talking to the guys was hard enough, but being in Isaac’s personal private space? That sounded terrifying. But Isaac was friendly at least, and the afternoon heat was too hot for me to want to spend too much time outside. I followed him into his trailer, feeling like an intruder, and stood awkwardly near the door until he invited meto sit in one of the plush leather seats that spanned either side of a fold-out table.
Isaac’s trailer might have looked like a caravan from the outside, but it was downright luxurious on the inside. It had a bright interior, with a huge bed in the back, a television on the wall, a kitchenette, a shower, and this table.
He had a dozen or so books stacked on the table. I squinted and tilted my head so I could read the titles:War and Peace,The Catcher in the Rye,Thesaurus for the New Millenium.
“Are these yours?”
I picked up his copy ofThe Catcher in the Ryeand flicked through the pages. The book was old, and the margins had yellowed, but the text was unaffected. “Can I borrow it?”
“Sure.” Isaac gave me a smile. “Want a drink?” He opened a small fridge and uncapped a beer without waiting for me to answer, then did the same for himself. I took it gratefully and took a sip. It was cold and refreshing, a welcome relief after being in the summer air.
I traced circles in the condensation on the bottle with my finger, feeling inadequate around such a talented and experienced actor.
“You must think I’m a total imposter.”
“You? No.” Isaac considered me carefully. “I think Preston’s making a massive mistake casting someone so inexperienced, but that’s not your fault.” He sat opposite me and sipped his own beer. “He’s more interested in making money than in what’s good for the movie — or what’s good for you.”
His expression was hard to read. In his movies, you could always tell what he was thinking from the way he moved his face — an eyebrow twitch or a slight flattening of his lips. But here, away from the cameras, his face was relaxed and still. It was disarming, since I had no idea what was going on in his mind.
“What doyouthink is good for me?”
