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I let out a loud groan when the director yells cut for the third time. If he does it one more time, I’m shoving my fist down his throat.
The first time was because a woman smashed the champagne fountain and they had to redo it. The second time was my fault, but instead of yelling at me they should be thanking me because I saved the entire set. One of the extras tripped on a wire, and it came loose halfway. Now, I have no clue what the fool is yelling about.
When he stops in front of us, glaring daggers, I want to warn him to watch his words and remind him that he asked us to do this. We’re doing him a favour. We aren’t after some big break.
“Can you not look so stiff? You’re at a wedding. You aren’t twelve being forced to do a school play.”
“Funny, it feels like it,” I grumble.
Imogen smiles. “Am I allowed to help him relax? Or do you need us to keep to the direction you’ve given us?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, do what the fuck you want as long as you don’t get into the main scene and you bloody dance,” he barks.
“Got it.”
I glance down at Imogen. This seemed worth it when she came back out wearing a soft green, thin-strapped dress, which had a split that ran up high her thigh. I’m not sure what they’ve done to her hair but it looks professional with loose curls flowing out of the up do. Her makeup stayed light, but fuck, she looked gorgeous. I had to adjust my trousers.
But now I have had enough.
“Stop frowning,” she whispers, and wraps her arms around my neck. “And lean in closer.”
“Action!”
I do, still flowing to the music that isn’t even playing. When she nudges my nose with her own, I forget about the dozens of people watching and only focus on her.
She presses her body closer, her lips hovering just over mine in a tease, until I capture them. She doesn’t let me stop dancing, and soon enough, I let myself follow her steps, doing anything I can to keep the kiss going. If I could do this until the day I die, I’ll leave this world a happy man. Kissing has always been a hit or a miss thing with me. But with Imogen, I find myself never wanting to stop. I could do this dance with her forever.
When she pulls back, she keeps her hand on the nape of my neck and keeps her gaze on mine. Her chest rises and falls, and a flush begins to work up her cheeks.
The scene breaks out behind us. “You stay the fuck away from my son,” is screamed.
Imogen and I break apart as instructed, and remembering what I need to do, I pull her away, watching the scene unfold.
“You can’t make me,” Sabrina snaps, shoving at the older woman.
“I will tell him,” the pretend mum hisses.
As the man comes in, and the scene gets more heated, I pull Imogen further from where the scene is going on and keep her close. She doesn’t need to act like she’s in shock, because she is. She’s watching the entire scene in fascination, and when the truth comes out about the affair, she glances up at me and mouths, “Holy crap.”
As the scene comes to an end, and it looks like the actors are leaving, the director calls cut. Sabrina heads over to us, a huge smile on her face. “You two are so cute together.”
“Did we do okay?” Imogen asks.
“You were perfect.”
“Yeah, do you want a job?” the director asks. “You are a natural. The man is not.”
Imogen laughs. “Thank you for the offer but I’m more of a tech girl.”
Sabrina smiles as the director leaves, muttering under his breath about a wasted talent.
“I forgot to mention earlier that Connor is arriving home early,” I disclose.
Her brows pinch together. “Not because of the flowers? I told him to stay there and spend time with his family.”
My gaze softens at her words. “You’re his family now. They will understand. And if I know Connor, he will get them down here soon.”
