Chapter 5

Zander

Saturday 11.23am

I’m out of my mind. I must be. But this girl, this woman is making me crazy. One minute she’s falling in the water, the next she’s making me forget why we’re here together.

I shake my head and sit on the grass. I grab the trout and start to scrape the scales off with the knife I found in the shed.

This is bad. Selfish. I’m a complete and utter bastard.

She’s too naïve, too trusting. She’s probably got it into her head she can make this work between us when it can’t.

Of all the people to be stuck here with, why’d it have to be a damn actress? An incredibly sweet actress who still has no real idea she’s doomed to either compromise her small-town ideals or be forced to walk away.

I wish I could tell her. I wish I could convince her. Maybe I could. If I had longer than this weekend.

My jaw works as I slice into the belly of the fish at the tail and tug upwards till I have a neat incision.

I focus on what I’m doing and have removed most of the roe and guts when I hear her soft footfalls behind me.

I stop long enough to see her smiling at me. She’s still dressed in her robe and her hair is hanging loose around her shoulders.

“I found some imported beer at the back of the pantry. I put it in the freezer, should be cold in an hour or so.”

A beer sounds perfect, but I need to finish removing the gills. “Just give me a minute. Then I’ll take a shower and make lunch.”

Her eyebrows rise. “You cook?”

She seems so surprised I smile as I tug the fins loose. “Yeah. When I have to, I can do most things fairly well.”

Her lips twitch as she takes a seat on the upturned kayak. “What about the things you want to do?”

I smile down at the fish as I remove the last of the guts. “The things I want to do, I excel at.”

She blushes furiously and eyes the fish with her nose scrunched up. “Can you teach me to fish?”

I tilt my head as she slides off the kayak, eyes on the fish dangling in my hand. I don’t know why but the idea of teaching her is way too enticing.

I should be staying inside as much as possible. But I was careful, and as far as I know, there’s no one close enough to put two and two together.

Even if they did, this is a holiday home, so a couple fishing beside the lake isn’t exactly going to cause suspicion.

It’s the perfect cover really.

But I need to remember this is going to end. Whether I like her or not, it’s happening.

The words are lodged in my throat as she smiles again. Warm, friendly, nice. Three things I’m not.

“Listen,” I start to say.

Mia’s smile falters slightly. “Whatever it is, I’d like to help you with it.”

Something inside my chest snaps painfully. I can’t look at her. Like the coward I am, I stare at the fish guts as I answer. “I wish you could. But you can’t.”

She looks ready to protest, so I turn on my heel and start to walk back to the house.

Mia catches up to me, a frown twisting her face as she looks sidelong at me. “You don’t trust me?”

I shake my head and make sure my tone of voice leaves no room for argument. “Just drop it.”

Her shoulders go rigid as she walks beside me. She stays silent. Thankfully wordless and minus questions I half want to answer.

I leave the fish in the refrigerator, leave her sitting at the counter, and go to take a shower.

As the soap suds run my body, I stare at her bra hanging over the rail. She wants to help me. She’s a genuinely nice person who wants to help a complete stranger.

She doesn’t belong in Hollywood. They’ll eat her alive and throw her away after it’s too late.

I have to convince her to quit. Convince her that’s not a path she wants to walk down.

The only way I can do that is to open myself up. And I’m not sure I want to do that.

I’m still weighing up the alternative versus the benefits when I step out into the hallway, wearing only my robe.

I find her exactly where I left her, only this time she has a beer in her hand and another one on the countertop still capped.

I don’t know what I’m thinking, I know it’s going to open up a can of worms, but I’m alarmed to find I want to know the answer. “Why’d you want to be an actress?”

She takes a swig of her beer before answering. And it’s not the answer I anticipated. “I always loved drama when I was at school. My Grandma was an actress and she died a few months ago. She left me some money. Not a lot, but enough to move out here and see if it was as great as she said it was.”

I uncap my beer and take a large gulp as she takes a breath. “She was English. And a teenager during the second world war. She survived the blitz but lost a lot of friends and family before the war ended and she moved to Michigan.”

Her eyes moisten. “Anyway, she used to tell stories about her life. She was a crazy romantic and did all these amazing things.”

She blinks and clears her throat. “Maybe it was a mistake coming out here. I don’t know. I at least had to try. Otherwise, what’s the point of life if we’re too afraid to live it?”

I have nothing to say to that. If I do, I’ll only say something pointless, so I just grab my beer and move into the kitchen. “What were you doing before you moved to L.A.?”

I open the pantry and find what I need, pleased the owners stock seasoning.

Her mouth is pinched as she toys with the beer bottle. “I was a teacher. First grade.”

I stare at her, sure she’s kidding. I can’t imagine her teaching. “That’s a pretty big career jump.”

I grab a bowl, dump some flour, lemon pepper seasoning inside, and pour half my beer into it.

She shuffles on her seat before she answers. “It was.”

I cut the fish into equal pieces, then use my hands to mix the batter. She’s not telling me the entire story, and I’m in no position to ask her, even if I want to.

It will complicate things way more than they already are. I almost hope she doesn’t tell me, but when she releases a sigh, I know she’s going to.

“I made the mistake of getting into a relationship with a co-worker. I thought he was a decent guy. Turns out he was a cheating asshole. I couldn’t face seeing him every day after I found out.”

At the dejection on her face, my guilt solidifies until I’m not sure I can stay quiet. My hands are covered in batter when I look her in the eye. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

Her bottom lip wobbles ever so slightly. She laughs but it comes out brittle. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

I drop my eyes to the mixing bowl, avoiding her gaze as I scrape the sticky batter off my fingers.

I don’t believe her. She won’t be fine. And it’s not just because of me. She’s too good for a hell hole like Hollywood.

I turn my back on her and go to wash my hands clean. I frown at the swelling on my knuckles as lumps of flour and beer collect in the sink.

I might be able to wash this mess off my hands, but they’ll never be truly clean. I don’t deserve a sweet woman like Mia. This little game of pretend can’t continue.

But God help me, I don’t think I’m strong enough not to give in to the desire to kiss her. It’s been so long since anyone cared. So long since I felt connected to another person.

She’s opening up a part of me I thought I’d closed off. But to let her inside, to let her know who I am, isn’t just selfish, it’s pointless.

I dry my hands and down my beer. “Could you go back to teaching?”

She looks a little annoyed as she finishes her beer. “Probably. But not until I give this a chance. And teaching was never what I loved doing. I only did it because I needed a steady job.”

I pull out a pan and pour some oil in it. “So, what do you love doing?”

Her mouth twists into a slight pout. “Writing. That’s my plan. Act and write and ultimately produce the kind of movies I wish there were more of.”

I switch the stovetop on and leave the pan to get it to medium heat. While I pull out plates. “What kind of movies? Please don’t say musicals.”

I slide the plates onto the countertop as she laughs and shakes her head. “No. Not musicals. Movies that don’t rely on CGI, and just make people feel good and make them remember how beautiful the world is…”

Her cheeks flush and she lowers her gaze. “Wow. I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Her voice is thick as she starts to peel the label off her bottle. “I get sick of all the horrible things. You know. For some people it rolls off them. Not me, I absorb it. It sticks and I can’t get things out of my head.”

She swallows and it’s impossible to miss the pain in her voice. “When I was a kid, my dad died. He was sick for a really long time. My mom used to put a movie with a happy ending on for me and my big brother and disappear for a while. I think to go cry where we couldn’t see.”

Mia releases a low sigh. “When dad finally died when I was ten, I kept watching movies. They got me through a lot. Even though I knew I wasn’t going to get a happy ending in real life, but I always got one watching movies. Maybe I just wanted to be someone else for a while. I don’t know.”

I think she does know. And it’s possibly the least selfish reason for wanting to make movies I’ve heard in my life.

Behind me, the oil starts to spit in the pan, so I gesture to the wine rack behind her. “You want to grab some wine?”

She clears her throat and jerks a thumb at the refrigerator. “I put the white in to chill. It should be cold enough.”

I nod and try to find something to say as I take the wine from the refrigerator. She gets off her stool and grabs a couple glasses out of the dishwasher as I place the fish fillets in the pan.

She stays close, eyes on me as I add the rest, then open the wine for us. “There are plenty of other places to make movies. You don’t need to do that in Hollywood.”

Her brow knits together as she pours two glasses of amber liquid. “Why are you so anti-Hollywood?”

I can’t answer that, so I flip the fish and down some of my icy wine. “The odds are stacked against you. You’re already arriving too late to an exclusive party where the majority of the guests are complete assholes.”

I turn my gaze on her. “Why would you want to do that to yourself? Hollywood is all about vapid, greedy, one-dimensional insecure people.”

She narrows her eyes and for a split second I think I just gave myself away, but she just shakes her head slowly like she feels sorry for me. “I don’t know why you believe that, but if that’s true, I need to find out for myself.”

The words slip past my lips before I can filter them. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

I release a breath and turn my attention to the now golden fish. “The fish is ready. Where do you want to eat?”

She near growls at me. “Tell me what you’re worried about?”

But even if I wanted to, I can’t tell her. I just pick up the plates and place them on the counter rather than the table.

When she glares at me, I just grab cutlery and dump it on the counter.

I settle down and start to cut into my fish. It needs lemon but it’s not bad. I ignore her frustration as she takes a seat beside me. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

I look sidelong at her as she picks up her knife and fork. “Yeah. I know.”

She rolls her eyes and pushes a piece of fish into her mouth. Her eyes pop and she stares at me like I’m some kind of genius. “This is amazing. What’s the coating on it?”

I talk between mouthfuls. “Beer batter.”

She’s too busy eating to answer, when she finally pushes her plate away she’s eaten just as much as I have.

Instead of looking pleased, her shoulders have drooped and she looks anything but happy.

I’m about to ask her what’s wrong when I hear a noise from outside and all the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

Mia’s eyes find mine as I jump to my feet. Over my thumping heart I hear a vehicle roll to a stop and the brakes squeak.

A car door opens and I hear a dog bark.

Panic starts to tear through my body as Mia gets to her feet. Her face has paled but she nods. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”

I hesitate, body flooding with adrenaline, unsure if I can place my fate in her hands.

But when someone hammers on the door, I’m out of time.

I have no choice but to trust her.