Page 43 of Someone to Have
“I like working with patrons, especially the kids. The director position is more forward-facing. Schmoozing donors and speaking at town council meetings. Stuff like that is not in my wheelhouse.”
“It didn’t used to be, but you conquered that fear,” I remind her.
“I got through the audition,” she agrees slowly. She starts to bite down on her lip then gives a slight shake of her head. Probably because she notices me noticing.
The moment I see that small tell, something in me settles. I might not have the right to claim her, but I know she’s mine in this moment.
I glance back at the story walk displays, then at her, and realize it’s time to circle back. We need to discuss the thing she’s trying to quit before she has a chance to be the success I believe she can be.
“What’s going on, Taylor?”
“We must be having a very serious conversation.” One corner of her mouth lifts. “You didn’t call me Tinkerbell.” She wants to distract me, but it won’t work.
“What’s going on?” I repeat as I step forward and take her shoulders, holding her steady so she can’t duck away.
“Everyone has things they’re good at,” she tells me, and I have a feeling she’s parroting what’s been said to her on more than one occasion. A subtle suggestion to stay small.
“I’m good at organizing.” She grimaces. “I’m actually pretty handy with a hammer when I’m not getting a jump scare mid-swing. I’m good with kids, and I think I do a good job tutoring.”
“Yes, on all of those,” I agree. “None of which are a problem as far as I can tell.”
“I’m not good at being on stage.” She shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m planning on switching careers to acting, but yesterday, we did a run-through of the first scene. We were using scripts. I wasn’t even expected to have it memorized. But I kept thinking about what it’s going to be like when the theater is full and people are looking atme. I couldn’t say my line, and I almost puked on stage again. I managed to make it to the bathroom, but everyone knew what was happening.”
“You got sick. Big deal. You have weeks to deal with your nerves.”
“Or potentially spew into the laps of a paying audience.” She closes her eyes, her expression pained. It’s shame, and it cuts deep.
“I’m going to take my win at the audition and switch to stage crew. We’re only a couple of days into rehearsals. Someone can take over my role. I’ll still be part of the production, near Bryan, but if I can’t even manage one line in rehearsals…”
She lets out a sigh and turns her head so she’s looking at the story boards instead of meeting my gaze.
“I’m not sleeping well. I’m having dreams. The kind where I’m on stage naked and?—”
“Okay, hold up.” I gently squeeze her shoulders. “Tell me more about naked dreams. I’ve never been a theater buff, but that could definitely change my mind.”
My stupid comment elicits a small laugh, which was my hope. I can work with laughter
“They aren’t those kinds of dreams.”
“Which is a damn shame. You’re going to be fine, Tink. So what if we didn’t fully vanquish your stage fright? We can get you there by opening night.”
“I don’t even think you can get me there, Mr. Confidence.”
That feels like a challenge, and not just one involved with her stage fright. How far am I willing to go to prove she’s not alone in this?
Her head is still tilted away from me, and I can’t help myself. Her skin is smooth and creamy and utterly irresistible.
I lean in and press my mouth to her throat, right where her pulse flutters. But the taste of her unleashes something inside me, and the constant craving I’ve had for her these past few days takesover. I kiss her again, trailing my mouth along her jaw, rewarded with a soft sigh of pleasure. I feel like I’ve won the damn lottery when she turns her head so our lips meet.
The need I feel is there just as powerfully in her. This—us—isn’t a mistake. I’m done pretending otherwise.
She tastes like cinnamon gum, and I waste no time sliding my tongue inside her mouth. She’s hot and sweet and my dick rises to the occasion like it’s going to see the light of day in this workshop. Not likely, bud.
This is about Tinkerbell, and fixing my colossal fuck up this week. “I’m sorry,” I whisper against her mouth. “I didn’t mean to ghost you.”
“It’s fine,” she says, and I want to lick that lie from her lips.
I shift so my hips are against the work table and pull her closer. Deepen the kiss as I cup her ass. A moan escapes my mouth, and she catches it with hers. “I’m going to make it up to you,” I tell her.
