Page 31 of Dumbstruck
My thoughts may have gotten ahead of things, but I’m determined to catch up to them in reality. June is something special, and I’d like to keep her.
Chapter Nine
June
IadmitIwasskeptical, but Jonah wasn’t exaggerating when he said the makeup team is good at what they do. As I sit in a tent and stare at the unfamiliar face looking back at me in the mirror, I’m starting to think this might work. If I had friends in town, they would probably recognize me, but I don’t think any of my few casual acquaintances would know it’s me beneath the wrinkles and curly gray hair.
“I’m impressed,” I tell Katie as she makes a couple last-minute adjustments to my face.
She scoffs. “Of course you are.” Either she doesn’t like me, or she’s mad the other makeup artist got to work with Jonah. Maybe it’s both. “Don’t touch your face,” she says, squinting at me. “And don’t make out with Jonah under any circumstances.”
Yeah, she definitely doesn’t like me.
“What if we have to create a distraction?” I ask, poking a bear I shouldn’t poke.
Katie narrows her eyes. “Break a vase.”
“Is that my sweetheart I see?” a croaky voice says behind me, pulling my attention to the old man hobbling inside. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be.” His eyes are the same golden brown eyes that stared at me so intently while we tag-teamed the dishes this morning. If not for my certainty that no one else could have the same spark in his gaze, I wouldn’t recognize Jonah.
Seriously, are these makeup artists magicians? Not only has Jonah been aged up several decades, but he’s also mostly bald, his bare head full of age spots. He stands slightly stooped, dressed in a colorful sweater and khaki slacks above scuffed white tennis shoes that look well loved. Even his hands holding the cane look old.
I can’t stop staring.
Jonah holds a hand to his ear. “Did you say something, dear?”
“Hi,” I breathe. “You look like you have one foot in the grave.” I don’t look as old as he does, though my floral muumuu certainly makes mefeelold.
“What can I say? I like younger women.” But then he leans close and mock whispers, “That’s not true. I’m into older gals.”
Blushing, I slip on the thin glasses that the costume design team left for me and get to my feet, doing my best to act the way I look. “You are a shameless flirt, Jonah James.”
He cracks up and stands straight, and it’s like his body suddenly reacquires all the muscle hiding under that sweater. Without stooping, he won’t be able to hide his fit physique. “Okay,” he says in his regular, clear voice, “we’re going to have to work on your acting skills before we hit the town. My three-year-old niece is better at playing a granny.”
I roll my eyes. “Believe it or not, I generally like to be honest.”
He presses a hand to his heart. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“That’s your entire job description.”
“Fair enough.” He twists his lips, studying me with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “You’ve read McAllister’s book, right?”
I raise an eyebrow. Where’s he going with this? “I’ve read all his books.”
“Okay, overachiever.” He smirks at me, wrinkles twisting with his smile. “So you know how the character I’m playing, Logan, turns out to be in on the plot all along, and it’s easy to see looking back on it but not while you’re in the thick of the book for the first time?”
I shrug, not sure what this has to do with pretending to be old. Also, does this mean hehasread Hank’s book? More than once? When filming started, he hadn’t even read the whole script, though he did offer a good explanation for that when he mentioned hanging out with his sick mom. There is something wildly attractive about a man willing to put in the work. “Sure.”
“He’s acting the whole time, and the reason Gabrielle—and the audience—believes him is because everything he does is subtle. So you don’t want to be all wobbly and wiggly.” He demonstrates, hunching over his cane and shimmying his body as he steps toward me. He looks ridiculous, though I would have done that exact thing. “No, see, it’s going to be smaller than that.” Grinning, he adjusts his hold and takes another few shuffling steps toward me. “You have tired and unreliable limbs, so your steps are heavy and uncertain. Your arm strength isn’t there so most of your support is in your back.”
As he reaches me, his free hand shakily traces my jaw with a featherlight touch. A shiver runs through me, and his voice turns gruff. “You’ve lived a whole lifetime,” he murmurs. “Done all the things you wanted to do. Made mistakes, had triumphs, suffered heartbreaking loss and experienced overwhelming joy. But deep down you’re still the woman who befriends cranky cats and endures overconfident actors and makes my heart beat entirely for you whenever I’m near you.”
Is this still part of the acting lesson? Because Jonah is gazing at me with so much intensity that I think I might catch fire. No matter what Katie the makeup artist does or doesn’t want me to do, I’m likely to kiss this man if he doesn’t blink or look away.
I don’t think he’ll mind.
“Ahem.” Speaking of Katie… She waits until we both look at her—I forgot she was still here—and then she bats her eyes and coyly says, “Do you need anything else, Mr. James?”
Though Jonah lets out a heavy sigh, he shakes his head at Katie. He waits until she leaves before turning back to me, a sparkle in his eyes. “Hopefully she was nice to you. I try to avoid her when I can.”
